Anoril
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Like so many others there were times in Lauren’s life when she wondered how she’d come to be in certain situations. This was one of those times.
She’d come in for a coffee, even asked the barmaid very politely for one. The heavy black velvet hood was perhaps a bit disconcerting for people but having looked at the other assorted specimens of ‘civilisation’ that littered the bar she considered herself one of the more normal customers. Was that thing at the next table really a swamp trog?
She looked down at what was certainly not the coffee she’d ordered. A large metal container of some kind filled, not quite to the brim, with some sort of concoction usually only acceptably seen inside a very ill dog.
She’d taken a sip already and immediately she’d pursed her lips against the bitter taste of the drink that she might later describe as ‘chunky’. It seemed doubtful whether this drink was going to end with Lauren seeing what the bottom of the tankard looked like.
Lauren’s drinking partners that sat around the table would testify that there was nothing wrong with the drink, if and when they woke up.
Despite the revulsion she could feel continually trying to escape through her throat whenever she decided that it was time to breathe some more she had to admit that this was, or at least would have been a good place to gather intel.
This was where the working man would drag himself to every evening, wake up every morning and return from at about one of the clock to an irate working woman.
She’d never really encountered this working man before, she knew that he must exist somewhere but had never really cared to find out. Now, however, she needed his opinions.
Not just any working man would do. Lauren was quite aware of her physical form and had realised within a few minutes of sitting down amongst the sleeping drunks that despite the fact that the room held nearly a hundred people she was the only female save the barmaid. In the state that the other customers were in, Lauren was about as safe as a kitten that’s strode into the kennel of several rabid pit bull terriers.
Life, however, was about taking risks. If she stayed hidden under her black cloak and hood then nobody would talk to her and she’d learn nothing. Of course take the hood off and someone would definitely talk to her. It was about getting the right sort of person. Preferably someone who could still legally drive a carriage.
Lauren looked at the bar, sitting at it were three barbarians, bored now of playing cards, a dozing sneevil and a hero.
Lauren could tell he was a hero and so could everyone else in the bar. This was because heroes were frightfully unoriginal. He wore leather armour, in certain places however he’d even stretched so far as to wear metal coverings. He had a sword slung from his belt, it was probably magical, all swords were nowadays. He had orange hair and held himself upright, as though a pole had been inserted alongside his spine. This straightness of posture made him unique; everyone else in the bar was slumping.
Lauren ignored him, he would not do, he wasn’t normal. She wanted to speak to someone who built things or counted things, she did not want to speak to someone who slew dragons and stole treasure and called it a profession.
However, it was comforting to know he was there. If this chapter went the wrong way then he could at least jump in, save Lauren and then continue with his own adventures. Possibly in a spin-off.
She assumed this because that’s what heroes do.
Behind the bar stood the barmaid and owner of this fine establishment, Serenity.
No one would call her unattractive, quite the opposite. She had brilliant green eyes, long flowing golden hair and who doesn’t like a maid’s outfit? It was a mixture of red and white fabrics that displayed Serenity’s form without actually showing any cleavage. Lauren had to admit she liked the outfit and committed it to memory just in case.
Behind Serenity Lauren saw a poster. It looked reasonably new, unlike the ‘Wanted ~ Dangerous Mass Murderer’ posters that were also up. It was emblazoned with an image of a face, large a beaming manically. The face was stark white and covered in unusual runes, and it had a bush of brown hair adorning the crown of its head. Large red letters read clearly, ‘Danger! If seen do not approach!’
Lauren assumed from this that the wording was referring to the man whose picture it was rather than the poster itself.
Since entering Falconreach the previous day she’d seen these posters all over the place.
First, just as she’d been riding into the town a wagon had pulled past her with the same motif stuck rigidly to its side. She received quite a shock as she’d been riding side-saddle she looked forwards and been met with the insane grinning face.
The second time had come as slightly less of a shock; the image had greeted her as she’d been paying for a room at one of Falconreach’s multiple hostels. It was just as Lauren had been handing over the silver to the owner that she’d seen the face grinning at her again from behind the man’s back. She hadn’t inquired the ruddy faced man, it might raise unwanted suspicions.
She’d seen the white, grinning face for a third time the next day while walking towards the market area to buy bread and hopefully cheese. A leaflet had been blown from atop a stack of crates and hit her in the stomach. She’d looked at the leaflet for a few seconds, even dignified it with the furrowed brow before depositing it in her turquoise, beaded shoulder bag.
Since then the face had been appearing to her almost incessantly. The posters were stuck to trees, shop windows, carriages, horse carts, horses themselves and one or two even appeared on notice boards. This town wanted to make it quite clear to any newcomers that this man who looked at you from every flat surface, whoever he may be, was not desirable company.
Lauren had some half-formed ideas about who the face may belong to, the result of idle wonderings of her brain during the times between brushing her hair and applying her make-up. Perhaps he was an outlawed jester, a forbidden idiot or monstrous mass-murdering madman. None seemed particularly likely to be true which made them all the more possible to be real.
Presently the door of the bar was pushed open and a warm current of air passed through the room, causing the various odours and scents to begin circulating. A sickly sweet breeze wafted over Lauren and a stray lock of hair, free from her black hood, blew about joyfully in the thick air.
A man had walked through the door. He moved unlike a hero, there was no swagger or dominating presence and his posture didn’t suggest a working man, there was no stoop or slumped back. He seemed, to Lauren to be perfectly normal. He looked to be in his early twenties, like her. His clothes didn’t indicate wealth; he was wearing a simple faded blue tunic and baggy brown trousers. He wasn’t smiling but he wore an expression of polite interest as he dropped his dark green overcoat onto a hook by the door. He moved easily to the bar and Lauren could see Serenity greeting him warmly and with obvious recognition. A regular then.
Lauren watched this man for a few minutes as he sat on an empty barstool at the end of the bar drinking a mug of some smoking hot beverage. He was surveying the room with casual interest and once his gaze passed over to where Lauren herself was sitting. Of course he saw only a run-of-the-mill mysterious hooded figure however Lauren found herself looking at a smooth, handsome face framed by wild black hair.
Lauren waited until the man had begun talking with the barmaid again before she pulled out a party trick.
In the space of five seconds Lauren removed her black robes and threw them on top of a drooling drunk having a nap by her table, she resumed her casual position as though nothing had happened and quickly sorted her hair.
The man at the bar took another few mouthfuls of his drink and looked around the room again, the hooded, secretive figure had disappeared and in its place sat a woman wearing a sufficiently revealing blue dress with soft brown hair and a look in her eyes that seemed to beckon to him.
Unfortunately for Lauren her transformation had gone exactly the way she’d envisioned. It was true she was beckoning to the man, but she was also inadvertently beckoning to the rest of the room.
The men who had found physical violence to be incredibly intellectual simultaneously turned their heads towards the cleavage that had emerged. The group of barbarians, possessing slightly more dignity, nudged one another and smirked. There was a short-lived scream as a gnome found itself approaching the ground at speed as the orc dropped it and grinned in Lauren’s direction, exposing all its rotten teeth. A spotlight composed entirely of male interest was shone at Lauren’s corner, now the brightest in the room. She smiled sheepishly at the assembled testosterone bombs and reached back down to her discarded black garments. Regret set in like fog as several onlookers chuckled.
Lauren nearly vacated her chair as she jumped away from a hand that had reached out at rested on her shoulder. Seeing the handsome man she composed herself and let the black robe fall from her hands once more.
Seeing the object of lust engaging in conversation with the man the other patrons returned to their various pursuits, all except the orc whose gnome had fled the bar already and had decided to seek his fortune in the big city.
The handsome man smiled at Lauren and said softly, ‘Hi. I saw you from over there and…,’ the man waved vaguely in the direction of where he’d been sitting at the bar. Rather than finishing his sentence he decided to start another, ‘I haven’t seen you before have I? Where’re you from?’
Mustn’t give away too much, she thought before saying, ‘Swordhaven.’ The word ‘damn’ quickly raced through her head as, despite her previous mental warning she heard herself giving this stranger the truth. At least she hadn’t been specific, Swordhaven was massive.
‘You’re from the capital!’ the man seemed surprised, ‘A beautiful city.’
‘You’ve been?’ asked Lauren trying to feint interest while accidentally being genuinely interested. Perhaps she should have selected a less attractive person to probe for information.
‘I visited once, just for ceremonial purposes,’ replied the man.
‘Ceremonial?’
‘To have the name ‘Lord’ officially bestowed upon me. Embarrassing to tell you the truth.’
Lauren had stopped listening after the word ‘Lord’. She had definitely chosen the wrong person to interrogate. Not only was he gorgeous, but he was a lord too. Neither aspect helped Lauren’s concentration. The thing was, lords were rich, they had money. Lauren liked money. Well rather, she liked what money could be turned into. Expensive dresses, perfumes, wines, manor houses, servants, jewellery and accessories.
Lauren gazed in the eyes of this handsome man. Handsome Lord. Forgetting everything else they talked all night and were later married. Lauren buys thousands of pretty things, the story ends here and everyone lives happily ever after.
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