I’ve asked the faerie lady, Dusk, to write this down for me. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to learn to read and write, myself.
Anyway, this morning, I had just had bloody well enough. Even though I barely had three shillings to my name, I decided not to find work, and instead dropped into the Cat and Fiddle Tavern to drown my sorrows. Alcor’s tiny left nut, I’ve just had it! It isn’t my fault I was born this way!
Anyway, while I was drinking, still fairly early in the day – not yet lunchtime – three stupid laborers came in. They saw me sitting at the bar, drinking. The shitbags thought it would be funny to pretend to be attracted to me. It isn’t like I don’t know I’m ugly. Alcor’s teeth! Why do people have to be such assholes? Anyway, I was starting to get pretty hot, and I was afraid I was going to slip my grip on the burn again, when this group of five adventurers came in. One of them, a human man, chased off the cock-sucking goose fuckers. So that was good, but then, this little small folk twerp wants to start a conversation. Like I really wanted to talk!
Anyway, I guess I was losing my grip on the burn because about that time, the man who had chased off the dickheads asked me why my hands were smoking. Crap! I was caught!
I confessed to him that I’m a firestarter. Then the strangest thing happened. They asked me to join them! At first I refused. In fact I refused a couple of times. I’ve had people pretend to befriend me before. It has always turned out for the worst. But then, this big orc that’s with them sits down next to me, orders a huge plate of food and two drinks. He pushes one over to me an just starts eating. No talking, just eating.
To be honest, I’m not sure what happened or how, but somehow, I agreed to join these folks. So now I’ve hitched my wagon to theirs.
After a while, a cloth merchant came in, and one of the group, a woman named Persici asked to buy some of his cloth. He refused in a very condescending way (damned uppity merchants and city folks, always thinking they’re better than everyone else). Persici wasn’t having it. She threw him to the ground and held a halberd that she carries to his neck. Threats and insults were exchanged and the incident ended with the merchant leaving, trying desperately not to look afraid. He wasn’t all that convincing.
Persici pulled the small folk guy, Myroc, aside. After they talked for a few minutes, Myroc practically bounded out of the tavern and Persici suggested that we find a place to wait for Myroc’s return. We went to the Hunter’s Hall Inn, fancier than any inn I’ve ever even heard of, and the orc, Oreg, bought me a bed in the common room to sleep off my buzz.
When they waked me, we were leaving town, and Myroc had somehow gotten his hands on a bolt of fine brocade. It must be worth a bloody fortune! We travelled north out of town and spent the night under the stars in a nearby village.