Outside, the road, more a dusty track, led in only one direction. Buildings ahead of us looked all the sa. Wooden shacks of one storey. Noise and slls drifted towards us as we approached. It was hard to identify either.
My nas Claire, by the way, said the girl with the big nose. This is Flossie.
I turned to look at the plump red-head. Really?
Oh ah, not really, she said in the broadest Brummie accent Id ever heard. Actually, its Victoria, but everybodys always called that since I were a babby.
Im Colin and this is Maurice.
Hello, ladies. Maurice smiled inanely.
I looked over to our fifth mber, who was walking a few steps behind us with his hands behind his back and a trendous interest in the sky. What about you? Got a na?
Dudley Fenderson III. The voice that ca out of his mouth was so posh it sounded like the sort of voice you put on to mock posh people. He was quite tall, had a receding hairline even though he couldnt be more than nineteen or twenty, and no chin to speak of, so he definitely could be a mber of the aristocracy. Or, perhaps he had chosen this new stage to reinvent himself.
Introductions done, we turned a corner and the main thoroughfare appeared in front of us. The whole town couldnt be more than a dozen shacks. Various stores lined either side of the main street.
The first was a blacksmiths, a large open area with a roof over it and an intense fire burning in the middle. A variety of talware hung on all sides. Weapons, armour pieces, pots and pans. A heavy-built man pounded away on an anvil with an enormous hamr.
Go over and speak to him, I said to Maurice.
About what?
I dont know, the price of stuff.
It turned out nobody wanted to talk to the blacksmith. Having a party made up of the socially awkward and chronically shy clearly had so drawbacks. In fact, it had nothing but drawbacks.
The idea of being unable to ask a question of soone in a shop, a person whos there to sell stuff, may seem ridiculous. But that ans youve never experienced the fear. The inexplicable paralysis when you have to speak to soone official on the phone or attract the attention of a sales assistant in a shoe store.
You could walk up to the nearest person and say, Hey, Id like to try this in a size nine, please, but you dont. You wait to be noticed, waving a shoe about, hoping soone offers to help.
If you have no idea what Im talking about, congratulations, youre a well-adjusted mber of society.
I steeled myself to do what had to be done, went over what I would ask in my head, and then walked purposefully towards the smithy. The others followed, but at a distance where they could pretend they had nothing to do with .
Excuse . Hello? Sweat ran down the back of my neck.
The blacksmith was completely bald, but with a huge walrus moustache. He wore a heavy leather apron that made him look like he had nothing on underneath. I desperately hoped that wasnt the case. He ignored and continued to bang awayPang! Pang! Pang! red sparks flying in every direction. The hamr could have been borrowed from Thor. He picked a glowing object off the anvil with large pincers and plunged it in a bucket of water. Steam shot into the air.
What is it? he finally said without looking at .
How much for a dagger? There were a number of daggers of varying sizes on a shelf.
Depends. He started banging away again. Pang! Pang! Pang!
A bit rude, you might think. How does he expect to sell anything with that attitude? Well, you have to look at it from his perspective. A sweaty young man approaches, holding up his trousers with one hand, and carrying what looks like a table leg in the other. Are you thinking, Ho ho, big spender. Ill be able to shut up shop early tonight!? Of course not. More likely your first thought is, Shit, crazy holess guy. Dont make eye contact, dont make eye contact.
The cheapest one, I shouted over the noise. How much?
Five bits, he shouted back, still not looking at .
I thanked him and walked away. How much was five bits? No idea. I thought the currency would be coppers and silvers, maybe gold for expensive stuff. I had no idea if five bits would be easy to earn or not.
The other had overheard our conversation and were equally unsure.
Hey, what weapons did you get? I asked the others.
Claire pulled out a stick similar to mine. Dudley had two wooden balls attached to a string. Flossie looked sheepish, then put her hand down her top and took out a dagger.
Bloody hell, said Maurice. Nice.
I couldnt really tell if he ant the dagger or the cleavage it had erged from. Both, were quite impressive.
Put it away, I said. And dont show it to anyone. It was the sort of thing others might want for themselves. She quickly stuffed it back in its hiding place.
Clearly, we needed better weapons and this place would sell them to us. But first we had to make money. In an RPG you killed monsters and they dropped loot. Money, potions, weapons. I looked at the stick in my hand, and wondered if the local fast food joint was hiring.
AN: Brummie refers to people from Birmingham, England. They speak in a broad regional accent that makes them sound a bit stupid.
There'll be another chapter posted later today. It's written, just need to check for typos.
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