Chapter Text
Willhelm stumbled out of the bar, the bottle of whiskey still tucked under his arm as he got to his feet. The world was tilting and as he was no rebel he teetered with it. Laughing at the morons who threw him out over one bottle of whiskey going missing, he began to find his way to the shack he called home before taking a wrong turn into an alley that was getting flooded by the deluge and in it he noticed a box. Taking an interest in it he saw 9 eggs tucked in it. He licked his lips at the prospect of breakfast for the next three days before one of the eggs began to crack. No, not crack, hatch. Eight stubby, purple, chitinous legs. Then on the head of the recently hatched spider six emerald eyes opened and as if on cue the infant chirped out "Papa." For the next two hours passerby would wonder why the town drunk was sobbing in an alley.
He tucked the box into his cloak as the little spider decided to ride him as if she was a backpack. Thus they went to the brackish shack Willhelm called his home. Throwing the door open with zeal Willhelm lifted the blanket and left the spider and the box there. He cast a sideways glance to the hammer in the corner that was gathering dust and took it with two hands performing a mock swing onto the eggs and put it down behind him. Then he saw it, cracks among one of the eggs and thus panicked.
At least until the egg fell away revealing another spider. Though this one was smaller then his sister and was still getting to it’s legs. Then pitched to the side as it wobbled upwards. It fixed it’s eight sapphire eyes on him and then chirped “Papa” in a more masculine voice than his older sister causing Willhelm to sob yet again. Not long after putting the hammer down did he feel a grip on the scruff oh his neck raise him a good three feet off the ground, before asking in a husky voice: “Who are you and why are you on my property?” Willhelm flailed, which resulted in a fist being brought down on his head.
“Great either I’m being held up by one hand or they brought friends.” he thought to himself. Steadying himself for another blow “I could ask you the same thing.” Then he was spun until he was eye level with two large mounds. He forced his gaze upward, meeting with two aquarmarine orbs and a pair of horns. “Minotaur huh? I always did like beef.”
That cheeky remark earned a cross to his temple.
“Yeah, and you’re on my property. I thought you people were kind to newcomers.”
“We are. Just not liars and thieves who just barged in on a father and his first two kids.”
“Oh where’s the mother then? Walked out on you, didn’t she, you no good, drunkard, sack of shit.” Wilhelm recoiled at the insult as the woman laughed at him. “You reek of low quality cheap whiskey.”
“You know nothing about me.” Willhelm growled “Now you will leave me and my children alone.”
“Oh really?” Then she grinned “And who’s gonna make me? You can’t even swing a hammer right and with your gear in that condition you couldn’t kill a gnat.”
“If you can see that, then I guess you can see that I can’t pay you. Now leave.”
“No can do, you’re coming with me, guess I can at least spot your gear for now, or get it into working condition. Follow me.”
And follow he did, not wanting to be hit again. Eventually he recognized the glow of a forge and the sound of metal being shaped and hammered and then saw a holstaur inside. Then she turned and grinned ear to ear, her eyes matching the same shade as one of the minotaur’s
“Sherri! Welcome back hun.” The holstaur said to the now identified Sherri
“Hey mom, just wondering if you can make this moron some armor plates. He owes me, but I don’t want him to die on his first foray.”
“Well I have some old stuff he can use, but nothing new.”
“That’ll work. Oh and how is mama doing?”
“Still recovering from her most recent idea.”
“Shame, I’ll be bringing home a hefty paycheck and we can get her favorite.”
“Great. Anyway who’s this? Your boyfriend?”
“Mom!” Sherri sighed, exasperated as Willhelm saw fit to break the silence.
“My name is Willhelm Richter. I am a recent adventurer and that shack on your property? Yeah that’s my home with my nine children.” Then he watched the holstaur’s eyes grow wide.
“Nine huh? You can the missus must have a ton of energy.”
“Yeah about that, I’m single.”
“Hahahaha! That’s a good one, no seriously who is she?”
“I don’t know. Found the eggs in an alley, took them home, decided to raise them.”
“Well I won’t keep you two, just slip these on sir.” The holestaur passed Willhelm a helmet that resembled the visage of a Shark save for the two wings on the back that swept across the back and were imprinted into the steel. Underneath that was two A’s back to back with a drawing of horns on other horns. She then passed Willhelm plate mail that was dull through years of use and covered in smoke stains, but fit surprisingly well along with the greaves and gauntlets he was provided.
“Thanks miss, ummmmm…..”
“Arren Bishop.”
“Thanks Miss Bishop, Sherri and I will be going now.”
“Stay safe, drunkard.”
“So what foray? Is there a guild here?”
“Is ThErE a GuIlD hErE, he asks like a moron. Yes, what town doesn’t have a guild? What all the dirty blond hair covering your eyes block your vision? Look we’re here already."
The Hailspire Guild was impressive. The majority of the building was formed from gilded oak. The sign looked immaculately polished and hung in elven, dwarven, and common. The Guild animal of a Frost worm was hung outside, which was surprising as the corpses normally disintergrated. The set of swords hung next to it still crackled with power and the guild was nearly the size of a palace. When they walked inside they were greeted by live music and dance, the smell of air and smoked meat hung heavy as the crowd sung and cavorted. Bets were exchanged, wenches were wooed, coin was payed and up at the desk was a mix of man and bluejay. Sherri and Willhelm beelined for him.
“Hello you two, would you like to pet my dog?” the bird asked.
“Sure.” Sherri replied.
“Can’t, allergies, plus a job to do.” William answered.
“Shame. Let’s see human and minotaur. Ah you’re here for the snakeskin job right? Willhelm Richter and Sherri Bishop? Our divinver told us you’d be here shortly. Your job is on the fiftieth layer, please don’t die on the way down. I don't like seeing corpses of people I like.”
“Wait, die? What do you mean die?”
“Come on Richter, no faltering now. Unless you want me to take that shack from you and your kids.”
“Can I at least know what the job entails?”
“There’s a wealthy man named Daekus, he wants a snake skin for a cloak, the skin belongs to the rare amoralisch viper which makes nest on the fiftieth floor and below. I heard they're quite friendly animals” Bluebeak called from the desk.
“Well snake hunting shouldn’t be too hard. Requiem and I can take them from range.” Willhelm told himself as he checked his wrist crossbow again. He cast a glance to Sherri and nodded.
Down the staircase they went eventually hearing screams of pain or cries of victory until they arrived at the steel and copper door of the fiftieth floor. Sherri raised a pepper box and marched toward it about to shoot the lock as Willhelm stopped her and then brought Frangit to bear against the door as he knocked it inward and entered with Requiem and his eyes glued to the floor. As Sherri swept across the room with her pepperbox.
“Clear, let’s move up and find the scaled fucker before we meet something nasty or something breaks loose.” Sherri advised.
“Noted, the floor here is made of sand mostly so perhaps we could try tracking it?”
“That would be easy if the track didn’t all just crisscross each other and then even doubled back.
“Well then push your back into mine and move with me. If something appears fire at it. And then run until you find a hiding spot to strike it while I reload. Nodding they began their hunt. When one would take a corner the other would watch their back, and when something got close a flash of steel would knock it back or slice it in twain. Until eventually they were right back where they started and decided to make camp for the night.
“Well since we have time maybe we should learn a bit about each other.” Sherri suggested
“Sure why not? You start.”
“My name is Sherri, my parents are a holstaur and a minotaur. I look like both of them despite being found under a bridge.”
“My name is Willhelm, nearly every bar has a painting of me with ‘do not serve’ under it due to getting into scraps and stealing liquor from some very important people. I’m now a disappointment of a father of nine spiders I found in a box, two who just hatched and I would be getting food for if I wasn’t dragged here with you. My parents are dead or missing and left me a hammer and crossbow.”
“That’s rough and until now those two things were gathering dust right?”
“Correct, I never had a reason to adventure until now.”
“And why is that? The money earned by this could buy you a bar in two months.”
“I didn’t need the headache of running it. Too many factors to worry about.”
“Yeah the bar aboveground is late on four shipments from the blood orchid brewery.”
“Wine? I don’t drink that, a bit too flavory and expensive for me. Whiskey is where it’s at.”
“The mellow stuff is best. A little cinnamon distilled.”
“Anyway should we be concerned if the snake gets to us?”
“The bird said that they were friendly, I wouldn’t be too concerned.”
“Would you give up your skin if asked.”
“Point taken.”
“Well our fire is dying down we should resume the hunt.” Sherri concluded as Willhelm felt movement and heard a hiss behind him.
“Run.”