The fishing boat "Salty Mistress" lurched toward the weathered dock, its hull scraping against the pilings with a grinding screech as the captain made no effort at a gentle approach. Seagulls shrieked overhead while waves slapped against the barnacle-crusted pier. Dirk Haywood stumbled as the vessel jolted, catching himself by grasping a stay but knocking over a bucket of fish guts to splash across his already soiled boots. The tall warrior lacked the appearance of a sailor, dressed in brown leather armor with dull metal studs.
"Finally, land! Beach and sand!" Felix exclaimed; Dirk's slender companion climbed over the gunwale to the dock. "Three long days traversing the sea, I thought would be the end of me."
The captain, a grizzled man with skin like tanned leather and a disposition as sunny as a troglodyte's armpit, spat over the side. "Off my boat, you worthless barnacles. Haven't seen such useless hands since my grandson was in swaddling clothes."
Dirk glared as he hoisted his pack, disembarking to join his cousin. "Maybe if you'd shown us respect, instead of barking like a three-legged dog with fleas and the personality of a constipated owlbear—"
"He means, we appreciate the ride, despite the stench in the air," interrupted Felix, doffing his hat in a sweeping theatrical bow. "We shall seek our fortunes far and wide, where the winds are fair." He had that look of a traveling bard, wearing a billowy white shirt beneath a sturdy leather coat of gray and brown, and his dark hair tied into a ponytail to fall below his collar. But like his slightly taller cousin, he was armed with a whip and a rapier, clearly visible hanging from his belt.
The first mate tossed their remaining gear onto the dock. "Good riddance to bad rubbish. My dog fishes better than you two landlubbers."
Dirk adjusted his shield across his back as they walked away from the dock, the scent of fish guts still clinging to his leather armor. He glanced over his shoulder at the departing vessel, a smirk forming beneath his stubble. "That first mate's full of more dung than a constipated ogre. Three days at sea and I never saw any mangy mutt aboard that floating garbage heap."
After hoisting his pack onto his shoulders, Felix smoothed his mustache and goatee with practiced fingers as he looked back towards the departing vessel. The salt air carried the mingled scents of seaweed, tar, and the smoke from cooking fires drifting up from the village. "The dog was likely a tale, a fable to regale. Much like your fishing skills, which did truly flail."
Dirk groaned at the pun. "At least I didn't upchuck my breakfast all over the captain's lap before we'd even left the harbor," he countered, turning back towards shore to start marching through the small fishing village street. "Never seen a man's face turn that particular shade of purple. Thought he might toss you overboard right then."
Felix's roguish face reddened beneath his goatee. "My stomach betrayed me, I cannot deny. But you, dear cousin, were caught in a whopper of a lie." He poked Dirk in the shoulder. "Boasting of your seafaring days, claiming you knew the fishing ways. Then you tangled every net they gave, making us look like fools to save."
Dirk rubbed his unshaven chin thoughtfully, then shrugged. "Well, I might have exaggerated my experience a bit. But it got us free passage at least. We certainly couldn't rely on their appreciation for your constant rhyming." He slapped his cousin on the back jovially as they resumed walking.
The pair of young men had been deposited in the fishing village, cutting short their maritime voyage. Yet the journey served merely as a means of escaping the tiny trading settlement where they grew up. It had allowed them to venture to this untamed territory on the opposite shore of the narrow sea.
When they crested the hill overlooking the village, Dirk spread his muscular arms wide, gesturing toward the green valley beyond. "This, Felix, is where we make our mark. No more sweating over a forge or mucking about on fishing boats. I heard rumors of a beast in these parts—offering a thousand gold pieces for its head."
Felix adjusted his feathered hat. "A thousand gold sounds very fine, if that tale's not due to excessive wine."
"Imagine it," Dirk continued, ignoring his cousin's concerns. "The women, cousin. Nothing gets a barmaid's attention like a hero with a purse brimming with gold."
The pair of adventurers resumed down the hill, a spring in their step as they tromped along the dirt road leading towards the forest spreading out to cover the valley and hillside beyond.
***
The forest road narrowed as Dirk and Felix ventured deeper into the woods, the afternoon sun filtering through the canopy in dappled patterns. They'd been walking for a couple of hours, their boots caked with mud. The smell of fish still clung to their clothes and now mingled with sweat from exertion.
"How much farther to this town, I implore?" Felix swatted at a persistent fly around his face. "Of this buzzing around, I can't take much more."
Dirk slapped a mosquito biting his neck, and replied, "Oakvale should be just beyond these woods. Another few leagues, I reckon."
The slender man groaned with a resigned sigh, "Leagues? My feet do complain, this weary journey feels like a terrible strain."
"Oh, you are starting to sound like a dwarven maiden plucking her beard hairs and—" Dirk froze mid-sentence, raising his hand for silence.
A cacophony of high-pitched yelps and vicious growling erupted from a thicket to their right. The sounds of struggle grew louder—something thrashing through the underbrush, punctuated by shrill, guttural voices.
"Do you think that's rutting boars?" Dirk asked, looking at his cousin with an arched eyebrow.
Felix shrugged as the source of the ruckus came tumbling out of the tangle of brambles from the side of the narrow track.
There were two goblins—stunted, green-skinned creatures with oversized heads and pointed ears—trying to surround what appeared to be a tawny-furred dog wrestling with a third in the middle of the road. The animal snarled defiantly and rolled, trying to bite his foe.
"Kruk naga!" One goblin attempted to jab a crude spear toward the beast, but pricked the grappled goblin instead, earning a painful squeal.
"Zak morda!" The other goblin cackled, brandishing a rusted knife as it danced around the scuffle looking for an opening. Both of the standing goblins were too preoccupied to notice the pair of men a short distance away.
Dirk and Felix exchanged glances, hands reaching for the handles of their weapons.
Dirk's eyes lit up with possibility. "Ha, lost dog means an owner." Perhaps an owner in the form of a grateful maiden with flowing locks who'd reward her pet's saviors with gold, food, and perhaps more intimate gratitude. The fantasy took shape in his mind: her tear-filled eyes, her generous embrace, her father's substantial reward...
"I could conjure an illusion, a fearsome beast to make the goblins flee," Felix suggested, smoothing his mustache with practiced fingers. "Something that would set the dog free, and leave our foes in misery."
But Dirk had already snatched his flail from his belt, the spiked ball swinging menacingly at his side. "Save your spells, cousin! No point wasting your limited magical tricks on these runty green turds!"
Without waiting for a response, Dirk charged forward continuing their casual conversation, "Come on, we don't want to lose the reward."
Felix sighed, shaking out the coils of his whip as he followed his impulsive cousin barreling headlong into danger—as usual.
***
Dirk reached the scuffle, his flail whirling above his head in a deadly arc with a whistling whoosh. The goblin with the spear barely had time to look up before the spiked metal ball crashed into its misshapen skull with a sickening crunch and wet splatter. Bone gave way beneath the impact, and the creature crumpled to the ground, twitching once before going still.
"That's one less ogre-spawn to worry about," Dirk called out, already pivoting toward the second goblin. "These little bastards are about as tough as wet parchment!"
Felix circled wide, unfurling his whip with a practiced flick of his wrist. "While you bash their heads with brutal might, I'll trip this one up to join the fight!"
The whip cracked through the air, wrapping around the knife-wielding goblin's ankle. With a sharp tug, the roguish bard yanked the creature off its feet. The goblin bellyflopped into the dirt with a surprised shriek, its rusty blade flying from its grasp.
"Zak moruk grat!" it screeched, clawing at the dirt.
Dirk laughed as he strode over to the fallen creature. "Ha, ha! What's that? I don't speak turd-tongue!" He brought his flail down hard, silencing the goblin mid-curse with the finality of a cleric's 2-hour benediction.
Meanwhile, the tawny "dog" continued its savage attack on the third goblin, its jaws locked around the creature's ankle. The goblin howled in pain, beating ineffectually at the animal's head with its small fists.
"Kruk naga! Kruk naga!" it wailed, trying desperately to crawl away, clawing at the dirt of the road to gain purchase.
"Look at that," Dirk gestured with the handle of his flail, the spiked ball dancing at the bottom of the short length of chain. "The mutt's got more fight in him than these pathetic excuses for monsters."
Felix coiled his whip, watching the animal with newfound interest. "That beast fights with impressive skill, not just a common dog, if you will."
The goblin rolled to its back and used its free leg to shove against the animal's head. With a couple of savage kicks, it broke the creature's grip on its bleeding ankle. Scrambling to its feet, the goblin let out a triumphant cackle.
"Skrak nuk bramak!" it jeered, spittle flying from its misshapen mouth as it pointed a gnarled finger at the animal.
"Don't think so, you snot-sucking runt." Dirk's flail whistled through the air, connecting with the goblin's side. The powerful impact launched the creature off its feet, sending it sailing in a graceless arc before disappearing into the underbrush with a distant thud and crack of breaking branches.
Felix and Dirk turned their attention to the tawny "dog" as it shakily rose to its feet. The metallic scent of blood hung heavy in the air, mixed with the earthy smell of disturbed soil. The creature shook itself, then fixed them with a fierce, intelligent glare.
"By the gods, that's no dog at all," Felix whispered. "But a wolf-child, sitting tall."
Dirk stared in disbelief. Where they'd expected a canine, instead stood a small, hairy boy with distinctly lupine features: pointed ears, slightly elongated snout, tail, and amber eyes that burned with feral intelligence.
***
The wolf boy sat on his haunches warily, his amber eyes narrowing as he assessed the two men. His tawny hair stood on end along his neck, and his small tail swished behind him. Dirk frowned in disappointment, returning his flail to his belt.
"Well, there goes my fantasy of a grateful maiden with heaving bosoms rewarding us with gold and... other treasures for returning her pet," he grumbled, adjusting his leather helmet.
Felix snorted as he coiled his whip. "Your dreams of maidens fair must now take a break. This creature here needs our care for its sake."
The wolf boy circled them cautiously, his nostrils flaring as he tested their scent on the breeze. Then he darted forward to sniff at their legs with audible snuffling sounds. Without warning, he thrust his nose directly into Dirk's crotch, then moved behind him to investigate his rear end.
"Hey! What in the name of orc snot—" Dirk yelped, jumping back.
The boy's nose wrinkled dramatically as he moved to perform the same inspection on Felix, who stood frozen in shock. The wolf child made a face, then backed away.
"Fissssh," he growled, the sound barely distinguishable as a word.
Dirk sighed, oblivious to the boy's utterance. "Just our luck, no one will pay gold for saving a stray mutt."
The wolf boy lifted his head, sniffed the air, and without warning, hiked his leg. A steady stream splashed against Dirk's leather boot, forming a puddle around his foot.
"By the hairy balls of a mountain troll with mange!" Dirk roared, leaping back too late, his dignity evaporating faster than water in a fire elemental's lair.
Felix doubled over, his laughter echoing through the forest. "Your boots now have a scent that's wild and free, the pup is marking his territory!"
Dirk's face flushed crimson. He lunged forward, arm swinging in a wide arc to cuff the impudent creature. "I'll teach you some manners, you little—"
The wolf boy's reaction was lightning-fast, quicker than a pixie on fermented nectar. His lips pulled back, revealing human teeth, and with a feral snarl, he clamped his jaws around Dirk's forearm, his hands gripping to either side like he was eating a big drumstick. The bite could not penetrate through the leather bracer.
Dirk snarled, his curses turning the air blue as he eventually shook the tenacious creature off. Settling back to his haunches to look up at the man, the wolf boy's expression had changed—no longer fierce and wild, but smug satisfaction instead, like he had succeeded in pilfering the pantry without getting caught.
Felix wiped tears from his eyes, his shoulders still shaking with laughter. "Oh my, the fearsome warrior brought low by a pup! Shall I use magic to mend his wound or give up?"
Dirk glared at Felix, trying to shake off the wolf boy who had latched onto his bracer. "Laugh it up. Next time I'll let the goblins have their dinner."
The wolf boy remained crouched a few paces away, watching them with wary interest, his tail now wagging slightly. He scratched behind his ear with his foot in a distinctly canine motion.
"At least allow me to tidy this mess. To make things right, I could do no less," Felix offered, gesturing to Dirk's urine-soaked boot and their fish-reeking clothes. With a flourish of his fingers and a few muttered words that crackled softly in the air, the bard cast his prestidigitation cantrip. A shimmer of arcane energy washed over them with a faint tinkling sound like distant chimes. The pungent odors of fish and urine vanished, leaving them smelling like nothing at all.
Dirk grunted his thanks, then turned his attention back to the wolf boy. "So… now what?"
Felix stroked his pointed beard thoughtfully. "A child of fur and fang, alone in the wild, what caused this strange blend, this forest-born child?"
The wolf boy tilted his head, sniffing the air curiously now that they no longer smelled of fish. He edged closer, seemingly more interested now that they'd been magically cleaned.
Dirk crossed his arms. "Maybe we should take him with us to the next town, try to find his mother... or leave him be. He seems capable enough."
The wolf boy's ears perked up at the mention of a mother.
****
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