Ambras Broadbeard

[malclave]

Business had been good.

For years, the cities of Westgate and Starmantle had been at odds. Other cities and towns along the Dragon Coast also raised troops, for defense if nothing else. A young dwarf from Ironfang Deep had little problem finding employment in one of Turmish's many mercenary companies.


Business had been good.

Ambras Broadbeard saw some action, but not much. In his first real fight, he had not yet learned to properly defend himself. An orc slashed through his leather helmet, leaving the dwarf scarred across his face. Ambras learned a valuable lesson: it's not enough to strike down your foe, you must survive as well. It was his first lesson of many, and perhaps the most valuable.


Business had been good. But times change, and on rare occasions peace has even been known to break out along the Dragon Coast. Westgate and Starmantle settled their differences, and the demand for mercenaries declined. Ambras had heard that Starmantle was aided by mercenaries from Cormyr. Perhaps business was better there.


As he crossed the Dragonmere, he had time to think. Perhaps it was time to find something other than "business" to fight for. That might be an even more valuable lesson.

[malclave]

Ambras reached Cormyr as the year approached its end. He nearly turned aside to the more easterly nation of Sembia when he learned how much an "adventuring license" would cost - whoever came up with that idea would have made the Trove Lord proud. After a brief argument with the local clerk, though, he was directed to an officer of the garrison, who would pay (conveniently enough) the exact amount needed if Ambras would deal with a minor goblin problem. No doubt the gold, minus a small fee for the clerk, would be back in the officer's hands before the moon rose, and the officer would receive a nice bonus for dealing with the goblins.

Such is the life of a mercenary. At least Ambras had his papers, and the name of a village that might provide work - Greatgaunt.

The work, he found out, tended towards rodents. A farmer had a rat problem, but paid enough for a bed and some weak beer at the local inn. The inn had a rat problem, too, and paid enough for Ambras to have time to have a look around.

There were some other prospects besides rats, but he'd probably want at least one other person along, so they could watch each other's backs. He'd noticed a couple of other dwarves in the village - maybe they'd be interested.

Or at least know where to get stronger beer. The weather was too cold for the watered-down stuff.