Snippet #1835018

Klarus turned his eyes on his new home, a slumping two story disaster waiting to happen. Still the initiate retained his cheery smile. 'From humble origins comes greatest majesty,' the scriptures echoed in his head. "Thank you sir goblin," he told his puzzled benefactor, "and keep the amulet, perhaps it will guide you as it has me." Leaving the street vender in an even greater state of confusion, Klarus strode boldly up to the bunk house. After politely kicking the caked mule crap from his shoes, he pulled open the door. Rusted hinges screeched like banshees alerting a bald dwarf to the new arrival. The stout fellow sat perched atop a stool as tall as he was, immersed in a novel. "Two bits for the week, a silver for a month," he grumbled without even looking up from his book. Klarus noticed the title, "Maidens of the Shadow," a rather lurid literary portrayal of the mysterious dark elves. He recalled the clerics banning its sale in the east.

"Ah thank you kind sir, but I can not pay you at the moment might I..."

"Two silver due at the end of the month and if you don't pay I break you knee caps," he replied, eyes still deep betwixt the book's pages.

"Riiight well I'm sure the One will lead me to prosperity by the time a month has passed." The dwarf only grumbled in response. "Umm which room should I..."

"Up the stairs, third door on your right." As he left the dwarf turned the book sideways, his eyes intent on some illustration Klarus did not even want to imagine.

As the initiate made his way up the uneven stairs and down the mud tracked hall, he could hear voices steadily growing louder, "yeah well rumors can sometimes be true and I'm not facing no undead."

"You expect to ever make it outta this dump if you don't take risks?"

"Going up against the Brothers isn't risk it's suicide."

"I'm telling you they're going to far this time, be on the right side when the power shifts and you....wait a second do you hear that..."

Klarus, unable to restrain his curiosity had paused near the door. Now as it flew open with the force of a battering ram, he found his face directly in its path. When the black curtain of unconsciousness finally lifted, he was looking up at a trio of mercenaries complete with scarred faces and worn armor. "Well Vhenn," said the biggest of the three, a strapping young human with the hilt of a greatsword protruding from between his shoulders, "looks like you don't need to fear your imaginary vampires anymore, we got ourselves a cleric."