One small boy is too hungry to ignore the chance of finding something, anything, that could get him a meal and maybe a safer place to sleep tonight. Slipping along behind piles of rope, stacked crates, and other objects, he angles toward the clearly distracted dwarf. Vorlig, approaching a canal, pauses for a moment, searching for a bridge. Just as he begins to turn, the little boy darts out and tries to grab one of the pouches on Vorlig’s belt. Vorlig, noticing the movement out of the corner of his eye, spins around and catches the boy. Seeing how young and thin the boy is, Vorlig softens his stance.
“Whaddya think you’re doing, lad?” Vorlig rumbles.
Terrified, the boy tries to pull away but can’t shake Vorlig’s iron grip.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Vorlig says. “Where’s your mama?”
“Dunno,” the boy responds sullenly.
Frowning, Vorlig asks, “Where’s your Da?”
“I don’t even know who he is,” the boy shrugs.
“Why are you out here thieving?”
“I haven’t eaten in three days,” the boy says.
Heaving a huge sigh, Vorlig looks at the boy and asks, “Will you promise not to steal anything if I feed you?”
The boy’s eyes get large, and he nods.
Vorlig shifts his grip and picks the boy up.
“How is it that you don’t know where your Mama is?” Vorlig asks, “Full version of the story, not the short one.”
“Someone left me at the orphanage when I was a baby. Once I got a little older, they figured out I wasn’t human. As soon as the people at the orphanage figured that out, they put me out. I been out here ever since,” the boy replies.
Vorlig heaves another sigh and shakes his head, “How long ago was that?”
“Almost a year,” the boy replies.
“Name?” Vorlig asks.
“Kluper,” the boy replies. “Hmm… Gnomish-sounding name,” Vorlig says, “How old are you now?”
“Six, I think,” Kluper replies.
“Let’s go get you fed,” Vorlig says and turns back toward the inn.
As Vorlig reaches the turn to head away from the river and back into the town, a group of boys flows out of the shadows.
One of them flicks open a knife and says, “Put him down. He’s ours.”
Glancing at Kluper, Vorlig asks, “These the ones that put those bruises on your face?”
Kluper nods. Fishing out a whistle, Vorlig gives three short blasts.
Sitting in the tap room, Loket’s head snaps up. “Gear up. Vorlig’s in trouble.”
Kethas scrambles to get his quarterstaff. Emlyn grabs her swords. Gramin grabs his axe, and everyone goes pounding after Loket.
Vorlig regards them calmly, “No.”
“Luvon said put him down, stumpy,” another boy in the back shouts.
“Don’t make me get Silence out, boys,” Vorlig warns.
“Silence,” another boy laughs, “That must be what you named your plonker.”
Vorlig can hear the running feet and grins wickedly at the boys.
“This is Silence,” Vorlig grins, pulling out his hammer, “because when she’s done swinging, there’ll only be me and silence.”
Vorlig puts the boy down, “You stay right there between my feet. You’ll be safe enough.”
A corona of lightning wreathes around the head of Vorlig’s war hammer for a moment, and a few of the smarter boys melt back into the darkness. Just as the rest of the boys start to surge toward Vorlig, Loket, Gramin, Atres, Benger, Kethas, and Emlyn all plow into them from behind. In short order, the older boys are down, and Vorlig sheathes Silence. Reaching down, he picks Kluper up again.
“Kluper,” Vorlig says, “These are my friends. Atres, take care of the trash? They’ve been using this little one as a punching bag.”
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Atres looks around and spots one of the watch beacons and goes to activate it.
“It may take them a while to get here,” Atres warns, “The Harito Town Watch isn’t nearly as efficient as I’d like.”
“We’ll wait,’ Vorlig shrugs.
“Why’d you call us?” Loket asks.
“Stupid boys. Not worth killing. Better than Kluper, maybe getting hurt,” Vorlig replies.
“Once they get here and record his injuries, we’ll heal him,” Emlyn says.
One of the boys on the ground starts scrabbling for a weapon.
Frowning, Emlyn kicks him in the ribs. “You’re still breathing. If you want to remain that way, I’d suggest you just lie there and wait like the rest of us. Otherwise, I’ll get to play a little game I like to call, which god do you believe in? Do you know why I call it that?”
“N-n-no,” the boy stammers.
“Because I’ll send you to meet them,” Emlyn says darkly.
“Damn,” Gramin mutters under his breath, and Loket smirks for a minute.
The boy stops reaching toward the knife, and all the other boys freeze in place.
“Good,” Emlyn says, “Now that we all understand each other, which one of you is going to tell me who your leader is?”
One of the boys points carefully at Luvon before ducking back down to avoid Emlyn’s glare.
Emlyn looks him over and frowns, “What made you think it was okay to steal food from a child?”
“He’s not going to last much longer. May as well give the food to someone stronger,” Luvon shrugs.
“If the watch doesn’t hurry up,” Emlyn growls, “I’ll deal with this lot myself.”
“What are you thinking?” Loket asks.
“We throw them in the river with a rock or two,” Emlyn shrugs, “If they can swim, they live. Otherwise, if they’re not strong enough, they’re not going to last much longer.”
“Hey, you can’t do that,” Luvon says.
“Oh, really,” Emlyn crosses her arms and regards him coldly, “You don’t like having your own words used against you.”
Emlyn spends a few minutes twisting his words around on him as he tries to argue with her, before the Town Guard shows up, sauntering along at an extremely leisurely pace.
“My grandmother moved faster than these flat-foots,” Emlyn grumbles quietly to Atres, who smirks and nods.
The Town Guards wander over, “What’s all this then?”
“They’ve been beating a child,” Emlyn says, “When someone tried to stop them, they attacked him. They tried to claim ownership of the boy. If I understand your laws correctly, slavery is outlawed. Punishable by a year in the mines, as I recall. You can start by recording his injuries so I can heal the child.”
“Who’re you again?” one of the guards says.
“Nia ferch Hayden ap Rhys, Paladin of Morrighu and King’s Guard.”
“There’s no women in the King’s Guard,” one of the other guards comments, “What are you playing at?”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Atres says, stepping forward, still wearing his King’s Guard leathers, “She’s the first, possibly in all of Tassatung.”
Kethas moves up beside Atres and nods, “I’m a retired King’s Guard. You know me.”
One of the guards nods, so Kethas continues, “She’s King’s Guard, alright.”
Pointing to Benger, Kethas adds, “So’s he.”
“And who might you be?” the guard asks. “Benger Bevis, Paladin of Morrighu and King’s Guard.”
“I see,” the guard says, ruminating for a moment. “It looks like you lot are headed to the lock-up.”
“Preferably the drunk pen, where you can tell everyone that they think it’s fine to punch a six-year-old child,” Emlyn frowns.
“Oh ho,” one of the town guards chuckles, “Garnered your ire, have they?”
“When you record the boy’s injuries,” Emlyn growls, “you’ll see why.”
Changing demeanor swiftly, Emlyn holds out her arms to Kluper, “Come here, little one. These men are going to record your injuries, so I need to remove your shirt. No one, and I mean no one, is going to hurt you.”
Kluper looks at Vorlig, who nods, and Kluper lets Emlyn remove the tattered shirt. Emlyn mutters a curse at the boy’s condition. Layers of bruises of varying ages cover him, and Kluper tenses at Emlyn’s reaction.
“Don’t worry, little one. I’m not angry with you. I’m angry with the ones who did this to you. Your injuries are extensive enough that we’ll have to get you out of those pants, so that those can be recorded too. I know it’s a bit exposed here, but we’ll be done as fast as possible,” Emlyn says with a significant look at the Town Guards.
Sighing, one of the men sets up to record the injuries as evidence. When he’s ready, Emlyn gently removes the boy’s pants, leaving him almost naked in the chill breeze. Once the Town Guards are done with recording the injuries, Emlyn helps him dress again.
“Now hold still and let me heal you,” Emlyn says.
Mumbling a prayer, Emlyn places her hands on the child, and a blue nimbus rolls over him.
Gasping and eyes wide, Kluper looks at her, “Nothing hurts now.”
“I’m a paladin,” Emlyn grins, “I’m pretty good at healing.”
“We’re supposed to take the boy to the orphanage,” one of the guards says.
“That the same one that put him out here in the first place?” Vorlig asks.
Swallowing hard at Vorlig’s stare, the guard nods.
“That won’t do,” Emlyn says, “Until we can find someone who claims kin-bond with this boy, he’s coming with us. He’ll be well cared for. You have the word of a paladin on that.”
Emlyn hefts the boy up and props him on her hip. One of the guards reaches for the boy, and Emlyn quickly shifts him to her other hip, then glares at the guard, who drops his hands and backs away.
Smiling at the boy, Emlyn says, “Let’s go see about a few things like a bath, a meal, and some clean clothing, shall we?”
Kluper nods, but he’s shivering.
“Atres, can you take him? You’re the only one with a coat, and he’s freezing.”
Atres reaches for the boy, but he flinches.
“I’m not going to hurt you, either,” Atres says softly.
“Go on,” Emlyn encourages him, “I know he’s large and maybe a bit scary looking, but he’s really quite nice. You’ll be a lot warmer tucked under his coat.”
With a last dubious look at Emlyn, Kluper reaches for Atres. Atres opens his coat and tucks the boy against his side.
“Gods! You’re like a little block of ice. Come here and get warm,” Atres says as he snuggles the boy.
“We’ll go shopping tomorrow,” Emlyn nods, “He’s going to need some things. I think I’ll ask Mendek if he can go pay these louts a visit.”
Turning to the Town Guards, “When I go to see Abato and ask him to send Mendek, I expect to hear back that Mendek found them in a cell.”
“Abato Simcock?” one of the guards asks, and Emlyn nods.
“I could have Dranor or Prince Armeniel check, if you’d rather,” Emlyn replies dryly.
“No, no,” the man replies, “That won’t be necessary. Mendek will be fine.”
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Emlyn replies, “I have this little one to tend to.”
“Why are all of you being nice to me?” Kluper asks suspiciously, “What do you want?”
“Oh, child,” Emlyn sighs, “We want to see you happy and safe. This is simply who we are. I know it’s probably not what you’re used to, but the worst thing I might ask you to do is to deliver a note for me. Do you know what a paladin is?”
Kluper shakes his head.
“Let me explain, then,” Emlyn says with a smile, “We are warriors sworn to a god. In exchange for our oaths, that god gives us magic – the same magic I used just now to heal you. Part of our oath to our god means that we must be good, or we must make up for it through a process called atonement when we are not. Part of being good for us means not telling lies. I tell you plainly, you are safe with us. None of us will hurt you, and none of us will let anyone else hurt you, either.”
Boltir’s Atres Watch Current Count: 1 "Portable Hearth" maneuver executed.
Observation: "Atres spent the evening being a human blanket. He tucked the freezing whelp inside his King's Guard coat to warm him up. It’s a classic 'Protective Hero' move, and Nia watched him do it with a look that makes me want to shave my own chin in frustration. He’s winning points for being 'nice to children'. A real dwarf would have just given the lad a sturdy pair of boots and a pickaxe, but Atres goes for the snuggles. I’m docking him 20 points for 'Unfair Use of Body Heat'."
Boltir’s Tip Jar Current Total: 75 coppers, a half-eaten dinner roll, and Snips (the crab) is currently trying to use one of Kluper’s discarded buttons as a shield.
Boltir’s Plea: "Did you see that? Nia threatened to throw the bullies in the river with rocks tied to them. That’s the kind of ruthless efficiency I adore! Toss a copper in the jar so I can buy Snips a tiny whistle—if he’s going to guard the tips, he needs to be able to call for backup like Vorlig. Also, leave a review if you think the 'Tall Obstacle' should stop being so charmingly parental before I lose my mind!"