About a league south of where the daunting Mount Silvertip pierces the clouds, The Great Oaken Forest covers the land as far as the eye can see in a great green mass of conifer and birch.
Though it may look impenetrable at first glance, The Great Oaken Forest has many paths, trails and roads that have been beaten through its woody copses by the feet of travellers and the wheels of tradesmen’s carts.
Though these trails vary in route, width and smoothness, they all have one thing in common - they all lead to Oakenglen.
Nestled squarely in a clearing in the middle of The Great Oaken Forest, the village of Oakenglen is home to roughly a hundred denizens of all manner of species.
Just about every house in Oakenglen is, appropriately, made of wood sourced directly from the forest itself - from the larger buildings that make up the village square to the residences that seem to radiate outwards from that central space, each has been constructed almost entirely from conifer, birch and oak.
One of said larger buildings is a bakery, manned by a rotund and jolly badger by the name of Davan - every morning, the centre of Oakenglen smells like flour and fresh bread.
The apothecary sits across from Davan’s bakery, its shelves laden with bottles and jars of ingredients watched hawkishly by the elderly owl Mey and her daughter Fara.
The blacksmiths, with its roaring forges and ringing anvils, is located closer to the outskirts of Oakenglen, and is home to the massive wolf Holt and his dear wife Flotta.
Even further from the village square is the house of the charcoal burning beaver Bracken – due to the relatively solitary, thankless and foul-smelling profession of charcoal-burning, Bracken is practically a hermit and rarely makes appearances in Oakenglen proper.
However, the most popular building in Oakenglen by far is the Olde Lantern Inn...
-----------------------
It was in the smallest of the bedrooms of this humble little inn that KG woke, the morning sun streaking through the trees and sending shafts of light through the little window, illuminating the whole room.
The python’s long mane of raven black hair tumbled about his face in great locks as he raised himself from his pillow. Sweeping this hair from his face so he could see, he looked up blearily and gave a great, jaw-cracking yawn.
Swinging his legs out from under the covers, KG’s first reaction, as it always was, was to reach out a hand to the wall beside the bed.
To his great relief, his beloved guitar was leaning against the wall, waiting for him.
Known informally as the village bard, KG could often be seen going about Oakenglen with his guitar ‘Auld Betsy’ - sometimes he would be welcomed into people’s houses to play some tunes for them, and sometimes he would go off and play for the workers in the fields to keep their morale up while they tended to the crops.
He was also a permanent fixture at the handful of village fetes that occurred every year, his sweet music lending to the jollity of the festivities.
He had, however, no house to call his own, and so KG earned his room and board in the Olde Lantern by playing to the patrons who frequented there, entertaining them with songs and jokes through the evening and well into the night.
Warm mead and crackling fires were always in plentiful supply, and, in conjunction with KG’s musical entertainment, it made the Olde Lantern Inn the popular hangout in Oakenglen every night.
After making sure that Auld Betsy was still there, the bard stood up from his bed and dressed himself; he pulled his usual black-and-purple striped pants up over his legs, doing up the sturdy leather belt that was threaded through the loops of them; his cream-coloured undershirt was next, with its bronze square buttons and mustardy sash; over all of this went his charcoal grey coat, the ostentatious quilted collar, lapels and cuffs a flamboyant butterscotch.
Now that he was clothed, KG slung Auld Betsy securely over his back by her leather strap and left his room in search of breakfast.
-----------------------
“Mornin’, KG!”
The dulcet, plummy voice of the Olde Lantern’s owner, Celestia, greeted the snake as he made his way down the wooden steps to the main tavern room.
The plump ewe was busy dragging a cloth over the surface of one of the wooden tables as KG came down, her white woolly curls bouncing about her head with the motion, framing her charcoal face as they did so.
“Hullo, Celestia!” KG replied jovially, moving towards the mahogany bar and seating himself upon a stool.
As KG sat himself at the bar, Celestia finished up her cleaning of the table - her red dress bounced and jostled as she bustled around to the other side of the bar.
“What’ll it be then, my ‘ansome? Just yer usual oatmeal?”
“Aye, just the usual oatmeal.”
“Comin’ roight up!” Celestia smiled sweetly, before poking her head into the service window to the kitchen and barking at her husband: “OSGAR! Get summa tha’ gruel on!”
“Yes, Celestia!” Osgar's beleaguered voice sounded in reply, and Celestia turned back to the bard, smiling as though nothing had happened.
“I dunno about yew, but I think it’s bloody awful what ‘appened to Buckie an’ Erboll’s shop last night!”
“...did something happen last night?” KG asked, completely nonplussed, to which the round sheep gasped.
“Yer avin' a larf, surely! ‘Alf the bleedin’ village ‘eard what ‘appened!”
“Clearly not my half,” KG replied, as Osgar’s hand poked out through the service window holding a rustic-looking wooden bowl that vaguely resembled the bottom half of a brown broken egg.
“‘Ow’d yew miss tha’, then? Yew musta been out loike a light!” Celestia remarked, plonking the wooden bowl of milk and oats down onto the bar in front of KG.
“So what happened, then?” KG asked, grabbing a wooden spoon off of the countertop.
“Oo d’ye reckon it were? Only them Brigands, again!”
“Aw bloody hell, not them, again…”
Up until about six months ago, nobody in Oakenglen had even heard of a Brigand…
…until the tradesmen started reporting the attacks.
Unknown assailants, of all manner of shape and size, were reported as ambushing innocent tradesmen as they made their way through the trees - goods were stolen, carts were wrecked and suppliers assaulted, seemingly at complete random.
Reports from these merchants indicated that, despite the differences in the sizes, species and genders of these mugging miscreants, one thing was consistent for them all: their distinctive coal black and crimson outfits.
If confronted, they would simply melt away into the darkness of the thick forest, and nobody had managed to apprehend a single one of these Brigands so far.
But recently, the Brigands had stepped up their despicable actions – boldly sneaking into Oakenglen by night, breaking into homes and ransacking them.
“And now they’ve hit Buckie and Erboll’s…” KG shook his head, before spooning some porridge into his mouth.
“A right bunch o’ baa-stards, they be!” Celestia bleated, shaking her woolly head and planting her black hands on her comely hips. “Oi reckon someone's gotta do summat 'bout 'em.”
“Aye, but where wid ye even start?” KG said, twiddling his spoon between two fingers.
“Baah, they prob’ly do live out past town a ways, way out in the deep o' the woods, mind…” The ewe nodded, pursing her lips.
“So what, we just all gang up together with torches and pitchforks to try an’ find them?” KG suggested sarcastically.
“Hmph, cheek!” Celestia groused, though betraying a humorous twinkle in her eye. “Can't be leavin' the village all unprotected, though.”
“Exactly,” KG nodded. “If all of us went out to find them, they’d ransack Oakenglen behind us and not even leave us wi’ a pot to piss in!”
Finishing up the oatmeal, KG dropped the wooden spoon into the wooden bowl. “Cheers for the breakfast, Celestia.”
“Mind yerself out therr', now!” The ewe kindly spoke, as KG stood up off of his stool and started towards the inn’s front door. “I'll be needin' ye back 'ere afore night be fallin', now, mind!”
“Not tae worry, Celestia,” KG winked from the doorway. “This place’ll no’ be silent the night!”
-----------------------
Despite Celestia’s warnings, the day passed relatively normally for the bard of Oakenglen.
His first destination, as ever, was Davan’s bakery - the round badger was always welcoming of the python’s music, and would always give KG the first bread cob of the day to take away with him.
The blacksmith’s was his next port of call - the distinct ringing of Holt’s hammer upon the anvil always lent an interesting percussive element to the bard’s music that never failed to delight the heavy wolf’s wife, Flotta.
After that came the visit to Buckie and Erboll’s shop down the road to observe the damage caused by the Brigands last night.
Smashed glass, broken wood and ruined stock littered the floor of the rabbit brothers’ shop - an awful sight, to be sure, but nothing that an hour or two of sweat, work and a song about the coming of the sun couldn’t soon put right.
KG was one of the few people who could charm a smile out of Bracken the charcoal-burner - the beaver’s lonely post at the edge of the village always seemed a little less melancholy when the python regaled him with his favourite ballad about a lucky man who died in war.
When nightfall came, he made sure to get himself back to the Olde Lantern Inn in time for dinner - he had just enough time to wash the reek of Bracken’s charcoal off of himself and sit in his usual stool by the fireplace in the tavern, ready to give his nightly entertainment.
His jokes, comments and songs were well-received as usual, especially his latest tune - a fanciful fantasy about trees in a forest fighting over who should get more sunlight.
All-in-all, it was a wonderful time - laughs were had, mead was consumed and the patrons trickled back to their residences fed, watered and satisfied.
KG didn’t go off to his bed, however, leaving the Olde Lantern for a night-time stroll instead.
It was a nice little exercise he’d developed that would sober him up in case he’d imbibed too much mead - he found waking up with a hangover absolutely torturous.
The python strode calmly down the torch-lit streets of Oakenglen - the relative lack of bustle in the empty dirt roads gave it a nice, peaceable quality…
THONK
“Oof!”
The sharp sound, like someone walking into a tree, sounded out loudly in the quiet town.
Both the sound AND the grunt of pain that came with it caught KG’s attention, but that turned instantly into suspicion upon hearing two voices in the distance:
“Hmm, that’s the wrong house, I think…”
“You bloody muppet! Watch where you’re going!”
These two male voices, whispered and urgent, were not ones that KG had heard before.
Following these unknown speakers quickly led KG to one of the smaller side-streets, where he caught sight of them.
Well, ‘caught sight’ was a little optimistic - away from the torches that lit up the main streets and carrying no light source themselves, only their outlines could be seen by the python, who at least managed to determine that there were only two of them.
Whoever they were, they were certainly contrasting physical figures, with one clearly larger and thicker than the other - nevertheless, they made through the quiet, darkened part of Oakenglen with KG close behind them.
“The alchemist lives this way!” sounded off one of these men, which jogged KG’s brain a little.
Grundowinch the alchemist was a bit of a recluse in Oakenglen, although certainly not to the extent of somebody like Bracken the charcoal-burner - the old snow leopard could occasionally be seen going about his business in the streets usually frequenting Mey’s apothecary for potion ingredients. His long, greying fur and slight hobble betrayed his advanced age, but he got around the town well enough.
He lived on the outskirts of town in a very odd house - not only was it surrounded by a garden of impressively coloured flowers that were neither dulled nor withered by the winters, but it was, unlike the other houses, completely round.
The alchemist’s round house came into view, its curved windows lightly glowing from the fire in the hearth within.
Not only did this fire dispense a guiding light towards the house, but it also provided KG with a means to see who he had been tailing this whole time…
As the shadowy duo approached the glow emanating from the windows of the round house, KG’s attention was not held by their faces - which he couldn’t get a good look at from behind, anyway - but by their apparel:
Their trousers and undershirts were a smoky black in colour, with their waistcoats and boots being a horribly familiar crimson…
KG had to clamp a hand over his snout to stop his involuntary gasp from becoming audible - this whole time, he’d been unwittingly following two Brigands!
Before the bard could properly start to comprehend this fact, he witnessed the two of them invite themselves into Grundowinch’s home without even knocking!
“Hullo? Who are you two? What are you doing in my- Hey, stop! Get away from those!”
The air was instantly filled with the alarming noises of breaking glass and splintering wood, prompting the bard to quickly dash towards Grundowinch’s house.
While he very much wanted to, KG doubted that he could take on both Brigands in a fight, especially not the big one - he would therefore have to settle with crouching at one of the windows, in the gap between the flowers and the wall of the house.
As soon as KG looked through the glass, he saw a most intriguing sight: Grundowinch seemed to be having a conversation with the two Brigands!
Actually, it looked like more of an interrogation than a conversation, given how they were clearly threatening the old alchemist.
Thankfully, the two of them had their backs facing the window that the python was spying through, allowing him to get a decent look at them.
The Brigand that had a hold of Grundowinch seemed to have the size - and density - of a hay bale: big, thick and rotund atop relatively short legs, KG’s overall impression was of a large wine cask sat on top of a small table.
His compatriot was clearly a mouse, with a long, thin tail poking out of the arse of his uniform and a pair of round, dinner plate-sized ears on top of his head.
By the firelight flickering in the old alchemist’s central hearth, KG couldn’t fail to see the malicious glint of the dagger in the little Brigand’s gloved hand, even as their faces were hidden by the angle he was seeing them at.
The big Brigand’s size and the little Brigand’s big round ears weren’t enough to obscure the face of the snow leopard either, which was wearing a look of terror that KG had never seen on him before: his pointed ears were flattened back into his white hair, and the age lines on his countenance looked deeper than ever.
"T-two... two hundred..."
The big-eared little Brigand to Grundowinch’s right spoke up, his voice like a poison-coated needle:
"That's right, old man: two hundred thousand gold bits by midnight, or you'll never see that grandson of yours again!"
The wizened alchemist tore his eyes away from the sharp dagger pointed at his mandible to beseech the smaller Brigand:
"B-but I can't do that! That's not how my alchemy works-"
His pleas, however, fell on deaf ears, as the big Brigand shoved the snow leopard backwards over his desk and out of KG's sight.
The big Brigand roared with deep laughter at the surprised little squeak that Grundowinch made and the consequent THUD of his painful landing. His voice sounded like how KG thought an orc would sound - broad, slow and beastly:
"Sure ya can - just ‘ave a play with yer chemistry set 'ere!"
His following unkind laugh was cut off by the little Brigand’s deadly voice, as he leaned over the desk to point a threatening finger at the spotted alchemist:
"We don't care how ya do it - steal it, dig it up, grow it in a pot, just bring us that fuckin' gold by midnight!”
At that, the two Brigands turned towards the door, evidently satisfied that the alchemist had been sufficiently terrorised. KG, remembering that he was openly peeping at them through an open window, instantly hit the deck.
Thankfully, the two Brigands were too busy stomping out of the potion-seller’s house to notice KG lying prone amongst the flattened begonias - the relatively loose earth also absorbed most of the noise of Auld Betsy none-too-gently hitting it.
The bard waited until the tramp of their boots had faded away into the forest before grabbing his guitar, leaping to his feet and dashing into Grundowinch’s cottage.
As KG had seen, the interior of the alchemist’s house had been roughly ransacked: fragments of several glass vials lay on the floor, and they, along with the alchemical ingredients they had been holding, crunched and squelched under the python’s boots as he reached the old man’s desk.
“Grundy! You alright?”
It was a stupid thing to ask, given the state of the snow leopard as he pulled himself out from under the desk:
The alchemist looked to be in a sorry state, what with his long white hair draped over his face and tangling with his equally long and white beard.
Thankfully, his tiny, round spectacles had landed safely on the desk when he had been shoved over it, and KG delicately placed them back on their owner’s nose.
“Is that you, KG?”
“Aye, it’s me, Grundy. Whit wis that all about?”
Grundowinch shakily stepped around his desk and came to a rest leaning against the front of it.
“I… I was expecting my grandson Soltra today - he’s a mage-in-training from down in Deerfell, come up here to live with me for a few months and… those Brigands have kidnapped him!”
KG thought back to an hour ago, when he had been doing his usual entertaining in the Olde Lantern Inn…
From his customary spot, sitting on an old wooden stool next to the inn’s fireplace, he was always afforded a good look at the patrons who came to the tavern…
But had there been anybody there that wasn’t part of the regular crowd tonight?
The green reptile closed his eyes and he pictured the scene - the patrons, sat at tables, their laughing faces lit up orange by the light of the fire, he could recognise many of them:
Holt, the village’s massive blacksmith, and his wife Flotta; Davan the breadmaker, still wearing his flour-covered apron; the elderly Mey and her daughter Fara; big tall Buckie and short little Erboll…
And then it hit him: he had seen a stranger in the Inn, right up at the back - at the furthest table, near the front door!
“Grundy, about Soltra - snow leopard, kind o’ tall, black hair, blue coat an’ clothes?”
“That’s him! But.. he’s only just come to Oakenglen today! How did these Brigands know to take him?”
“Well, when I was playing in the Olde Lantern, I spotted him in the crowd - he was swaying quite a bit, but that was until he sat down and started chatting up the young fox lassie at the back in the… in the black and red…”
The realisation hit both KG and Grundowinch at the same time: they both let out a moan as though they had just lost their last gold bits in a gambling den, with the bard covering his snout with a hand and the potion seller grinding his palms into his eyes in sadness and frustration.
“Oh Soltra, you idiot of a boy! Chasing tail and getting into trouble just like his father…”
“So, these bangers are wantin’ you tae cook up a load of gold, izzat right?” KG asked, changing the subject to a more pressing matter.
“They said that they want two hundred thousand gold bits by midnight… up at the old abandoned mill… they said they’d cut out his tongue and sell him into slavery in the Amarinthine Mines if I don’t!”
A fresh wave of tears came from the alchemist’s eyes at this prospect, and KG’s expression hardened.
“I’ll get him.”
“You?”
In the orange firelight, the reproach on the python’s face at this remark was clear.
“Aye, me - what’s wrong wi’ that?”
“Well, no offence, lad, but… your occupation is making noise…”
“And that means that I appreciate the value of silence!”
Grundowinch let out a shaky sigh, sending his white whiskers all a-flutter as KG continued:
“And besides - can you cook up two hundred thousand gold bits by midnight?”
The elder snow leopard screwed up his eyes behind his glasses, deepening the crow’s feet lines even more and giving the impression that he had unwillingly taken a swig of lemon juice.
“No - even if I had the ingredients, the process wouldn’t be done by then…”
“Then it’s settled - I’ll go!” KG said.
Grundowinch sighed.
-----------------------
Moonlight streaked overhead in silvery shafts through the thick canopy of leaves as KG darted along the dirt path, Auld Betsy firmly slung across his back.
His measured steps were calculatedly slow, so as not to alert the Brigands he was trailing.
He caught up to them soon enough – they were clearly pleased with their work, as evidenced by their leisurely pace down the wooded pathway.
The rat Brigand’s quick pace was equalled by the strides of the bear Brigand’s huge legs, and they were mid-conversation when the bard caught up with them:
“…d’ya think he’ll actually come up with the gold, Speke?”
“Meh, don’t really give a toss, Brodgar- either we end up rich, or we get to cut out the lanky boy’s tongue!”
Speke laughed his poisonous laugh, with Brodgar joining in with his slow, heavy chortling.
That was how it went for the next while – the two Brigands making conversation while KG stole through the forest behind them, matching their speed while being sure to stay as silent as possible.
Eventually, amber light emanated from beyond the trees like a little dot, and it grew as the bard and the Brigands approached.
Into view, lit up by flaming torches, came the old flour mill. It was certainly old, but was not as dilapidated or as disrepaired as its age would suggest.
All around, moss carpeted the ground like nature’s dust – it was laid thickly on every tree, every rock and every stone in sight.
KG noted the presence of several Brigands loafing and loitering around the place, their red and black uniforms all lit in orange from the torches stuck into the dirt floor.
KG was just considering how to go about staging a secretive entry to the building when the wooden front door of the mill banged open from the inside.
Even against the glow of the fiery torches, the bard couldn’t fail to recognise the crimson vixen that had seduced Soltra in the Olde Lantern.
When the Brigands recognised her, they all stood up at attention with looks of fear in their faces – clearly, she was the undisputed ruler of the roost around here.
She strode out of the mill and stopped in front of Speke and Brodgar with her hands on her hips, in a manner that reminded KG of an angry housewife confronting her husband after he had been out on the lash with his mates.
“Well?” The vixen demanded. “Did you give that whiskery old fuck the ransom?”
“Yes, Miss Fiona.” Brodgar said, bowing his great head.
“We made sure ‘e got the point!” Speke cackled.
Fiona nodded, before standing to the side and gesturing the two Brigands inside as though they were her naughty children. “Good, now get in here - that alchemist only has two hours to get us the gold, and I want you all ready for when he arrives.”
They did as they were told, and Fiona shut the door behind them with a whirl of her thick, red tail, leaving KG in the treeline, wondering how to infiltrate the place and find Soltra.
Slowly, KG circled around the mill, keeping to the treeline that surrounded it so as not to be spotted – he needed to find an entrance to the building that the Brigands wouldn’t think to keep guarded.
Frustratingly, every one of the old windows that KG investigated led into rooms that had Brigands in them: laughing, joking, playing games of chance.
Nobody that the python saw looked anything like the description of Grundowinch’s grandson, though, so KG continued snooping about for an unguarded entrance to the mill.
Since the front of the ancient building was guarded by Brigands, and the side of it featured no viable entrances either, the bard darted around to the back, starting to feel a tad desperate about his chances of being able to mount a stealthy rescue of Soltra…
He nearly let out an audible sigh of relief, therefore, upon seeing that the rear of the building sported exactly what he was looking for.
On one side of him there flowed a river like a liquid road, its dark waters babbling loudly - presumably, the Brigands had thought that it would provide a sort of natural defense, which was why there were no sentries posted there - in any case, the noise of the waters would probably do a good job of masking KG’s movements.
One storey off of the ground, there was a large, 6 foot square window set into the stone wall of the mill, complete with a hook that would have been used to pull grain up to the room – the lack of fire light emanating from the room told KG that there wasn’t likely to be anyone in there, making it the perfect entry point into the mill!
The answer of how to get up there was parked practically underneath the window – a dilapidated, aging wooden cart filled to the brim with old, matted hay.
Wasting no time, the serpent singer rushed over to the wooden wagon – it creaked loudly as he tipped it up and backed it against the mill’s stone wall, and the wheels wobbled alarmingly when he clambered aboard it.
Nonetheless, it held together as he walked through the great lump of hay at the elevated end, and it supported his weight as he reached up towards the edge of the huge window.
He could just reach it, curling his fingers over the lip of the window while standing on the very tips of his toes.
KG heaved himself up the wall with all his might, eventually crawling through the hole and flopping onto a rough wooden floor.
"Who are you? H-hey, don't need to take my tongue yet, I love bandits! Honest!"
Looking up, KG peered into the room he had just hauled himself into in search of the voice.
By the light of the moon, he could make out the enormous cogs and spoked wheels that made up the mill’s grinding mechanism.
As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, KG could see the speaker:
Leaning up against the biggest of the spoked cogs was a figure clad in various shades of blue - his overcoat was azure, but, due to the awkwardness of his leaning up against the grinding mechanism, it did little to cover up the sky blue pants and waistcoat that he wore underneath.
The speaker tried to stand upright from his leaning position, but was having trouble getting his indigo boots to find a footing.
“Wait… you’re not one of them! You’re the bard!”
As KG stood, he moved towards the grinder mechanism and got a good look at the face of his new acquaintance - he recognised the black hair covering his head, as well as the teal lock of said hair waving at the front.
“Soltra? Is that you?”
“Yes!” The snow leopard cried. “Are you here to save me?!”
“Aye, now keep it down!” KG darted forward, covering up the mage’s mouth with his hand to keep him from making any more noise. “Don’t want those pricks downstairs to hear that I’m here!”
Soltra nodded and KG removed his hand, instead focusing on the snow leopard’s wrists.
“Bloody hell, they’ve done a real number on you here, eh?” The snake mused.
The reason for Soltra’s strange position was that the Brigands had tied him to the big horizontal wheel that made up the main part of the mill mechanism.
“Yeah… Could you get me free? I can’t feel my arms any more.”
Kneeling down, KG set Auld Betsy gently down on the floor and retrieved a little dagger from within his right boot.
“...is that it?” Soltra deadpanned, as KG began to slice at his bonds.
“Oh, sorry, forgot to bring my gigantic sword!” KG hissed, sawing back and forth at the ropes with his knife.
There was half a minute of silence, with the only sounds being the gradual fraying of rope and the bard’s quiet grunts of effort.
“Hope you weren’t followed,” Soltra murmured. “These guys seem like they really mean business.”
“We’d be dead if I had been,” KG replied, not looking up from his work. “Disnae matter, though – I’ll get ye oot, we’ll get ootae here and leave these eejits holding their dicks!”
Soltra allowed himself a small chuckle at his rescuer’s words, shifting his legs to try and alleviate his awkward positioning against the flour-grinding mechanism.
Unfortunately, said mechanism was quite advanced in age – the cogs and joints hadn’t been used in who knew how long, and they rattled and squeaked due to the movements of both men.
“Here, watch ou-!”
But it was too late.
Soltra’s unexpected movement, coupled with KG’s dagger finally cutting through the first of the ropes binding the mage, caused a shift in weight that some of the cogs simply couldn’t handle.
One of these cogs, roughly 15 inches in diameter, popped out of its bracket and made its way straight down to the wooden floor.
THONK!
KG and Soltra both completely froze in place, neither daring to breathe in the wake of the cog’s deafening impact with the floor.
But, though the cog’s fall had been loud, neither bard nor mage could fail to hear the responses of the Brigands on the floor below them:
“The bloody hell was that?”
“Thought it was a goblin!”
“Nearly leapt out me shoes…”
“Bogbain, you said you’d tied the mage up tightly…” came the severe voice of Fiona Fox, clearly being uttered through her clenched teeth.
“But I did!” came the squeaky voice of whoever Bogbain was. “At least, I was sure that I did…”
“Grrrrhh, why do I even bother with you all?” Fiona growled, before the sound of her boots moving across the floor sounded down below. “I’ll check on him, and he better not have gotten loose, Bogbain…”
Something clicked in KG’s brain around the time he heard the Brigand leader’s boots coming up the stairs.
“Sssshhhhhitshitshit!” he hissed, still kneeling on the wooden floor with his knife in his hand.
What should he do?
Soltra was still mostly tied to the mill’s cogs and mechanism - would he be able to get the mage free from his bonds in time? Perhaps he should try and block the door with something?
KG stood up and hurried over to the door, which sported a simple wooden bolt.
The serpent gingerly opened the wooden door, hoping that he would be able to spot something useful to help in his plight…
…only to find the Brigand leader looking up at him from about ten steps down a wooden staircase.
“The bard?” Fiona blinked.
“Oh fuck!” KG exclaimed, slamming the door behind him and sliding the lock into place just in time to hear Fiona’s boots racing up the wooden stairs and her outraged cry:
“THE FUCKING BARD?!”
Fiona rained blows on the locked door as KG busied himself getting Soltra free from his bonds.
“Friend of yours?” Soltra joked.
“Friend of mine? Friend of yours, more like! That’s your girlfriend frae the Olde Lantern!” KG responded. “Thank fuck that yon door’s holding!”
At that exact moment there was silence, as Fiona had stopped hitting the door.
She hadn’t given up, however:
“Brodgar? Brodgar! There’s an intruder locked in with the mage! It’s the bard from the Olde Lantern – get up here and get this door opened, now!”
Heavy footsteps stomped up the stairs, making the wood creak with every step.
“Yes, Miss Fiona!” said the deep, slow voice of Brodgar the bear, and both KG and Soltra shuddered with recognition.
“Oh bugger!” Soltra gasped. “That’s the huge one, isn’t it?”
WHAM!
Soltra received a reply in the form of the big Brigand hurling his body against the door, producing the terrifyingly close noise of tortured wood.
“Ignalia! Get Speke and Colfin!” sounded the equally terrifying bark of Fiona, rousing the other Brigands into action. “I want that bard strung up by his own guitar strap!”
“How many of these bastards are there?!” KG groaned through gritted teeth, continuing to desperately cut at Soltra’s ropes.
“Fifteen or so,” came Soltra’s reply. “I think that vixen’s their leader or something.”
WHAM!
Brodgar’s second hit to the door was just as loud as the first, except that the bard and the mage could hardly fail to hear the splintering of wood in there as well!
“I’m gonna have to fight them.” KG grit his teeth and ceased the cutting of the thick ropes binding Soltra, instead reaching for Auld Betsy.
“What? You against all them?”
“Shht!” KG hissed, clutching his guitar as he positioned himself down from the door.
Holding Auld Betsy by the neck with both hands, KG held her close to the ground, tensing himself up in anticipation of the big Brigand’s third strike against the door.
It came about a second later.
With another almighty CRUNCH, the massive ursine form of Brodgar burst through the door in a shower of wooden shards, standing triumphantly in front of the doorway.
The Brigand bear had no sooner come to a halt when KG let fly with Auld Betsy, swinging his acoustic guitar straight into the face of Brodgar.
BAM!
Auld Betsy utterly exploded upon impact in a shower of splinters, her hollow body rupturing and bursting into thousands of little pieces all over Brodgar’s person.
Having taken this blow, Brodgar simply stood there motionless as a statue, with KG and Soltra not daring to breathe.
Then, with the grace of a falling oak tree, Brodgar slowly began to keel backwards, his body falling back through the doorway he’d just cleared.
The shouts and screams of the handful of Brigands who had unwisely chosen to stand right behind their colossal comrade were quickly drowned by a third round of breaking wood, as the unconscious bear toppled right on top of them and straight through the wooden stairs!
Meanwhile, KG stood at the top of the staircase, scarcely able to believe the chaos he’d just brought about.
Holding his hand up, KG saw that he was clutching onto all that was left of his beloved instrument – the headstock and top third of the wooden neck, with the steel strings hanging off it like leaves off a fern plant.
“Sorry, Betsy.” The python whispered, dropping her remnants to the floor.
Turning back to Soltra, KG grabbed his knife and went back to work freeing the snow leopard.
“I’m enjoying the sounds of mayhem downstairs,” Soltra joked – indeed, the indistinct shouts of surprise coming from the Brigands were floating through the broken door of the room.
“Yon bear fell through the stairs and took some of his friends with him,” KG replied as he worked his knife over the fraying ropes. “Should buy us a wee bit of time!”
A second rope fell away, freeing up the mage’s left arm, which he gratefully moved and flexed to get some feeling back.
“Aaaahhh, that’s nice,” Soltra sighed happily – he could now shift onto his knees and help KG with the last remaining rope.
Thankfully, this was the thinnest of the ropes binding the mage to the mill mechanism and only took KG 20 seconds of continuous cutting to sever.
“There we go!” Soltra enthused, rubbing his wrists as he stood up… and up… and up to his formidable height of over 6 feet.
KG actually had to back up a little as the snow leopard loomed over him by several inches.
“Bloody Nora - you’re a lot taller up close!”
“Heh, I’m tall from any distance!” Soltra chuckled, but, before KG could summon up a witty reply, some urgent shouts came from the Brigands downstairs:
“No! Pick it up!”
“Who had the torch? Why did you bring a torch?!”
“Wartle, you nob, the table’s on fire!!”
KG and Soltra looked at each other.
“On fire?” KG repeated, but, down below, Fiona had clearly already come to the same deadly realisation:
“Don’t let it get near the flour!”
But it was too late.
WHOOMF!!
Both KG and Soltra felt the fireball downstairs heat up their feet, and they both involuntarily gasped as it lifted the old floorboards beneath them.
“Oh fuck!” Soltra gasped, his eyes widening in fright. “We should not be here!”
“Window, quick!” KG responded, pointing to the big window he had entered the mill through.
“What?! I don’t want to break my legs, I haven’t learned to levitate yet!” The snow leopard squeaked.
In response, KG grabbed Soltra by his sleeve and dragged the tall mage over to the imposing hole in the wall.
“Hay cart,” he said, pointing down at the stack of hay in the wooden cart.
“Yeah, but also…” Soltra countered, pointing at the several Brigands who were running around like headless halfwits as the fire spread – some were even trying to scoop water up from the river with their hands, only for it to have mostly dried up before they could get even remotely near the mill.
“I’d rather face them than burn in here!” KG shrugged, “Now come on; let’s jump!”
Before Soltra could conjure up another excuse not to jump, he had already been shoved in the back by KG, who leapt out of the mill alongside him!
Thankfully, Soltra's surprise at suddenly becoming airborne froze his voice in his throat, with the only noise the two making being the soft WHUMP of them impacting into the hay - above the sounds of the fire and the Brigands running around, their escape went completely unnoticed!
No sooner had KG and Soltra caught their bearings after their landing, than the mage had turned over in the cart and started raking through the hay with his fingers.
“Where is it… must be here somewhere!”
“Uh, what ye daein’?” asked KG, observing the snow leopard scooping up the stale straw and flinging it behind him.
Soltra didn’t answer immediately, instead choosing to continue his urgent hay removal for a few more seconds until:
“Ah, there it is!”
With a triumphant cry, Soltra removed from the haystack what appeared to be a wooden pole – as he bore it aloft above his head, KG noted that it was around 5 feet in length, and the wood had been fashioned into a great loop at one end – strangely, the loop looked like it contained a fist-sized lump of coal…
Springing to his feet, the snow leopard stepped off the haycart, prompting KG to do the same.
“Those bastards threw this out the window when they tied me up.” Soltra explained, examining the staff while the python swept the hay from his own coat. “Grandad would never forgive me if I lost his old staff!”
“Right right, let’s jist get away frae here, and ye can tell me all about it!” KG said, only half-paying attention as he surveyed the scene before them in hopes of identifying a safe exit for them.
Grabbing Soltra by the arm of his coat, KG pulled the tall mage away from the burning mill and into the relative safety of the treeline.
Only when the two of them were under the cover of the trees did they see the dire situation they’d left behind them.
Black smoke poured out of every door and window of the old mill, lit up in shades of orange by the red fire that was spawning it; red and black Brigands were running everywhere, some to get away from the fire and others trying to put it out.
“Fucking hell…” KG breathed. “I didn’t want the whole bloody place to get set on fire! Should we just get ootae here?”
“And leave the fire to burn down this whole forest?” Soltra replied, aghast.
“Shit, that’s true,” KG muttered under his breath. “And I don’t want to have these pricks get burned to death, even if they are pricks…”
Thinking, the reptilian bard turned to the mage:
“Can’t you, like, blast some water out of that staff at it?”
“Nope: I haven’t learned to create and summon elements of nothing yet.”
KG clutched his snout with one hand, rubbing his eyes with the other. “Well, fuckin’… pick up water from the river and dump it on them, then!”
Gripping his staff tightly in his hand, Soltra set his jaw and narrowed his blue eyes.
“That… I can do.”
And with that, the snow leopard strode out of the trees in the direction of the river before the bard’s eyes.
Paying attention to neither fire nor Brigand, Soltra raised both arms as he approached the water – the thing that KG had thought was merely a lump of coal at the end of the staff suddenly blazed with an aquamarine light!
At the same time, the dark water of the river churned and swirled, following Soltra’s directions – the mage swung his staff once by rotating his wrist in the air, and the water obeyed like a loyal pet.
Soltra swung his staff a second time – as the gemstone atop the staff glowed anew, the river water was cut in half and raised up from the riverbed into the air like the tail of some great mythical creature.
A third and final swing of Soltra’s staff had the great trail of water raise up higher into the air and roll itself up into a great round ball shape, moving as though being moulded by great invisible hands – KG was reminded of Oakenglen’s baker Davan handling some fresh bread dough to get it ready for the oven.
The snow leopard mage, holding this considerable aqueous sphere aloft in the air, then twisted himself around to face the burning mill.
Swinging his arms forwards, Soltra threw the ball of water in the direction of the old flour mill.
BLOOOOSSSSHHHH!!!
With a mighty wet crash, the aqueous globe slammed into the stone wall of the mill – it burst into the building through the huge window they had just left through, with every drop that didn’t splash through it slopping off of the stone walls and onto the ground.
The main body of water, however, utterly crashed through the stone structure: huge streams of it flooded through the mill, bursting through every single window and almost simultaneously knocking straight through the front door!
The collision of water on fire gave off a great hiss, like some colossal serpent – where once there was fire, there now came dark grey smoke as the fire was put out.
“Bloody hell!” KG marvelled at the snow leopard’s display of magic. “I’ve never seen anything like that before!”
“I’ve never done anything like that before!” Soltra admitted sheepishly, lowering his arms as the magical gemstone atop his staff dulled back into blackness.
The mage and the bard then cautiously crept around the side of the mill, with only the babbling of the river and their soft footsteps breaking the silence.
The front of the mill was a scene of mild chaos – while the old stone walls had held up well, the wooden door had broken in half under the watery onslaught!
The two pieces of door were floating in the swampy mixture of mud and water in front of the mill, along with the extinguished torches that had been lighting up the structure and about five drenched Brigands.
“OK, well… hopefully they’re not dead?” KG offered.
“They don’t look too bad,” Soltra observed, narrowing his teal eyes at the unmoving Brigands. “I think they’re still breathing, anyway…”
“Magic!” The python exclaimed, before grabbing Soltra by the arm of his robes. “Now let’s get ootae here!”
Soltra acquiesced, letting himself be led away from the still-smoking old flour mill.
-----------------------
Back in Oakenglen, the sounds of alchemy were emitting from the house of Grundowinch.
His cauldron bubbled away from its place over the central hearth, the fire in the squared pit lighting up the dark metal with blazing orange.
The old wizard feverishly gathered the various ingredients from about his shelves - the ones that the Brigands hadn’t cruelly thrown about when they had visited earlier, anyway - and chucked them into the boiling broth, which hissed and spat in response.
In went a cup of crushed green caterpillar and five strips of his finest oak bark - the solution turned from crimson to dusty brown.
It wasn’t that the wizened snow leopard had no faith in KG’s ability to rescue his grandson from the black-and-red bandits - merely, it was his pragmatism that thought it prudent to prepare a little something just in case the village bard failed in his mission…
A clump of grey wolf hair entered the cauldron now, followed by a gobbet of toad slime - the potion thickened up slightly, now, as it progressed from brown to a pleasant sunset orange.
While the Brigands were certainly dastardly, Grundowinch doubted that they were particularly clever - thus, his plan was not to make gold, but to make something that only appeared to be gold…
Grundowinch could hardly concentrate on the crunching of the pink salt between his mortar and pestle nor the thick, boil-like bubbles forming and bursting in his potion - he was too busy observing the moon out of his skylight window.
Through the glass, he could plainly see the great white orb’s position in the sky - even the most novice of those trained in the magical arts would be able to see that its place in the sky put the time at about five minutes to midnight.
As he had told the Brigands, there was simply no chance of the gold being ready in such an absurdly short space of time…
“Aha, I thought I saw smoke coming out from in here!”
The mortar and pestle slipped from Grundowinch’s hands, thumping onto the floor and spilling pink crystals everywhere as the familiar voice drifted in through his front door.
Through his little round glasses, the alchemist peered through the orangy steam rising from his cauldron as he stepped out from behind his desk and made his way towards the door.
“Howrya, Grundy? Hope we weren’t gone too long!”
KG had barely cleared the threshold before the elderly snow leopard was hobbling up to him around his cauldron as fast as his legs would allow him.
“KG, you’re alive! But how’s… where’s… where’s Soltra? Did you get him? Let me see him!”
“I’m here, grandad!”
The bard, an almost smug smile splitting his scaled face, stood aside to let the younger snow leopard enter the alchemist’s house.
Grundowinch’s teal eyes shone with tears as he beheld his grandson nearly hit his head on the wooden door lintel.
“Oh, Soltra, you’re safe!” he cried, rushing forward to embrace him as KG stood off to the side, watching the emotional reunion.
“I’m so glad you’re alright…” the old snow leopard said…
…before rearing back and punching his grandson on the shoulder, with a force that neither Soltra nor KG were expecting!
“Oww! What was that for?” Soltra moaned.
“Idiot boy! You were supposed to come straight to me when you got to Oakenglen, not chase tail in the local tavern!
“I… what… how was I supposed to know that I was talking to one of them Brigands?!”
Grundowinch just shook his head, before turning to KG:
“And what about you, KG – are you alright?”
KG bit his lip - now that the adrenaline from the night’s adventure had mostly worn off, the bard had come to realise that his back was feeling much lighter than it usually did…
“I, er… I’m no’ a bard anymore, Grundy.”
“What? Whyever not?” The snow leopard squinted at KG, as though trying to see through him.
It didn’t take him long to notice the absence of a wooden headstock sticking up behind the python’s shoulder.
“Oh no - your guitar...?”
“Broke it over a Brigand’s head while he was rescuing me.” Soltra spoke, as KG nodded ruefully beside him.
“Well, we can’t have that!” Grundowinch said. “We’ll make you a replacement – it’s the very least we can do for you after all you’ve done tonight!”
The snow leopard turned to his grandson, gesturing at the cauldron still bubbling away. “Soltra, take my cauldron off the heat – I’m going off to my storeroom to find something to make a guitar with…”
And with that, the old alchemist hobbled away from them, past the cauldron, past his desk and through a door at the back of his house.
KG and Soltra approached the cauldron, which was suspended above the fiery hearth by a chain attached to a hook, which fastened onto the iron pot’s handle.
“Hey hey hey, you’ve done enough tonight,” Soltra said, as KG reached his hands out to take the cauldron off the hook. “I’ll get this.”
The mage reached his hands out above the boiling potion to grasp the handle of the cauldron and removed it from the chain’s hook.
“Oof, it’s a good job I’m tall!” he grunted, spreading the stance of his long legs slightly to ease the weight of the cauldron, before turning in the direction of his grandfather’s back room to shout: “What were you making, Grandad?”
“Brass!” came Grundowinch’s reply. “I doubt those Brigands are smart enough to know the difference between that and gold!”
“Here, that’s pretty clever!” KG nodded, peering into the bubbling vat as Soltra lowered it to rest on the floor – its pastel orange surface was still emitting bubbles that popped like blisters.
This done, Soltra turned to again look at his python compatriot:
“I wonder what Grandad’ll use for your new guitar – he never really struck me as the musical type…”
The sounds of Grundowinch’s rummaging, which had started the second the old alchemist entered his storeroom, was now joined by his old voice as he searched:
“Hmmm, where did I put it… haven’t laid eyes on it for years… a-ha, here it is!”
Grundowinch shuffled out of his room carrying a large, ruddy brown shape in both of his hands.
“Uh, what even is that?” KG peered at the big thing the potion-maker was carrying, but he had barely gotten a glimpse at it before Grundowinch thumped it down onto his desk.
“This, my dear bard, is the scale of a great dragon!”
“What?” Soltra gasped - his teal eyes bulged with surprise, as though they were trying to escape his head altogether. “But… Grandad, how did you even get this?”
“Won it from a game of cards, played when I was barely your age!” The old snow leopard smiled proudly, hands on his hips. “I’ve struggled to find a use for it, all these decades, and I think I’ve found one for it now!”
Now that it was out of Grundowinch’s hands, KG could have a good look at the scale properly.
In the shape of a great letter A - or an upside-down V - this great brown scale was around 20 inches long from top to bottom, and about 15 inches across at its widest point.
Reaching out a hand to touch it, the python drew his green digits across its smooth brown surface - it was like touching bone, such was its cold solidity.
It was as thick, too, as KG found when he grasped the edge of it - easily four inches thick, it would have made an excellent shield for someone…
Then, the bard considered something - he himself, being a reptile, was covered in scales, but for a single scale to be this size… Why, the dragon it came from must have been as big as a cathedral!
Turning it over with both hands, KG noticed something unusual on the opposite side:
Directly in the middle of the scale was a great, splintering fracture, an impact zone with splits and fissures running off of it like a big spider’s web.
“And you’re going to turn this into a guitar somehow?” Soltra asked, raising an eyebrow at the state of the dragon scale.
“We’re going to turn it into a guitar!” Grundowinch corrected him. “I can think of no better way to pay back your rescuer!”
“What?? But it’s after midnight!” Soltra whined at his grandfather.
“Come, boy: the sooner we get it done, the sooner you can go to bed!” Grundowinch said, before turning to KG. “Off with you, now, KG: it’s been a long night, and you should rest after all you’ve done!”
KG nodded, noticing how heavy his eyelids had become due to the lateness of the hour. He turned to the alchemist’s front door and made his way towards it.
“We should have it ready by about noon!” Grundowinch’s voice sounded as KG opened the door.
Soltra’s moans and laments of exasperation were cut off as KG closed the door of the round house behind him.
-----------------------
The next evening, the Olde Lantern Inn was packed with all of the usual suspects - they, along with the usual assortment of travellers and wanderers, filled the seats and tables.
They ate, they drank and they waited for the evening’s entertainment, their eyes shifting towards the empty wooden stool sitting by the tavern’s roaring hearth.
Occupying the two seats around a small round table near the door were Grundowinch and Soltra - Grundowinch was rarely seen socialising much, but he and his grandson wanted to be present to see the fruits of their labour.
It didn’t take long for KG to appear.
The usual cheers and whoops that would accompany his arrival into the tavern only lasted about two seconds as everybody present laid eyes on what he was holding in his hands.
Instead of his usual acoustic guitar Auld Betsy, KG was holding the guitar that Grundowinch and Soltra had made for him.
The great dragon scale formed the body of the bard’s new instrument – the alchemist and the mage had broken through the crack in the scale, hollowing it out to form a circular sound hole not unlike Auld Betsy’s.
Between the sound hole and the wooden neck, which was affixed to the tapered point of the scale, there lay a strange silvery metallic bar, reflecting the light from the fire.
At the top, the teardrop headstock was as black as ebony, and had a little red scarf wrapped around it under the strings.
All in all, it was a very unusual instrument, and its appearance caused some hushed whispers among the crowd.
“Evenin’, folks,” KG said casually, taking his seat in the stool by the fire. “Sorry for bein’ late, I was jist… practicing with ma new guitar, here!”
“Tha’s a guitar, is it?” KG heard Celestia’s voice coming from behind the bar.
At that, a wide, knowing smile split the bard’s face as he readied his new instrument on his lap.
“Why don’t ye have a wee listen for yerself?” he said, dragging his plectrum across the strings.
