Style Quest: Varick Applies to be an Adventurer

Varick sat in the back of the cafe agonizing over every little detail of his application. This one piece of paper would decide if he would be allowed to enter the Adventurers’ Guild. If the Clydesdale became a member, he would have access to portals and resources to help him sell his clothing far and wide. He could join the Crafters’ Guild, but they took a cut of all sales made and didn’t have the same portal access. The only thing Varick was worried about on his application was that he wasn’t a fighter. Occasionally the Guild did call on its members in emergencies, and the horse was concerned that they would view him as a bad candidate. 

 

“Still working on that thing,” Varick’s friend Bridgitte asked as she sat down. The white-furred wolf had been his best friend since middle school when they were dance partners in gym class. Her right hand was a magitech replacement one of her moms made for her. Currently, it held her usual vanilla latte with caramel drizzled on top.

 

“I think I made myself sound competent enough to handle myself in a fight if it came down to it,” the mahogany horse answered his lupine friend. He set down his pen and pushed the paper to the side. “Only problem is that I need a recommendation from a current Adventurer.”

 

“Just get one from that Dragonborn who taught you how to use your magic,” Bridgette suggested as she sipped her drink. That was the obvious solution, and Varick had thought about that, but there was one slight issue.

 

“Kriv is currently off-planet somewhere for a court date,” the Clydesdale told the wolf with a sigh. “As he put it, they all committed crimes during the war, but they choose to pick on him because he isn’t a politician.” Both of them shared a small laugh at that statement. They had tried several times to figure out precisely what the soot-colored dragonborn had done but were unsuccessful every time. A few moments passed as Varick and Bridgette tried to figure out who they could get a recommendation from when the door to the cafe opened. In walked an older grey folf with an eyepatch over his right eye. An old tattered white and grey cloak weirdly offset his black t-shirt and jeans.

 

“There’s an idea,” Bridgette smirked as she watched the folf get his drink and leave. “Get a recommendation from Warking William. He is the greatest living adventurer in Drakethorpe, plus my moms helped him during the war, so they might be able to soften him up a little for you.”

 

“No favors, but I do like the idea,” Varick mused momentarily. A lot in Drakethorpe had changed in the twenty years since the war, including fashion, but for some reason, William refused to give up the cloak. It did have an enchantment to keep him comfortable in any temperature, but what if Varick made him an alternative? “I need to go make something as a bribe.”

A few days later, the blonde Clydesdale stood outside the door of William’s house holding a gift bag. Varick had worked hard on this gift and hoped the folf would go for it. Nerves started getting to the horse as he knocked on the door. By all accounts, William was super friendly despite his intimidating appearance, but that knowledge did little to help. The door opened to the folf standing there with a smile.

 

“Hi, uh um, Varick is it,” William greeted the Clydesdale. “Bridgette’s friend, right? How can I help you?” Hearing the folf say his name did not help the horse’s nerves. It was one thing to meet a war hero but another for him to know his name. 

 

“I’m trying to get into the Adventurers’ Guild, and I need a recommendation,” Varick started to mumble nervously. “I understand if this is a bit of an imposition. I’ll leave Im sorry for wasting your time.” Varick turned to leave when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Come in and tell me about yourself,” William invited the mahogany Clydesdale into the house. “I don’t have much to do since the Council of Five rules Drakethorpe in my place. Also, no one has ever asked me for a recommendation, so for that, I will hear you out.” Varick followed the folf to a sitting room where they each sat. Over the next half hour, William interviewed the horse about his ambitions. At the end of the interview, the folf asked about Varick’s bag.

 

“Oh this, I noticed the other day that your cloak was hanging on by a thread, so I thought this might work as a replacement,” the Clydesdale explained as he pulled a long-sleeved wool button-up shirt with a black and red pattern from the bag. “It’s called a flannel. According to the transdimensional catalog, they were made popular by a famous author from Wis-kon-sen. It has spell threads to regulate heat to keep you warm or cool plus some glamor threads to allow you to change the pattern color.” 

 

“Interesting,” William remarked as he examined the new article of clothing. “Give me time to think this over, and I’ll decide if I’ll write your recommendation.” The grey folf showed Varick to the door and sent him on his way. The whole way home, the Clydesdale agonized over every little detail of the interview. Had he said everything correctly? Was there something different he could’ve answered the questions with? Questions that swirled through his head were interrupted by the croak of a raven. On the gate to the yard behind his parent’s shop sat a large raven whose black feathers mainly had turned white with age. It held an envelope and a small bag of coins in its talons. 

 

“Likes the flannel wants more,” the raven croaked as Varick took the envelope and coin sack. On the envelope was written ‘For Varick’ with a glowing letter of recommendation to join the Adventurers’ Guild. Along with a smaller letter requesting to buy more flannels provided the horse made them.