The Happy Muggers

Misplaced Trust

Thank gods I can see in the dark.

From D’cafnaet’d’s Memoirs

It happens when you start to like your party. Like maybe you’ve all reached an understanding of how each other operates. This snake named Trust starts to creep in, it circumvents your defenses, poisons your judgment. And that’s when you end up in a barrel.

Seriously. I’ve saved the life of everyone in the party. I’ll admit that they’ve saved mine as well… but that’s not the point. The point is I’m not exactly dragging the party down. I’d say that a good part of success of the party depends on me. That’s not the kind of person that you want to stuff in a barrel. Yet thanks to a sleep spell from Montiago Dillermo there I was.

These were the thoughts going through my head as I stood atop the roof, surrounded by orcs. I contemplated sitting the battle out… letting them know how important to the group that I am. A few slices from an orcish ax should drive the point home. The enemies’ weapons were certainly finding their marks. With pain visible on the faces of most of the Muggers, I was carefully choosing my moment to jump into the fray. Then the battle found me. My perch toppled unexpectedly. This would probably be a serious problem for most people, but for me it was an opportunity; an opening into the battle. As the building toppled beneath me, I simple rode it down into the fray. With an easy tumble I landed at the feet of a particularly ugly orc, who was none-to-pleased to see me. He was even less pleased to feel the acidic burn of my dagger buried to the hilt in his leg. Sensing a presence behind me, I yanked my dagger out of the orc’s leg and swung it upward, the butt finding the chin of another orc. Almost instantly his eyes glazed over, and it was obvious that he was struggling to hold onto consciousness.

My getting the attention of one orc, and dazing another was all the Muggers needed to turn the tide of the battle. A couple orcs died at my hand, and I softened up a few more, sealing their fates at the hands of my “friends.”

All this, my trusted companions, should serve as a reminder: I’m far more valuable outside of the barrel than in. If we are to continue to get along, we need to have a good, long talk.



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