Part 3, where we learn of Staedtler’s purpose
Before I begin, some thoughts. This is the longest one I have written yet, and hope that it keeps your attention the whole way through. I have the plot planned out for the most part, however I decided I want to try something new, and hope that the ending of this installment presents you with something interesting to consider, and I hope you make some guesses as to the significance of this. I ask for theorizing and speculation as it lets me know that those who read it are genuinely intrigued and I have caused you to look a little further into the words.
Any feedback you provide is appreciated, with that being said, let us continue.
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The sun has sympathy for no man, particularly men who engaged in heavy drinking the night prior. The light poured through an opening in the curtains, the beam landing right on Eron’s face as he laid down on a couch that had seen better days. He clumsily swiped at his closed eyes, trying to wipe the evil sunbeams from them, but to no avail. He grunted as he rose to a sitting position.
Then the headache set in.
It wasn’t as noticeable when he was lying down, or was it? Perhaps is was a consistent pain, only going unnoticed due to the more pressing issue of the sunlight. Eron leaned his head back against the wall behind the couch, and then rubbed at his eyes groggily.
He tried to think back to the night’s events, but the only memories that came to him were hazy and explained little. With a scratch of his beard, he rose off the couch, despite the protests of his head, He stumbled forward a few feet and began to look for his friend Staedtler.
The synapses fired as Eron attempted to recall why he was searching for his friend, and how he had even found a place to stay. A few agonizing seconds passed before he remembered that Stadetler had offered him the couch, and that this room was his.
“Staedtler, you awake?”
There was no response.
Satisfied with his search of the room, Eron simply decided to lie back down, but not before fixing the curtain so that the sun wouldn’t bother him further.
….
It was late in the morning when he woke up again. His headache was dulled down quite a bit, and he was able to get to his feet with relatively little trouble. He made his way into the next room, and found his friend sitting on a chair at a table piled high with fruit and bread. His legs dangled comically and he had the signature ales and pints of the Dwarves spread across the table. Opposite of him was a small plate that held and apple and a piece of bread, Eron dreaded the open jar of what he recognized to be Rattlebrew sitting next to his plate.
“Aye Eron, you took such a liken to the Rattlebrew, I got you some to have with yer breakfast.”
Staedtler took a large bite out of some fruit Eron never saw before, and washed it down with one of his multiple drinks.
Eron sat down and picked up his apple. He took a bite and enjoyed the sour taste.
“Thanks.”
He pinched off a piece of bread from his plate and popped it into his mouth. Mid-chew he spoke- “so, what happened last night?”
Staedtler peered at Eron over the flagon he was now drinking from, he snorted in response, and then began to cough. Obviously, something had happened at the bar.
“On second thought, nevermind.”
Staedtler bit into a orange slice this time. “Well, you’re not allowed back in the bar again. I’ll just put it that way. Besides, you and I aren’t long for this place, anyway.”
Eron took another bite of the apple, the crisp was audible. “Oh?”
“Aye, last night you offered to come with me on my job.”
Eron tried thinking about the night before, but drew a blank.
“I suppose you oughtta tell me about what I agreed to."
Staedtler got up from the table, or more like jumped down from his chair. “Hahaw, Eron, you should drink less, you forgot the whole thing.”
Eron was now taking a large bite out of a piece of bread that was lying on the table, and he refused to touch the nutty smelling jar of blackish liquid. “I rarely drink, it’s socializing with you that gets me into trouble” he replied half heartily. In truth, drinking with a Dwarve is generally a great experience, if it is ever remembered.
Staedtler wandered over to the sink and started washing his hands.
“A few weeks ago, I was asked by the Dwarven council to come down here to check up on some ancestral lands. A while back, the Sand Dwarves had a massive city in the mountains, surrounded by the desert.”
Eron looked up from a piece of fruit. “Amal’Aran?”
Staedtler turned to the young man at the table, he stroked at his scraggly brown beard, fingertips passing the moisture to the thick facial hair. “How is it that you know more about Dwarven history then I do?”
Eron got up from the chair and stretched his arms towards the ceiling, “Well, I am kind of a scholar. I read a lot.”
The Dwarve chuckled a bit, satisfied with his friend’s answer.
“Well, you best pack up for the long haul, my friend. We’re leaving soon, we need to find ourselves a paladin.”
…
Eron passed by the bar on his way to the visitor’s center and spied a remarkably crude drawing of himself on the door with the text “KEEP OUT” scrawled with jagged, upset letters. He continued walking towards the visitor’s center and wondered if the owner of the bar, who also ran the visitor’s center, would hold a grudge. He shrugged away his worries and pressed on, there were certain codes of conducts when it came to the visitor’s centers in the Amalgam that were sacred; the provisioning of information and guidance to foreign lands was a right granted to all citizens.
He had seen his fair share of visitor’s centers, and they seemed to be a phenomena treated with reverence in the Amalgam, but in other worlds and settings always seemed to be associated with places of amusement of tourist traps. Eron remembered one visitor’s center in the Golan hills that filled him with awe. It was admittedly simple, as the Gola were simple beings, but the desire they had to communicate with travelers about their culture was awe inspiring. Crystals and beautiful stone carvings in the massive caves served to fill Eron with many pleasant memories ever since he had left their city. He made a note to himself as he walked through the dusty street to return immediately.
Eron stepped onto the wooden plaftorm and made his way into the center. The door creaked and a bell rang. The only mad employed at the center looked up at him, Clary’s teeth flashed with his quick grin.
“Had a feelin’ I’d be seein’ you Worldwalker.”
Eron removed his hat, suddenly realizing he was indoors. His blue hair was matted and wet from sweating under the heat of the desert sun.
“I- I am sorry about whatever trouble I caused at your bar last night.” Eron extended a hand in apology.
Clary took it and gave him a firm, reassuring handshake. The teeth were at full sparkle now, light playing razzle dazzle across his mouth.
“You didn’t cause nothing accept some knocked around idiots. Bunch of morons who work down at one of the local digging projects decided to cause some trouble and you stepped in. Got an awfully nice right hook if I do say so, Mr. Kamella. Not so sure what stripping down to your underpants was about though. Maybe you were trying not to dirty up your clothes?”
Eron’s face flushed a little as he took a seat at the other end of the counter. Clary laughed a bit at Eron’s reaction.
“No worries, I just put the sign up to keep you away from them is all. Can’t have you divine justice-ing all my patrons, can I?”
Eron crossed his right leg over his left thigh.
“I suppose not.”
“Anyway, what can I do you for?”
Eron lifted himself from the chair a bit, it was remarkably uncomfortable, he came down harder on it but the impact did not soften the cushion, so he decided to ignore it as best he could.
Eron’s voice was serious, he didn’t expect any trouble about getting information about the Deadlands, but he thought it best not to sound like he was just curious, or even joking around. “I need some information on the Deadlands, anything you can provide.”
Clary’s reaction was comical, the classic double-take.
“What.” It wasn’t even a question, it was a statement of incredulity.
“My friend and I have a long trip ahead of us, we’re heading right into the Deadlands and need all the information we can get our hands on.”
“Y’know, I’d heard that Dwarve mention something about the damn place. Didn’t expect him to rope you in too, but I guess that’s what you Worldwalkers do. You explore everything.”
“Well, more like we observe and record for the duplication of various realities in our own pocket dimension, however your statement does have some merit, I suppo-“
Eron saw that Clary had already gotten up and began running his fingers along the bookshelves behind him. Eron rather sheepishly placed his hands on his knees and waited patiently.
It was five minutes of silence before Clarly returned with a rather large, leather-bound tome. He placed in on the counter between himself and the Mahu Worldwalker.
'”This is pretty much the ultimate guide written for this area, compiled by a paladin, those guys know the undead, so I think you’re in good hands here. A hundred or so years old, I think. Old, old book.”
Eron picked up the weighty, leather-bound book.
“That’s perfect. Do you have a copying machine in here?”
“A what?”
“It lets you make copies of pages.”
“Oh, I saw one of those once. No, we don’t have one. You can just keep the book though.”
Eron was a little shocked by this. “Are you sure? This is extremely valuable. Maybe even a treasure.”
Clary’s teeth shined a bit, though his expression was one of seriousness.
“Nah, you don’t get it, this book was here for you all along.”
Eron shook his head and snickered at this.
“Hey look, I know that you guys don’t get very many visitors out here, but I am sure plenty of Paladins run out this way. This would be a good resource for them, I couldn’t take it.”
Clary shook his head and opened the book, and pointed to some writing on the inside of the cover.
“To master Eron Kamella, may this book find you well, and with all speed. Tarl Lahowind”