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Cob Fisher: Mercenary

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pwnerdoode

New member
My name is Cob, and I live the mercenary life. For a living, I protect merchant caravans, or traveling groups, it doesn't really matter as long as I get the coin. You know what they say, a penny a day goes a long way. I've been doing this job so long, that a penny a day is all I can count on for survival, but I remember my life before. When I lived in the big cities, before Sauron was destroyed forever, good times. I still remember it clear as day, Minas Tirith, city of kings, biggest hell hole of 'em all. I don't think I could count how many teeth I lost in that city if I tried, or even wanted to. Who could have thought that life back then is better then it is now, who could have thought that killing a lesser evil such as Sauron, could have awakened larger beings. As good old Bilbo once wrote, out of the frying pan, and into the fire.
 
Chapter 1: In The Town Of Bree

The road leading into Bree is dark as a dying dream, the wind biting into my skin, the moon covered by the ever reaching trees. The merchant caravan I was hired to guard is almost to it’s destination, I can’t wait to leave this pompous fools company. Lloyd Fleming is what he calls himself, more like Lord Phlegm. Every time he speaks I can hear his lungs being crushed by his own weight, spittle flying from his lips the whole time. It’s as if trolls had learned to take human form, which wouldn’t surprise me, times being what they are. Finally at the gate, but not out of company yet, when will it end? As the Gate guards speak to Lord Phlegm I notice a strange sound, it’s as if a great wind suddenly came, and then left. It’s probably just my head, or the esteemed merchant has just developed a new form of lung sickness, hehe.
 
That night we lodged at the Prancing Pony, my work done, and my coin earned, I sat down for a drink. The Prancing Pony used to be the best inn in Bree, but then people started dissapearing, old Butterburr was one of them. Ever since then most people have avoided Bree, unfortunately, I am not most people. The innkeeper gave me my beer, and I thanked and paid him, last time I was here a beer wasn’t that expensive. As my father once said, a wise man always keeps his purse at hand, soon I might have to put stones in my purse to keep it from flapping in the wind. I decide it is time to retire for the night, no use in emptying my thin purse in one night.
 
Like I said before, I am not most people, and that is why I woke up in the middle of the night. The noise was back, and was greater than before. It was like a hurricane, the wind ripping at my window. Suddenly, a great flame started to devour the side of the inn, I could waste no time if I, and the entirety of Bree was to survive. I ran down the stairs like a madman, I tripped and tore the skin of my knee upon the floor. Cursing, I got up and found the innkeeper sleeping, “Get up you fool!” I yelled “Your inn is ablaze!”. The innkeeper didn’t look very bright, and sniffed the air, “My god you’re right!” he said, “We must put it out! I can’t let all my fine ales go to waste!”. Working together, it took us the better part of an hour to put out the fire, and the inn did not get away unscathed. The entire side of the inn was blackened and charred, and the air reeked with the smell of burnt flesh, probably those who didn’t wake up fast enough. A torrent of flame suddenly flashed past my head, and I turned to see the source. I looked, and what I saw astounded me. In front of me, was a baby dragon.
 
I do not understand how a baby dragon is still alive after the genocide of dragons in the withered hearth, but this is the forums so.... Good story....
 
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