553 ASE
The Copper Cup was a two-story building that served as both tavern and inn, the first floor serving as the tavern and the second floor holding fifteen rooms. The building was fairly close to the Volunteer Guild Hall, so most of the guests and customers were mostly—if not all adventurers. The Copper Cup throbbed with life throughout the whole day, but it truly thrived at night once adventurers coming back from quests came to settle down. The first-floor tavern was lit with an amber light, and smoke rose to the ceiling—polluted with roaring laughter, conversation, the clattering of tankards, and tavernsong. The tavern smelled sharp of smoke, greasy with roasted meat, and the sour-sweet stink of spilled ale.
The group would come to the Copper Cup every night after a days worth of quests to settle down, refill their stomachs, and most of all enjoy themselves. They sat at a table by the window, close enough to the bar so that food and drink would arrive quickly amidst the crowds of adventurers inside.
A tankard slammed on the table, ale flying all over the surface. "Ugh, we shouldn't have taken that quest… I still can't believe one of those little greenskins managed to snatch my coin purse and run off with it… He even showed me his arse before running off into the forest, the fucker!" Alaric groaned, remembering the smug look on the scarred goblin's face.
Alaric—named after the legendary hero—was a human male, seventeen years of age, who stood at 5'10" and had a toned body. Dark brown hair of medium length flowed from his head, parted in the middle with a rough-tied ponytail. A streak of Alaric's left bang flowed with pure snow white. His eyes were of emerald green, but if one took a closer look, one would begin to notice eye bags formed from stress and a horrible sleep schedule. A small scar was present just between his lip and the right side of his chin.
Alaric loved ale as much as any man, which seemed quite contradictory because he was a Paladin—a holy warrior sworn to Luminarch. During quests and encounters, he'd be all serious—acting chivalrous and knightly, but as soon as he had his second drink, the cracks began to form.
Stoiarck stared at Alaric across the table, shooting a look of disappointment. "Alaric,"
Alaric was confused for a moment—then it hit him. "Ah, my bad. It's just that… Well… You're red, anyone would forget that you were part Orc." Alaric apologized, scratching his neck.
"Yeah, yeah, just watch your tongue next time" Stoiarck sighed.
Stoiarck was a Half-Orc male, seventeen years of age, standing tall at 6 '3". Stoiarck was, of course, muscular and had a broad trapezius. Those of Orcish blood usually stood out for their large builds and grey-ish green skin, but Stoiarck was not only huge and muscular—he was crimson red. That would stand out to anyone. One would think he was a rather large Infernal, but they'd notice the lack of horns and tusks protruding from his mouth. Stoiarck's hair was a dark shade of blue and purple—often mistaken for pure black hair in certain lighting. His hair was tied in a ponytail, full and flowing, with strands of his hair fanning out in front of his face rather than lying flat. In contrast to his intimidating Orcish figure, Stoiarck was a rather calm soul, largely empathetic, and quite the pacifist.
Stoiarck didn't have an offensive role in the party—he acted as more of a support, supplying the group with potions, scrolls, and maybe a weapon or two before and during battle from his enchanted backpack. Stoiarck's arms and feet were covered with enchanted wrappings—fed by a constant flow of mana, allowing him to withstand slashes, piercings, and blows from weapons.
"He's a little drunk, Stoiarck, don't worry about him." A man in a grey mage's cloak chuckled, smacking Alaric's back.
"Julius, I am not drunk, this is only my second drink…" Alaric protested sluggishly.
Julius glanced towards Alaric's tankard, noticing that the ale was practically all gone, with no more than two sips remaining.
Julius stifled a laugh, "Whatever you say, brother." Facing Stoiarck and shrugging with his shoulders.
Stoiarck chuckled.
Julius was a human mage, nineteen years of age, standing at 5'7" with quite a small body—not small enough to be considered skinny, not enough muscle to be considered muscular. Julius was what you would consider a 'pretty boy'—as if he had been blessed by the goddess of beauty herself. He had long, radiating golden blonde hair, eyes as blue as the sky, and long eyelashes—longer than most girls. Julius was also quite charismatic, so if his looks weren't enough for a woman, he would charm them with his speech. When one thinks of the word "noble," Julius is what would come to mind instantly—nobility personified. Alaric regarded him as a "womanizing daemon." Despite this, Julius was quite the talented mage and a skilled tactician. He was effectively the leader of the party.
The party was first formed when Julius and his sister first teamed up with Alaric to do F-rank quests—specifically finding lost pets and menial work—3 months ago today.
As Julius reminisced he looked across the table, "Whatcha reading there, Kaelrith?" Julius inquired.
"...A book." Kaelrith responded unenthusiastically.
Julius chuckled, "Aye, I can see that. May I ask what this book is called? I enjoy reading books myself, too—y'know?"
Kaelrith looked up from his book, studying Julius' face.
Kaelrith sighed, "...Drakenkin: A Treatise of Dragon-blooded Descendants."
Julius smiled warmly at Kaelrith, "Ah, learning more about yourself, huh? It's always good to stock up on knowledge—especially since books are pretty expensive."
Kaelrith nodded in response, returning back to his book and taking a large bite from his oversized grilled chicken leg.
Kaelrith was a member of the race of Drakenkin—dragon descendants. Kaelrith was specifically a descendant of the calor dragons—whose flames could singlehandedly burn down the enchanted forests of the Rytuvil Continent. Kaelrith stood mighty at 6'5", he was broad-shouldered, and heavily muscular—but remained quite lean. His hair was as black as the abyss, with his hair at shoulder length and poorly tied back, with his tanned skin reminiscent of the red sands of the Derelicta Continent. From a distance, one would think he was just an absurdly huge human—but up close, you'd begin to notice his draconic features. His eyes were of amber, and his pupils were slit like a dragon. He'd also have ash-gray dragon scales scattered along his arms, ribs, and neck. If one wasn't intimidated by Stoiarck, Kaelrith would do the trick.
Kaelrith took the role of a fighter in the party, on the frontline, along with Alaric, dealing most of the damage. The way he fought wasn't traditional—it was barbaric. He swung his double-sided iron greataxe with immense strength, crushing anything unfortunate enough to be caught within its path. If Kaelrith were ever disarmed, that wouldn't stop him—he would strike his opponents down with his bare fist, and he would also improvise with the objects around him—nature or furniture.
Beside Kaelrith sat Ira, who was Vael'thiran—a Blood Elf. Ira took on the role of the party's rogue, a role which took specialty in daggers, shortbows, and using their stealth to sneak attack their targets from where they least expect it. Ira stood at 5'4" and seemed underweight. His skin was pale white, and his hair was black, with the tips of his hair ablaze in ginger—uncommon for Vael'thiran folk. His hair was at neck length in a wolf cut, with his bangs in a short and choppy fringe. Ira's eyes were a little droopy and two different colours—his left eye blood red and the right a pale light green. Noticeably, Ira's left thumb and ring finger were missing—replaced by cheap prosthetics which must constantly be maintained.
Ira ran his lavender fingertips around the edges of his tankard, staring into the sweet-sour browned ale, occasionally taking sips—not wanting to get drunk like Alaric. Ira certainly liked alcohol, but was able to restrain himself from drinking too much.
"Ira, c'mon! You gotta drink more! What good is ale if you aren't going to drink your fill?!" Alaric bellowed, raising his foaming tankard in cheer.
"...Sorry, I'm not a worthless alcoholic Paladin like you are. It truly baffles me as to how Luminarch still continues to give you blessings."
The words felt like a stake driven through Alaric's heart, but he laughed it off, taking a swig of his now replenished tankard. "Luminarch continues to bless me because I get work done—in His name!" Alaric pounded his heart with his free left fist.
"How—no—when did you even get another fill?" Rosa was baffled, raising an eyebrow.
"I don't find the ale, the ale finds me!" Alaric took another large swig of his tankard and belched.
"Ugh, you're disgusting… Your metaphor doesn't even sound right!" Rosa pointed out. "Ira is right, though. I have no idea how Luminarch tolerates you." She sneered, slightly chuckling.
Rosa was the younger sister of Julius; they each shared similar features—an angelic beauty, beautiful blonde hair, and diamond blue eyes. Rosa had a small and "cute" face, along with long eyelashes. Rosa stood 5'4", small and dainty. Aside from her seemingly angelic and defenceless stature, Rosa was a capable spellcaster. As a child, she learned alongside her brother after fleeing Vileria to their uncle's manor within Königsberg—the capital of the Teutonic Empire.
Julius chuckled, "Give the man some slack, eh, dear sister? Alaric does have one of the most important roles in a party. If it weren't for him, we'd certainly have struggled getting this far."
"See? Julius certainly knows my worth!" Alaric cheered, wrapping his arm around Julius' head, reeling him in.
Julius laughed, tapping Alaric's forearm to signal him to let go.
Rosa sighed, placing her index finger upon her forehead in disappointment. "I certainly hope you'll be fine in the morrow, Alaric, we have work to do—we need money for equipment for the upcoming Labyrinth raid!" Rosa worried.
Julius freed himself of Alaric's hold—catching his breath.
"That is true, we need to stock up on both health and mana potions—status potions if we can afford them within the next two weeks." Julius coughed.
Alaric set his tankard down, "It'll be fine, we've plenty of time, two weeks you said, right? Even if we don't perform well tomorrow, we should still have enough to prepare ourselves!"
"Ugh! That's besides the point!" Rosa protested.
Rosa then began to scold Alaric while he argued back, taking an occasional swig of his tankard. Julius was caught in the middle as he tried to break it up.
"...They're at it. Again." Ira sighed. "Why does this always happen whenever he gets drunk?" Ira questioned, taking a sip from his tankard.
"Just pay them no mind, it'll subside. On the morrow, it would be like nothing ever happened." Kaelrith replied, flipping a page and taking another bite of his chicken.
Stoiarck chuckled, "Still, it's good to see them so lively, huh?"
"Hah! No way you guys are actually planning on participating in the Labyrinth Raid, right?" An Orcish man chuckled from the table beside. "Everyone in this tavern knows you're all a useless bunch, you'll only slow us down! Ain't that right, lads?" Everyone from the Orc's table burst into laughter.
Alaric broke off from his argument with Rosa, standing in front of the Orc man. In response, the Orc man stood up from his seat, dwarfing Alaric in size.
"Fuck you, Orgrim. That's why you got caught in a mimic last raid, right?" Alaric spat back, with a smug look on his face.
Orgrim's party members snorted—trying to hold in their laughter.
Orgrim's face was flushed with embarrassment, grabbing Alaric by his collar and raised a fist.
"Now now, gentlemen." Julius rushed between them. "Why don't I buy you a drink, eh, Orgrim?" Julius smiled, trying to break off the hostility.
Orgrim redirected his fist into Julius' face, knocking him down on his behind.
Another fist was thrown—this time into Orgrim's jaw, sending him stumbling sideways and freeing Alaric from his grip.
Rosa rushed towards Julius, helping him up.
Ira and Stoiarck stood up from the table as well, readying themselves for if a fight broke out. Orgrim's table did the same.
"Pick on someone your own size." Kaelrith said.
Alaric cringed, "Dude, that's so corny…" He muttered.
The whole tavern's eyes were on the two groups, waiting for the next moment.
Orgrim groaned, "Why the fuck are you lot just standing there?! Fucking give it to 'em!"
"Fuck, this is really happening." Ira rushed towards Orgrim's incoming party members.
Stoiarck followed suit.
The tavern band took advantage of the conflict, shifting their melody, transforming the pressure of the room into a raucous, drunken dance.
As Orgrim rushed towards Kaelrith, Kaelrith grabbed a vacant round table and tossed it overhead into Orgrim and one of his party members, knocking them onto their arses.
Kaelrith began to walk towards the now stuck Orgrim and began unleashing a flurry of blows onto his Orcish face—drawing blood from his nose and breaking a tusk.
As Ira rushed into the fray, a beastman attempted to run into Ira and grab him, but he vaulted over, catching the man in surprise and treading onto spilt ale, attempting to keep himself standing.
Ira watched in amusement and began throwing plates from a nearby table at the beastman until he eventually fell face-first onto the edge of a table, knocking himself out.
Alaric locked fists with another party member of Orgrim, an Elf. He was swift on his feet, and sober.
Alaric stumbled as he tried to throw his fists towards the Elf, all missing or being parried in an elegant Elvish manner. The Elf counterattacked, striking Alaric in the face and abdomen, knocking him towards the bar.
Alaric shook his head, grabbed the nearest tankard on the bar, took a quick swig of it and raised it up into the air. The tankard began to emit light and then crackled.
Alaric quickly channeled his blessing into the tankard and used it to strike down on the Elf.
The Elf was caught in surprise and took up his guard overhead, but it was to no avail. The now holy tankard rushed down towards his guard, shattering it completely and striking him with splinter and ale flying over his forehead.
Alaric belched, "Ugh, waste of a blessing and some good ale."
Alaric felt a rush come up from his stomach, through his throat—a liquid mixture of roasted pork, bread, and ale forced itself out through his mouth and onto the knocked out Elf's clothing.
"Oh fuck, my bad…" Alaric groggily wiped his mouth.
Julius witnessed this and let out a laugh, "You've gotta be kidding me."
A man tackled Julius, knocking him onto a table.
"Julius!" Rosa cried out.
"Oh fuck!" Julius raised his arms to guard himself.
The man began to pounce on Julius, trying to break his guard with his own fists.
Julius' forearms writhed in pain, he couldn't keep this up much longer.
Even so, he waited. Waited until the right moment, and began whispering a chant.
"Eer, ventus, los…"
Julius parried a blow coming from the right and pressed his palm upon the man's chest.
"Salire!"
A gust of wind flowed from Julius' palm, and the man was sent flying backwards into the crowd of spectators in the tavern.
Rosa rushed towards Julius' side and sighed in relief, "Here, let me heal you!"
Rosa placed her hands over Julius' battered forearms, whispering a chant as she began channelling a blessing.
"By Luminarch's gentle Light, let pain take flight, make wounds whole—in holy glow, I beseech thee: Healing!"
Rosa's hands began to emit a gentle and warm soothing light.
The pain in Julius' forearms began to alleviate.
"Thank you, dear sister." Julius mustered a smile.
Julius' eyes shot wide open as he noticed a party member of Orgrims walk behind Rosa in an attempt to strike her from behind with a mace.
"Watch out!" Julius shot his back upwards, pulling Rosa into his chest, placing his arms over to guard her.
Stoiarck then rushed between Julius and the man and raised his wrapped forearms over them—completely negating the force from the incoming mace, knocking the man backwards.
"I got you guys!"
"Huh?!" The man was dumbfounded.
A plate flew towards the man's head. Striking him on his left temple.
Pang!
The plate didn't shatter on impact, but it knocked him out.
"Yeah… that's definitely going to hurt in the morning," Ira said, crouching over the knocked-out man.
"Thanks, Ira!" Stoiarck said.
"Sure," Ira replied nonchalantly.
Stoiarck looked around the tavern—it was chaos. The fight branched out throughout the tavern, and now, cutlery, ale, and food were constantly flying overhead. With different groups of adventurers caught in the middle of fisticuffs. Kaelrith was still beating up Orgrim, who tried to fight back, but it was of no use, and Alaric was passed out on a table with spilled ale all over.
The tavern door slammed open, and a beastman in full plate armour walked in and inhaled—filling his lungs with air.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" The whole tavern rattled, with the chandeliers swinging from the pure force of his voice.
The music ceased, and so did the fighting. The whole tavern looked towards the man.
The beastman's tabard was a dark blue and bore the sigil of the City Watch—a white rook.
Members of the City Watch began flowing into the tavern, all equipped with basic chainmail, the citywatch tabard, and armed with wooden batons.
"Arrest these drunkards." The City Watch Lieutenant sighed. "Can't have one peaceful night with all these fuckin' adventurers."
The adventurers scrambled over each other, trying to rush past the City Watchmen or leap out the windows. Some even attempted to fight them for escape, only to be struck down with their batons.
"Alaric! Kaelrith! C'mon, we're leaving!" Julius shouted towards the two.
Kaelrith grabbed Alaric—who seemed in no condition to walk, let alone run at all, and slung him over his shoulder.
Stoiarck threw a chair at the nearest window, shattering it open.
Julius and Rosa tried to rush out the window, but Stoiarck stopped them.
"Wait! I need to get these remaining shards off."
"Ugh, hurry it up, Stoiarck, they're coming!" Rosa panicked.
Stoiarck removed the remaining glass shards from the window with his wrapped hands.
"Alright, let's go!" Julius shouted to the rest of the group.
Julius came out first, then Rosa, then Stoiarck.
Kaelrith vaulted out of the window, hearing a thud behind him as Alaric's head hit the top of the window.
"Ugh…" Alaric groaned.
"Over here! Into the alleyways, I know a way to our inn from here!" Julius gestured this way with his right arm.
***
The group made it safely back to the inn they were staying at, successfully avoiding any members of the City Watch by slipping through the alleyways.
The full moon shone its gentle light in the night sky over the city of Estermond—piercing through the window of the room.
The inn that the party was staying at was a little rundown, but that made it cheap. Rosa was able to have her own room, whilst the boys shared one room to remain cost-efficient.
The room was basic, one window, one desk, one double bunk, with two beds. Webs and roped dust formed in the corners of the room. The walls were framed with aged timber and cracked daub. With every step, the wooden planked floor croaked and groaned—threatening to snap and break with whoever stood over it.
Kaelrith slung Alaric off his shoulders, plopping him into his bunk. He was out cold and already snoring comfortably.
Alaric and Kaelrith both shared an old and dilapidated bunk, with Alaric on the top bunk.
Ira and Julius were able to have their own beds, whilst Stoiarck had a sleeping bag with him.
To avoid dispute between the beds, the group rolled a die; the two who rolled the highest got to keep the beds, while the other two had to use the bunks.
Ira and Julius sat down on their respective beds.
Julius groaned with relief, raising his arms and bending his back to stretch.
"Thanks for carrying Alaric, Kaelrith." Julius smiled, "I'll make sure he repays you somehow later tomorrow."
Kaelrith simply nodded and set his satchel aside his bunk with his book in it and lay down, facing the wall.
Julius looked toward Ira. "Hey, Ira—"
Ira was already asleep, with his covers drawn over him.
Julius shrugged and glanced outside the decrepit window—caught in a trance by the moon. Julius sighed with satisfaction. He found today fun—especially the fight in the tavern. It was one of the few moments the party was able to work together efficiently. He looked forward to the party's future.
Julius then lay down, bringing his cover over his body. He closed his eyes, enveloping himself in darkness, and slowly drifted into slumber.