Side Quest: The Fanfiction

A Piece of Thing
Written by the scribe Yolandi








It was a slow night at the tavern in Morskar, an unusual but welcome change for the topless serving wench.  Rather than the backbreaking tray of drinks she usually carried, she only had four ales to take to the corner table.  She had visited the table and its four occupants several times already that evening; perhaps soon they would depart.  A quest, thought the wench, would be a welcome change to the mundanity of her life.  How she longed to be part of the quest the thief, warrior, mage and fairy discussed in hushed tones.  Whatever they were planning, she thought, must have been as important as it was exciting.

The warrior was perhaps the most striking of the group, his freshly oiled beard gleaming in the lantern light that streamed from the center of the table.  He had a hardy laugh and spoke loudest, bragging about the adventures he’d previously encountered.  He seemed to have a quest all his own, and the reason for his meeting with the other three would continue to elude the wench.  She placed the first ale in front of the warrior, who looked up to her and nodded his thanks.  She smiled and placed the next ale in front of a person (man or woman, she couldn’t quite tell) in a mask that covered half their face.  The next went to a fairy, who was  beautiful and whose very presence felt magical and mysterious.  The last ale was given to a man in a black wizard robe, whose face and hair had become white over time through hundreds of years of experience and the attainment of knowledge.  Just as she was about to ask if there was anything else she could get them, a drunken voice called out to her.

“Wench!” cried a man from across the tavern.  She turned.  He must have entered the establishment far quieter than usual, as the wench hadn’t heard him come in.  She knew him from previous encounters and begrudgingly walked to his table.

He, too, was a warrior, though she couldn’t say much for the validity of his quests.  He was known to boast and his tales were never able to be confirmed by any of the other tavern patrons.  He was known as the savage Beardbarian.  His beard was scraggily, long and was usually soaked in ale.  He was always a little drunk, even if he arrived just as the tavern opened.  The topless serving girl walked over to him, fully prepared to give him the speech the tavern owner told her to give should the Beardbarian ever return.

“Look,” she began, her tone stern.  “The owner said you’ve used up the last of your credit here and if you don’t pay your tab now and pay for all of your drinks in advance, you must leave immediately.”

The bearded man eventually shifted his eyes up from her breasts, giving her a smile.  “Of course, wench.  How much do I owe this fine establishment?”

“55 coins, plus whatever you drink tonight.”

“55!” he exclaimed, trying to rise but falling back into his chair due to his excessive inebriation.  “That’s outrageous!  Next you’ll be calling me a bad tipper!”

“You never leave tips,” the wench told him, lowering her voice.  She leaned in.  “I’d say you owe me that too, if you want your ale.”

The Beardbarian scoffed, insulted.  He drunkenly pointed his finger at the multiple versions of her that he saw.  “I’ll have you know, half-naked wench, that I, the savage Beardbarian, always takes care of his debts.”  He placed a coin purse on the table.  “Take what I owe you.”

The wench picked up the coin purse, flipping it upside down.  A dead moth hit the table.  She let the coin purse fall to the floor.

“Ugh,” he stammered.  “That’s my…that’s…that was the wrong coin purse!  Try this one.”
He placed another small leather bag on the table.  A five piece coin was inside.  The wench dropped the bag and placed her hand on her hip, disappointed.

“That, my lady,” the Beardbarian said flirtatiously, “is your tip this evening.  And if you’re a good girl, I might even give you the tip in my pants.”

The girl winced.  “That isn’t enough.”

“The money or my cock?”

“Both.”  She placed the coin in her apron pocket.  “So I’ll need more coin for me and more for the ale.”

“Or what, wench?”  He asked menacingly, grasping the handle of his holstered weapon.

“Or I’ll throw you out myself.  This isn’t a charity!”

The bearded warrior stood, wavered and caught himself on the chair.  He took a step forward and fell to the floor.  The patrons laughed.

“Listen, wench,” he said quietly, picking himself up from the floor and seating himself at the table.  “The truth is, I was robbed earlier.  Mugged.  In broad daylight…by a broad!  With huge tits!  Even larger than yours, if you can believe it!”

“I don’t care, you still have to pay.  If you don’t have the coin, head to the board outside.  There is always plenty of mercenary work to be done that pays well.”

With that, she turned and walked behind the bar.  A person in a black robe and half-mask sat at the bar with her back turned to the bearded man.  She smirked and sipped her ale.  It was not only she who had robbed the Beardbarian earlier that day but it was also she who had the giant breasts that had just been discussed.  The wench grabbed a rag and began cleaning the bar top.  It was a few moments before she noticed the robed thief.

“Enjoying your ale?”

“Coldest ale in Morskar!” the thief exclaimed, raising her mug to the serving girl.  “How do you do it?”

“We import ice daily from-”

“No, not the ale.  Your tits.”  The thief took another swig.  “How do you walk around like that all day?  If I did that I’d put an eye out.”

“Oh.  Well, I just do it for the coin.”

“I hear ya,” said the thief, holding up the bag of the Beardbarian’s coins. She held a coin out to the serving wench.  “Here, buy yourself something nice tomorrow.”

The thief winked.  Her distraction was working.  The other girl had not yet noticed that the thief had snuck behind the counter and poured the ale herself without paying.  The thief was known for her stealth and cunning.  Her reputation proceeded her; but no one actually knew her name.

“What’s your name?” the wench asked, still cleaning the counter.

“My name is Brittany.  Brittany Venti.”

“That’s an unusual name.”

“It’s considered exotic, even where I come from.”

At that moment, a new patron entered the bar – a beautiful fairy.  She fluttered into the doorway on glowing blue wings, not a strange sight in Morskar.  Her flowing blonde hair was the envy of many, and her blinky nips were known to light the way no matter dark and tempestuous the night.  Her tattooing, not unlike the thief’s name, were considered exotic and beautiful.  Her strong colloquial accent only added to her mystique.  The thief looked her over, recognizing her solely from oral tradition passed down from generations past.  It was none other than Aralyn, the Fairy.

Even though she could have walked, Aralyn fluttered over to a barstool near the thief.  She ordered a drink.  The thief watched her carefully.  She didn’t seem to have any place to keep money, and the thief wondered if she was going to fly away after finishing it.  ‘If she does that,’ thought the thief, ‘she’ll have my admiration.’

The topless wench returned, asking the fairy, “The usual?”

“Yep, and keep ‘em coming.”

“That’s what she said,” joked the thief.  Aralyn looked to her.

“Very funny,” she commented.  A drink was placed before the fairy.  “Do you come here often?”

“Not really, but tonight I felt like slumming it with these fine folk.”

The thief extended her hand to the Beardbarian, who puked almost immediately as if on cue.

“You know anyone around here?”

The thief scanned the rest of the bar, realizing she did not know anyone other than the red-haired female vampire at the counter, who left some coin on the table and left.

“I think she used to quest with the mage who come in sometimes, but she isn’t around anymore.”

“Not sure how well a vampire can quest when they always have to leave in the morning,” Aralyn said.

“Do you know of the mage who comes here?”

“His name is Magog,” the fairy said, finishing her drink.  “Some people think he’s a very powerful wizard.”

“Is he?” the thief asked.

“Meh,” Aralyn shrugged.  “He hires people to go on quests with him sometimes, but usually all they do is get more and more drunk and never really do much of anything.”

“Now that sounds like fun!” the girl exclaimed.  “Where can I find this ‘Magog?’”

“He is supposed to meet me here soon, I’ll introduce you.  By the way, what’s your name?”

“I’m Chris Chan,” the thief lied.  She always lied about her true identity.

“Nice to meet you, Chris.”

“Nice to meet you, too.  Next round is on me!”

She paid for the drinks and they talked a while before the dark overlord himself finally entered the bar.  A hush went over the room at they looked at him, his gaze white and his robes black.  The silence was finally broken when a glass flew across the room and struck the wizard in the head.  It shattered and he flinched.

“You suck!” a voice called.

“Who threw that?!” Magog growled.  “Tell me and I’ll only give you to the raping tree for five days instead of ten!”

“He did it!” the thief lied, pointing at the Beardbarian.

Magog looked, confused for a moment.  “What the…Beardy?”

The Beardbarian looked up from the vomit he was attempting to clean off the floor with the bottom of his shirt.  “Magog!  How long has it been?”

The tavern patrons went back to their usual chatter as the wizard made his way to the drunken warrior.  “Can I buy you a drink?  Wench!  Is my credit good here?”

“Now’s the time to introduce me,” the thief whispered to the fairy.  “He’s buying drinks.”

“Hey Magog!” Aralyn called.

“Aralyn!  It’s uh…nice to see you again.  Did you get my…payment?”

“Got it, it’s all squared away.”

“Okay, good,” Magog said nervously, then helped the Beardbarian back into his seat.

“Payment for what?” the younger girl whispered.

“Told him I needed an abortion,” Aralyn said with a grin.  “Really I just needed to pay rent for the tree.”

“Tree rent, huh?  I like that.  I’ll have to use that sometime.  Not that I pay rent, I’m only 12.”

“I’m gonna use the little fairy’s room,” Aralyn said.  “Just go over there, I’m sure he’ll buy you something; just don’t tell him you’re 12.”

Aralyn fluttered to the bathroom and the Thief headed to the wizard’s table.  The bearded warrior was shouting incoherent threats and bragging about nympos the thief was sure didn’t exist.  Still, when Magog got him settled a round of drinks was purchased and the wench brought them over.

“So what brings you to this tavern, uh…what was your name again?” Magog asked.

“Oh, I’m DarksydePhil,” the thief lied confidently.

“Beardy here said he thought your name was MundaneMatt.”

“Oh, it is.  DarksydePhil is just my nickname.”

Magog looked at her skeptically, then shrugged.  “Whatever.”

The trio drank their ales and were joined by the fairy shortly.  After two hours, Magog decided to move the party back to his tower.  Everyone was invited.  The fairy did a fire spell behind the bar, causing the wench to run (and bounce) behind the fireplace to put it out.  When they were sure she was distracted, the group ran out of the bar and to the edge of the nearby woods, their bar tab neglected.

“Which way are we going?” asked Beardy.

“This way,” Magog told him, pointing to the dangerous path that lead up sharply to the wizard’s tower.  “You know, this has been a very entertaining evening.  We’ll have to get together more often.”
All nodded in agreement.

“It’s too dark,” the thief said.  “How will we find our way? And how will we avoid the raping trees?”

Aralyn had an idea, and lowered the top of her dress.  Two lights emanated from her chest, illuminating the path before them.

“Great idea, pixie!” Beardy exclaimed.

“Let your blinky nips light the way!” Magog shouted, and the four made their way up the path.