Derleth had given them a string of stressful locations, culminating in last week’s edition where Matt and Richie’s evil twins were almost successful at killing them. So, now that Matt had the chance to kick back at a tavern to chill out with Richie for a while, he was going to take it. The only wrench in the works was how his boyfriend was currently an anthropomorphic rabbit... and one with musical talent, no less. Not ideal, but there was no point in complaining. At least Richie wasn’t a full blown unicorn.
And he was something called a Bloodhunter. Don’t ask Matt how he knew, he just did. Cutting himself and using his own blood to perform magic wasn’t something he wanted to try any time soon, so hopefully he wouldn’t need to. Luckily, he had other magic that gave him the same sort of heightened senses that he’d ordinarily have, in the form of a big tattoo on his chest, so he could save the vial of Stevie’s tears for a later date (emergency).
Speaking of which…
“We ought to stock up on supplies while we’re here. I don’t know about your new dorm room, but mine’s tiny and is in desperate need of… everything.”
This tavern was wild. Medieval times (was that where they were? Like some ren faire they somehow RSVPed to?) was wild. But the tavern, in particular, smelled like strong ale and life, and he wouldn’t be surprised if there was some kind of shady dice game going on in a dark corner or people were outside guessing the weight of a sheep or the number of coffee beans in a jar or something. But apparently Richie also had fingers so he could grasp the mug of ale, no paws necessary - he was just a damn bipedal bunny, with chocolatey brown fur, twitchy ears, a zest for life, and a penchant for attracting danger.
Well. Human him had a penchant for attracting danger as well, so he supposed that wasn’t too far off the mark.
“Do supplies include ‘booze’?” he asked, serious as a heart attack and still getting used to actually talking and sounding like himself when he was basically a plushie. Maybe bigger than a plushie and he could bitch smack someone with his feet, but still a plushie. “Because seriously. I’m a bunny - are you into furries? I mean, I guess it could work in our favor...”
Though no, that’d be weird. There went his hopes of comfort banging after the complete clusterfuck that was last week and fighting off their evil twins - which he still had a bad feeling about. Gloomy. A dark, swollen cloud before a rainstorm.
“It could be worse?” Matt hoisted his mug to toast Richie. “At least you’re cuddly?” This was one of those look on the bright side of life moments that Matt didn’t entirely believe. “Don’t take this the wrong way, I love you, but I’m not ready to take the saying fuck like rabbits literally. Try not to think about it, and I’ll make it up to you later, how about that?”
He took a drink and set the mug down on the table. “Right now we need to find a way to pay for our tab.” The barmaid kindly extended them some credit for their food and drink. Sure, they could skip out and not pay, but if they were going to be spending a week here, he didn’t want to make things more uncomfortable than necessary by gaining a reputation of being deadbeats.
Richie chuckled throatily. “I love you too,” he said, which - he was a fucking bunny (and no, he agreed and didn’t want to literally fuck like one) but he supposed that wasn’t a bad thing and the fact that he could still say it meant something. That he and Matt could weather any storm, whether it was covered in fur or not. How romantic.
“Gonna hold you to that making up thing,” he added, attempting to nudge his boyfriend under the long wooden table - but his legs were significantly shorter than he was used to, so he nearly toppled over. Oops. “Uhh - right, tab.”
It was either that or barfight their way out of paying for the rest of the week and he wasn’t sure if that was a good idea or not - though as a bard, he definitely had some fighting skills even if one might think otherwise. Tricks up his rabbit sleeves. An ace or two in the hole, that sort of thing. But better to not piss off the locals in most scenarios. “Maybe we can do an odd job really quick to earn money?” he suggested, since surely there was something. “That’s how people get work around here, right? Meeting people in taverns and being like ‘hey, wanna go on an epic quest, you’re hired?’”
That was how it worked in Lord of the Rings, probably.
“Odd job works, I guess? Adventuring. I was never into that genre of story. I’m not 100% sold on the idea.” That was a bit of a lie on Matt’s part. The last couple of times Derleth was attacked by wampas and then an enormous pink monster, which he could do very little against. It made him feel so damn useless, and getting his hands dirty again (literally, with the blood from his evil twin’s face) was more satisfying than he cared to admit. This inner love for violence was something Matt continued to struggle with, considering it a character flaw. A useful flaw, considering their circumstances, but a flaw nonetheless.
“I was thinking more along the lines of you pulling out your instrument like some medieval busker and collect coins in a cap. Which reminds me, what ever happened to all those coins that we found when we fought those skeletons in Pirate World? I kept my share in a drawer in my room, but I haven’t checked to see if it survived this latest reset. Do you think they’d accept them here?”
Coins in a cap. Richie snorted, setting down the mug of ale - his long, floppy ears twitched, senses on high alert. That was the thing with being a bunny, as he’d discovered - everything was amplified. Wasn’t really hyped up to the same level as being a werewolf but it was close - his hearing was a lot sharper, and the insides fluttered as if filled with butterflies instead of his stomach. He felt like he heard everything, every swish and creak. It was annoying but he guessed he’d get used to it - even if it was for only a week.
“Maybe not those coins specifically but I still have the jewels from that treasure chest,” he pointed out, scratching at his fuzzy cheek. “And, you know - jewels are accepted everywhere.” He’d used one in New York to pawn for cash and that had been plenty of money for the 1980s, so here? It would be fine.
Or his ass would get jumped so he’d have to make sure not to bring all those gemstones out at once.
“You just want me to play my lute, Mattimus,” he added, pulling the instrument free from where it sat in his traveler’s pack. Being a bard was all about being a master of speech - charm and persuasion, maybe, which is what the magic spells he knew (probably?) angled toward. All in all a pretty perfect profession for him. “What kind of song you want? A bawdy one?”
Hearing every swish and creak? Welcome to Matt’s world, Richie. Both of them would’ve heard a person who was sitting at a table closeby get up and go to the bar, but Matt thought nothing of it… the tavern was bustling with patrons of various races, sexes, and sizes. There was a frog-like being in particular, with an annoying wheeze each time he took a breath, that Matt tried to ignore.
“Oh yeah, the jewels. I have some of those left.” He too pawned some in New York City so he could get a bed upgrade with really amazing sheets. A lot of good that did him now, since the reset got rid of all those comforts and left them with the same, basic amenities. “I’ll look around to see where they went. At least my Daredevil armor is still around.”
Smiling at the sound of Mattimus, Matt teased, “I told you what to play! Stairway to Heaven!”
Definitely RIP to those sheets and, honestly, the new rooms sucked. They were postage stamp-sized and while Richie had sort of lucked out in terms of roommates (Loki was a pretty good one, they were pals and he liked the guy) he still wished there was more space for privacy. Or bigger beds, for one thing - because usually? He wasn’t a damn rabbit and was, you know, kind of tall which meant his feet would be hanging off the edge of that thing and fuck everything ever.
Also speaking of fucking, it’d be hard to share those experiences with Matt in the new setup but they’d find a way. Somehow.
“Check the weird trunk, maybe shit’s in there,” he grumbled teasingly, strumming a few notes on the lute - in a tavern like this, there was always a bard fulfilling the entertainment quota anyway. May as well be him. “You really want me to play some Zeppelin? Okay - “
Well, why not. It wasn’t as if the people here had ever heard of Stairway to Heaven - and Richie could just say he learned the song during his travels.
So the rabbit began to play. And sing. “There’s a lady who’s sure all that glitters is gold...”
Matt rested back on his seat and listened to Richie with a smile. It still sounded like Richie, but with a better singing voice than the one he used to serenade him in bed during Musical Week. Did Richie even know how to play a stringed instrument, usually? Probably not, or else he would’ve mentioned it among his talents along with being a comedian. It must be one of those Derleth things that came with him knowing blood magic and Richie being Bugs Bunny.
“Ooooooh, and it makes me wonder…” Matt joined in when it first got to that part of the song, then wet his whistle with a sip of ale. It turned out to be a hit, because it felt like most of the tavern stopped to pay attention to the performance. Some were nodding their heads in appreciation, tapping their toes, tapping their hands upon their knees in time with the melody.
In the middle of all this, the man who had left his table earlier returned, not to his own table, but to theirs. He bent over to get Matt’s attention, who inclined his ear toward him out of curiosity. “My master wishes to speak to you and your friend after his song about a job opportunity.” The man then gestured to the corner of the tavern, not realizing he couldn’t see… but Matt could tell there was somebody there, sitting by himself. Matt nodded in response, which seemed to be enough for the man, who went back to join his employer.
Matt hoped Richie wouldn’t let this interrupt his little concert. Not only was he enjoying it, he could tell Richie was having a good time as well, along with his audience.
Stairway to Heaven was kind of a loooooong song, so by the time Richie got to and if you listen very hard, the tune will come to you at last he was pretty sure that he had the attention of everyone in the tavern. And that felt good, he had to admit - but he had always thrived off of attention. That was why he’d chosen to go into ‘the biz’ anyway, because applause and making the audience happy was like his own personal drug of choice. It was pure and not hurting anyone.
But then it had to come to an end, and he strummed the last few chords while feeling a little bit ridiculous since while had had sang before (he had some vocal training) this was definitely the first time he’d given it a shot as a goddamn rabbit.
He really wanted Matt to scratch behind his ears too. Maybe later.
Those ears twitched with pride when he earned rounds and rounds of applause. But he’d also noticed some guy talking to Matt in the middle of the performance. “What’d he want?” Richie asked. “Did you just get someone wanting you to do someone in?” See, that was how people found jobs around here. And Matt was dressed like a shady assassin, so, it tracked.
Matt was among those who after the performance, and he gestured for him to sit beside him once he was finished taking his bows. A few people came up to place coins on their table, not a fortune, but at least enough to pay for this round of drinks and maybe another. Was it so bad that he wanted to kiss his bunny boyfriend? Apart from the whole furry complication, was there a social taboo against other races having relationships together? Okay, there were half-elves and half-orcs, but… half-bunnies? Anyway, he would have to say satisfied for now with sitting close.
“He wanted to sign you up for a record deal,” Matt joked, but then lowered his voice to continue. “He works for that guy sitting in the corner.” He inclined his head in that direction… Richie would recognize who Matt was talking about because the guy kept turning his head to glance over at them. “Says he has a job for us, though he didn’t say what. How shady does he look to you?”
“Uhhhh - “
Richie shifted his gaze toward their potential employer (and, yeah, it seemed like they’d need the money - unfortunately, busking didn’t pay the big bucks, though he definitely gathered the coins and pocketed them). “Very shady. About as shady as you look right now, honey.” Though the other guy had a different kind of vibe - definitely a vibe that said he knew money made the world go round; he was swathed in decent clothing, boots that actually looked new and a cloak with a hood, wool breeches, a belt that was sturdy. That all spoke of wealth and prosperity, yeah, but what would they have to do to get on that level? Sell their souls or something?
Eh. Richie was very #yolo about this whole thing - they were only here for a week, after all, so may as well do some adventuring.
“I say we go for it though,” he encouraged, as he packed up his lute - he might need this to bash over someone’s head (though he hoped not, he sorta wanted to keep it). “Find out what the job is?”
Let’s say Matt was interested… curious… but still wary. Richie didn’t give him much to go on besides very shady. Then again, wasn’t everybody different degrees of shade this week? It was sort of a prerequisite; if you weren’t armed to the teeth, then you were a bizarre creature, or had unusual powers… often you were a combination or even all of the above. “It can’t hurt to talk to the guy.” Matt pushed his chair away from the table to stand up and waited for Richie to join his side.
Very shady. Matt couldn’t distinguish the state of clothes the man was wearing, except they were clean with some fur on the collar of his robe. Middle aged, probably in his late 40’s, early 50’s if he was going by the heartbeat. Wizard? There was no way of telling. He supposed they’d find out soon enough. “You wanted to speak to us?”
“Yes, please! You’re new here, aren’t you? Sit down, let me buy you a drink! Your song was marvelous, by the way. Barkeep! A round for the table.” His voice was friendly, but there was an artificial ring to it. “My servant couldn’t help but overhear that you’ve had encounters with skeletons before. You’re a Blood Hunter? I can tell from your scars, and your medallion marks you as from the Order of the Ghostslayer. Your skills are exactly what I need.”
Matt’s forearm was exposed and lined with multiple scars… scars upon scars, all self inflicted. At first they were worrisome, but somehow Matt intrinsically knew how they got there, and why. It was part of a magical ritual he could perform to become stronger against his foe, in this case ghouls, vampires, zombies, skeletons. Evidently he had sworn to slay any that crossed his path. There was a whole lot of backstory that came with this week, like being plopped in the middle of a story and assigned roles that you now had to play.
The barkeep came by to refill their mugs, and the man continued once they were alone again. Licking his lips before he began speaking, he leaned forward and said, “I am a merchant from Isonross, a city two days' journey from here. I need to return with my wares, but I am vexed. The path has become dangerous by bandits, not alive but undead. I dare not travel without protection, and I am able to pay handsomely for your services.” He looked expectantly between Matt and Richie. “I hope to leave in the morning.”
Okay, anytime someone involved the undead it usually meant shit was going to go sideways - and as someone who saw ghosts on the regular, Richie was confident in that assessment. But he listened, all sorts of sounds pinging to those bunny ears - and he did his best to look stern, even though he felt like he’d stepped straight off the latest furry convention.
Order of the Ghostslayer also sounded like serious business - but it basically meant that Matt was a zombie slayer, which Richie guessed wasn’t so different from what he usually did as Daredevil. Not zombies specifically but a different type of...scourge. This was just medieval times Daredevil. And he was a medieval bard, here for the ride and for the cutting remarks that could verbally slash an enemy.
A two-day journey though, huh? Richie was dubious - probably because there likely wouldn’t be any way they could actually leave the city, going very far from Der Leth University. But why the hell not see what happened? Could be fun. “And how much are you paying for our protection?” he asked. “We have to make sure it’s worth our while.”
Bless him, but Mattimus was full of shit when he said he didn’t want to go adventuring. Richie knew he wanted to go adventuring. And beat some ass. He knew his boyfriend.
The merchant (Matt noted how he hadn’t told them his name) looked between the two, weighing the cost in his head before coming up with the answer, “One thousand gold. And an extra reward awaits you if we make it to Isonross, unscathed.”
Matt didn’t know the local currency or exchange, but he knew how much a pint of ale cost, and he noted the pennies that were given to Richie after his performance. A thousand gold sounded like a real good deal. And from what his senses could pick up, Richie seemed interested enough.
The great thing about fighting against the undead was … well… you couldn’t kill them. They were already dead, right? And that played in favor of Matt’s sensibilities for not killing opponents. The pair of them held themselves really well against those pirate skeletons, and they weren’t even prepared like they were now, with armor, weapons and magic. Maybe Matt was being unusually optimistic, but he thought it wouldn’t be a problem.
“Half the payment now, and half later,” Matt said, not because they really needed it now, but it felt like a good idea. The merchant was silenced by this demand, but after thinking it over, he nodded his head.
“Is it a deal, then?”
Oh, hell yeah they were being paid now - halfway, that is. No way would Richie agree to something and be paid in full after the job was done - they could be dead by then (but let’s hope they weren’t). “It’s a deal,” he agreed, offering his (fuzzy) hand for a shake to seal it, and it seemed a lot safer than using blood magic, dripping life force onto parchment or something. “What was your name again? So we know exactly who we’re working for, in case anything happens.”
Plus it just seemed like a good question to ask. Not to mention all of this rang ALARM BELLS for him, though not necessarily in a bad way - it wasn’t the undead he was worried about. Mostly it was the false cheer (fake as a spray tan and trust him, he was from LA, he’d seen a lot of orange tans) of the merchant and that look in his beady eyes, like he was Up To Something.
But he and Matt could handle it. Of that he was certain.
The merchant shook Richie’s hand, and as he stretched his arm to reach, his sleeve pulled up to expose a leaf shaped tattoo on his wrist. He then made a gesture to his servant, “Bring the payment.” When his attention returned to the couple, he was briefly stunned by the question. Matt could tell from his heartbeat that he was nervous and that the name he would give them was a lie. “Unvilm Bronzerun.”
“You want to try that again, this time without lying?” Matt bluntly asked. “I need to trust who I’m working for, and you’re not helping.”
At first the merchant was surprised that he’d been caught at a lie, then upset, but finally admitted, “Orin Hydtanner.” In a bid to take back control of the situation, he gave the instruction for them to follow, “We’ll meet in the morning, before dawnbreak, at the Western Gate.”
“That’s better,” Matt said. “My name is Mattimus, and my partner here is Led Zeppelin.”
By this time the servant returned with a pouch, heavy with coins.
Oh my god, his fake name was Led Zeppelin. Richie never loved Mattimus more than he did right in this moment. Though speaking of names, Orin Hydtanner was even worse than Unvilm (bless you) Bronzerun - or maybe both were equally bad. And he still didn’t trust the guy as far as he could thrown him.
“Cool - I mean, aye verily,” he responded, taking the pouch - they’d be spending this half-payment straight away, him and Matt, because they had the coins now and there was shit to buy to stock up on for the good of the campus. Not to mention for the good of their own rooms, which were just depressing and really needed an IKEA overhaul.
RIP IKEA furniture too. It had been poofed away into the ether.
“We’ll meet you in the morning so we can start bright and early.” Hell, he wished they had Starbucks here. If he was gonna get his hare ass up for a perilous journey, he would need something strong.