06 — Nicknames

06 — Nicknames

Adventurers had a habit of applying titles to famous individuals as a way of marking them for their achievements. Nicknames were a tradition, and the Merratoni Adventurer’s Guild was home to its own share of individuals with the honor.

First and foremost was Brod, the guildmaster. Anyone who had witnessed the way he blew through swathes of monsters at unfathomable speeds back during his adventuring days could agree on one thing: the man was an unstoppable cyclone. Unfortunately, “Cyclone” was already taken at the time, so he earned himself the moniker “Whirlwind.”

Next, there was Gulgar. For him, the phrase “when I was little” never made much sense. He was, and always had been, a behemoth, and his stature only grew with age. While most wolf-folk were known for their agility, Gulgar took his uniqueness in stride and used his inherent strength to become a literal shield for his allies. Covered in full plate armor, a shield in one hand, and a greataxe in the other, no blow could make him falter, but the same couldn’t be said for whoever was unlucky enough to take a swing from his weapon. “The Crusher” seemed a suitable name for him at first, but more striking than his strength was his sheer unyielding nature. So he became the Immoveable. Similarly, the Chef seemed a little lacking due to his size, and the Bear Chef eventually stuck.

Finally, the last of the trio was Galba. Every beastfolk adventurer worth his or her salt knew this man’s name, and that he was never to be trifled with. Some shunned him for his popularity with the ladies, but no one was brave enough to ever speak out directly.

Back when he was still adventuring, Galba specialized in scouting, particularly espionage. Initially, he’d learned those skills purely for self-defense against monsters, but he quickly began to take notice of shadows behind certain requests and began to use his talents to find out more. Soon, he realized just how valuable the information he got his hands on was, and how fun it was to be in possession of it. He knew the enemies he would make by continuing down this path, but his abilities were second to none and, all of a sudden, those enemies were no more. Only Galba knew this anonymous informant’s true identity: the Recluse.

These three were some of Merratoni’s most highly regarded adventurers, but there was about to be one more. Currently, in the Adventurer’s Guild dining hall, the ceremony for bequeathing a new nickname was in progress.

“The guy’s not so bad, for a healer,” a man in full armor said earnestly.

“For sure,” a cat-woman agreed. She was, in fact, the very first person the healer in question had ever treated. “He can’t be all that rotten if he heals people like me.”

A man with two swords and light gear nodded. “And he’s got guts. Musta been a warrior in his past life.”

Oddly enough, he wasn’t particularly far off. If white-collar workers could be considered warriors of modern society, that is.

“Ya think? I hear the Whirlwind’s losin’ his wits,” a woman with a masculine tone retorted. “Says he’s got no sense.”

“Maybe his brain got left behind.”

“Sad.”

The adventurers took a moment of silence for their ignorant healer.

“Gotta hand it to him, though. He’s been at that training for months now. I know I woulda high-tailed it a long time ago,” the armored man said.

“Got that right,” the dual-wielder replied. “I’d rather be up against monsters than the Whirlwind, but he sticks it out.”

Suddenly, the archer who’d been silent until now spoke up, “The boy’s in love. What else could it be?”

The conversation quickly devolved from there.

“What? I heard he just likes it rough, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh yeah? Good to know.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter. But I’ve also heard he’s always got this weird grin on his face when they’re fighting.”

“Me too, but I thought he and Nanaella were kinda an item.”

“No way, they’re like siblings. He’s just into it, I’m tellin’ you. Have you seen how he drinks all that you-know-what?”

The armored man’s words rang true, and no one could disagree.

“Y’know, I hear he’s an adventurer.”

“He’s not staff?”

“Nah, a friend of mine who works here told me. He heals for free, the Whirlwind trains him. That’s the deal.”

“Talk about masochistic. That’s what we oughta call him: ‘The Masochist.’”

“We’d be walking on thin ice callin’ him that. And if he’s somehow not a fetishist, the Whirlwind’d lose it. He’s been runnin’ short on punching bags lately.”

“A very good point. We’d better be careful.”

“What about the Holy Healer? I’m hoping he keeps on good terms with beastfolk in the future.”

“That’s a surefire way to get the Church and supremacists mad.”

“Why don’t we just give him a bunch of names? Then whatever sticks, sticks.”

“You, my friend, are a genius.”

And so, a boy named Luciel became the first healer to earn the right to bear a nickname that day. Rather, many nicknames. Many, many nicknames.

“By the way, you guys hear about that black-hair adventurer who almost got whooped by a horned rabbit?”

The adventurers goofed off late into the night.