text: u/Keyboard_Adventure. &nbsp; ## The Krin Guul The one thing Geroya didn’t expect when she moved above decks was a bitter chill, and yet she received a face full of it nevertheless. Strange weather for the Middle Seas. Having left the frigid wastes of the Northland and spending a week bunked with Tank, her goblin companion, snow was an unwelcome sight. “Captain, are we on course? I thought we were making landfall by morning.” The crusty captain looked like he’d been frozen at the helm and tiny icicles broke off his beard as he nodded. He’d been awkward towards her ever since they set sail. “Aye, we be- sorry. We *are* on course. I checked the stars and charts...*myself*.” The captain’s eye twitched as he spoke. “See? Thar...there be... *there is* the lighthouse. We’re here.” A sailor shouted *Land Ho!* and within seconds, Tank burst out from the lower decks wearing a loose tunic and sharp-toothed smile. “Finally, Pineapple Bay! Nothing to do but bask in the sun and--what?!” The goblin raced on the main deck checking port and starboard but all he saw were churning ice flows as the boat broke them apart. Something was wrong in town. Tank grimaced. “Not fair! You promised warm beaches! Rest! Flagons of ale with tiny umbrellas!” Geroya patted his shoulder but the goblin shrugged it off. “The sooner we fix whatever *this is*, the sooner we can get back to that. And besides; think of the hidden treasures just waiting to be found.” The mention of treasure made Tank grin. “*Fine*. But it better be the good stuff! No more charity cases, alright?” “That’s the spirit! Now bring up the winter gear and unpack the bag of looting.” The L-word sent Tank skipping down below. The port of Pineapple Bay should have been teeming with fishermen and merchants trading in the open air market. Instead, the docks were covered in a foot of snow. Footprints told the story of a people, unused to winter, trudging and more often, slipping through the slushy mess. Geroya noted a haphazard pair of skid marks that ended abruptly at the water’s edge. “We could make a killing selling our boots.” Tank tightened his overcoat and snickered. “So long as we get paid for killing something,” “Look where they came from,” Geroya pointed. The wipeout footprints had come out of a tavern. A painted sign above it read, *The Slimy Hagfish*. “Let’s find out what the locals know.” Inside, a handful of grumbling, shivering fishermen huddled around a large hearth, leaving the bar empty. Geroya flagged down the barkeep, a stout woman who, despite the storm, wore unseasonably revealing garb. Tank was smitten. “Hello travelers. What can I get for you? Drink? If it’s food I’m afraid it’s just turtle stew. This blasted storm has scared off catch and fisherman alike.” “Two ales. Aren’t you cold, like them?” Geroya asked, thumbing back toward the fireplace. The barkeep shook her head as she pulled the beer cask’s tap. “I’m used to drafts.” It took several rounds of ale before they heard the whole story. A year ago a mage had arrived in search of Krin Guul, a mythical well containing powerful magic, long since lost to time, somewhere in the aptly named Jungle of Unlikely Return. After his disappearance, the sun hid behind a cover of snow-laden clouds and the cursed winter took its place. The elders offered a reward to anyone who could stop the mad wizard, but no one stepped forward. “Until now,” the goblin said. He rolled his eyes and waited for his partner to finish their introduction. “Have no fear!” Geroya shouted. The barkeep looked confused. “I, I never said I was afraid. I-” “No wizard is a match for Geroya Beslayin and Cantankerous Grift!” When no one in the tavern replied, she repeated it a little louder. Tank stopped her from saying it a third time and nudged her towards the door. He laid a coin on the counter and winked at the barkeep. “See you around.” “Unlikely, but good hunting nonetheless.” &#x200B; The snow drifts piled higher as the pair left the edges of Pineapple Bay. As it turned out, palm fronds and rattan made perfect snowshoes. Where others had sunk into oblivion, Geroya and Tank sashayed through like pallas cats. Using a compass attuned to ley lines, they pressed deeper into the frozen jungle. The beasts that made the jungle so deadly--silver snakes and deadly bright toads-- hung lifeless in the cold trees like tinsel and baubles. Tank heard a voice echoing from inside a cave nearby. Inside, they found a path that led to a hidden crater. At its center stood the mage, dressed in a voluminous red robe and fat black belt. He threw fist fulls of spells at smooth volcanic rock embedded in the ground but they merely bounced off the surface and accumulated in the sky. “It’s here, it *has* to be here, I know it!” he shouted. Time had robbed him of his sanity. Geroya snuck closer then shouted, “Stop, wizard!” “Who’s there? Ah, that’s what I need. A fresh sacrifice, blood for the Krin Guul!” The wizard’s hands glowed white. As he spun up a spell to throw at Geroya, Tank snuck behind him and slid his enchanted dagger, Silent Night, into the wizard’s back. An arc of unfocused magic mushroomed above them and exploded in a shower of harmless sparkles. Geroya looked up and saw stars. The gray clouds began to roll away. “Another victory for the mighty duo!” As Tank searched the body for items she stabbed her sword into the cold crater. “Do you think he was right? That he’d found the Krin Guul?” “Does it matter? He’s dead anyway.” “But the ley lines. And doesn’t this place just feel-” Tank cut her off. “Geroya! No. Well.” &#x200B; *** Constraints requested: 1. A 'mad' character that sees a truth nobody else can. 2. A mystery 3. Include a pun 4. Part of the story includes a pub, tavern, or similar. 5. A genre-aware character trying to avoid their cliches. 6. A useful goblin.