The Happy Muggers

A Fallen Comrade and Other Delightful Events

I'm still standing - barely

From D’cafnaet’d’s Memoirs

A lot has happened. Things that one give one pause to stop and reflect. First and foremost, Tarque is gone. I miss him. I didn’t realize how much I would miss him, but… Don’t get me wrong. I thought he was a big, loud, lumbering idiot. But he was our idiot. And how little Leeloo wept as we watched the dragon carry him away. That was almost the worst part. We mounted a rescue, but I think we all knew in our hearts that he was gone. That fear was confirmed when we happened on his body. But in fitting finish, beside Tarque we found the body of the dragon. I don’t think he understood what he was doing when he committed to making a victim out of the giant. He knows now. Good luck out there, Tarque. We’ll meet again. But not today.

Then there is the new guy that we picked up. Edrick. He seems ok. He certainly appears to have the toughness and skill set to fill part of the gap that Tarque left… He also seems willing enough to tag along with our group. That part is weird. Nothing about us says “Hey, come hang out with us for a good time!” but here he is. There’s a familiar spirit about him… But I’m learning that it was far easier to take cover behind a giant than to hide behind a dwarf. Since his arrival I’m finding myself in the position of keeping fiends at bay while our casters do their work. This is not a job I’m cut out for. I think Tortolla’s turtle friend has taken pity on me as he spends more time lately fighting by my side than he does with the old man. Edrick certainly attacks with enthusiasm, but he is too easily caught in their tricks and mired down in their traps. I imagine he’ll come into his own… but until then, I’ll really miss Tarque.

My past has caught up to me. Again. There was an odd warning this time, which has never happened before. We faced a lady who they called the Dark Queen. Through her insane ranting I gathered at some point she was some sort of historian… she recorded stories of all that ever was and will be. Those chronicles were the source of her existence and her reason for living. Somehow Leeloo’s pop stole those stories. So she decided to beat us pretty good. In the end she turned out to be a victim; A tortured soul. Notwithstanding, she split in two and delivered a sound thrashing before we took her down. The muggers decided that all that could be done for her was to end her misery.

During what I’ll describe as a mercy killing that felt really, really good, she whispered in my ear, “As your story began, so shall it end.” I barely had time to ponder those words before the beginning of my story raised its ugly head. Mercs sent by my brother. Turns out that Montiago Dillermo isn’t the only one with sibling issues. Just, what he has in quantity I make up for in quality. Pib blames me for Dad’s death. I guess that’s a reasonable response, because coincidentally enough I blame him for the same thing. The difference is I’m right. But he’s rich. I guess I am too… it’s just that a very defensible fortress stands between me and my share of the fortune. A fortress manned by guards who never approved or understood why a man of Dad’s position would take in a Drow toddler. So my money is being put up for the bounty on my head. Irony. Vicious, vicious irony.

Screw you and your stories witch. My brother’s mercenaries (And a giant caterpillar… that was weird and a little creepy) pounded me within an inch of my life today. But thanks to the Happy Muggers, I’m still here. In some circles I’m regarded as a hero, even. I’ll be deciding when my story ends. And Pib, my dear brother: Tag. Now I’m “it.”



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