Chapter 1 - The Cattle Shed

Chapter 1.

The Cattle Shed.

        The cattle shed is exactly what the name suggests, an old cattle shed. It was however renovated about twenty years ago, and made into a tavern. Since then, the cattle shed has become quite popular among the local farmers, and many people who are just passing through the small town of Calamshan.

        There are two main types of people who pass through Calamshan, merchants travelling either too or from trading with the nomadic tribes who live on the plains that lie between the borders of the Getandor Empire, the Four Kings Mountains, and the great Forest of Transeen. The other type of travellers who make frequent visits to Calamshan, and the cattle shed are adventurers, who are seeking to make a name for themselves against the goblinoid tribes of the Four Kings Mountains, or looking for treasure which is said to be hidden deep within Transeen.

There is a third type of traveller who visit the cattle shed, although this is not very often, you do get the occasional bard, who will trade stories with the passing adventurers. It was in this capacity that Roscoe Thorngage first came to be in the cattle shed.

Roscoe was a travelling musician, known among his kin for his skill with a Lute. However, with Roscoe being a halfling he always craved the creature comforts you can only find in a place you can call home. It was for this reason that Roscoe settled down in Calamshan. He made a deal with Zanian Alerteyes, the owner of the cattle shed, and in exchange for a room, and meals, Roscoe would perform to entertain the customers, using songs, poems, and some minor magic. This was like perfection for Roscoe, he had a place to call home, a place to perform, and he could trade tails with the many adventurers who passed through. However, he was soon to learn that nothing lasts forever.

It was a warm summer evening, and the cattle shed was surprisingly quiet for this time of year. Zanian had time to dust off the paintings behind the bar. Even Jannays, the young waitress, had the time to sit and watch Roscoe perform. The only customers were a group of local farmers who were in the cattle shed most nights, and two strangers.

Roscoe had been keeping an eye on these strangers since he had entered the main room for his performance. The first of the strangers was a human; he looked to be a young mage of some kind, wearing deep red robes, and always keeping one hand on his staff, which looked like a gnarled and twisted piece of wood. At the top was a large bird talon, made out of what appeared to be solid gold; this talon was holding a clear crystal. The mage sat talking with his companion, whom looked a little younger than the mage, but the chances were that this man much, much older. It was quite plane to see by his slim build, fair skin, and pointed ears that he was an elf. This elf wore a pale green cloak, under which it was plane to see he carried a sword. He also had a finely crafted bow and a quiver of arrows, both hanging from his chair.

Roscoe had decided that he would talk to with these two strangers when he had finished his performance, long before he had finished his first song. When he did finish Roscoe stepped forward and took his bow, and had a glance around the room to see the reaction of his audience. The farmers gave their usual claps and cheers, even the two strangers took the time to applaud Roscoe, and Jannays, Roscoe’s ever-adoring fan, gave the usual cheers and whistles. As Roscoe left the stage Jannays met him.

“Another fine performance Mr. Thorngage.” She said with a smile.

“Ah, my dear, how many times must I tell you, my name is Roscoe?” Replied the halfling.

“Sorry Roscoe, its habit, can I get you a drink?” Jannays asked.

“Tell me, what are they drinking?” Asked Roscoe indicating the two strangers.

“They’re both having wine.”

“Then I will have the same my dear,” they both began to walk towards the bar, “So, Jannays, what do you know of the strangers?”

“Well, the mage is apparently called Thoril Serpenthelm, and from  what I heard while I was pouring their drinks, is that he’s from that Mage House in Cemulion City.” She said as she began pouring Roscoe’s drink, “The elf is called Adokas Loreweaver, not sure where he’s from.”

“Loreweaver, that name sounds familiar.”

“Your drink Mr. I mean Roscoe.”

“Thank you my dear, I’ll be back to talk with you later.” Roscoe handed over a few coins for the drink, and started walking towards the two strangers.

“Greetings friends, perchance may I join you at this table?” Announced Roscoe. The two companions looked up at Roscoe, and after a moment’s silence the mage replied, “Of course friend, your company would be welcome.” And with that Roscoe sat down.

“My name is Roscoe Thorngage, and I was wondering, have you travelled far?”

“Well, my name is Thoril Serpenthelm, and my companion here is called Adokas Loreweaver. Personally I have come from the city of Cemulion, and Adokas is from Landorn Forest,” replied the mage.

“You are a very talented musician Mr. Thorngage, I have not heard the lute played with such skill for many a year.” Complimented Adokas.

“Ha ha, only Jannays calls me Mr. Thorngage, and I wish she wouldn’t, please call me Roscoe, and thank you for the compliment, from one of your skilled race I am honoured by you words.”

“Have you ever thought of travelling? Many would be happy to hear your music.” Asked Thoril.

“I did travel once, but I settled here a few years ago.” Answered Roscoe.

“It is a shame your music is not heard by many more people.” Adokas said.

“Your words honour me again. Please tell, what brings you to this corner or Getandor?” Asked Roscoe. At this point the two companions swapped a nervous glance.

“I’m afraid we cannot say the full reasons for our presence here.” Answered Thoril.

“However,” began Adokas, “You may be able to help us, how much do you know of the surrounding areas?”

“I know these lands as well as anyone else, I’ve travelled them a little, and I’ve spoken to almost all who have passed through.” Answered Roscoe curiously.

Thoril leaned back on his chair and took a sip of his drink. He starred at Roscoe for a moment, who felt as though the mage was looking straight into his soul. Thoril then turned his eyes to Adokas.

“We are searching for a temple,” Adokas began.

Roscoe looked a little confused at this. “What do you mean a temple? There aren’t any temples around here.”

“That is where you are wrong my little friend,” chuckled Thoril. “Somewhere within the forest of Transeen are the ruins of a temple to Vanola.”

“Ruins, there are some ruins in Transeen, said to hold some treasure, no-one knows what it was, but I should have guessed it used to be a temple.” Said Roscoe, almost to himself.

“You know the place then?” asked Thoril excitedly.

“Of course, many people travel there.” Answered Roscoe with a big smile on his face.

It was at this point that almost everyone in the Cattle Shed looked towards the door. The reason for this being the very heavy footsteps on the decking outside the door. The only people who didn’t look at the door were Thoril and Adokas; they just looked at each other, and said in unison; “He’s here.”

Roscoe wasn’t sure who “he” was, but from the sound of his footsteps he was big. The door swung open, and crashed into the wall. At the height Roscoe was looking all he caught was the top of a head. A little surprised Roscoe lowered his gaze, that’s when all the pieces fell into place, those footsteps weren’t those of a large person; they were the footsteps of a fully armoured dwarf.

This dwarf was a sight to see, he strode slowly into the room, the door swinging closed behind him. The dwarf was wearing full scale-mail armour, which Roscoe noticed was very finely crafted. He also wore a helmet, which looked to be designed around the shape of a dragon. On his belt, Roscoe could see that the dwarf was carrying a crossbow, and a large battle-axe. The most fascinating item the dwarf carried however was the shield he carried in his left hand. The shield was quite large, and circular in design. The main colour of the shield was silver, but the edge was rimmed in gold, and there was a picture of a gold dragon in the centre. The dragon was stood on its hind legs, and had its wings outstretched.

The dwarf took a few more steps into the room, before removing his helmet. After doing so his long blue beard fell from it’s rolled up position by his chin, to reach almost to his waist. Squinting, the dwarf peered around the room, then pointing at Zanian he bellowed, “You, a mug of your finest ale,” and then he strode over to the table where Roscoe, Thoril, and Adokas were sat.

“Greetings old friend, please pull up a seat,” greeted Adokas. The dwarf just grunted and sat down. “It has been too long since we last met.” continued Adokas.

“That’s a matter of opinion,” grunted the dwarf, “You must be this Thoril I’ve heard so much about.” he finished, indicting the mage.

“I am, and it is an honour to meet you,” replied Thoril.

The dwarf turned to Adokas, “Who’s the thief?” he asked.

“Oh, do forgive me,” Adokas began, “Davkul, this is Roscoe Thorngage, Roscoe, this is Davkul Gemviper.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Roscoe, extending his hand, “But you have me mistaken, I am no thief.” He continued.

“Bah, you’re a halfling ain’t ya?” snorted Davkul.

“Why, yes, but…” Roscoe began.

“Well then, you’re a thief,” interrupted Davkul.

“Mr Thorngage is no thief!” Said Jannays in an angry tone Roscoe had never heard from her before. Nobody had noticed her approach, but with her sudden outburst she had certainly made her presence known.

“And who are you?” Davkul snorted.

“That’s Jannays,” piped in Roscoe.

“She’s the waitress,” added Thoril.

“Your drink,” growled Jannays as she slammed the mug down onto the table, “And if you don’t apologise to Roscoe for calling him a thief, then I’ll make sure that by the time you leave this table, that big blue beard is no longer attached to your big fat chin.”

Davkul stared at Jannays in disbelief, not even orc chieftain’s dared talk to him in this way, and here was a young barmaid, threatening to cut off his beard.

Adokas laughed, “This is the first time I’ve ever seen you lost for words Davkul,” he said.

“Well, are you going to apologise?” asked Jannays, still glaring at Davkul.

“Err, yes, of course, I do apologise, err, Mr. Thorngage,” stuttered the dwarf.

“That’s better, it’ll be five copper pieces for the drink,” said Jannays. Davkul rummaged through his pockets and produced a gold coin, which he handed over to Jannays, “And you keep the change for yourself,” he said.

“Why thank you Mr. Dwarf,” Jannays replied, in her usual cheery voice, and then she walked back over to the bar.

At this point Thoril was chuckling to himself, and Adokas almost fell off his chair laughing. Roscoe however was not laughing. He had only met dwarves on a couple of occasions, but he knew that it wasn’t a good idea to laugh at ones expence.

Davkul grunted again, “Where were we?” he mumbled.

“You know that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you give someone a tip,” said Adokas, now composing himself a little.

“The girl has guts, she deserved it.” Davkul snorted, “Now why exactly did you bring me all the way out here?”

“Well we can’t say much here, but me and Thoril have been sent to find a particular item which lies hidden in the forest of Transeen,” began Adokas.

“What’s that got to do with me?” interrupted Davkul.

“We need you to set up an audience for us,” answered Thoril. Roscoe sat listening to this discussion with great intent.

“An audience with who?” asked Davkul.

“Nasgaroth,” answered Adokas.

“Ha, never happen,” snorted Davkul, “Nasgaroth won’t even grant an audience with that king in Cemulion.”

“You have to try; everything depends on what we do. Our entire existence hangs in the balance,” stared Adokas, with a very serious voice.

“You do have a flair for the dramatic, old friend,” chuckled Davkul, “But I doubt that it will make much difference, you’re not likely to get an audience with Nasgaroth.”

“Tell him that time is running short, and if we don’t act fast the shadow will fall,” said Thoril. A silence fell over the group. It was Roscoe who eventually broke this silence by nervously asking, “Err, excuse me, but who’s Nasgaroth? And what shadow is going to fall?”

“I’d forgotten about you, where exactly does he fit into all of this?” asked Davkul.

“Oh, Roscoe is our guide,” answered Thoril.

“Guide? What do you mean guide?” stuttered a surprised Roscoe.

“You said you’d take us to the ruined temple,” answered Adokas.

“I said no such thing, I only said that I know where you were talking about,” protested Roscoe.

“I do apologise, you are correct. I just assumed that you would show us the way,” apologised Thoril.

“Well I could draw you a map,” suggested Roscoe.

“It would be much easier if you could take us,” pleaded Adokas.

“I wish I could,” started Roscoe, “But I’m afraid that I can’t, I have obligations here, also I haven’t travelled in a few years, and I’ve grown out of shape.”

“Well I suppose a map will have to do then,” sighed Thoril.

“I have a quill and paper in my room, I shall be right back,” said Roscoe, who then left the table and walked through the door which led to the upper rooms.

“Do you trust this halfling?” asked Davkul.

“We have no reason not to trust him, and the locals seem to have a bond with him no thief could gain,” answered Thoril.

“And if his word is as good as his lute playing then I would trust him with my life,” added Adokas.

“You may be doing just that,” said Davkul.

“Is that a hint of concern I hear in your voice?” chuckled Adokas.

“Not bloody likely,” grunted Davkul, “Personally I hope you get yourself killed, then I wouldn’t have to put up with ya any more.” Adokas just laughed at this, and drank some more of his wine.

It was at this point that Roscoe re-entered the room. He was carrying a rolled up piece of paper, a quill, and a jar of ink. When he reached the table he unrolled the paper, and began to draw a basic map of the area on it whilst explaining how to get to the ruins.

Meanwhile, there was movement in the streets outside. This movement was going unnoticed, but if someone had looked closely at the shadows from the buildings they would have seen several figures sneaking along. If someone had been listening carefully, then they would have heard the gruff whispers these figures passed amongst each other.

“Kevgeon, where are they?” If anyone had seen these figures it wouldn’t have been difficult to see that they were orcs. Orcs are easily distinguishable by there grey pigmentation, large muscular bodies, stooped postures, and coarse hair. There were eight of these orcs sneaking in the shadows, a tactic not often used by this brutish race. The leader, Kevgeon, looked smaller than the others, and his features suggested he had some human blood in his veins.

“There in the next building,” Kevgeon declared, pointing towards the Cattle Shed.

Back inside the Cattle Shed, Roscoe was just finishing the map, Zanian was polishing his old sword, which he had mounted behind the bar, and Jannays was sipping a drink she had poured for herself, whilst reading some poems Roscoe had written. The farmers sat drinking their ale, discussing some strange behaviour  the livestock had been exhibiting. One of the men finished his drink, and stood up and began heading for the bar. An arrow smashing through the window, and ripping into his shoulder cutting his trip short.

This was swiftly followed by other windows smashing as orcs jumped through them. The door swung open and more orcs came in. Seven orcs had entered the room. Four of these orcs were brandishing large axes, the other three were all holding bows, which were all strung, and aimed at different parts of the room.

After the first arrow had crashed through the window, Adokas, Davkul, and Thoril, all leaped into action. With his lightning reflexes, Adokas had leaped from his chair, grabbing his bow and quiver, and strung an arrow in his bow, which was now pointed at the orcs. Thoril was standing now, with his staff in one hand, and his other had outstretched towards the orcs. Davkul had replaced his helmet on his head, and had his axe and shield in his hands. Roscoe had fallen from his chair with surprise at seeing orcs in the Cattle Shed. Zanian had grabbed the sword he was polishing, and Jannays had run behind the bar. All of the farmers had risen from their seats, but none of them moved now.

After a few moments of tense silence Kevgeon entered the room, he was carrying a large axe. This was no ordinary axe, the pole was very long, and it had a double axe head at both ends. Roscoe recognised it instantly as an Orc Double Axe, an exotic weapon known for the damage it can cause, if wielded correctly, which is no easy feat.

“If you all co-operate, no-one will get hurt,” Kevgeon yelled.

“The fact that you’ve already injured one of my regulars suggests that you cannot be trusted on that count,” retorted Zanian.

“Don’t test my patience barman, with one word from me you could have an arrow in your chest,” threatened Kevgeon. There was another few moments’ silence before Kevgeon spoke again. “All we seek are some directions,” he started, “If you tell us what we want to know nobody will die.”

“A little late for that don’t you think?” grunted Davkul, indicating the farmer who had been hit by the arrow.

Kevgeon walked over to the man lying on the floor, and nudged him with his foot, at which the man groaned. “He’s alive,” Kevgeon said, “For now.”

“There’s no-one here who’ll help you, now get out of my bar,” shouted Zanian.

“Kill him,” Kevgeon ordered. The orc nearest the farmers aimed his bow at Zanian, but he didn’t have chance to loose his arrow before two of the farmers had jumped on him. One of the other orcs with a bow turned it to face the farmers, but before he could fire it, an arrow ripped through his throat, and he fell lifeless on the floor. Before the third orc could turn his bow in any direction he was hit by five small bolts of energy sending him crashing into the wall.

Davkul let out a battle cry, and charged at the nearest orc with his axe held high.

The axe wielding orcs also charged into battle, one went to help the orc who had been attacked by the farmers. Another charged to meet Davkul. A third ran towards the bar, which Zanian agilely jumped over. The fourth orc and Kevgeon ran towards where Adokas and Thoril were stood.

The orc who had been attacked by the farmers had little trouble throwing them to the ground, but the remaining two farmers charged in wielding chairs. The orc had no time to react before the first crashed into his head. A large axe however, intercepted the second chair before it could reach its target. After smashing the chair with his axe, the orc grabbed the farmer by the shoulder, and hurled him into the wall, where he slumped onto the floor. The orc who had been hit with the chair staggered backwards and fell over a table.

The orc who was heading for the bar received more than he was bargaining for. He thought he was moving in on some old, overweight barkeeper, not a man who had spent many years perfecting his sword arm, and he didn’t expect the young barmaid, who had just retrieved her bow from behind the bar. The orc swung his axe, but Zanian easily avoided it, Zanian then brought his sword around in an arc, slashing the orcs side. The orc gave out a pained yell, and stumbled back slightly. Jannays now loosed her arrow, but not at the closest orc, she fired at the orc who was attacking the farmers, as it was plain to see that they were clearly out matched. Although she hadn’t been training with a bow very long, her aim was true. The arrow it the orc in the centre of its back, sending it stumbling forward, it then fell to its knees, and swearing in its own tongue the orc fell forward, dead.

Davkul made short work of the orc he charged at. He rammed his shield into the orcs stomach; the orc doubled over in pain, leaving his neck open as the perfect target for Davkul’s war axe, the orcs life ended shortly after this point. Davkul now looked for his next victim, the orc he chose was the one who had been hit by the bolts of energy earlier, but now it had regained its composure, and was preparing for a fight, Davkul charged again.

Thoril was facing off against the orc who had run in his direction. He hadn’t had time to cast another spell before the orc had begun swinging its axe, but he had been well trained in using his staff for more than just casting spells. However, Thoril was having a little trouble fending off the barrage of attacks he was suffering at the hands of the orc. Thoril’s chance to finish his opponent came when Roscoe cast one of the few minor spells he knew, there was a blinding flash of light in front of the orcs face, the orc dropped his axe, and grabbed his eyes, screaming in pain, this gave Thoril the chance to cast a spell of his own, a stream of acid burned through the orcs chest, forcing him backwards. The orc fell backwards, and died, a very painful death.

Adokas was having a little trouble with his opponent; he hadn’t had the chance to unsheathe his sword before Kevgeon had started to swing his huge weapon. Kevgeon was forcing Adokas backwards, using an agile manoeuvre Adokas leaped up onto a table, however Kevgeon had anticipated this move, and kicked the table out from under him, and so he was sent sprawling on the floor. Kevgeon now looked around to see the situation in the rest of the bar, this was when he noticed the map on the table where the companions had been sat, it didn’t take him long to realise that it would lead him directly to where he had been told to go. Grabbing the map he ran for the door.

“We have what we came for,” Kevgeon shouted, “Let’s get out of here.”

The orc who was by the farmers stood from where he had fallen earlier, and ran out of the door behind Kevgeon. The two remaining orcs did not have the chance to escape, the orc facing Davkul was made short work of, and Zanian did well to hold his own against the orc he was facing, until it received an arrow to the back of its head from Jannays’ bow.

After the dust had settled Thoril removed a small vile from his robes, and proceeded to use the potion inside to heal all of the people who had been injured during the fight.

“They took my map!” called Roscoe.

“That’s what they were searching for,” Said Adokas.

“It would appear that we need you to take us to the ruins yourself Roscoe,” Thoril suggested.

“But I can’t,” protested the little musician.

“The fate of our entire existence may depend on us making it to those ruins before the orcs do,” warned Adokas.

Roscoe looked each of the three adventurers in the face, then he looked at the scene around him, and finally his gaze fell upon Jannays, then with a sigh he turned back to Adokas, “Okay,” he said, “ I’ll take you to the ruins.”

“Thank you Roscoe,” started Adokas, “And you Davkul, must get us an audience with Nasgaroth.”

“I’ll do what I can,” replied the dwarf.

“We must set off tonight,” stated Thoril. The other companions all nodded, and began to prepare for their departure.

Roscoe gathered his old travelling equipment from his room. He said goodbyes to Jannays, Zanian, and the farmers, and then the companions began their journey.

Davkul heading back to his home in the Hardrock Mountains, and the other three set out for the forest of Transeen.

Next Chapter: chapter 2 - The Meaning of Dreams