“We’re closing up, sir.”
Otto Wallach walked over and patted the solid oak countertop for emphasis.
“Gonna have to ask you to leave.”
Otto was a large slab of a man. A lifetime spent swinging a sword and wielding a shield had given Otto an impressive frame. Many townspeople gossiped that somewhere in his family lineage an Ogre must have snuck in.
“Don’t be stuffy. Pour us a drink.”
The old man’s voice rasped and grated like sandpaper.
“Sir, The Warrior’s Rest is a respectable establishment. Why don’t you try The Chum Bucket dockside, or Rotten Randy’s in Dwarf Town?”
The old man chuckled.
“Otto Wallach. Used to be ‘The Shieldwall’. Defender of the weak, protector of Blumpfkof village, slayer of trolls, goblins, and vampires.”
The color drained from Otto’s face.
“Blumpfkof. I haven’t heard that name in a long time.”
“It still stands today because of you. Because ‘The Shieldwall’ and his Bright Company saved them from that rampaging tribe of werewolves.”
“How do you know me, sir?”
“The better question is, ‘how much’? How much do I know? Do I know that your tavern is now going bankrupt? Thin layers of dust on all the tables and chairs. Not a single customer tonight, besides myself. You don’t have a serving girl and you sent your cook home early.”
“Business has been slow.”
“Slow enough to seek help from Don Reynaldo?”
Otto reached for the dagger at his belt.
“No! Don’t you do that, Otto!”
A small, black powder pistol suddenly appeared in the old man’s hand. It was aimed at Otto’s heart. Otto froze.
“We’re just having a conversation, Otto! Why would you reach for your dagger like that?”
“There’s no money. Take whatever else you want. Please, sir, I have a family.”
“I know that. And stop calling me ‘sir’!”
Keeping the pistol aimed at Otto, the old man glanced around.
“Damn it, Otto…How did you end up here? You should be leading armies on crusades, or advising King Jarrod on how to protect the kingdom. Not wasting away in the darkness, behind a bar, in debt to moneylenders and goons.”
“Didn’t want to fight anymore. Lost the stomach for it.”
“I know. Relax, Otto, I’m not going to hurt you. You’re damn near a brother to me. Lock the door. Pour us a drink. I want to tell you a story. Won’t be long. You can return to Shoshandra and your boy right after, I promise.”
With the barrel of the deadly pistol trained on him the entire time, Otto did as he was instructed.
“Do you remember,” the old man crowed, “your good friend Vandis?”
Vandis the Thief, also known as Velvety Vandis, Silver-Tongued Vandis, and The Slippery Eel of Davinport.
Vandis was an orphan, and had learned at a young age that if we wanted to survive, he would need to be faster and smarter than everyone around him. He picked pockets and cut purses in the market square. He joined a local gang of street urchins and learned how to pick locks from the leader, Garvey Roche the Roach. When Garvey was finally caught and beheaded, Vandis took over the crew.
And when the authorities finally caught up with Vandis’ gang, he fled the city and ended up at a roadside tavern. One identical to The Warrior’s Rest.
That was where he met Otto, twenty years younger and full of excitement to have left his farm for the first time.
Also in the tavern was the beautiful sword maiden Lilianna, who laughed loudly and with all the bravado of her native Corsica. Her fiery red hair was tied back with an ivory pin in the shape of a dragon.
There was Dwarf warrior, Hargrimm. He was gruff and humorless, which made all of Vandis’ jokes at his expense even funnier.
The archer, Joachim, was originally a hunter. His wife had been slain and his farm razed to the ground by marauding goblins.
Finally, there was a young wizard, Mannheim, who had recently completed his apprenticeship and was conducting what he called a “practical application” of what he had learned under the tutelage of his former master, Ultor the Stark.
The six of them shared drinks and gossip long into the night. When the sun came up the next morning, they left side-by-side, to seek adventure, glory, and gold.
The days became weeks, weeks became months, and months became years.
A harpy tore Joachim’s throat out with its talons. The next week, they were joined by a Halfling knife-thrower named Hamish. After a particularly nasty scuffle with a cyclops, Hargrimm left with his share of the treasure, decreeing the foolishness of all manlings. They were later joined by the twins Aeric and Daerik, who were Sword Dancers from the kingdom of Le Spania. Comrades were lost or left for new adventures, and new companions were made.
“We should have a name.” Vandis said one night as they ate roast rabbit and quail around the fire.
Mannheim scoffed from where he was reading, away from the others. “Why do we need a name?”
“Broaden your worldview, Manny!” Vandis threw a haunch at Mannheim. Just before it hit the wizard, Mannheim made a sign with one hand and the bone bounced off an invisible shield.
Vandis continued, addressing the rest of the group.
“Our legend is growing, Otty. We are gaining a reputation across the kingdom! We should have a name that can be spoken with admiration and respect throughout the entire world! Right now, when people speak of us, they just call us ‘Vandis’ Group’.”
“Ha! Vandis’ Group?” Lilianna was curled up beside Otto. She laughed, beaming. “I think people call us Lilianna’s Group!”
Otto leaned in and kissed Lilianna sweetly.
Out of the corner of his eye, Vandis saw Mannheim watching the two lovers.
“We should be the Bright Company!” Hamish mumbled, his mouth full of roasted quail.
“Bright Company, I like that.” Otto agreed, squeezing Lilianna close.
“It does have a ring to it, Otty.” Vandis smiled.
“Who are you to tell me of these things?” Otto said between gritted teeth. He slammed his hands on the bar and bellowed “I was there for all of it!”
The old man smiled. Many of his teeth were missing.
“So was I, Otty.”
Otto recoiled in horror.
“Vandis? Vandis, is that you? How is this possible?”
The old man shook his head. “Vandis is dead, Otty. I am his shade.”
Otto collapsed into a chair. The old man hobbled off the barstool and joined him at the table.
“Do you remember Illuvia, Otty?”
The Catacombs of Illuvia, lair of the evil wizard Mortimer. By then, The Bright Company had been comprised of thirty individuals, each with his or her own skills and talents.
Clad in shining full plate steel armor, wielding his war hammer and tower shield, he looked very much like a knight out of the story books.
“Companions!” Otto bellowed, raising his hammer above his head. “The sorcerer Mortimer hides in these ruins, seeking to unlock mastery over death! With the knowledge of Necromancy, he will create an army of the undead and wreak havoc upon our fair kingdom. Now, I know that many of you are here for riches and treasure, and that you shall receive! But remember, firstly, that what we do is right and just. Let us purge the land of this evil!”
Otto was always the one with the moral compass. That sense of justice and purity. That compassion.
He was the hero story book knights were based upon.
But even “The Shieldwall” was not strong enough to save his friends that day.
The day The Bright Company was destroyed.
Mortimer’s magic proved stronger than Mannheim’s. His traps were brilliantly hidden, and even Vandis’ keen eyes could detect them. And the undead minions they faced were possessed of an unimaginable strength and ferocity.
Hamish the Halfling, always the first to break into song or fart for a laugh, was cut cleanly in half by a blade trap set in the wall.
Aeric’s head was crushed by the club of a bone giant. Daerick refused to leave his brother’s body and he died at the end of Aeric’s sword, when Mortimer’s black magic reanimated him.
One by one, The Bright Company fell as they desperately tried to fight their way to Mortimer’s inner sanctuary. And one by one, they were cut down again when Mortimer raised them from the dead to fight their former friends.
Otto, Vandis, Mannheim, and Lilianna were the only survivors to penetrate Mortimer’s secret library.
He was waiting for them.
Exhausted from wielding so much black magic, the sorcerer barely had the strength to pick up his staff and meet what was left of The Bright Company.
“Die!” Mortimer wasted no more words than this as a lance of green fire shot from his staff.
Mannheim, himself weakened from using protective and healing magic throughout their ordeal in the catacombs, still managed to put up a barrier of blue light, shielding the four of them as they walked forward.
“Hold, Mannheim!” Otto shouted as they pushed forward, closing the distance inch by inch.
“I can’t, Otto!” Mannheim was exhausted, his arms quivering with effort as he struggled to keep the barrier together.
“We’re not going to make it!” Vandis screamed.
Lilianna looked back and forth between her friends and the evil wizard.
“Mannheim, don’t you drop that barrier! Vandis, get ready! Otto,” Lilianna kissed Otto on the lips and looked briefly into his eyes. “I love you.”
She was gone, rushing behind them and around to the side.
“No!” Mannheim shouted hoarsely.
“Lilianna!” Otto screamed.
Vandis did not say or shout anything. He was aiming his pistol.
“Here, monster!” Lilianna raised her swords over her head, running at Mortimer from the side.
The evil wizard shrieked and turned to hit Lilianna with the full force of the green fire.
She disappeared into the light.
Vandis pulled the trigger.
“Enough, Vandis.” Otto interrupted. “I remember all of this. Why do you torture me by bringing it up again?”
“Because he loved her, Otto!” A thin line of drool fell unnoticed from the side of Vandis’ mouth. He was raving. “Mannheim went back! He wanted to restore her. Bring her back.”
“No.” Otto shook his head. His voice was a terrified whisper. “It’s impossible.”
“He’s a wizard, Otto.” Vandis nodded, licking his leathery lips as he continued. “You know they don’t see things the way we do. They think nothing is out of their power, if they only know the right incantation!”
“And you followed him? Is that…” Otto gestured at his friend’s face.
“Fifty years, Otto!” Vandis grabbed Otto’s shirt and pulled him close. “Mannheim banished me to another dimension for fifty years! He said I wouldn’t find my way back, but I did! I found my way here! And now, we’re going to find Mannheim, together, and we’re going to finish what he started!”
“No!” Otto rose, kicking over his chair. “Vandis, I’m sorry-but, no. How do you expect us-the two of us! Against…against whatever Mannheim has become! We barely made our way out the last time, and we were in our prime. Thirty of us, Vandis! How can you-I mean, look at you!”
“Look at you, Otto.” Vandis said quietly. He rose unsteadily and hobbled toward the door. “We all looked up to you. We wanted to be worthy of you. Of your sense of justice and decency. Now, you just turn your back?”
“I’m sorry, Vandis.” Otto couldn’t meet his friend’s gaze. “I have a family now.”
“Oh, Otty…” Vandis stopped at the door. “We were your family, too.”
The catacombs of Illuvia. Midnight.
Thunder cracked loudly overhead. Lightning forked across the sky.
The rain fell in torrents.
Otto adjusted the ill-fitting chainmail shirt over his tunic. It had been too long since he had moved in armor.
“Vandis,” He whispered, his voice lost in the storm. “I’m coming, friend.”
