The Sword of Retribution

Charlie - Part 4

      “All right, you’ve registered your reservations,” replied Thomas acidly. “And now, if you’ve got anything constructive to say, we’ll be glad to hear it. Otherwise, I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself.”

     “Come now, gentlemen, let's try to remain calm,” said Gelrad, coming forward to stand between the questers and the trogs. “Let’s try to be civilized about this. We’re all on the same side, so why don’t you shake hands and try to get on together?”

     “Yes, come on Tom,” added Diana. “I’m sure they didn’t mean anything personal. If we set out on this mission divided among ourselves, we’re beaten before we even begin.”

     “Yes, I know,” agreed the wizard with a sigh, stepping past Gelrad to face the trogs again. “I’m sorry for what I said. You’re right, having a slaver for a guide is extremely dangerous, but there’s simply no other way. You’re right to have very grave reservations about the idea.” He smiled. “You should have heard the arguments we had among ourselves about it.” He held out his hand.

     “Aye, well,” replied the shorter trog, looking a little uncomfortable as if ashamed at his outburst. “We did agree to it, so we must be as crazy as you.” He shook hands with the wizard, carefully so as not to crush his tiny, fragile human hand, and everyone relaxed.

     “Good, good,” said the paladin, a big beaming smile on his face. “And now that we’re all friends again, I’ll go get the cthillian ambassador. In the meantime, you can be getting to know each other. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.” So saying, he slipped back out of the door and disappeared down the corridor.

     The six questers introduced themselves, and the trogs responded in kind. The shorter of the two trogs was called Douglas Greylavel, and the other was called Angus Balderham. They were cousins who’d been travelling together for many years and who spent most of their time in the company of humans and other surface dwelling races, untypical of trogs in general, most of whom never set foot outside their great tunnel cities. These two, however, had become bored with the company of their own race and had decided to seek out the company of other peoples in other lands, eager to see as much of the world as possible, and perhaps accumulate a little fame and fortune at the same time. They hadn’t had much luck in this latter department yet, but then they were both still quite young, neither of them being much over sixty years old.

     They’d met Lanaris thirty years before, when the paladin had still been a young man and had only just been awarded his paladin status by the God of War. They had travelled together for a few years, along with a few other characters of similar frame of mind, and the trogs had been so impressed by his dedication to the weak and helpless, his concern for the welfare of every person they met, no matter how lowly, wretched or humble, that when their little group disbanded and they all went their separate ways they had promised him that they would always be available any time he needed them, that they would do anything he asked of them.

     Lanaris had thanked them greatly for this, praising their loyalty and telling them how much he valued their friendship, and had taken advantage of their offer many times during the intervening years, every time there was a special mission to be undertaken that required their special talents. The trogs had accepted every mission gladly, successfully accomplishing most of them, and had gladly accepted this one as well at first, until they’d learned that the guide they’d been promised was unavailable and was to be replaced by a slaver. They’d had serious doubts for the first time then, and had even seriously considered turning down the mission, but in the end their devotion and loyalty to the paladin had won out over their fears.

     The questers then told the trogs something of themselves, and after a few minutes the eight of them were chatting quite happily with each other, as basically good people will do eventually, no matter what the differences between them. The trogs warmed towards the questers as they found that they had their own impressive list of achievements, that they weren't the brainless fools they’d first assumed them to be, and as their anger faded to reveal the gentler side of their natures the questers found themselves liking the trogs in return, so that when Gelrad returned they were laughing and joking like old friends, all trace of their earlier antagonism forgotten.