Book 1 - Epilogue

Book 1 - Epilogue

Somewhere else.

On the side of a cliff there stood a white stone gazebo. Mist fell from a great waterfall that stretched beneath it, vanishing into the clouds below. A black mountain rose up behind it, seeming to touch the sky. A circular marble table sat in the centre of the gazebo, and a group of cloaked figures sat around it in ornate wooden chairs.

A board lay on the center of the table, eight ornate pieces atop it. The pieces moved about in an ancient game that no mortal could ever hope to comprehend.

The players of the game were currently arguing.

“This is ridiculous! How is he beating my Chosen!? He isn’t even pretty!” A slightly grubby woman with a blonde mullet whined.

A stately black elven woman scoffed. “How is pretty supposed to mean anything when you chose a writer Midna!?”

“Stop teasing her, Lunara. I’m more surprised that he’s beating Solen’s Chosen.” The well-dressed gnomess that was Tiara said.

“Hmph. It will remain to be seen if that keeps...” The bronze dragon Solen opened a maw filled with fire.

“I’m not sure I like the sound of that, Solen.” An elderly man in arcane robes muttered.

A young gnome girl squealed from under the table. “Your pretty pop-princess is losing, Archie!”

“It’s ARCHIS!”

!!BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPP!!

Seven eyes turned to look up the mountain. Barck sat on his bluff and looked down upon the world. He held a bottle of beer that depicted a rather rude image of a goat and was devouring a pretzel the size of a football stadium. Every once in a while the mountain rocked as he roared with laughter.

“Ugh, he’s going to be insufferable if he wins this.” Lunara muttered.

The lanky feline beastman Aaron stood from his chair. “I’m going to get some fries and see what’s on.”

There was a general mutter of agreement as the Gods went to watch their favourite streams.

In the now unattended gazebo, an ivory dwarf carrying a bottle moved into opposition with another dwarf wielding a shepherd's crook. Far below, mortals whirled through the intricate dance of life, blissfully unaware of a Great Game that was slowly building into a storm.

–

Balin passed through the great stone archway to the Adventurer’s Guild and looked around. The Guild was located near the gate closest to Greentree, and served as a hub for merchants and adventurers alike. A stream of monster hunters, porters, and middlemen poured through the grand stone entrance alongside him.

“You lot keep an eye on him.” She pointed at the [Wizard]. “Balin, come with me, we need to go get you registered.”

She led Balin to the enormous front desk. A dozen connected booths stretched floor to ceiling, each containing a uniform clad clerk. The adventuring guild uniform was a black-and-red-checkered studded leather affair, notable for the enormous feather each clerk wore in their bascinet helmet.

Upon notifying the clerk of his intention to join the Adventuring Guild, Balin was required to provide ID, fill several forms out in triplicate, and then provide a bit of his blood for an adventurer’s tag. He performed all the tasks with his usual quiet enthusiasm, and was partway through reading a waiver that absolved the Adventuring Guild of all fault if he died in the dungeon, when there was a commotion at the front door.

A panting dwarf ran into the hall and made his way to the board. He wore a uniform that marked him as a page from City Hall, and a commotion sprang up as adventurers noticed his presence. A request from City Hall usually paid very well, and fighting over who could complete it first wasn’t uncommon. Then there was the possibility that it was a notification or warning.

The page nailed his notification to the board and then left posthaste, leaving a rapidly increasing circle of curious onlookers.

“What is it?” A burly dwarf in chainmail shouted.

“It’s a notification from Kinsasha!” A gnome shouted. The hubbub grew in intensity at that.

“What’s this got to do with us?” A half naked dwarf wielding a broadsword grumbled.

A gnomish [Wizard] in a pointy hat scoffed. “It’s probably going up at every message board in the city. There’s nothing special about you, idjit.”

Balin walked forward and began reading the notice as a fight broke out. As he read, his eyes grew wide.

Attention Citizens of Crack!

The King seeks his greatest Brewers to take part in a competition that will shake the foundations of Crack!

Few are the Guilds of Brewers within our borders, but fewer are those that have risen to the top. Which Guild has the greatest brewer within the dwarven kingdoms?

The octamillenial is the perfect opportunity to reveal how well we have kept the traditions of our ancestors. Or perhaps, how much we have advanced with the gifts they gave us!

Given eight thousand years, which brewery has truly perfected the art of Brewing?

Starting in six months, each city shall hold a contest whereby all the brewers will compete for the title of best brewery. Each Guild will select up to eight breweries to compete from among their members, and the City Lord will judge them.

The top Brewery in each city will be invited to Kinsasha, where a brewery and pub will be provided to them. In return, they will be expected to provide the citizens of the Capital with their top-quality brews. The final contest will take place over six months in a series of Feuds leading up to the final contest. The winning Brewery will become the official Royal Brewer of Crack!

Brewers, make your country proud!”

“Huh, think yer’ buddies might want to take a crack at that?” Tania muttered beside him, “Can they, with you not being members o’ tha guild anymore?”

“I think...” Balin grinned. “Pete can probably figure something out.”