Improv: ECL 2 Trebuchet Water Orc Bard 1, Barbarian 1: Entry 2

Maybe that was a mistake.

Nah.  That doesn't sound like him.  He doesn't make mistakes.  Anyway, he wasn't goin' nowhere with those three.  It'd been time to leave long since.  Not one to get tied down.

Still, he preferred those three to present company, and the flophouse to the jail cell he was now sharing with them.  A couple of elves and some airy kook.  He wasn't sure which he hated most.

Ah, well.  If they won't trouble him he'll return the favor.  They were all in the same boat, after all.  Might be the first time in the joint for some of them.  He could respect that.  He'd been there.

And as cells go, he couldn't complain.  Dark and clean, and just one green watchman watchin'-...wait, where's he goin'?

He didn't think about anything for a few minutes; just sat and pushed the murmuring of his cellmates out of his head.  Then he rose from the bench and opened the door.

Well, that woulda been nice if it worked but actually the door was still closed.  Bars were stronger than they looked.  Eh.  No big deal.  No big deal.  He sat back down and glared at the wall, mentally daring the others to say somethin', anything.  Yeah.  They were feelin' that.  Just as he was nearly done debating with himself whether to look and make sure they were really feelin' it the guard came back.  What?  He's lettin' us out?  Well, never was one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Soon he was out of prison uniform and back in his regalia.  That felt good.  He felt stronger.  Could totally open that door now if he still needed to.  But he didn't.  Need to.

So...time to leave, he guessed.

What happened next was a blur.  The guard was dead.  Fine by him.  Some other folks were less dead, and that was a problem.  So he solved it.  Now where'd they put his wagon?  Who cares if the house is burning down?  WHAT?  LIZARD!  BIG LIZARD!

When he woke up he was on his wagon with his former (and current, he was starting to think) cellmates.  The big lizard was pulling it.  And it talked.  Called him its momma.  He didn't like that much.  Said the dead were walking, everywhere.  That, he liked a little better.  Gave him an idea for a song.

They were walking, that was true.  But if they made the mistake of walking toward him they didn't keep walking much longer.  The stench of the dying, burning city invigorated him.  He fought, and ran, and laughed a lot that night.  He felt alive.