Night Errant by Gary Gygax

Author:Gary Gygax [Gygax, Gary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-4412-9863-1
Publisher: Trigee Enterprises Corporation
Published: 2011-12-13T00:00:00+00:00

“Top of the evening to you, Chert. What’s your pleasure?”

The big barbarian put a zee on the counter. “A jack of that brown ale you serve, Paddy,” he said to the fat barkeep. “I’m in a mood to drown my troubles tonight!” Tankard in hand, Chert went to an empty table and sat down to ponder. How was he going to get even with the rascal he lived with? Some time passed. Another brown ale and then another went down easily. Chert was finishing off his fourth when the place began to fill up.

The crowd was a happy, amiable bunch, mostly students from nearby colleges, a few locals, and Chert. The huge hillman stood head and shoulders above everyone else in the “Toad,” and his thick body was broad enough for two of the smaller men to hide behind had there been a need. Naturally, such a figure attracted considerable attention—especially after things loosened up as the drinks began to flow.

“Where have you been lately, Chert?” It was a young scholar asking the question, a lad of about eighteen years who openly worshiped the barbarian. He eased his own considerable frame into a chair at Chert’s table, setting a large pitcher of ale and his jack down as he did so. “Have one on me!”

Chert happily complied, filling his bumper full to its rim and swigging down half of it immediately before replying. “I’ve been busy—taking care of duties in the High Quarter, you know.”

It wasn’t a lie, but from this and remarks the barbarian had made in previous conversations, the student thought Chert to be some sort of special guard and consultant to those wishing protection against danger—and loss of goods. “How did it go?” he asked admiringly.

“Well enough, Budwin,” the barbarian said with a slight frown to indicate things didn’t work out as well as hoped for, “save for the loss of a large chunk of my all-too-meager holdings. But what the hells, live and learn, right? Your good health!” With that Chert drained off the remainder of the flagon and refilled it in one continuous motion.

“Don’t tell me—you got stiffed!” the student exclaimed, noting the huge barbarian’s sour expression. “I can get a few friends together, and we’ll help you get things straight, what say?”

Budwin was well over six feet tall and weighed in excess of fifteen stone. Chert knew his college associates were likewise large—for city-bred folk, anyway. It was a sincere offer and the lad was anxiously searching Chert’s face for a reaction, to see if he should jump up and begin gathering a gang. “Relax and drink the brew, my friend,” Chert said with a negatory tone. “I need brainpower, not muscle and brawn, to set this little matter straight.”

Budwin drank and scratched his head. His thinking ability in no way matched his strength of limb, but he was willing to try. Just then another student came to the table with three twittering girls in tow. “Hey, my men! I’d like you to meet—”

“Shut up, Lloyd!” Budwin ordered.

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