Quest

The tavern was loud. Not so loud as a fete or revel, but enough that one needed to shout to be heard. The week’s work was done, the local workmen needed a drink, and some traveling musicians had taken up residence on the ale-soaked stage.

A group of adventurers kicked in the doors and roared for a round. The crowd cheered at their pristine armor and unstained cloaks. Drinks were served, songs were sung, and the knights errant imbibed their delicious praise.

When the night finally wound down, the paladin approached the barkeep. The party was in the market for a job. The barkeep happily obliged: a nest of fire sprites was wreaking havoc on the local farms. The party was ecstatic – their first quest! How very exciting.

Only the paladin made it back alive.

She stumbled through the door the next day, wide-eyed and badly scorched. She dropped her equipment on the floor and took a drink. Her eyes begged for payment, but her hand was empty. The barkeep shrugged. The paladin groaned.

Two days passed, and she returned with three new party members and a half dozen sprite heads. She dumped them unceremoniously on the table. The barkeep counted them and tossed a sack on the bar. It only had half the coin she was promised. Blades were drawn. The barkeep swore he would have the rest by the end of the week. She left.

Three days passed. The barkeep hired any sword he could muster. It was not many.

The paladin and her three compatriots returned to find two mercenaries with rusted blades guarding the sweating barkeep. He tossed a bag with the remaining coin on the bar. The paladin counted out every chit with a practiced slowness. She nodded.

Just before she left, one of her party members tossed a burlap sack on the bar. Something moved inside. The barkeep reached a shaking hand towards the opening. A gout of flame sputtered from the sack, singeing the table and igniting his apron.

A fire sprite wreaked havoc on the tavern.