It ain't easy being an Adventurer, whoever claims otherwise is either a liar or a fool. One of those boisterous and careless folks that step into dungeons with unearned confidence in their skills and usually end up in an early grave or get their entire party killed.
It is quite easy receiving the appropriate coin after completing a quest for the Guild, and it's even easier to spend your money in specialty shops and booze and nightly pleasures, but getting the job done? Staring death in the eye and telling 'im to fuck off?' That, my friend, is what adventuring's all about.
Oooo
Short as a child and furry as a northerner barbarian that dwelled in an ice cave, Teemothy Grass was perhaps one of the less intimidating members of the Adventurer Guild. His short stature was common for adults of his kind, his lean build didn't inspire the bards to write songs about him, and there wasn't even a single drop of magic swimming in his veins.
Most veteran adventurers called him a failure, for the poor Yordle hadn't been blessed with unique talents and special skills. Teemo couldn't tank hits that fell lesser men, tame wild beasts with a single glance and heal his comrades like the worshippers of the Church of the Eternal Sun. He was an average bloke struggling to make a living in a profession meant for extraordinary people. An unassuming nobody trying to excel in the same filed as genius swordsmen and powerful sorcerers.
What Teemothy could actually do was much, much simpler than flashy light shows and impossible feats of strength and dexterity. Teemothy's skills relied on close observation and survival knowledge, dabbling in poison and sneaking his way to the dens of sleeping monsters to strike when they were at their most vulnerable.
Instead of magic and fortitude, Teemo favored cunning and patience. His entire skillset consisted of little tricks that anyone could pick up given enough time, -if they were lucky enough to survive the dangers of the profession that is, both the expected and the unexpected. Useful tidbits and workarounds that the young Yordle had been forced to learn in order to earn its keep without the support of a party, since no budding adventurers wanted such a frail and strange creature joining their hunting groups.
'And where does that leave me' Teemothy thought bitterly as he reached out and tore a faded herb-gathering request from the quest board, 'I can't progress as an adventurer by myself past this point and I can only accept the easiest quests given to greenhorns, unless I belong to a registered hunting party.' The Yordle pondered, shooting a sideways glance at the dozens of chattering men and women that were turning in proofs of their success to the various receptionists that the guild employed.
The adventurers looked happy, content with their life. Smiling like people with full stomachs and heavy coin-pouches, and Teemo averted his gaze, frowning as he exited the 2-storey building that housed the Adventurer Guild. The self-taught scout had more pressing matters to attend to than the hopelessness of his current situation. The lingering aftertaste of defeat that pooled in his mouth.
The sun was already halfway up in the sky and his competitors would be no-doubt filling their satchels with the medicinal herbs that he was supposed to bring back to get his daily coin.
If Teemo hurried, he just might be able to complete his quest and stop at the Dancing Elf for a pint before sundown. Maybe he'd even find someone to exchange stories with over a light dinner! A kindred soul that felt out of place amongst the loudmouthed locals. A similarly disillusioned individual that was tired of playing their part in the bustling guise of civilization, getting pushed around by revolting figures of authority and entitled noblemen.
Only time would tell, but the Yordle decided to remain optimistic. After all, there wasn't much else that he could do about it.
0000
It always surprised Teemo how in tune he was with nature. Whether that was because Yordles were believed to be the descendants of the Fae or because his survival training prepared him for the worst possible outcome when it came to wandering alone in the woods, Teemo didn't know, but the sounds of the forest around him put him at ease.
The scout could appreciate the seemingly peaceful atmosphere, though being at peace certainly didn't mean that Teemo would lower his guard because of his familiarity with the terrain. The Yordle had stumbled upon enough monsters and beasts in the past not to make such a moronic mistake. There were all kinds of uglies in these woods that'd love to make a snack out of an absentminded Yordle.
Even as he walked with careful and measured strides as not to produce too much noise and to avoid stepping on any old traps left behind by irresponsible hunters, Teemo kept his hands to his darts and his blowgun. The furry scout's immediate attention being equally diverted between scanning the ground for medicinal herbs and surveying his surroundings for potential signs of an ambush.
Bandits were as common a sight as monsters lately, what with the strongest adventurers moving to the big cities to acquire better rewards, and the weakest of the bunch forming shady parties in their absence to exploit the efforts of overzealous rookies.
'Damn roaches the lot of them.' The scout mused darkly 'I might be poor and unpopular but at least I am not gutting innocent folks left and right.'
Teemo's expression turned sour upon noticing how dry the forest's floor was underneath his sturdy green boots.
The dryness of the soil wasn't surprising given that it hadn't rained in those parts for a while, yet the scout disliked the notion that the ground had hardened. Teemothy wouldn't be able to reliably track the passage of animals in the area in such circumstances. Unless an Ogre or a Cyclops had stomped their way past the trees pulverizing everything in their path, the young adventurer wouldn't be able to tell if he was heading straight into a goblin camp or walking next to the nest of a hungry wolf.
"If it is goblins I will be able to hear them before they are able to see me. And wolves prefer hunting at night when there are less broke adventurers making a ruckus in the woods." Teemo reminded himself, kneeling down to examine a plant with thorny red leaves.
Bloodthorn had a wide variety of uses. Direct contact with the plant caused the recipient's skin to be overcome with a feeling of numbness. The elderly boiled the plant's barbed thorns and drunk the water to soothe their chronic back pain, and alchemists added bloodthorn to their miraculous healing concoctions to lessen the pain of the wounded that ingested their elixirs after battle.
Taking a small knife out of his pocket with a gloved hand, Teemo cut the stem of the herb a few centimeters above the ground. The male Yordle placed the herb in its satchel along with the knife and stared ruefully at a patch of disturbed dirt and crushed scarlet leaves a few meters away from where it was standing.
The great thing about bloodthorn was that in spring a new plant would bloom from the stem of a cut bloodthorn as long as there were still pieces of the stem remaining and its roots were relatively intact.
Teemo respected the forest for providing him with an income through him completing gathering, escorting and monster-extermination quests. Be it medicinal plants, edible mushrooms, monster parts and poison supplies, Teemothy always tried to only take as much as he strictly needed from the forest, sometimes even less than that.
The furry adventurer never hunted the gray wolves that inhabited the forest during the mating season, or destroyed their nests, or killed their cubs to lure out their parents and slay them to sell their pelts. He didn't uproot every useful plant that he found while he was hunting monsters to get a bit of extra coin on the side, and whenever he discovered a new species of animals and plant life in some hidden location he kept that information to himself.
Sadly, Teemo's colleagues in the Adventurer Guild didn't pay any mind to the preservation of the ecosystem, and Teemothy could only take steps to minimize the damage that they caused instead of preventing them from harming the forest in the first place.
The regional administrators of the Adventurer Guild of course couldn't be bothered to remedy the bad habits of their employees as long as their clients paid them a fee to have their requests pinned on the guild's quest board. Taking action to deal with such mundane complaints weren't their problem, they reckoned.
Sometimes life sucked like that. People made a profit out of causing trouble for their sensible counterparts and the guardsmen accepted bribes from crooks to turn a blind eye on unlawful acts, looking away when the ruffians blackmailed an unlucky storeowner or robbed some poor merchant on the street in broad daylight.
Fortunately, in this instance, the dryads that protected the woods would help the forest heal after the harvesting period of bloodthorn and soothvine were over. The adventurers would then grumble about the lack of available work and have to earn their pay by slaying the monsters that preyed on the townsfolk.
It was a pity that many families would be in mourning by then.
The young Yordle had always found it vexing how the priests and the paladins, and all the supposedly decent folk ignored the woes of the citizens until their reputations were in jeopardy. Then, suddenly, the brave knights found time to hunt down the beasts that had been attacking the southern farms for weeks, and healers could afford to cure the sickly for free instead of charging them ridiculous sums to treat their ailments.
What a miracle it was how the officials abruptly appeared to give a damn when one of the king's men was due for a visit!
Teemothy shook his head at that thought, disgust churning inside him, splashing against his heart like a dark roiling wave. The scout slowly approached the torn and stomped patch of herbs beside the old oak tree, silently collecting the few crimson leaves that could be salvaged from the otherwise destroyed plants.
Three and a half leaves caked in dirt had been left behind by whoever had destroyed the bloodthorn plants, the rest was a mass of molded fibers and such, folded in the vague shape of flat footwear. Squeezed splotches of organic matter that was deteriorating under the shade of the trees, rotting in the form of soles and layers of stinking flora, pebbles and sticky juices scattered around crushed grass.
Teemothy held the intact leaves in his gloved palm with the care of a mother that was holding her newborn. His gaze caressed the feint patterns of white veins barely peeking below the surface of the deep maroon surface. Teemo had collected nearly ten leaves so far, a few more of those and he would have enough medicinal plants in his satchel to call it a day.
The adventurer patted the bloodthorns gently, removing some of the dust that had settled over the sanguine leaves. He shot one last glance at the stomped patch of earth in front of him and shook his head softly.
The dead plants would become nutrients for the trees, a part of them would borne new life.
'That's got to count for something.' Teemothy thought solemnly, putting the salvaged leaves inside his satchel along with the plant that he had picked up earlier. He rose to his feet and dusted his knees, slapping them with quick purposeful movements.
Teemo eyed the forest, making sure that nothing had changed since the last time he had glanced towards the maze of trees and began heading northwards, where he remembered seeing a blooming soothvine on a previous stroll across the woods. A stroll that had resulted in him fighting for his life against a mutated two-headed wolf, a horrifying abomination that had escaped from the workshop of an unhinged necromancer.
"Hut, two, three, four" Teemo counted the steps until he reached his prize as he jumped over a rotten log that was covered in moss. Skipping away the moment that his feet touched the ground, avoiding gnarly tree roots and angular rocks with a practiced ease that most elves would envy.
Teemo's boots didn't make a sound as the Yordle danced across the forest, occasionally pausing to listen to its surroundings or examine a broken branch on a bush or taste some delicious berries that grew near his path, before Teemo pressed on once again, stealthy and efficient.
The scout spotted a fox among the trees that instantly run away upon noticing him. He avoided a goblin patrol by crouching low behind a thick bush as the monsters walked past him, gurgling and grunting while they conversed in their foul language, shoving each other and hitting the trees with long notched sticks and crude spears.
After the goblins left, the stealthy Yordle marked the area where he had encountered them on his map and carved three straight lines on a nearby tree with his knife in warning to the local hunters -the universal sign for monsters being present in the nearby vicinity that alarmed travelers of imminent danger.
The young adventurer must have been walking for two quarters of an hour thus far, making good progress to the place where he had last spotted the lone soothvine, despite stopping every few minutes to pocket a poisonous flower or collect an edible mushroom that was growing besides an animal trail. A small failsafe on his part to make a little extra spending money, just in case that the soothvine was missing and he didn't manage to find the herbs that he needed to complete his gathering quest.
Ordinary folks didn't pay as much as the Adventurer Guild, but Teemo could still earn a living by utilizing his limited skills as a forester and braving the dangers of the unknown.
He had a loose partnership with Ashe, the proprietor of the Dancing Elf inn. He provided her with fresh mushrooms, wild onions and bulbs that he foraged in the woods for the meals that the elven maiden served to her customers, and she in return let him sleep in the unused storage room behind the stable free of charge and occasionally served him a warm bowl of stew on the house.
Teemo smiled wishfully as he turned right on an intersection where two animal trails met and converged into a wider rough line across the parted grass leading to a shallow pond. There were certainly enough wild onions and mushrooms in his bag to keep Ashe happy, and soon he would have enough medicinal plants to complete his quest as well. If not, then Teemo could always turn around and deal with the goblins that he had discovered previously to get a reward from the local trappers.
The ground beneath the Yordle's feet was already transitioning from dry earth to a brown layer of dirt and sated soil. The plant life around him gradually turning more vivid and lush, shy flowers and weeds sprouting proudly in contrast to the iron-fisted regime of the tall elms and the gnarly oaks that Teemo had been seeing for the last half an hour or so.
The scout crouched down to trace the countless indentions that had been left on the ground by the passage of wolves, monsters and forest creatures. Beasts that crawled out of their hiding holes for a drink, and others that stalked herbivores feeding on the plant life. He calmly observed the deep indentions of reinforced boots walking in a straight line, tried to recall if he had heard of a hunting party being deployed in the area. His frown darkening upon pondering that, certainly adventurers on an extermination quest weren't the only people that set up ambushes in the middle of nowhere.
Those footprints were equally likely to have been left behind by bandits searching for victims in this secluded area. Backstabbers and cutthroats, heinous criminals that attacked people in the woods and murdered them in cold blood for a handful of coins.
Most adventurers would rather fight somewhere closer to civilization instead of near a pond where the beasts and predators of the forest would regularly visit to sate their thirst. Crooks and bandits on the other hand, preferred to operate away from the lookouts near the town and popular hunting spots where a shout of alarm could potentially summon a crowd of witnesses, and even a few guardsmen on a good day.
Loud voices suddenly reached Teemothy's furry ears, cursing and yelling radiating from somewhere beyond the thicket opposite to the contemplative Yordle. An argument was taking place, it seemed, an altercation between civilized people judging by the lack of gurgling guttural noises that made out the crude goblin tongue.
Uncertain as to what he was getting himself into, yet curious to see what all this ruckus was about, the young scout crept closer to the shrubs that shielded the speakers from view. Teemo moved as stealthily as a sprite, purposefully avoiding stepping on sticks or leaves while crouching to further reduce his chances of being spotted. He readied himself, steeling his resolve in case that he had to use his blowgun, picking a poisoned dart from the leather pouch that hung from his belt.
As the young adventurer moved closer to the source of the shouting, he started recognizing the words that were being yelled from the angry party. Someone was demanding for another person to cooperate with them and to give up all their valuables as he spat out harsh words in a heavy northern accent.
Teemo held his breath as he carefully leaned sideways, peeking out from behind the tree that he used as cover. The scout's green and brown attire merging nicely with the colors of the tree barks around him and the moss and the ivy that grew against their uneven surface.
The people at the pond certainly didn't notice Teemothy's arrival, being too busy arguing amongst themselves in agitated and particularly loud voices.
Two men dressed in dark clothing with mismatched pieces of armor sticking out above their garments were trying to scare off a dryad that had been bathing in the pond until they had ambushed her. The green-skinned woman was scowling at the shouting men, showing no fear about her wellbeing despite the bandits waving antique rust-crusted swords at her while she was unarmed, naked and dripping water in the middle of the pond.
"Wretched spirit, give us your treasure!" One of the men shouted, baring his teeth at the clearly unimpressed dryad. He had dirty blond hair and shook his sword in the air threateningly as he spoke. His battered shoulder guard was dented and utterly filthy.
The dryad just shot him a glare full of disgust, using her arms to cover her naked breasts. Her long, wet crimson hair was cascading behind her back and over her smooth shoulders like a scarlet waterfall.
Teemo noticed that there were batches of redthorn and soothvine sprouting out from the sides of the woman's hips, her temples and her shoulders. The Yordle scout couldn't really tell if the plants were part of the dryad's physiology since Teemo had never seen one from up close before, but they shifted subtly along with the redheaded beauty's strange floral fins whenever she moved.
"Ya better listen to 'im," The second bandit hissed darkly, spittle flying out of his snarling mouth to land on his tangled brown beard as he took a step towards the green woman. This man was a head taller than the other bandit and had a nasty scar running from his right brow to the opposite cheek. The wound appeared to be infected judging be its color. "We aren't playing games here. Ya either give us your magic 'old while we are asking nicely or 'hings are gonna get ugly!" He shouted.
"I have no gold to give to you," The woman scoffed, shaking her head as if she was disappointed by the bandit's intelligence, "Dryads have no use for shiny rocks and metal discs, our only interest lies in nurturing the forests that we call home."
"You are lying, spirit," Growled the first bandit shaking with anger, "Everyone knows that you forest demons hide treasure in tree holes and below the waters of creaks."
The other bandit grunted in agreement, staring at the exotic woman arrogantly as if his partner's words had proven his point. His smug expression combined with the infected scar that marred his visage and his disheveled beard caused him to look even uglier than before.
"Mortals…" The dryad snorted humorlessly and the taller man snarled at her like a savage beast as he raised his rust-crusted sword to strike her down.
Teemothy didn't wait to see if the strike would land or if the dryad would manage to move out of the way in time. He jumped out of his hiding spot, vaulted over a bush and aiming his blowgun at the face of the swinging bandit he unleashed a dart imbued with potent poison, sending it flying at the bearded crook.
"Aarg!" The bandit cried out in pain, his palm coming to rest at his bleeding scarred cheek. The skin around the tip of the dart was starting to redden and blister, and the man clawed at his injured face desperately, hoping to alleviate the terrible pain that suddenly assaulted him and inhibited his vision.
The dryad and the blond criminal flinched at the volume of the bearded man's cries that was currently tearing out his own flesh, scanning the trees for a sign of the attacker.
By the time that the blond bandit's gaze managed to find the short Yordle in green standing a few feet away from them, Teemo had already loaded another dart into his blowgun and was aiming it at the startled brute.
"You little-!" The bandit cursed as he dove to the side to escape the whistling projectile. His body splashed into the pond, kicking drops of water everywhere. He spat a mouthful of water, glaring at his adversary hatefully, his sword vanishing underneath the cool liquid while the crook made to get up to lunge at the Yordle.
Teemo hopped backwards to create some distance. He glanced at the tall bandit that had stopped clawing at his face and was now lumbering towards him with his visage bloody and covered in boils.
"That doesn't look good," The adventurer commented under his breath, shooting a dart at the bandit in the pond that was starting to pull himself out of the water. The man dove beneath the surface again and Teemothy took advantage of the distraction to deal with the wounded bandit that was running at him with a furious expression plastered on his maimed face.
Waiting until the angry man in front of him committed to a downwards swing that intended to split him in two, Teemo rolled underneath the crook's feet, stabbing the back of the bandit's right knee as he rose with the dart that he had been about to load into his blowgun before he'd found himself locked in close combat.
The bandit span around in an instant, tears of pain obscuring his vision as he swung his weapon around in a frenzy.
Teemothy had barely any time to dodge the frantic swings of the screaming man. He rolled out of the way of the initial swing and lunged to the side in a hurry as the sword slashed at the place that he had been occupying mere seconds ago. The sharp steel cutting blades of grass that were caught in its path, one of the slashes coming so close to the retreating adventurer that it trimmed the crest of his hat as it passed above him.
Knowing that he would soon have to face both of the bandits at the same time and not liking his odds, Teemo made a run for the blonde man that had since nearly crawled out of the pond and was currently wiping water from his eyes on all fours, his rusted blade still resting within his grasp.
The adventurer made a beeline for him, sprinting forward while his blinded opponent bellowed and cursed behind him, still swinging his sword madly in his general direction, the other hand of the scarred crook extended to the level of his waist to feel for obstacles in his path as he approached the pond. Tears and blood and bits of torn flesh obscuring the bearded northerner's vision.
Finally blinking the last of the water away from his eyes, the blond bandit lifted his head to see what had happened to his comrade and locked eyes with the smiling Yordle that was racing for the pond.
The eyes of the uninjured bandit widened to the size of saucers upon suddenly finding the hated creature so close to him and his bellowing comrade rushing to his aid. His arm shot forward attempting to stab the little terror, his rusted blade missing the Yordle's torso by a few inches, drawing blood as the edge of the battered sword scratched a deep gash on Teemothy's shoulder.
The fearless scout gritted his teeth as he shoved the rusty sword away from him and gripped his hat tightly in his furry hand. He spat at the bandit's eyes and he instinctively swung his blade horizontally while shielding his face in return, remembering what had happened to his comrade when the little menace had broken through the tall bandit's defense.
Something soft fell on top of the blond man's head. The bandit waited with bated breath, expecting to feel the same agony of the Yordle's poison as his bearded companion. His blade cut through the air meeting no resistance upon completing its arc, yet despite that the furry creature screamed in what could only be despair.
His comrade had arrived to finish the creature off, it seemed. The blond man smirked sinisterly, blinking rapidly to clear his blurry sight while absentmindedly taking a hold of the thing that had fallen on his head. It was surprisingly light and malleable for a weapon, but whatever the case the bandit knew that his devilish foe wasn't to be underestimated under any circumstances.
Near the edge of the hazy pond and hovering above the drenched man ominously, a dark silhouette watched him, panting heavily while the recovering bandit brought the thing in his grasp before his face to examine it with watering eyes.
'How peculiar, the Yordle had attempted to assault him with some kind of hat… but why?' He pondered, glancing at the shadow above him that appeared to be lifting its sword over its head, holding it with both hands, almost as if his seething comrade was mustering his strength to unleash a devastating strike on the creature that had attacked them.
The bandit's eyes widened as he understood the damned squirrel's plan. He opened his mouth to alarm his blinded companion about the Yordle's ploy, but before the words could escape his throat, the bearded bandit's sword caved in his skull.
Grunting in satisfaction at finally killing the pesky adventurer, the bearded man knelt beside the pond. He set his sword down next to him and leaned forward, splashing bloody water at his irritated eyes to clear them and clenching his throbbing foot whilst cursing his bad luck.
Thinking that the corpse with the stained green hat that bled out in the shallows belonged to the now dead Yordle, and having forgotten about the presence of the dryad in his singular need to murder the one that had harmed him, the bandit didn't pay attention to the sound of dripping water emanating from somewhere close to him.
"Please, take your sweet 'uking time, won't ya?" He grumbled at his useless companion, rubbing his bleeding face and grimacing at the sensation of mutilated flesh against the pads of his scrutinizing fingertips, "It ain't like I took care of the stinkin' rat by myself while you 'ere bathing." He mocked.
"Thank you." A chirpy voice answered to him from the water. The bandit froze and slowly removed his hands from his face, only succeeding in getting a quick view of the smiling scout looming over him and his swishing blowgun, before the weapon slammed against the crook's temple and everything went dark.