Luffafton stumbled out of bed, the forest birds outside conspiring to awake him at this awfully early hour. Rolling to his feet he grabbed a matching suit of linen clothes and slipped them on lazily. Still half asleep he stumbled forward across the floor boards towards the room downstairs. Descending a winding staircase, big enough across for His slender frame and not much else, he padded his way across the warm floor boards towards a pit fire in the centre of the room. Here pots of porridge and tea (or something the locals called tea) hung on iron bars of a moderate heat.

Tiddlebree Hollow’s only Inn, a large cavernous hall with a high oak beamed ceiling, was barely habitable by the standards of Luffafton’s home in Veliostock. Yet out here on the fringes of civilised society it served as a bastion of comfort. Tending to the culinary arts was the Inn’s owner. “Good morning sir, would you like some breakfast.”

“That depends, is it edible?” Luffafton flashed her a cheeky smile to say he was joking, mostly anyway.

One bowl of porridge and a warm bench table later Luffafton was chowing down on the finest cuisine the mountain province had to offer. It was plain to be sure but nowhere near as bad as he’d imagined it would be when he first arrived. The assignment had been a jibe at him, meant to be an insult by the duke’s staff. At first Luffafton had been demoralised but over time the residents of this backwards settlement won him over.

Still he couldn’t wait to return to civilisation when the beast was finally killed.

“I hear you’re the guy to talk to about adventurer’s registration.” A man in leather armour with a belt full of weapons sat opposite him without being invited. “I’m Armond the Great, come here to vanquish the beast of Tiddlebree Hollow.”

Luffafton barely looked up. “I’m having breakfast, come back in half an hour.”

“But I am Armond, Armond the Great must adventure immediately before another adventurer beats me to the kill.” Spoke Armond the Great, jumping from first to third person mid sentence.

With a long exhale Luffafton looked up to stare this latest adventurer in the eyes. “There’s at least two of you arriving every day and it takes an hour to finish the paperwork so I’d very much like to finish my breakfast.”

The recently arrived adventurer stood upon the table, striking a heroic pose worthy of some legendary book cover. “You do not understand, I am Armond the Great! I must be the one to kill the dreaded beast of Tiddlebree Hollow.”

Luffafton flicked a spoonful of porridge at Armond’s face. “Well Armond the Great, you can of course go adventuring on your own but without a registration you do so at your own liability.”

Armond the Great got down from the table, all sense of heroic poise evaporating quickly. “Armond will wait for you to finish your meal.”

Digging into the porridge with a demonstrated lack of energy Luffafton spoke through a mouthful. “Yes, yes he will.”

After finishing Luffafton spent the morning getting Armond’s papers in order, which took much longer than it needed to largely due to the confusion of Armond switching back and forth from third to first person.

It was almost lunch when a second group of adventurers walked into the inn. This group wore padded fabric and steel armour in panels and plates, except for the fourth member who wore a simple tunic.

The leader of this group seated himself across from Luffafton. “We are the Adventurers Three from Briarblockshire.”

Luffafton stared at them, counting four adventurers.

“We came up with the name before our fourth member joined.” The leader added hastily.

The fourth member of the group waved with a smile. “Hi I’m Tobias.”

“Good morning Tobias, pleasure to meet you.” Luffafton had seen numerous adventurers try their luck in the last month, so many he believed he could take their measure of a group’s survival rate by appearance alone. These idiot’s did not rank highly. “So if you’re now four then why don’t you chose another name?”

Another member of the Adventurer’s Three answered. “The Adventurers Four was taken.”

Luffafton flicked through the registration directory to find that the Adventurers Four was indeed taken by an ex-brigand group from Elchester. “Well why not something without a number in the name then?”

The leader looked shocked. “But then how will people know how many of us there are?”

Luffafton looked at each of them in turn, bowed his head in surrender and began the process of registering their presence. It was pointless arguing with dead men.

A little after three in the afternoon a solo adventurer arrived. She wore a well weaved silk blouse over deerskin trews embroidered with leather cord. A crossbow slung over her back with bolts on her belt and a pair of rapiers ready for action on both of her hips. To top it all off she had the most splendid hat with a long green feather crowning a wide brim of red felt. Luffafton admired her clothes more than her figure, such attire marked her out as something interesting.

As she neared the table he opened his registration book and dipped a quill in ink. “Name and guild number please.”

The woman paused over him, he’d headed off the introduction. These adventurers loved to introduce themselves with flair and now he’d robbed her of the chance to perform what was doubtless a well rehearsed line. “Erm….Merchaine.”

“It’s a genuine pleasure to meet you Miss Merchaine, please take a seat.” Sensing a newcomer to the adventuring arts Luffafton adopted a gentler tone than he used for the regular idiots. “I just need your guild number.”

“I don’t have one.” Merchaine’s expression told him she was a little taken aback by the request, she’d not known about it.

“Are you a member of a guild?”

“No where I’m from we have no guild. Why? Should I be?”

Switching to another book, the Adventurer’s manual, Luffafton found a leaflet for the Adventurer’s Guild of Veliostock and Rufftark, promptly passing it to Merchaine. “The guild represents adventurer’s in the domain of Duke Reteon. They organise the adventuring industry and settle any arising disputes over pay, conditions etc. It’s not illegal to go alone but you’ll have no representation or affiliation if things go wrong.”

“Oh okay, so I don’t need a guild number?” Merchaine settled herself across from Luffafton, visibly giving off the image of someone youthful and naive.

“Well no but as a representative of Duke Reteon I have to warn you that without membership to the guild you forfeit all legal rights and obligations as outlined in the Adventurer’s Act.”

Merchaine nodded along simply, “Okay.”

Luffafton pulled out a rights waiver form, handing it to her before leafing through to the registration list. As Merchaine filled out the waiver he made a note next to her name and moved on. “Next I need your insurance number.”

“Insurance?”

“Yes miss Merchaine, your adventurer’s insurance. Third party fire and acid is fine.” Luffafton looked up from his book to see a thoroughly confused looking woman seated opposite.

“Do I need it?”

Luffafton gasped in shock. “Of course you need it! Who pays for damages if the beast goes on a rampage because you provoked it! What if you accidentally damage another person’s property in the throes of some epic duel! What about income protection in case you’re injured and what will your family do if you….”

“I don’t have a family.” She hastily tried to interject but Luffafton went on.

“Well just imagine if you did! If you don’t have insurance and the beast kills you then they’d have nothing to live off! Your hypothetical family would hypothetically starve to death!”

“But I don’t have a hypothetical family so does that mean I only need hypothetical insurance?” Merchaine asked in a polite and naive tone.

“Well….I suppose if you don’t mind not being covered for damages.” Luffafton had refer to the index to find the uninsured adventurer’s form. “Here fill this in.”

Merchaine took the form and diligently began filling it in with delicate, cursive writing. “Is this okay?” She asked while indicating her answer to the vast majority of questions as being not applicable.

“Yes.” Luffafton spoke, his patience getting thin with this unprepared upstart. “So next I need to know where you’re from for the registry.”

“Where I’m from?”

“Yes it’s mostly for census data but there’s also the matter of returning your belongings to your next of kin should the highly likely happen.”

“Erm….I don’t have next of kin, can we skip that part?”

“Skip that part!” Luffafton called out loudly in outrage. “No we can’t just skip that part!”

“Okay….I’m from the Southlands.”

“Oh, well that’s no problem with me. I wouldn’t mention it to the inn keeper though she supports Braga.” Luffafton began to scribble into the location column. “So what city are you from and which faith do you support?”

“Faith? Why does that matter?”

“In the highly likely event of your terribly gruesome demise and we have nowhere to send your corpse the state will provide a burial.”

“What if I don’t plan on dying?” Merchaine asked innocently.

“None of us do until we have six foot of pike in our stomach or a lump of pie in our throats.” Luffafton stopped writing and fixated upon her. “Which city did you say you were from?” He was abundantly aware she hadn’t but out of politeness the phrase popped out.

“Neth Valem…”

Luffafton scribbled a note next to her name before continuing. “So your a Neth girl then, Braga or Saga?”

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

“Well no.” Luffafton turned the pages of his Adventurer’s manual to the part about religions and how not to insult their followers. “Saga is the Northern Neth goddess of stories and tales, Braga is the Riverlands god of wine and Sagas. They’re completely different genders.”

“But besides their genders are their any differences?”

Luffafton read a few lines of their entries, then tried to think of anything further but came upon nothing of note. “Actually now you mention it their really isn’t...which is curious considering they fought a religious war against one another.”

Merchaine stared blankly for a moment before continuing. “It doesn’t matter anyway, I’m neither…”

“Ah you’re an Aejion girl then?”

“No.” Answered Merchaine.

“Jenn? Eyra?”

“No.” Mercahine repeated. “I’m not religious.”

“Not religious!” Luffafton stood up from the table, shocked at what he heard. “But then what happens when you die? The adventurer’s guild doesn’t have a repent on death clause in Veliostock and even if it did you’re not a member!”

“So…”

“So what happens to your immortal soul after the high likely occurs?!” Luffafton flicked through the pages of the adventurer’s manual to the page on preparing for your imminent death. “See! You should at least have insurance against limbo. Then at least you’d go somewhere!” He turned the manual so she could read it.

“I don’t believe in religion.”

“But you believe in something then, even if the thing you believe in is that you don’t believe! Surely there’s a faith for that, I mean there’s one for everything else.”

Merchaine simply smiled sweetly and continued. “I don’t think there is and even if their were I don’t want to join. Are we done yet?”

Luffafton sat back down, looking over the registration list confusedly. “I guess I could just put none under religion then….”

“Good, you do that.”

“Then I think we might be,” Luffafton said while still a little shell shocked.

Merchaine lingered in her seat for a while. “So erm….the beast is where?”

Luffafton adopted an official tone. “Due to current industrial disputes and arbitration between the Adventurer’s guild and the guild of Scribes, Lettermen and Pastry Chefs I’m under obligation not to assist adventurers beyond my official capacity as registrar for the Tiddlebree Hollow Beast adventure.”

“But I’m not a guild member.”

Luffafton leaned over to whisper to her. “Yeah but if I told you the other adventurer’s would know your not a guild member. They can get very...erm….undiplomatic with adventurers not being members.”

“Oh…so could you at least point me towards someone who can help?”

“Of course, guy at the bar drowning his sorrows survived an outing a few days ago. I’d start there.” Luffafton blew the ink on the latest registry entry. “I do poetry readings every night if you’re still here.”

“I’ll pass thanks but maybe tomorrow night.” Merchaine flashed him a smile as she got up to leave.

By this time in the afternoon the inn had begun to fill with adventurers preparing to hunt the beast and failed adventurers returning from a day’s attempt with nothing to show for it. Regardless of whether they were starting or ending the hunt the consensus seemed to be that the more inebriated you got the better.

Crossing to the bar Merchaine found the man she was after and seated beside him. “Evening.”

Leo lifted a head from his drink, clearly exceptional drunk. “Hey,” his eyes crept to her headwear, “nice hat. Leo.”

“Merchane...and thank you.” She ordered a drink while Leo watched her curiously. “I got here few hours ago, looking for the lay of the land.”

“Here to hunt the beast or to write about those doing the hunting?”

“Hunt.” Merchaine answered with a cheeky smile.

“Ah, so you’ve got a death wish, too bad.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence…”

He shrugged before taking a long draught. Beaded sweat caught Merchaine’s eye as she watched him lean back and finish his drink with eyes closed, clearly lost in enjoyment. “So any hints?”

Leo finished his drink before staring at her expectantly, catching on Merchaine signalled the woman behind the bar and with a freshly filled mug he began to speak. “So what you know?”

“Same as everyone else…”

“So bugger all then.” Leo cut her off before she continued, “Well first off it only comes out at night.”

“Only? So we can hunt it during the day like a bear then?”

The Southlander muttered something under his breath before sniggering to himself. “A bear? You mean look for a cave?” Leo cut the sniggering short to sip his drink. “First hunters looked for the cave, they never found it.”

“It must sleep somewhere though…”

“Yeah but no one can find it, if this Das-Moog sleeps then it must do it somewhere far afield.”

Merchaine’s ears pricked up at the use of the insult from Jel. Hearing a fellow southlander swear was like music to her ears. “So what about tracking it?”

“Impossible, the thing comes and goes. Tracks disappear and reappear out of thin air.”

“How?”

“No idea…” Leo bowed his head low to the table, manner colder than a moment before. A chill running through his words as he continued. “Best advice is to get out of this village before sundown. Put this thing from your mind, ain’t no one killing the beast. No one’s going to be a lord and if you were would you want to be in charge of this dump?”

‘No’ was Merchaine’s knee jerk response, this was a village in the middle of nowhere with no wealth to speak of. Yet the title itself brought chances for further enrichment. “I’m not easily scared off.”

“Then you’re stupid. More’s the pity….” He flashed her a sorrowful smile. “Ten went in three days ago when my master and I did, I’m the only one that returned that night. Five went in the night after and no one returned, another three last night.” Looking around the room Leo smiled with the same sad reserve that he’d shown Merchaine a moment earlier. “Now we have these new ones ready to go tonight. That Almond idiot, those thieves turned legit in the corner as well. At least the locals have stopped trying, still plenty tried.”

“How many has the creature taken?”

He looked Merchaine in the eyes, taking a mouthful of beer and swallowing loudly before answering. “There’s only two people who’ve seen it and lived. I’m one of them.”

“Who’s the other?”