Ye First Squawk - The Isle Part 1

The Square That Did Not Have Four Sides

The shadow fell two strokes past north on the sundial and a myriad of creatures of all races gathered in disorderly lines in the square of San Serif, yea capital of the Holy Empire of Garamond. A stark white building loomed in front, ornate carvings regaling its surface, with the sundial mounted above the large arch that bore double doors.

They came from every corner of Fontia, foe and allies alike, twisting and gnarly things to tiny, scampering rodentspawn. There was the occasional glint of an axe while the usual animosity manifested itself in howls and cries of terror and triumph.

A half-orc stumbled out of queue, limping. A short sword of arcane design still stuck out of his rump, while some dwarven fellows flung a sachet of weed at the poor bastard, chuckling. "...An' take yer weed wit' ya, by the gawdly name of Wingdin's!" But the queue kept growing longer and longer, as the shadows on the sundial of San Serif crept further past the stone face.

A particularly lively dog frolicked in the steaming heat, its white fur fluffy and soft like white bread. It yipped at the heels of its companion, a petite gnome dressed in tights, with green hair tied in two ungainly ponytials that protruded from the sides of her head, and its tail wagged incessantly, inviting annoyed looks from others in the queue. "Good boy Sandwich," the gnome beamed chibily, stroking the dog's bread-like fur as it nipped yet another leather thong clean from a hairy and callous-y foot.

The adventurers were getting impatient; they had been queuing for almost half a day now, and it was not even a concert of Bud Wiser to boot, many a few of hippies mused. A halfling with ash blond locks, his sleek mane tucked carefully under his tattered robe, was feeling exactly what the commons were feeling - boredom. He glanced around him from time to time, already bored stiff from admiring his unblemished and youthful face in his pocket mirror that hung from a chain around his supple neck.

The noisy Maiandrans did not seem to mind the long wait; perhaps their perception of time was already whacked, considering that they seemed to come from a kingdom long past. "Hurhurhur" they remarked, in chaotic unison, gesturing excitedly at the generous rump of one very well-blessed Edessan lady, her finery and lace hanging off her full figure as she strolled past, chatting, also with much gesticulation, to her pasty and willow companion beside her.

The halfling raised an eyebrow, still looking around him in an assessment of the competition. A clump of green caught his emerald eyes. Apparently some tree folk from Batang Che were also intent on the reward. He smirked, thinking of the heavy money pouches that hung from the waist pouches of the Maiandrans and the exquisite finery of the lady and her companion.

Suddenly, the sun winked at the halfling from the mirror. He stared at it, not a hair out of place -- but wait, he could see the treefolk clad only in g-strings of leaves - dry leaves - in his mirror's reflection. Surreptitiously, he angled the mirror, until the tiny spot of light travelled from the sandstone ground, up one treefolk's leg, and then paused, on a leaf that hid its crotch from view.

Somewhere behind, a fluffy enriched-flour dog went "Arf?" and its owner remarked the bright spot with a raised eyebrow and amused look. Perhaps the scorching sun might provide some entertainment to be had after all.

200 muttered breaths later, the leaf started to crinkle and smolder. Treefolk, being treefolk, never know if birds ever land on their shoulders, defecate in their stumps or reproduce on their heads (this is why forest fires happen). Thus the sun gleefully ate at one leaf, and then clambered onto another, exposing that particular treefolk to the elements down yonder.

Always one with a high spot check, the Edessan lady noticed something amiss while delivering the story of the most disastrous encounter with grimy folk to her pasty companion. Raising her monocle, first her fan drooped, then her jaw gaped.

Two wooden shrivelled lumps, that closely resembled two hairy and wrinkly walnuts, protruded from beneath what used to be a cover of ample foliage. "The nuts! Oh, the NUTS!" She shrieked, her gloved hand raised to her forehead while she proceeded to faint. Her pasty companion, thankfully blessed with high dexterity, side-stepped out of the way and then pretended not to know her.

The halfling, before he was found out, quickly concealed the mirror inside his robe, but not the cheeky grin that escaped his pretty shell-pink lips.

Just at that moment, the Herald made his way to the middle of the square, unrolling a scroll twice his height and bellowing in a voice twice his size:

Hear ye, hear ye.
All adventurers great and small.
You have gathered 'ere today for a quest.
Upon passing the selection criteria, you will receive the Mark.
Thereupon which, you may proceed forthwith.
Capture yon green box-like device on ye isle, and capture the king's heart it shall.
Half my weight in gold pieces for your service rendered.

The crowd of adventurers surged forward in an impatient and disgruntled stampede to obtain the Mark, most of them hungry enough to devour the runt races. Behind, abovementioned half-orc lazily lumbered forward, taking a long, unhurried drag on his roll of weed, the pigsticker in his rear forgotten. Ah, the life of a hippie indeed. He had an almost bearish look to him, and smelled like he spent all his life wandering and living off nature's cradle. Even his hair was tousled and fraught with random brambles and leaves.

The halfling, as always an opportunist, ignored the movement of the crowd and inspected the fallen Edessan lady. "My, my, milady," he muttered to himself, helping himself to her heavy gold pouch and the generously studded ring upon her finger. If anyone saw it, they probably would not have been surprised anyway. In fact, they may not have been mildly interested in her bosom-- uh, pickings, for their eyes were set on the Mark and the quest reward they would receive to retrieve the green box.

One by one, the adventurers received their Marks, in the form of a bound scroll and wax seal bearing the esteemed symbol of Garamond, with a rounded G, looking refined in the midst of a nest of flourishes.

The square of Sans Serif was almost void of adventurers by mid-afternoon, as most had gone away to be plotsy about how they would backstab-- figure their way to the much-coveted item; and also to the market, to stock up on sundries and potions, and maybe to secure a willing boatsman that would bravely ferry them to the isle that bore much mystery and terrifying tales.

In the market, Lagrad, the bishounen halfling from Helvetica, encountered the green-haired Sandwich-loving gnome, Subway, of Batang Che. The two half-sized cheeps hit it off after exchanging a few words, and soon the conversation turned to that of 'how to procure a boat', for free of course. And it certainly helped matters that the clink of the heavy pouches of the Maiandrans rang clearly (even sans listen check in the bustling market), and two waist-high heads quickly turned in the direction of a ferryman's booth, and the cheerful clatter of coins. "Four's shadow, aye?" the ferryman shouted, as the unruly group 'hur hur hur'ed their way to the nearby watering hole.

Little folk seem to have the wittiest of minds. Sneaky smiles were exchanged and the two tiny folk made their way to the square for a last look.

Few still hung around the square, but one in particular was a random insufferable clerk of Times New Roman, languishing in the receding heat while he worriedly spied on the comings and goings of the town square. Sitting cross-legged behind the bushes from which he had observed the 'rape' of the Edessan woman's eyes, his eyes nervously darted about and he noticed a gnome and a halfling approaching the square.

But there was a shiftier individual still, skulking in another clump of shrubbery. And while nobody paid this narrow, poorly hidden individual any mind, he minded the presence of Lagrad and Subway very much indeed. They were his fellow competitors in the race to find the green contraption. And as a Lawful Neutral Arialite, he was duty-bound to serve a mission that would take him to the island that was rightfully Arial.

"Hark! Who is this fellow?" LaGrad, the halfling of Helvetica exclaimed to his garden gnome companion. "Beats me" she shrugged, readying her weapon all the same. "Looks suspicious" LaGrad muttered, half-laughing, and began chanting an incantation.

A small snake materialised near the clergy of Times and hissed, both at the poor shivering fellow and the unidentified creature in the shrubbery behind. The poor man from Times frantically backed away, trying to swat the snake away as it tried to sink its fangs in his ankle. He was almost successful in his attempts and about to break into a run when Subway fired a shot, pinning his shoe to the hot, stone ground.

"AHHH~~!!" the clerk from Times warbled, his voice cracking at the end of his high pitched projection. Finding himself pinned and unable to move, he collapsed into a heap and began sobbing.

"Omg. -_-|||" the gnome and the halfling exchanged sideways glances at each other. Was this guy even worth the trouble they had gone to? Deftly, the halfling searched the crying clerk, only finding a small sum of gold pieces on his body.

"Don't... Kill... Me..." the clerk from Times stammered, between sobs.

"Gah! What a baby. But perhaps he may be of some use...?" Subway plucked the arrow from the ground, freeing his shoe, sending him sprawling backwards. The clerk from TNR curled into a fetal position and continued his pitiful wailing.

"Come now, would you like to follow us?" the gnome offered, grinning kindly at the poor clerk. The halfling was already ahead, making his way to the harbour where the boats docked. He paused, waiting for the gnome girl with the green hair to catch up, while the clerk of TNR flailed his way to join the party.

Somewhere behind, in the bushes, a ranger was seen fending a small snake off his leg.

The dock was surprisingly quiet when they got there, and the sun's shadow was only a few strokes away from the 4th shadow. Spotting the same boatsman they had seen the Maiandrans talk to in the market, the party made their way over.

"Kind sir, do take us over to the island now. I know we are a tad early, but we would like to make haste please."

"Aye, but you don't seem to have booked a trip with me..."

"I trust you remember our Maiandran companions? They have paid for this boat and requested we go first to stake out the place beforehand."

The boatsman regarded the halfling with some suspicion, but his doubts cleared as soon as LaGrad smiled reassuringly at him.

"May we embark on our trip now, kind sir?"

"Yes please do. It's my honour to take you and your esteemed party members across..."

The boat was already merrily out at sea when the Maiandrans arrived, cursing and swearing as they did.