SAULVAUR
A crossroad of two trading routes, this small town acts as a waypoint for weary traders and travellers.

A recent increase in monster related fatalities lead to an accompanying shortage of supplies. Which in turn then lead to a few wild and questionable witch hunts, which only resulted in further fear and chaos. The consequent unruliness and burden of complaints to the crown saw new laws put in place.

Only authorised guilds could freely hunt monsters. And due to a lack of unity and coordination, all small and solo mercenary bands were ordered to join a guild or disband.

A meeting was held calling all potential hunters, applicants and leaders. For the sake of unity, the town would limit its number of guilds. For the sake of healthy competition it would have more than one.

...

As always, there are those that cannot agree. Were not chosen. Cannot get along. The outcasts if you will.
There were also those amongst that group who wouldn't take no for an answer, couldn't accept any other future than the one they sought. They banded together and despite not being recognised as an official monster hunting guild, opened up 'The Helping Hand'.

Not a monster slaying guild, nor mercenaries for hire, but a courier guild. Stretching the bounds of transportation and delivery services. Residing in an old lonely farmers spare cottage, funded by an young headstrong foreign noble. The only thing they share is a desire to add great deeds to their name.

Reserved.

Day one,
the second Sun's day of Emberfall,
Year 184 of the 4th age.

The tavern was like any other. Wooden structure stained with despair, worn creaky floors marred by the scruff of countless passing feet, the scent of sweat and ale fused in the air with hints of the last cooked meal seeping through.
Saulvaur hosted two such drinking holes. One slighter nicer than the other, one to attract and entertain the passerby's while the other was a place for the locals to drown lost hopes without unnecessary frivolities.

But today was no ordinary day. The later, simply known as Balenof's, (named after its owner Balenof.) was alive with activity.
Following the days earlier proceedings at the towns centre, Balenof's had become the place the two newly licensed monster hunting guilds were forming.

There was much banter and arguing. Ones own thoughts could barely be heard over the loud ruckus as two teams slowly formed. Bravado was high and many an exaggerate tale was yelled loudly for attention. People were recruited, judged and rejected. Some even fought over. Interviews were a messy process that more than once involved an arm wrestle contest or chugging competition.

There was however a third party in the corner, not caught up in the rest of the happenings. Adding an air of sourness to the rooms testosterone filled activities. An old man who was laughed away or ignored, alongside a scowling young noble with fine soft features who to his dismay, for once didn't get what he wanted.

"Bunch of bafoons." The young noble grumbled, flicking his golden hair from his face with a twist of his head. There was after all a third guild recruiting today.
While not licensed to hunt monsters, and without the prestige of being adventurers, it was but a humble courier's delivery guild. The only option left for these two would-be monster hunters. An option offered in mockery but one they took.

The old man smiled softly and placed up his sign, looking out over the crowd hopefully, keeping an empty seat opposite himself vacant.

---

Gabriella the Silent (Gabs)

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Location: Town Square

---

In the square, a farmer's wagon came to a stop, and he knocked on the wall behind him.

"We're here."

The hay rustled, then a small figure wearing army leathers appeared, climbing down with her pack and her belongings.
"Thank you," Gabs said. "Could you tell me where I can find 'Balenof's', mister..?"

"Mooney. Half-blind Mooney. Look behind you," the farmer said. "You see that tavern in the middle?"
Gabs smiled, taking in the fresh paint, neat appearance, and sharply dressed patrons. "Yeah, I..."
"Well, that ain't it," the farmer spat. "On this side of the square, find Lost street."

"Find the lost street? How am I...?"
"Nah, find the street with the lost street sign. Some idiot took it down and never put up a new one. Anyway, when the town went to put one up again, nobody could remember what the name of the street was."
"They lost the name of the street?"
"It were the year of the goblins raids, little buggers comin' up outta the sewers. We were a mite busy at the time."
"No maps?"
"Burned."
"So you used to live here? Why did you leave?"
"Couldn't stand all the excitement, and people kept making fun of my wooden leg."
"Your wooden leg?"
"Aye, they used this carved post from a bawdy house what burned down durnin' the goblin raids, and everyone what sawed it were ogling it mighty fierce, and makin' jokes. Not me, of course. Can't twist it ta see the front. Back's nice."

"Ah," Gabs said, her cheeks burning, "When you picked me up, you said you were coming to town to get..."
"A mirror, aye," The farmer spat, staring down at her down his nose. "Savin' up for three years now. Want ta see what all the fuss' about."

"Right. So Balenof's is down the lost street?"
"Keep going until you see that hole what's left of the Mage guild. Best not go to close to it, people keep fallin' in and never come out. There's an alley to the right, and on the next street, you'll see the Gruel House."

"The Gruel House."
"Run by a buncha monks. The gruel and the ale's cheap, but ya gotta listen to this long-winded monk in da corner the entire time as he rants on about the sins of this world. Real bitter about it, too, I think he regrets missin' out. Plus he keeps insulting my wooden leg."
"That's ah, that's too bad."
"I'll probably drop in tonight after I get my mirror."
"You ah, you do that. Um, so when I see the Gruel House...?"
"Balenof's is to yer left, they're behind the Mage Guild.
"Why are they behind the Mage Guild if all what's left is some hole?"
"Land were cheap."

"Why don't they just fill the hole?"
"Well, it's floating in mid-air and if ya get too close..."
"You fall in," Gabs sighs.
"If you get a room at Balenof's, try not ta get an end one. They shake worse than most and sometimes something falls off and into the hole. The only good thing is the rooms are dry despite half the shingles gone. The rain..."
"Goes into the hole," she interrupts. "Thanks for the ride."
"Take care, boy."

Gabriella shot him a hot glare, but he had already flicked the reins and heading out of the square. Taking a last glance at the tavern behind her, she sighs and starts checking for a street without a street sign.

Entering Balenof's, the room grew quiet, glancing down at Gabs in her army leathers - then when they saw she was alone, they ignored her and went back to their conversations. Gabs scowled and made her way to the bar.

"Bar keep!" Gabs called out, waving her hand at the man leaning behind the bar, talking to another patron. He sighed and came down.

"Boy, you're too young to be in here," he said. "Best go home and put yer dad's leathers back before he finds out."
"I'm not a boy," Gabs scowls, fishing out a couple of coppers and putting them on the bar top, "I need an ale after what I had to go through to find this place, and I want to know where I can find 'the helping hand'."

"Hah, the 'Helping Hand'," the brute sitting next to her sneered. "You don't look so..."
Gab's hand grabbed the brute's beard and she pulled hard, slamming his face into the bar top. Dazed, he raised his head, only for Gabs to pull it down twice more. He slipped off the stool and fell to the floor, his nose bleeding heavily.

She then glanced up at the bar keep. "Where's my ale?"

After drinking half of her tankard, the bar keep pointed over to where the old man and the lordling sat.

"Hey," Gabrielle said as she came up. "The sheriff in Middleton told me to see 'The Helping Hand.' I need a job."

Alastrina could barely contain her excitement. A chance for adventure, fortune, and purpose; all available at local Balenof's. The guilds had been established just today and now was her chance to join. She doublechecked her sword and satchel, making sure everything was intact. Her father always said that first impressions meant everything and she meant to make a good impression.

Whimsey whinnied behind her at the water trough as the cheers from within Balenof's wafted out from within.

"It's alright, boy," she stroked his nose then slipped him a sugar cube. "Just a little while then we'll see what the guild house has for you." Then she turned back, squared up her shoulders, then barged through the door.

The raucous grew into a din as she entered, people bustling about throughout the room. Soon enough though, she found the two monster hunter guilds. She boded and weaved through the celebrations and headed for the first one, "Hello, I'm Alastrina Rogers. I heard you're recruiting-"

"Sorry. All full up here."

She paused. "Thank you." Then she made her way to the second one. "Hi, I'm Alastrina Rogers. I heard you're recruiting monster hunters."

The person looked her up and down. "Have any experience?"

"I know my way around a sword."

"But you've never been in a fight before."

"I'd hold my own."

"Sorry, but we're only interested in experienced fighters here. Get yourself a different guild."

"But if you would give me a chance-"

"I already told you, no. Good day."

"...Good day." Then she left the table with a huff. Now what? She'd set her sights on this. What else could she even do?

It was then the lonely table caught her eye, with the sign of Helping Hand in front of it. She had one last chance then. Screwing her shoulders up, she made her way over. "Hello. I'm Alastrina Rogers. I see you're recruiting?"

The fey dragon has had a rough month. Ever since he vanished through the gateway, he has been everything he asked for. A completely alien world. A world so devoid of magic compared to his home that he had to pick his fights when hunting for food.

At first, he thought that animals were ruling this world, as an ape, and possibly a strange fish with horizontal tail fin and a... beak? Were showing the most intelligence, but nowhere hear his kind.

A week ago though he has made an interesting discovery. While he was resting high in the canopies, he spotted a hairless ape. Which would be nothing strange, were it not for the fact that she was riding a weird, white, wingless and hornless alicorn. That was a trick he has not seen before! Flickerwing supposed his species did not need to invent anything like it since their wings could carry them faster than anything on land.

He has been shadowing her since, and found more interesting stuff. Apparently, the apes have been collecting themselves in patches of heavily reshaped land that reminded him of the crystalline dwellings of the fairies of his homeworld.

Even more interesting, they mostly seemed content staying there, only a few of them venturing out from their mounds of stone and wood. The few like the Not-alicorn rider that ventured out seemed to collect in a single building.

He has made his new camping place on its roof, cloaking himself while flying over the apes' dwellings as to remain incognito, the only creature aware of his presence was the marten that has made home in the attic - Or so Flickerwing hoped.

The old man's bushy white brows twitch with a surprised excitement as the two approached his table. A dumbfound wide eager grin spills across his face and it took him a moment of stammering before he could find his words.

"Yes yes. Come! Come! Please sit down." He motions to the empty seats opposite himself.

"Ahh, if yer looking for work you've come to the right place. Yes yes. Sit, sit." The bristles of his white moustache continue to dance even when he's not speaking, as he continues to makes shapes with his pressed lips as if constantly preparing or practicing to talk.

The lordling gives the duo a short dismissive appraising glance then rolls his eyes and focuses on the mug of ale in his hand, letting out a further disappointed sigh as he sights the liquid within and then begrudgingly forces it up to his lips.

"So, so!" The old man croaks, scratching his bald head and smiling. "Now, why do you wish to join our humble little guild? What do you offer? I warn you now though, there will be no skylarking about, it will not be an easy ride. No no, it will be no light work. It will be hard and even dangerous at times. We need committed honest me-... people."

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the tavern the ruckus grows louder and two voices begin to emerge amongst the chorus of noise and prevail where other die down. The words starting to sound not-so-friendly.

"Barbarians." The lordling hisses, his face scrunched and looking like he just drunk straight piss, leaving it unclear if the noise or the ale caused his remark.

The recent influx of visitors to the town did not bother to the large smith in the slightest. Some residents grumbled about the visitors drinking up all the finest ales, while others whined about them occupying all the rooms at the inns. But, as far as he was concerned, more people around town meant more opportunities for him to earn some coin!

Taxian had been roaming the streets with his more common, portable smithing tools. whetstones for sharpening, a selection of pins, rods, and fasteners that could be used to repair handles and the like and of course his hand tools. All in all, it had been a rather productive day for him. He had even managed to catch the eyes of a few older women, wealthy women, all the while, trying to avoid the disdainful stares of the husbands of those older, wealthy women.

He passed through the doors of Balenof’s Tavern, the aged metal hinges protesting with a groan as he moved through the doors. Pausing for a moment, he rummaged through one of his satchels producing a small jar with something resembling salve, and a scrap of cloth which he used to apply some of the lubricant to the hinges. Nodding with satisfaction after working the doors back and forth a few times until the hinges fell silent, he moved through the crowded tavern towards the bar with a deftness that seemed to belie his size and smiled at the old barkeep as he approached.
“Ahh fair morning to you Balenof!” Sweeping his calloused hands across the room before setting his tools down on a nearby stool with a grin “Seems well and full in here today, I hope there's enough food for everyone! I’ll take a tankard of ale if you have any left, and perhaps a chunk of smoked sausage.” He set a stack of coins down on the bar top and slid them across to the barkeep with a nod.
The old barkeep returned the greeting with a smile of his own, as tired and crooked as it was. But Taxian suspected the elder man was just too busy to rest at the moment and appreciated the
effort none the less!
“Yeah Business been good past little while! what with all the guild recruitment drives!” Balenof said gruffly while flicking his head in the direction of the old man and the noble “Even that old man has a recruitment drive going. ‘The Helping Hand’ he’s registered the guild name under.”
“Hmm interesting” He replied, recognition flashing across his face as he looked towards the old man and his 'Helping Hand' signage.
“No smoked sausage yet Taxian. Still on the pit cooking...Sorry. But the ale’s fresh, just tapped from my reserves this morning!” Balenof sighed as he poured.
“You should get some rest! No good to any of us if you faint from exhaustion, especially since you'd have no one else to run the tavern.”
“You want it? The tavern? She's my pride and joy you know!” he winked.
“And that my salty old friend, is exactly why you should keep it!” He smiled adding a few more coins to stack then continued, “you should get yourself a barmaid or something!”
“Aye! Maybe I will! If one fails at their quest of becoming a monster hunter.”
“One could only hope!” The smith chuckled, then took up his ale, and tools and moved towards the Helping Hand’s ever-growing crew, raising his tankard in a mock toast as he drew closer to them.

“Greetings old timer!” It was an informal greeting, but respectful all the same. “It’s been a while since I’ve been summoned to your home so I’m assuming that all my previous wares you had commissioned are still in good repair?” He dipped his head respectfully to the old man and the others around him before resting his tools down on the floor with a resonating thump.

He gently passed by the others and picked up the sign before reading aloud “The Helping Hand hmm?” Setting the sign back down in its place on their table with a grin, he rubbed his hands together in anticipation.“Catchy name! Tell me about it!”

"I'm an ex-army scout," Gabs replied, then waved at herself to point out the armor, then shrugs. "I'm having a problem with the army paymaster, they thought I was dead and discharged me, and I've got to wait for them to sort it out."

She sighs.

"I'm good with my sword, knife, and bow, and can pick a lock if you don't want to take a warhammer to the lid," she adds, remembering when her former squadmate Iggy smashed through the top of a chest of potions. When she woke up, her leg was broke and the guards had found them except for Iggy. Weird how they found his hammer and his shadow burned into the wall....

"Anywho, just what does 'The Helping Hand' do?" she asked, biting her lip. "It's not like charity work, is it?"

Charity work paid bupkis.

"What's wrong with charity work if it helps someone in need?" Alastrina innocently asked, then she turned to the man, pulling up to her full height and appearing fully professional.

"I am Alastrina, daughter of Stephen of the Town Guard. My goal with joining your guild would be to aid others with affairs outside the walls and to seek my fortune in a way that suits my skills. I know my way around a sword and am one of the finest riders of the city. I also know common herbal remedies for injuries and am quite able to rough it out in the elements. I may not have the experience of other applicants, but I am willing to learn all I need to for the role if given the chance!"

The old man opened his mouth to talk but was cut of by the leering noble.
"Don't bother acting like we're not just taking anyone who applies. You are both in. As for what we do, yes there will be money. Lots of money eventually, but we do what ever we must to prove that I am the greater guild master and our guild deserves that monster hunting license.
We may just be couriers for now..."

He eyes the rest of the tavern and let's his thoughts trail off.

"Yes, yes." Adds the old man. "What he means to say is we are highly ambitious. We will make money while helping people and we are both very glad to have you."

He gets his old creaky bones up out of his seat and reaches over the table to offer each his hand.
"They call me old Al, and this here is Gallen."

---

Gabriella the Silent (Gabs)

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Location: Tavern/Helpings Hands recruitment table

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Gabs nodded, slightly mollified at the promise of money, then glances over at the smith. The man smelled like rusty nails, sweat and Sulphur.

"So, you hiring on, too?" she asks Taxian. "What's your story, then? Or is this just a social visit?"

A smith with a shop could be very handy - very handy indeed. All that metal, all those tools.... But why would a smith with a shop want to go after monsters?

---

Notifications: @Affili@Cyrania@Forsythe@Dark Light

@Affili Al Drather was grinning at the welcomed sight of large smith until questioned about his tools.
"Uh ah. Yes, yes. They are still as sturdy as ever but have not been put to use for some time now. My focus has been elsewhere and not on the farm. It's actually in quite a sad state at the moment. How about you, how goes your business?" He asks, sitting back down.

"The name says it all, we're going to offer a much needed helping hand around here!" His wide smile returns.
"For a price." Gallen adds in, eyeing up the smith.
"Don't suppose you are looking for some extra work big man?"