Author’s Note: This piece was shaped with a little help from AI. It provided assistance on things like the structuring, some names, shortening some verbose language/ideas as I'd written, and gave me the odd turn of phrase here and there. The heart and shape of the story are my own, but I realise it is important to be transparent about my use of AI support in producing it ultimately.
“Preparation for the Expedition!”
Featuring: Vratni
Location: Around the Bree markets
Vratni Copperhand was a Dwarf who’d never quite let practicality get in the way of his plans. And he had a plan—of sorts. The Midgewater Marshes were practically begging for treasure to be uncovered, and as a self-proclaimed expert in the art of making money out of thin air, he was more than ready to jump in. However, there was the small matter of supplies. He couldn’t just waltz into the marshes without proper gear, could he?
As he bustled through the streets of Bree, his thoughts were focused on one thing... treasure.
The Marshes, with their thick, swampy terrain and ancient ruins, were said to hide more than just the dangers of deep bogs. Vratni had overheard the whispers in the tavern, from both drunken woodsmen and bored hunters, about old treasures tucked away in forgotten corners of the land. And if there was one thing Vratni loved more than gold, it was finding gold.
The problem was, quality gear…. well, that came at a price. And Vratni, ever the penny-pincher, had no intention of paying a single silver coin more than absolutely necessary.
He could hear some of the other Merchants in the Guild already, whispering about his “frugality,” if they found out… but he wasn’t concerned about any of that. He had his ways.
First stop was the shoe merchant. A fine establishment, with boots hanging for sale that were polished to a glimmer that nearly blinded him. "These here are made from the finest leather," the shopkeeper said, stroking a boot with a satisfied sigh. "Perfect for long journeys through the marshes. Strong, durable, waterproof. 12 silver."
Vratni raised an eyebrow, but his resolve remained firm. “12 silver? Are you mad? I’m not buying boots that cost as much as a horse!”
He wandered around the back of the shop, eyeing a pile of discarded shoes in a corner. One particularly worn pair caught his eye; sturdy-looking, well-worn, but surely good enough for the job. A quick look around confirmed that the shopkeeper wasn’t paying attention, so Vratni scooped them up and made for the door. His heart raced, but he was a man of action... if he didn’t get caught, it didn’t count as stealing, right?
Ahem.
Next, he found himself at the rope vendor’s stall. "This rope, guaranteed to hold up in the harshest conditions!" the vendor boasted, holding up a thick coil of it that looked like it could hold a mountain. "Five silver per length. You’ll need it for the marshes."
Vratni squinted at the rope. Sure, it was solid enough, but five silver? He could practically buy a whole bag of scrap metal for that price!
Instead, he inched up to the corner of the stall, where a much thinner, frayed-looking rope dangled from a forgotten hook. It had a few knots in it already, but he didn’t see why that should stop him. After all, knots meant it had already been tested, didn’t it? He grabbed a length, muttering something about “repurposing old gear,” and stuffed it into his pack.
By the time he reached the vendor’s counter, his eyes were darting around, looking for anything else he could “borrow.” A few cheap knives, an assortment of fishing hooks... he’d take them all. He also added a half-rotten burlap sack, just in case he needed to stuff anything in it later. The shopkeeper never noticed. Oh, he’d make it right upon his return mind you… yes there’d be payment, plus interest for both shopkeepers! He liked to think of it as an agreement for lending without all parties ‘in the know’ about the details…
He had his rope, boots, and some other odds and ends... but there was one more thing he needed before heading off. Word around Bree was that there was a fowler, "Boots," they called him, who knew the marshes like the back of his hand. He was the kind of guide a fellow like Vratni needed, but there was one small problem: Vratni wasn’t sure he wanted to pay him, either. No one liked to be outdone by a guide... especially a man who probably charged for his time like some noble! He’d probably throw up his hands in the air and claim how he’s ‘no guide’, but a simple fowler… as if Vratni hadn’t heard that routine before… it meant extra silver. Always did.
He'd need to ask around town to even find this fellow…. but all in all, Vratni felt he was almost set.
He had boots that were barely holding together, rope that might snap the first time he tugged on it, an old burlap sack that was prone to holes, and various bits and bobs that had all seen better days… all he now needed was the guide….
