“And what have you been up to?” Said Queenie, poking Alan yet again in the chest.
“Later sweetness. For now let’s hide.”
“How do you know it’s the guards? And also how do you know they’re after us?” Said The Sister as Pious Pete dashed towards a convenient pile of crates, dragging behind him the unconscious form of Boosh, who appeared to have had a relapse.
“Trust me, it’s them. Plus don’t forget we just killed a majority of the youth vote here.” Said Pete as he popped the wooden lid off a crate and stuffed the Halfling inside.
The group broke apart, Queenie joining Pious Pete and the parceled Boosh. The two conscious members shifted a couple of crates around and ducked down behind them. Alan, who panicked a bit, sprinted at the fountain and dived in. There was a loud splash as waves of green, algae filled water shot up into the air.
Dimitry appeared to have no interest in hiding. Instead he readied his aptly named bastard sword and stood in the middle of the square, chuckling to himself.
Fenner also didn’t feel like hiding in a box, choosing to join Dimitry instead. The Sister sighed as she watched her companion casually swing his hammer like a gold club as he waddled over to his new friend, the two chuckling gormlessly into the night.
As the Sister made to join Queenie and Pete she realised that Tarquin, the red man, had disappeared. The woman span round in a circle, trying to see if she could spot the mild mannered fellow, but there was no sign of him.
Sister Sagacious grabbed hold of Fenner’s tattered robe from the back and attempted to drag him away.
“Come on you idiot.” She said, giving his robe another yank and accidentally pulling a chunk of frayed cloth away.
“But, but, trophy.” Said Fenner, wiggling his macabre necklace.
She sighed heavily, dropped the cloth fragment and brought up the low quality mace she had found in the Belching Dragon. Fenner obviously had no wish to leave, so she decided she might as well help out.
The three fighters stood in the middle of the square, backs to each other as they mentally prepared themselves for the fight about to happen. It was silent for a while, the sounds of clanking metal and heavy footfalls had disappeared.
The silence was disturbed by Alan as he broke the surface of the fountain, trails of shimmering green slime stuck in his hair. The ranger swam over to the edge of the fountain and gagged over the rough-hewn stone, wiping strands of algea away from his face.
“Idiot.” The Sister heard Queenie mutter from behind the crates as Alan breathed in and dipped below the grimy water again.
“Hey.” Said Fenner, pointing with his hammer at one of the alleyways leading off from the square. A single figure was walking towards them, face cast in shadows by the surrounding high walls. Dimitry groaned.
“Aye dun believe eet. Eez done it egen.”
“What?” Said The Sister as she strained to make out the silhouette, and Dimitry’s accent.
“Ze bludy red man. Eez talked ‘em oot of eet. Aye ‘aven’t keeled anyfing ur days.”¹
Fenner started tugging frantically at The Sister’s robes, whimpering.
“Me no like red man.” He said.
“Oh shut up.” Said the Sister. She unclasped Fenner’s chubby hand and walked towards the mysterious Tarquin character. He exited the alleyway, the moon’s glow highlighting his angular features. With a face filled with peace and contentment, Tarquin raised his arms to the party.
“Friends, old and new.” He said, in a surprisingly squeaky voice. “Be not afeared for I hath spoken to the constabulary. Lay down thine weapons and remove thyselves from your most secreted places. All is well.”
“You hear that Alan?” Yelled Queenie as she stabbed the tip of her bow deep into the fountain. “You can stop pratting about now.”
Alan burst from the water like an electrocuted tunafish, scrabbling to grab hold of Queenies bow as a means of escape. She snarled, wrestled her weapon back and gave him a stern thwack around the head with it.
As Queenie and Alan continued on the others grouped back together in the middle of the square, looking towards Tarquin.
“How did you do that?” Said Pious Pete. “Only such a skill would be very useful to know.”
“Alas my Tiefling comrade I am not fully asure myself.” Squeaked Tarquin. “I seem to have the, as you might say, knack, for it.”²
“Well, however you did it, thank you Tarquin.” Said the Sister, bowing slightly at the man.
In turn Tarquin blushed, Dimitry snorted, sheathed his bastard sword disappointedly and Fenner grumbled under his breath.
There was a sudden loud bang behind the party, which made them all jump in surprise. However it was only Boosh falling out of the crate Pete had hidden him in. The Halfling stood up, wobbled a bit, then stumbled over to them, giving his face several slaps as he tried to concentrate.
Queenie had finally dragged the sodden and grime smeared Alan out of the fountain, holding him up by the scruff of his neck, a situation the ranger found less than palatable.
“So we’re in the clear?” Said Alan before spitting a hunk of algae onto the cobblestones.
“We are dear Alan.” Said Tarquin, smiling warmly at the Elf. “As long as we leave tonight. They were rather insistent upon that fact.”
“Perfect, well let’s go to the stables, collect my firestead and begone from this benighted place. To the north for adventures untold.” Said Alan.
¹ Dimitry’s player decided that his character was half Russian, half Mexican and half Scottish. Thereby proving he’s a pain in the behind and his maths skills aren’t up to scratch.
² This narked the DM off to no end, he was hoping we’d get beaten up and arrested by the guards. Thank goodness for natural 20’s though.