Stop me if you’ve heard this one…

Winning my freedom from the underground fighting pits of Neverwinter hadn’t been living up to the dream I had been cultivating in my head the last 20 years. It’s not that I had been expecting a parade or anything, but a disappointingly light bag of coins, a pat on the back and a kick up the arse and out the door had quickly snapped reality into focus.

There’s a common idiom used among the humans regarding “climbing the ladder” whether that be relating to their jobs or their social standing. If getting higher up the ladder was the goal, I had just reached the final rung and leapt off, I now had to find a new ladder.

The coin I had been given for my final fight was enough to cover basic lodgings and a single meal day for a couple of weeks whilst I looked for work. “Basic” was a generous term but I was used to worse, if only just.

Finding work was harder than expected, official institutions such a as the city guard wanted nothing to do with me unless I removed my battle regalia, which I obviously refused to do, did honour mean so little to these men? Less honest lines of work were also not interested, saying I would stand out too much in a profession where remaining low key was the goal.

My two weeks’ worth of funds was drying up and I was starting to fear I may have to return to the pits, at least there I would have a roof over my head and three meals a day. On my way home from the docks on evening, after being told my the local fishermen that they would have more use for me as a fishing lure rather than a workhand. I spotted a flyer pinned on a notice board outside a rather dilapidated tavern named the Pimpled Helmet. It read:

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WANTED!!!

Strong, trustworthy group for goods escort.

Supply wagon needs delivery to the Barthen trading post in Phandalin.

Good pay. Easy work.

Half up front. Half on receipt.

Join Gundren Rockseeker in the Black Tap Ale House on Blackstone Avenue.

Sundown on the 6th day of Mirtul.

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Finally! I am strong & trustworthy, and I can walk beside some crates looking tough for a few days. The flyer looked freshly placed and a quick scan of the area revealed a young dwarf placing another flyer outside a trading post about 50 meters away from me. I tailed him for the rest of the afternoon removing the flyers he placed outside various establishments, not my proudest moment but I needed this job, I needed to get on that first rung.

The 6th was tomorrow, strange for a job to be so soon after its posting date so it must be a pretty last minute or urgent task, hopefully that will work in my favour. I decided to head back to my lodgings and get an early night, as tomorrow was going to be important and I wanted to be fresh.

I arrived an hour before sundown and tried my best to disappear into the shadows of an alley across the street from the bar, keeping an eye on the foot traffic of Blackstone Avenue. For the most part it seemed quite a healthy metropolitan mix of different races going about their business, nice part of town, not too rich and not too poor, almost the total opposite from my current living conditions.

Just as the sun was starting to set, a pair of hooded dwarves entered the tap house followed by a human close enough behind them to clearly be part of their group. though the window I could see the dwarf on the left speaking to the barman, who in response was gesturing off to his right. A few moments later the dwarves and the human were out of sight and I was certain this was Gundren Rockseeker, a well known adventurer, miner and explorer and with any luck, my new patron.

I wasn’t going to wait for any of the other punters to get there before me, so I left the shadows and strode towards the entrance. In my haste I must have opened the door more aggressively than I intended because every head snapped around to stare at me. I quickly hurried towards the barkeep whilst the regulars eyed me up and down. After a quick exchange of words with the man I was directed to a young dwarf off to the side of the bar, with a giant ale stein in my hand to assure my new dwarf patron of my fortitude.

The young dwarf was a pleasant but a timid sort. He introduced himself as Gundrens nephew, Adrik. I tried my hardest to make a good first impression, he looked to be a cleric of Tymora so I attempted to recall anything about specific greetings followers of Tymora gave to each other but failed, I can only blame the nerves. I must have gone silent for a second too long as Adrik started to look uncomfortable and politely ushered me though into the room. Gundren was sat at the far end of the table and welcoming me in and asked me to sit. I obliged and we had a little small talk while waiting for the rest of the team to arrive. Was that it? No real questions about my suitability for this job, I can only assume he knows of my reputation or has enough experience in this sort of business to know when someone is cut out for the job.

A few more minutes passed and I sipped on my beer to pass the time, having not drunk alcohol before it’s effects went straight to my head. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling but I thought it best to cut back for the time being, I didn’t want to get hammered for the first time in front of the new boss.

Through the door I could hear Adrick speaking, there was a pause and as the door opened I knew my test had started.

A monstrous beaked beast, covered in feathers and disturbingly dressed like people ducked though the doorway. The poor creature was struggling to hold up an identical stein to mine and was scanning the room with its soulless avian eyes. I knew what this was immediately, during my career I had fought in exhibition matches against all sorts of creatures dragged from all corners of Faerûn, this was Gundrens way of determining I was suitable for the job.

I was aware in my peripheral that Gundren was saying something, but his words were now just noise as the background din of the room and the tavern beyond lowered as my battle focus sharpened, until there was just me and the bird. Rising from my seat I started to slowly circle the beast, examining it’s limbs and joints, weak spots and physical advantages, anything I could use as an edge. I squeezed and relaxed the muscles in my arms and back to force blood into them, all just autopilot and muscle memory to an experienced fighter. I was a knocked arrow, just waiting to be loosed. That was, until I had circled around to the opposite side of the room and noticed the beast hadn’t given me more than a glance since it entered the room. And now it appeared to be in the middle of a conversation with gundren, who in return was gesturing for the bird to take a seat.

As the noise started to return to my ears, both slowly turned their heads in unison towards me, Gundren with a quizzically raised eyebrow as if he had only just noticed my strange behaviour and the beast with it’s beady eyes seeming staring right through me. I quickly returned to my seat feeling a cramping embarrassment in my stomach as I realised the error of my assumption, this beast wasn’t to be a challenge, it was an ally. I reconsidered my previous stance on drinking this evening and took a long, deep swig.

The third member of the party arrived almost immediately after the bird and Gundren finished their conversation. A halfling swaggered in to the room, empty handed and standing taller than most other of his kind I had come across in the past, he was a lot more chatty than the bird however by this point I was feeling quite tipsy and it was taking the majority of my willpower to retain my composure and most of what he was saying was lost on me.

Apparently we were expecting a fourth but they were a no show. Fine by me, less money to split. Gundren went over the details of the job, seemed simple enough like the poster mentioned, goods escort. Turn up, look tough and poke any ne’er do wells with a big stick, piece of piss. By this point I had almost drained my stein and my recollection starts to get a little hazy. I remember Gundren leaving shortly after explaining the mission and either the bird or the halfman suggesting we stay and continue drinking.

I must have agreed as I have vague  memories of challenging the bird to an arm wrestle, dancing on a table and diving through some suckers window. And though the power of alcohol, the three of us bonded in the way drunken people often do, we were all new best friends, until the morning I suspected when true awkwardness of the previous nights events and the social lubrication of alcohol wore off. I did eventually managed to look past the Bird’s horrifying visage and see her for the depressed hermetic creature she truly was, just like the rest of us are I suppose, it was sad, but familiar. I got to know the halfling enough to know not to trust him with with wine or women, and he was clearly only presenting a specific version of himself that he wanted people to see. but he was clearly skilled in body and blade and that would have to be good enough for me.

At some point in the night the three of us parted ways and I recall running back towards my lodgings, with the bracing night air and the exercise returning focus to my mind. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I felt joy.

Joy for I had taken the first step on this new ladder, and there was no way we could fuck this up.