Latto Bowek was the name of a somewhat renowned healer on the island called Rävnäs. He was a islander born and raised and he had seen both the prosperity and the filth the dungeon had brought to his secluded northern home.
The count without a backbone had retreated to his manor on the island's northern point when the guilds came knocking. What little power the man still had rested upon the so-called support from both Norhamn and Handjuk, two nations on opposing ends of this northern sea, who hoped to one day make the island a port of their own, buttering up the count was the first step to do so.
When the guilds arrived Lotto had almost been pushed out of business. The house of coin had brought with them Alchemists, potions, foreign recipes and remedies, soap, and other products which were a far better and cheaper alternative to a healer. The sword guild was almost worse, they had brought healers of their own, with cheaper prices and academically skilled. And the Knife guild.. Well atleast the knife guild helped create some business.
He had first been surprised when three adventurers suddenly knocked on his door. His usual customers were those that had been visiting this shop since the days his father used to run it.
One of his old customers had pulled through as it would seem. A hill-folk by the name Tristin, a recurring face these days. Although it seemed he was not in need of healing. An old man slumped down on one of his wooden chairs by the window to the sea. He seemed to be in quite the rough shape. But so was the hound by the door who had opted to just sit on the floor since the small office only had two chairs.
"So my friend here tells me you're a healer?" The old man spoke to him, he seemed to have a kindness in his voice. Carried only with a slight tremble. He had no doubt received healing a few times before.
"The best on this side of Machen sea." From a wooden cabinet on the wall Latto took out his tools. A simple brush with a jade hilt, a snake like dragon carved to chase a headless horse across a cloud covered sky. It looked quite old and the sides of the hilt showed wear and tear. A good sign, it meant the brush was well used, which meant the healer had a good amount of experience in the craft.
"That's elven isn't it?" Jakurk pointed towards the brush in the man's hand. He could recognise work like that anywhere. It had been everywhere you looked in Pynt during the twilight years of the last dynasty. "Where did you get it?"
"Upper floor of the dungeon, Or so i'm told, As you may know it's an old elven fortress from the time of the fourth dynasty, my father Emeke Bowek was one of the first to explore the first floor." As he spoke Latto took out an urn filled with a grey powder which he began to administer over the old man's broken arm. "He found it there, on one of his last expeditions"
"And where is your father now" Opip spoke up from her corner of the room. Unmistakably curious. And it also helped that the tale kept her pain at bay. After Lotto administered the final bits of powder to Jakurk's broken arm he took out a vase filled with fish blood, taking off the lid filled the room with a putrid smell hence why the windows were opened.
"Dead" Together with the stench of blood and the shriek of a distant seagull the room fell eerily quiet. Latto decided to finish his work on the old man's arm before he continued. He applied the fish blood with the help of the brush drawing a circle at the top of the arm, the middle and on the upper side of the hand. Each one was connected with a red line and in each a different inscription was made.
A Healer was an Enchanter. Compared to a mages spell, an enchantment took longer to produce but often resulted in far more precise results. Instead of using a raging element like fire as a conduit, enchanters use blood as it has a natural aptitude for magic as it is through the blood that the will of our souls travel.
"He delved too deep" Latto touched the circle on Jakurks hand, for just a second the entire carefully laid out drawing glowed an intense red before the blood evaporated into a steamy red smoke which rose out through the window. The arm twisted and turned, for a moment part of the skin bubbled like water over a fire. Until it returned to its original shape. It stung. Healing an injury recreated the pain from receiving it all in one single instant. It was hard for Jakurk not to bite his tongue but he bared with it. It was not the first time his wounds were healed and it would certainly not be the last.
"I tried to go after him a few times, to you know retrieve the corpse before it decomposed" Latto took out his right leg, a peg leg made from wood, a pillar from a wooden table now held up the healer. "Im sure you can tell it didn't go quite well"
"Couldn't you have hired someone to do it for you?" Tristin stood by the hound. Now that she was sitting down he was a head taller than her. Latto had helped him and his brother a few times already. Yet they remained as strangers bound only by the bonds carved through injury and pain. This was the first time he had heard anything of the healer's past.
"It was during the time it was thought to be just a grey dungeon, before they had discovered an entrance to the third floor" The middle aged healer reminisced for a second. He could remember the dark corridors of the dungeon, back when the only light was the torch you brought yourself, when maps were so poorly drawn that you'd be better off without one.
"To make a short story shorter there was no one here brave enough or stupid enough to venture into the deepest part of a forsaken and cursed ancient elf fortress" Latto beckoned for Jakurk to rise and give room for Opip who slowly made her way over to the chair. Jakurk remarked something about the red line which had been left behind by the enchantment but Latto assured him it would disappear within an hour.
"Did someone ever find it, your fathers corpse?" Jakurk said as he sat down right in the spot Opip had occupied before. The corner was still warm. His arm stung a little and felt sore.
"No, And it'd be a skeleton by now, so it's no use trying." For Opip he did not need an enchantment, he couldn't pinpoint which organs had been harmed anyway so he was forced to rely upon the few medicines stored away in his cabinet. "I have never healed a hound before so im afraid youll have to make do with these"
He handed over four round dark blue berries. Upon a bed of white powder resting upon a large green leaf. The berries were to block out the powder's taste, the powder was a medicine his father had taught him and the leaf was simply to make sure none of the medicine was wasted.
"Do I just eat this?" Opip gave him a questioning look. She had been healed before, but she hadn't ever taken any medicine which wasn't diluted into a potion.
"You swallow it whole, or as best as you can" Surprisingly the answer came from the room's corner, from the old mage. "It's a Dulvelskan remedy isn't it?" The healer was of the same race as Jakurk, a grass folk, middle aged, almost handsome but with rough skin shaped by salt and wind. But he was clearly not of the same culture. So why did he practice the medicine of his people?
"You can tell?" The healer was surprised to meet someone with knowledge of Dulvelskan medicine even though that land wasn't so far away from the island, it was a landlocked country and its people were staunch isolationists well except for his own grandfather who had journeyed to the island sixty years ago in search of a new home for his family. It was during the time the islands became settled once more.
The islands of the Haklem had only been recently settled with the first hamlet arriving on its shores less than seventy years ago. The island had already been settled in the past by grass-folk, hill-folk, elves and likely someone else before them. Yet the barren islands seemed to have a habit of killing off its residents through a cold winter or powerful earthquake.
"I was born on Dulvelskan soil, although I haven't visited in quite some time, the sign out front is written in both common and Dulvelski isn't it? Although you yourself don't appear to be Dulvelskan." There were a few easy ways to tell if someone came from Jakurks homeland the easiest way was to check beneath their eyes. Where it was customary for a flower pattern to be tattooed. Jakurks pattern blue and yellow came from the Mianta flower. The healer had no such pattern beneath his eyes and his hair was black which would be unusual in his homeland.
"My grandfather was a countryman of yours, He had a flower pattern like you but it was red and blue" Latto retrieved his items from the small table by the window and restocked them onto the shelf in his medicine cabinet. "He started this business and now it has passed through three generations."
"Impressive, but I take it you didn't inherit his customs" Although the outside of the building seemed Dulveskan in nature. The interior had more Norjan furniture and the way the healer spoke carried an islanders dialect. To be honest it gave Jakurk a bit of relief. He didn't miss the land in which he was born, and he held no love for its people.
"I inherited his wisdom and that is enough, wouldn't you say?" Latto pointed at his healed arm and Jakurk couldn't do anything but nod. "Now how about some payment?" He brought out a ledger on the table along with a feather pen and some ink. He kept a record of every customer, name, race, gender and injury.
Jakurk brought out his pouch and Opip did the same but they were both interrupted by Tristin. "Il take it" Proudly he stepped forth with the little coin he had and a plan to gain both the adventurers favor.
"Its twelve silver" Latto knew the hill-folk wouldn't pay. There was no way the cheapskate who constantly haggled for a price below standard would willingly part with such a sum for some strangers.
"Done" Tristin dropped the pouch on the table. With all his current savings. Even though he held onto his confident smile, proud stature. And beyond dignified expression. On the inside he was screaming.
"And one last thing, The dungeon became my fathers grave, don't let it become yours" They were heavy words. The street outside was calm and almost empty. Some noise came from the central market of the town which wasn't all that far away from this sea side corner. The trio had left the Healer with a small goodbye.
"So I take it this is where we part ways?" Jakurk turned to the Hill-folk. Both the and the hound stood on the path to the street. They had formed a small party of two and would likely go looking for equipment or new party members before ascending the dungeons' first floor.
"It does not have to be" Tristin had an idea or more closely a plan. These were by no means stupid travelers, They were experienced adventurers who had perhaps been traveling for a lot longer then he had. But they seemed easy to manipulate, the hound was stupid and the old man was slightly senile. And he saw in them an opportunity, to finish his job, pay off his debt along the way, and to leave the island.
"You want to join our party?" The old man sighed and scratched an itch on the back of his head. "What skills do you have to offer?"
"I can pick locks, i'm well connected throughout the island, and contrary to the both of you i have already been inside the dungeon several times" Tristin was not warrior material, But he was good at skills that did not involve bashing your opponents skull in with a mace. He had learnet how to pick locks, he knew of each important figure, party and group on the island, and he also knew the fastest way down on the early floors.
"Hmm, but what about the price, how much do you charge for your services?" The hill folk was a promising opportunity. With three members to a party, they'd be a well rounded group of a warrior, a mage and a lockpick. "Oh and if you can pick locks can you find and disarm traps too?"
"I come quite cheap. I only need a comrades cut, I can deal with a few simple traps but if we encounter something enchanted I'd have some trouble." A comrades cut was one of the simpler contracts adventurers undertook when forming a party. It was different from a Companions cut, or a hands cut, or a custom contract. A comrade took one fourth of the coin gained from hunting a monster, and they kept any loot they themselves found in a ruin.
"Welcome aboard" Jakurk was satisfied with the price. Cheap cost for good labour. It was a good contract since it did not need him to pay any coin up front. And it kept them as simply business partners and nothing more. Should any inconvenience or issue arise they could easily cut ties if needed.
"Thank you, I look forward to our first expedition" Tristin's answer was good, formal and simple. He had practiced it many times in the mirror. He was surprised at how easily he had joined. And deep down he felt somewhat thankful. Now he just needed to play his cards right. and both his debt and his mission could be settled with time.
"We need a name" Opip spoke with the light of the warm sun in her eyes. She was excited. It was the first time she had been apart of the birth of a new adventuring party. And of course each famous party needed a name to be spoken of in song and legend. It also made them seem more professional.
"For the party? Tristin did not exactly share her enthusiasm but nevertheless a name was a good way to show that they were a group. And it was good for business to have a catchy and easy to remember name. It was also something he could use later down the line, like I was a part of this (insert incredible and well known name), party are you sure you don't want to hire me?
"Of course what else needs a name? You? Want me to give you a good name, like Tipik, or Lap" Opip mocked him just a little.
"No, im satisfied with my own, thanks" Tristin didn't find it quite as funny. " A good name for our group.. How about the three coins, or The three moons, or The three serpents.. I'm trying to think of more well known things that there are three of, any suggestions?" There were many things which followed the rules of three in the universe, almost like it was an easy way to remember and establish important things while still giving it depth.
"Those are boring names, the name should be powerful fit for legend, The band of the Eagle, the Good the Greedy and the Wise, or something like the bearers of the ring" Opip felt quite proud of her ideas, even with her limited knowledge of the common tongue she was quite good at making up names if she said so herself.
"Opip…Those are quite good actually" Tristin had to admit her naming sense was a bit better than his own.
"Apple, our party should go with the name Apple" Jakurk had a certain distant tone like he spoke from the heart. He held his iron amulet in his hand when he spoke, which he usually hid beneath his coat.
"like the fruit?" Tristin found the name a bit strange, but it would certainly make them stand out on the market. Opip seemed to frown, which meant she looked as if about to sneeze. She didn't like the name but she couldn't exactly turn it down as it was the suggestion of the person who had hired her.
"In Reaclec the language said to be spoken before the storm, Apple meant Fate, Legend and Prophecy. How about it? It's short and with great meaning" Jakurk seems to smile more brightly than before. It seemed as if the word re ignited an old memory found deep within his old lonely soul.
"Sure, if it makes you happy" Tristin couldn't help but feel the old man's enthusiasm. For a moment he truly felt as if he was a part of something. Not something important mind you. After all, a group with such a simple name as apple would probably not do anything worthy of a bard's song. But still he felt like he belonged for the first time in quite some time.
"It's a bit weak, but good" Opip begrudgingly accepted the name. She didn't get why they would name themselves after a little red fruit. How many important names were based on fruit? None. Well that just meant they had to make it important. Yes they would be the first to make fruit hold power. And in a hundred years or so when almost every famous party was named after a fruit it would be because of them!
A quiet bond was formed that day. Between three people who met purely by coincidence. That this bond would one day lead to immense tragedy, none of them could foresee, But even then there was a certain thread of hope woven into a story yet written.