It's All Elemental

By

James Thalmus

The line of people stretched far into the distance. All in line waited to enter the large, bustling city of Garnet. Large mountains in the distance stood out purple in the calm blue sky. Four friends waited in line as well, except that these four souls were destined for a grand adventure.

The fellow closest to the gate, but still a ways back, was Wulfric, a stout warrior, with a large sword on his back, and a shield at his side. He was tall and well-built specimen from a warrior's college some distance away. The last gift his father had ever given him fit loosely over his shoulders, and Wulfric reminded himself to get that armor taken in a little while he was here.

The friend behind Wulfric was the gorgeous elven minstrel Oliana, who wore a lute across her back, her long red hair in a ponytail, and a loose fitting leather jack wrapped across her body. She looked at the laces and frowned. They were tattered and frayed from hard days behind them. 'This is no way for a bard to live,' she thought to herself as she moved up with the line.

Behind her stood a strapping elven lord named Gilthoron. A large, masterfully crafted longbow stood out at his left shoulder and a quiver of arrows hung at an angle on his right. His keen elven senses told him that Wulfric and the man behind him needed a good scrubbing. 'Humans," he thought to himself. A quick look at his clothes, which told him that he could use a bath as well, made him blush.

In line, after the ranger, a large, pointed hat poked out over a large book. Narvik, the wizard, and owner of the hat, liked the idea of a big, floppy, hat. He thought it was important to keep up stereotypes. His blue robes stretched to the ground, covering his shoes. He glanced at his cuffs and grimaced at the thought of those singe marks, and from where they came. As he moved forward with the line, he made a mental note to purchase new ones once in town.

He became further engrossed in his book as he moved with the line. Before he realized something was amiss, a sword blade touched the top of his book and began to push it to the side.

"Narvik Drammen," a man said as he sheathed his sword. "It appears that you have some unfinished business in Garnet. Lord Powell has put a reward on you, and I intend to claim it. Apparently, the matter involves his daughter and a set of stolen clerical vestments." The man wore a white tabard with the seal of Lord Powell emblazoned on the front.

"Whoa," Narvik said as he put his book away. "First of all I didn't steal anything, and secondly, I had no idea who she was at the time. Besides, that was in Cobblerville. That's miles from here. How could Powell have any control in this area?"

"You didn't hear," the guard said as he tried to grab Narvik's arm? "Lord Powell was granted land in this area a few weeks ago. After that, he asked us guards to keep a lookout for you. Imagine my luck...and I thought this was going to be a bad day."

"Well," a voice said from behind the guard. Narvik looked behind the guard and saw Wulfric put his armored hand on the man's shoulder. "The day is still young."

"Sir," Oliana said as she walked up next to Wulfric who stood almost a foot and a half taller than her. "We have no quarrel with a guard of Lord Powell. Your job is so important, and you shouldn't be bothered with such trivial things as my friend here."

Narvik noticed the short gestures she was making with her hands as she spoke and a smile creased his face. With the way she was buttering him up her spell had no chance to fail, and the fact that she was smoking hot didn't hurt either.

"Huh," Wulfric said as he looked down at Oliana.

"Well," the guard began with a bleary-eyed look on his face. "It is an integral part of the orderly structure of the city's constabulary. Not many people realize how important my job is. Protection of the populace at large begins and ends with me."

"Huh," Wulfric said as he looked from Oliana to the guard.

"Wow," said Oliana as she moved next to Narvik and began to escort him past the guard. "That is fascinating. I hate to do this, but we really have to run. It was nice meeting you."

"The pleasure, " the guard said as he grasped her hand and kissed it lightly. "M'lady, was all mine."

"Um," Oliana said as she retrieved her hand and kept walking. "See you around."

The party walked away from the guard and through the city gates. As they past under the huge portcullis, they were greeted with all of the sights and smells of a bustling metropolis. Buildings stretched up into the sky and as far down the twisting and turning streets as the eye could see. Fresh white washed walls were interspersed with buildings made of brick and mortar. A layer of filth covered most of the buildings, showing age and wear. A large spire rose above the other buildings. Narvik recognized it immediately and remembered that he needed to grace the inhabitants of the mage's guild with his presence.

"What just happened back there," Wulfric said to the group?

"Just a minor charm," Oliana said as she hefted her pack over her shoulder. "It should wear off in a little while."

"Brilliant idea Oliana," Narvik said as he tightened a few straps on his backpack. "You must teach me that spell."

"Um," Gilthoron said as he looked into his belt pouch. "Do we really want to be here when that spell wears off?"

The party nodded agreement and split up to sell their spoils. They agreed to meet later that day at the Three Toed Sloth, an inn that Wulfric remembered from his youth.

-- --

"Sire," a man dressed in the finer attire of the day said as he opened the door to a large study. "I have news from the gates."

The man sitting at a desk placed to book he was reading carefully upon it and began rubbing his temples with his fingers. "I told you I was not to be bothered."

"Yes, M'Lord," the man said with a short stutter. "It involves a certain wizard sire. Mr. Drammen has been sighted at the north gate. He came through not two hours ago."

"And why was I not alerted an hour ago, Nathaniel?"

Nathaniel looked flustered as he spoke. "It appears, Lord Powell, as though he is traveling with a new companion and the charms we used on the guards were for Mr. Drammen alone. He slipped by us again, sire."

A low growl emitted from Lord Powell as he rose from his chair. The scowl on his face filled the room with anger. Then, as quickly as it had come on, the anger was replaced with a wry grin that turned into a broad smile.

"I have an idea Nathaniel," Lord Powell said as he moved across the room. "We have been going at this all wrong. Force will not win this day. It is subtlety we must employ."

"Subtlety, sire?" Nathaniel questioned.

"Yes m'boy," Lord Powell said in almost a giddy state. "I can't be wrong."

-- --

"This must be wrong," Gilthoron said to himself as he walked down the bustling city streets, looking as he past a rather run down shop. He glanced at the hastily written instructions to a well renowned fletcher and realized he was on the wrong side of town. Suddenly he found himself in a neighborhood of questionable intent, and without warning, a young child ran into him from his right. At the same time, he felt a small tug at the belt pouch he had been looking in earlier.

"Hey," he shouted as he turned around and saw a young man throw his pouch into the air. Gilthoron gave chase to the pouch just as another boy caught it. The pouch flew through the air twice more, each time being caught by another boy and chucked into the air just as Gilthoron reached him.

Gilthoron was becoming impatient. As the pouch flew through the air again, it stopped half way between the two boys. The pouch hung from an arrow sticking out of one of the many buildings on the street.

"That is enough," Gilthoron yelled as he lowered his bow. "Now get out of here before I call out the guard."

Everyone on the street stared in amazement as he walked to retrieve his pouch and arrow. The young men who had attempted the theft scattered and were nowhere to be found.

Four human guards rounded a corner lead by a hulking humanoid with dark gray skin in chain mail armor. Gilthoron almost snorted at the thought of dealing with a half-orc, but held his tongue. The guards stopped before they reached Gilthoron and spread out. The half-orc walked confidently toward Gilthoron.

"Everything alright here?" the deputy said in a gruff voice as he extended his hand. "Names Barnak, the guys just call me Barnie. What happened?"

"Just a few kids," Gilthoron said as he shook Barnak's massive paw. "I don't think it's much to worry about. I gave them a scare they won't soon forget."

"Thank the gods," Barnak said. "Thought it might be another one of them damn fire creatures tearing through the streets."

"Fire creatures?"

"Yeah," Barnak said as he looked at the busy streets. "Those are the worst of 'em. Mages Guild tells us these things are elementals. Big things with arms and legs made of fire, or water, or sometimes, pure rock. Them bastiches are tough as nails."

"Elementals eh," Gilthoron said in a not to interested tone. "Well, I'll keep my eyes peeled."

"You do that," Barnak said as he whistled for his men to get back in formation. "Have a nice day."

He thought to himself as he refastened his belt pouch and watched the guards move around the corner, 'whether Barnie thinks so or not, this is not going to be a good day.'

-- --

'This was going to be a good day,' Oliana thought as she strolled through the marketplace, examining the wares of all of the local merchants and admiring the beautiful day. She perused shop after shop, not looking for anything in particular, just looking.

"My goodness," exclaimed a young human female as Oliana walked past. "That jack you have there is in need of some repair. How's about you come in and I'll have it fixed right for ya."

Oliana looked at the frayed laces again and nodded her head as she spoke, "You're right...this thing does need some work." She undid the laces of the jack and walked into the darkness of tailor's shop.

After her eyes adjusted to the lack of adequate light, she realized that she and the young lady were not alone. The girl walked up to the front of the store where a much older woman stood. The older woman reached into her apron and withdrew a coin and placed it into the hand of the young girl.

"Thank you Emily," the older woman said to the young lady who, from the resemblance, was her daughter. "Now run along, I've got work to do."

Emily ran for the door, giggling all the way. As Oliana watched her go, she saw that she was not the only customer that day. Although Oliana had never been one to be attracted to the human race, a very hansom man sat in one corner of the shop and the sight of him made her catch her breath.

"Tsk, tsk," the older woman said as Oliana handed her the leather jack. "This is in a sad state. Have a seat, and I'll get to it after I'm done with his."

"No problem," Oliana said as she took a seat that she thought was not too close to the man to make her seem too forward, and not to far away to make her seem unapproachable.

"Hello," The man said, with a smile on his face, as he leaned a little closer to her. "My name's Marcus, are you new in town?"

'Oh he's good,' she thought sarcastically to herself. 'That was cheesy if she'd ever smelt it.' Still, she wasn't going to drop this one just because of a bad line.

"Yes," she said in reply to his question. "Just arrived here actually."

"Well then," Marcus said as he stood and held out his hand with a flourish. He was dressed in a red coat and breeches. Nothing spectacular as far as the style of the day went, but it fit him well and Oliana could tell that he was a well-built man, even through his clothes. "You must allow me to escort you next door while Clara mends our troubles."

"Although I am not saying yes," she said in a giggle as she looked from his hand to his eyes. She then noticed that even in this light she could tell that his eyes were the darkest green, with a sparkle of a man half his age. "What is next door?"

"One of Garnet's greatest attractions," Oliana could tell that this man was laying it on thick as the words were spilling out of his mouth. A stifled giggle from Clara told Oliana that she could tell as well. "Some of the best cakes you shall ever have."

'What the hell," Oliana thought to herself as she reached out tentatively and took Marcus' hand. 'At least my day won't be boring.'

-- --

"This is going to be so boring," Narvik said to no one in particular. "This many people cannot have business with the guild."

Narvik looked ahead at the long line that stretched ahead of him and around the corner of the great spire of the mages guild. An eyebrow raised on the wizards head. He looked from the ground to some of the people in the line. Toward the front, he noticed, most of the people had no shadow.

"Hrmm," He said as he snapped his finger. Suddenly, the world to him was a bright shade of blue. As he concentrated, things began to come into focus. The guild itself radiated a very bright aura, which told Narvik that the walls were magically protected. Most of the people at the front of the line also radiated a faint aura of magic.

"Illusions," Narvik said to himself as he stormed to the front of the line and through the door. "What a waste of time."

"Hey," a few people behind Narvik yelled as he walked past them. These folks, he realized, were not illusions, but rather were real people who were put out about waiting in line for so long.

"Sorry," Narvik said just before he entered the two double doors of the guild. "Guild business."

The dimly lit waiting area housed four rather well worn green couches and a desk as old as the guild house itself. A young woman dressed in apprentice robes looked up from her paperwork as she lit a candle and smiled at Narvik.

Narvik put on his best smile and walked with confidence to the desk. "Hello," he said in a tone he had used many times to melt women's hearts. "I'm here to see someone about my dues."

The young lady looked up at Narvik with her large, blue eyes. "Is that so," she said in a voice that could only be described as melodic. "Name please?"

"Narvik Drammen," he said as he watched her point at a quill. It popped to life and began to scribble on an unfurled piece of parchment. "Wanna teach me that trick over an expensive glass of wine."

The young woman giggled, and Narvik noticed her nametag. "Alice," Narvik said with a grin. "What a lovely name."

If he kept this up, he might be able to slink out of paying his dues. He had decided to press further, but Alice interrupted.

"Any aliases?" Alice said as she looked at him quizzically.

"Reginald Perk...," he had spoken before he realized what he was doing. He glanced around the room, and noticed Alice motion to the candle. This wasn't going to be good.

"Candle of Truth, eh?" Narvik asked with a less than convincing smile.

"Yeah," said Alice with a sly grin. "Had it installed about a week ago, too many wizards lying about dues and such. Now, how about we continue?"

"Well," Narvik said with the realization that he was stuck paying his dues. "Let's get this over with."

Five minutes later, Narvik's mouth was parched and Alice's stood ajar. The pen had run out of paper somewhere in the middle of the long list of names and began writing on the desk. Alice was too shocked to stop it. Narvik snapped his fingers, and a glass filled with clear water appeared on the desk. He picked it up and drank deep.

"Next," Narvik said as he sat the glass down. It disappeared as he released it.

-- --

"Next," said a large man behind a counter. He wore a leather apron, covered in soot and other unmentionable stains. The room was filled with people of all shapes, sizes, and races. Wulfric walked to the counter and nodded to the proprietor.

"I think I'm next," Wulfric said as he dropped a sack that clanged and jingled as it hit the counter. "I have a few things you might be interested in."

"I love adventurers," said the fat man as he opened the sack. "This may be both our lucky day."

"Well," Wulfric said with a grin as he looked around the room. "I joined for the camaraderie, I stayed for the guild discount."

The merchant chuckled a little as he brought out a set of large scales. Wulfric watched the fat man work with the agility of a man half his size, and after five minutes of sorting and weighing, the sack Wulfric had laid on the counter was empty, and the pouch on his belt was full.

As Wulfric walked out of the merchant's shop, and across the grounds of the fighter's guild, a familiar voice called out to him, "Hey Wulfric."

Wulfric turned to see a short and squat humanoid. He recognized the dwarf instantly, but the rank on his shoulder was a new addition he didn't expect.

"Duram, you old dog," Wulfric said as he and the dwarf shook hands like friends who hadn't seen each other in an age. "When did you make captain?"

"Oh please," Duram said as he adjusted the golden colored cord looped around his shoulder. "You'd 'ave gottin' this two years ago, if'n ya'd been here."

"Ouch," Wulfric said, faking chest pain. "You know I was called away on a family business. There was nothing I could do about it."

Duram nodded solemn agreement as they started across the grounds of the fighters guild. Mock combat raged all around them as students learned the arts of swordplay and brawling. Wulfric reminisced with Duram about old times and there many exploits in the guard as they walked. They stopped in front of a circle on the ground that Wulfric recognized as a circle of challenge.

"What's this about Duram," Wulfric said as he looked at his old friend.

"Eh," Duram grunted as he stepped into the circle and drew a wooden gladius used for practice and a small shield. "Consider it a fun game between two ol' friends."

Wulfric walked over to the rack of practice weapons and grabbed a longsword and shield. "Alright old man," he said as he stepped into the circle. "But if I win, you owe me a drink."

"Fair 'nuf," Duram said as he readied himself. "First one out loses."

The 'clack' of wood sword on wood sword steeled Wulfric's mind for combat as he parried the dwarf's surprisingly fast assault. He ignored the crowd gathering around the circle as he pressed the attack. Wulfric slashed with accuracy at Duram, but all of his attacks were met with the thud of wood from either the dwarf's shield or his sword.

Wulfric felt a sharp sting in his right arm as Duram's sword met his armor. A cheer rose up from the crowd and Wulfric knew who the local favorite was. 'Time to disappoint them,' he thought as he once again slashed at the stout dwarf. He struck pay dirt with a quick flick of his sword.

Duram let out a yelp and Wulfric's sword came down hard on the dwarf's hand. "You've gotten better," Duram said as he bent down to pick up his sword. "Call it a draw then?"

At this, an addible sound of disappointment rose from the crowd. "I think that might be a good idea," Wulfric said as he looked around at the gathered crowd. People muttered as they shuffled away and exchanged coins that Wulfric could only see as a reneged bet. "I'll buy the first round."

"Aye," Duram said. "I know of the perfect place."