A sound woke Grimrod. It took him a moment to realize what the sound was. “Time to wake?” he asked, trying to whisper but failing miserably.

“Yes. The sooner we get going the better.” Kendrik continued dressing in the dark. Grimrod hated mornings almost as much as he hated morning people. Sitting up he stretched and accidentally knocked the unlit candlestick from the table beside the bed. In the middle of pulling on a boot, Kendrik reached out and just barely missed catching it. He did manage to stumble and fall to the floor, however. The resulting clamor made the barbarian cringe.

“Noisy much?” Grimrod pointed at the collapsed man, who was pointing back at him. Tybol chuckled. Slowly. “Wake me when you’re ready.”

Shaking his head, the big man stood up. “Nancy be wake now, no doubt.”

“Better the noise wakes her than either of us, friend.” The man’s grinning teeth practically glowed in the dark room. He was probably right. Grimrod didn’t know a lot about women, but he did know they liked their sleep. His brothers had taught him the importance of waking their sister with a stick. The longer the better.

Grimrod picked up his satchel and shouldered it. Then he picked up the sloth-man by the scruff of the neck and placed him on his back. Tybol naturally hung onto his shoulders. He might even still be sleeping. The weresloth’s ability to sleep while gripping impressed the giant man. “We ready.”

“Wait, now, I’m almost ready.” Kendrik was still missing a boot and in the middle of buckling things on. Grimrod didn’t wait.

“I get us food,” he said, leaving the room. As he passed Nancy’s door it opened a crack and she peeked out.

“Grim? What’s going on? I thought the inn was under attack.”

“No, Kendrik fall down. I get us food.”

The young woman rolled her eyes. “I’ll be down in a bit.”

It was more than a bit. Even Tybol was mostly done eating by the time Nancy came down the stairs, dressed in a boy’s trousers and shirt, with a dagger belted to her hip. If it hadn’t been for the deeply hooded cloak she wore in the still dark inn, he wouldn’t have realized it was her. Kendrik was, presumably, still almost ready. Grimrod had been sure to buy some good food, wanting to start this journey out on a full stomach. He thought the others might appreciate the same. There was a bowl of fruits, some bread, a pitcher of juice, and even some butter on the table. Nancy’s eyes did not hide her excitement.

“I approve, Grim!”

“Thank you. Jerky, nuts, water for many days. Eat good now.” She smiled and nodded, while he hoped he hadn’t said anything stupid. The one thing he tried to find in the market last night had completely eluded him: a Common dictionary. If the only thing he got out of this venture was experience learning Common, he’d be pleased, but it seemed that every time he spoke, no one ever corrected him. Neither did they have any difficulty understanding him. He was certainly speaking in broken grammar and using the wrong words from time to time. Then why did no one seem to notice?

“Ah, I see you’ve started without me. I’m glad. I do apologize for taking so long.” What had taken him so long? And where had he appeared from so quickly? “Well, let’s not dally any longer. We’ll take what’s left and eat on the way.” Something was definitely wrong. Kendrik seemed a little off his usual charm. The others seemed to sense it as well, staring at him, no one moving. “Come on then!” He hissed, “Let’s not waste any more time.” Throwing a cloth sack onto the bowl of fruit, he picked up the jug of juice and with a few gulps had finished what was left.

Grimrod took the hint and picked up the bag, dumping the few apples and pears into it. As he did so Tybol reached out to him and began climbing onto his back. Nancy got the hint and stood, slung her pack, then grabbed the half loaf of leftover bread.

As the group moved towards the entrance, Grimrod asked, “What wrong, Kendrik?’

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong. We should just get moving as quickly as we can.”

“Did you do something we should know about?” Nancy’s glare was hard, but Kendrik just grinned back. The barbarian wanted to knock that grin off his face, but as they reached the doors he realized what was going on.

The wind could be heard even before the latch was drawn and the door opened. It was soon thrown wide by a sudden gust. “I just chanced to glance outside while getting dressed and thought it best if we get ahead of this storm.”

Dust blew through the streets as the four would-be adventurers scurried through the town. When they reached the outskirts the drops began to fall. Grimrod looked to the skies. The sun had yet to rise and already the coming storm was beating back what light had begun to creep over the Eastern mountains. Dark clouds were blowing in from the South.

“Rain.” He mumbled. He hated rain.

“Come, Grim, don’t tell me a big guy like you is afraid of a little water?” It was time to smash that insufferable grin into pieces.

“Kendrik,” Nancy put a hand on Grimrod’s arm, saving the smaller man’s face, “Grim has a point. Do you think we should change our plans?”

The man removed his hat and looked up at the sky, his grin fading into a grimace momentarily. “The storm is moving Northward. It’ll be following us for the next few hours, but once we reach the crossroads ahead, we’ll be turning West. I still think it best if we follow the road into the marshes.”

“I agree,” Tybol said. Slowly. “Fate picked our path. It’s bad luck to go against that.”

“We’ve got time to see how this weather develops. For now, let’s move on and see if we can’t stay ahead of it a little longer.” The grin and the hat were firmly back in place as he turned and continued onward. Nancy looked up at Grimrod, pulling her hand away as she followed Kendrik. He turned and looked Tyboloth in the eye, only inches away.

“Sorry, Grim,” the weresloth whispered. “I really do think it’s bad luck, though.” He shrugged, gently, and looked up the road at the two figures walking away. Well, even if the marshlands did flood, at least he had longer legs than the others. It might be therapeutic to see their mad leader wading through the filthy waters. He hoped to be so lucky.

For the first hour the rains were a sporadic, light sprinkle, while the roads remained solid beneath their feet. Halfway through the second hour, that began to change. The road became mud as the small drops turned to fat ones, and the light sprinkle shifted to a constant drizzle. Kendrik led them from the road into the tall grass that grew alongside it, to keep the mud from gathering on the three pairs of boots.

Tybol was once again surprised at the man’s versatility. Not only did the odd character have a confident knowledge of the local geography, but he also demonstrated experience with travel in adverse weather. And an understanding of that weather’s patterns. Impressive that he had been able to see the need to leave quickly to stay ahead of this storm for as long as possible.

Fwwwip. Some grass nearby rustled. In this rain, it was unlikely the others noticed. What was that sound? Tybol began turning his head to look behind them. Fwwwip. With his head turned completely around, he could see four dark figures in the distance. One was drawing back a bow.

“Hey,” the bow let loose, the arrow soaring high through the rain, until a gust of wind carried it off course; “every,” the archer drew another arrow, pulled back on the bow, let loose; “one,” the arrow stuck in the mud, ten feet behind them; “there,” now another one of the figures was stringing a bow, while the first let loose again; “are” this time the arrow came very close, passing between Grimrod and Nancy.

His world spun as the big man turned. “Bandits!” he called out.

“Exactly,” Tybol said, looking now at Kendrik.

“What? How?” Their hatted leader looked back at the figures with surprise, then spun back around. “Quickly, now. To the top of the hill.” He sprinted.

“We’ve been walking for hours and now you want me to run up a hill?” Another arrow stuck in the mud not five feet from Nancy. “Oh, well, fine.” She ran.

Tybol once again found himself looking back at the distant figures, though the view was a bouncy one. They seemed to have realized they’d been spotted and had given up on firing at them. After a few seconds, he realized they were moving much faster than his own little group. “They’re going to catch up,” he said. Slowly.

“We go faster. Grab tight.” The weresloth locked his arms around the barbarian’s neck, who then picked up his pace considerably. As they passed the priestess he reached over and put one arm around her waist, then lifted the girl clear from the ground. She screamed first in surprise, then in annoyance as the tall grasses whipped at her face.

“We’re almost there, friends,” Kendrik called back to them, sounding like he was some ways ahead. Turning his head back around, Tybol caught sight of Kendrik, about fifty feet away, just before he disappeared over the top of the hill. The man was a surprisingly good runner. Grimrod, on the other hand, while moving at an impressive speed considering the circumstances, was starting to breathe heavily. At this rate he might just collapse when they reached the top. What then?

“Bandits!” The cry came from Kendrik as he appeared once again, coming over the hilltop along with a couple more arrows. They barely missed the man, and Grimrod dropped Nancy as he instinctively ducked, the missiles whizzing overhead. A cry came from behind. Could they really be so lucky?

“You monster! Picking me up, just to toss me to the ground!” Kendrik was there, helping her up.

“On your feet, princess.”

“Down,” Grimrod said, pushing Kendrik to the ground along with the girl. The four of them lay down in the tall grass as shouts of anger came from uphill and downhill. More arrows whizzed overhead, moving in both directions. “Why they fight? Not ambush?”

“Ah, well, I guess not.” The grin was back.

“You can’t fool everyone,” Nancy said, glaring at the man.

“What do you mean?”

“I saw the way you reacted when those men started shooting at us. Like you’d been caught.” Kendrik’s widening eyes gave him away. “So, that’s the real reason you were in such a hurry to leave this morning. What did you steal from them?”

“No, no, it’s not like that!” Fwwwip. The arrow stuck in the ground not two feet from the feathered hat. “I’ll explain later. We need to move.” He was right. The arrows were still flying, but the sound of approaching bandits could be heard from both directions.

Grimrod nodded. “Which way?” Kendrik pointed West, away from the road. “Stay low.” The barbarian got into a crouch and moved swiftly through the grass. The man was too big to stay completely hidden, but as Tyboloth looked behind them, he could see that it wouldn’t be necessary. What was left of the two groups of attackers had converged right where the group had been hiding seconds ago. Luckily, they were ignoring the four of them. For now.

Tybol glanced down at Nancy, who was directly behind him. She looked surprisingly bored given the situation. “Hello, Lady.” She glared at him, now looking annoyed.

“Enjoying the ride?”

“Quite.”

“Think they’ll catch us?” Was that a hint of excitement in her eyes?

The weresloth stretched his neck out to get a better look at the action. It seemed there was only one of their original attackers left, dressed completely in black. The slope was covered with more colorfully dressed bodies, stuck with arrows. The few bandits that remained from the up-hill group were quickly falling to his smooth, quick movements.

“One of them will,” the weresloth finally said. Slowly. That one was no thug, either. Tybol was starting to like these people. He didn’t want them to die, and he didn’t want to die, but if that man caught up to them, that’s exactly what would happen. Tyboloth was nothing if not practical. And small. With a natural camouflage. “Nancy, keep everyone moving.” She looked at him with curiosity but nodded.

Slowly, Tybol unlatched himself from Grimrod and fell to the ground. Nancy moved around him, Kendrik following her without even noticing him. He heard Grim’s voice, but Nancy succeeded in keeping them moving. He wondered what she’d told them. He also wondered what she thought he was doing. She was going to be disappointed if she thought he had some heroic plan. Luckily, she wouldn’t be disappointed for long.

The trio stopped at a patch of dogwood. Grimrod seemed worried. “It’s alright, Grim, he said to keep moving.” The big man grunted. Nancy wondered how long the odd pair had been together. Maybe it was just the way Tybol clung to the barbarian, but the two seemed to really care for each other.

“Not Tybol. That,” the man said, pointing.

“I don’t like the look of it either, big guy.” And yet he was still grinning.

“What’s wrong?” Nancy glanced towards the road again. It was difficult to tell through the rain, but it looked like a small battle had taken place. Bodies littered the hillside, a single survivor walking slowly towards them through the grass. “The idiots slaughtered each other. There’s only one of them left. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“One man. Many dead.”

“Astute as always, Grim.”

She didn’t get it. Wasn’t one man tired from fighting better than a horde of bandits? She could probably deal with him on her own at this point. Dropping her back and drawing her dagger drew looks from the others. Then they simultaneously broke into laughter.

“What? Why are you laughing?”

“Nancy, I admire your courage, really I do,” the grin was at peak insufferability, “but that man just single-handedly killed at least ten men.”

“So one bandit got luckier than the others. I have the goddess herself watching over me.”

The grin disappeared and Kendrik sighed. “Look, that’s no common bandit.” She and Grim stared at him, waiting. “He’s an assassin. Back at the inn, as I was leaving the room I heard some noise in the room next door. Whispers. The door was open, so I peeked in. Those four men were there, and so were three dead bodies. They saw me, but luckily I had bought a shortsword the night before. I pulled the door shut and jammed it through the handle and into the frame. I knew it would only take them a minute or so to get out, so that’s why we had to leave immediately.”

Well, that explained it. This was all his fault. As expected. She nodded. “Then you’re going to tell him that it’s all a mistake, right? Maybe offer to pay him for saving us from the bandits?”

Kendrik and Grimrod exchanged looks. “Nancy, I’m pretty sure those assassins were really after us. They must have made a mistake, got the wrong room. They wouldn’t have followed us this far otherwise.” The bigger man was nodding in agreement.

“Then I guess the dagger’s not a bad idea after all,” she said triumphantly. The two men looked stunned as they stared at her.

“Nancy courageous and smart.” Grimrod turned to one of the trees and with a loud snap broke off a considerable branch. He started tearing off the smaller offshoots.

“Too bad I didn’t buy two swords,” Kendrik mumbled. Would he even be able to use it?

The man was only about fifty feet away now, curved sword in hand, approaching at the same steady pace. A fear gripped Nancy as she realized just how close to death she was. That terror was followed by a thrill of excitement for the danger. What was the worst that could happen? She was, after all, mostly dead already.

Standing there in her dark-hooded boy’s clothes, dagger held tight in front her, she knew that she looked the part of a scrappy street rogue. To her right, Grimrod looked extremely intimidating with his makeshift club, towering presence, and bulging muscles. To her left stood Kendrik, weaponized grin and aura of utter confidence solidly in place. Even if mis-placed. The trio didn’t look it, but they were most definitely doomed.

At fifteen feet the black-clad assassin stopped. The only sound was the rain, pouring around them. He stood there, staring at them. They stood, staring back. Nancy was going crazy. Was he going to attack or not? Would the man just make up his mind, already? Then he raised his sword. Then Kendrik spoke.

“Well, friend, seems you finally caught up to us.” No response. “Since you’re obviously skilled enough to dispatch us without consequence,” his tone was one of mocking, as if he didn’t actually believe the words, “mind at least telling us who wants three members of The Society dead so badly?” No response. It wasn’t a bad strategy, though. As much as she couldn’t stand him, she had to admit, Kendrik was a quick thinker. Member’s of The Society had a reputation as adventurers, heroes, monster hunters, and survivors. Of course, they had less appealing reputations as well, but those would only help them in this particular instance.

“Let me smash him.” Grim’s dull tone made it sound like it would be a boring chore.

“Not yet, big guy. We want some answers first.” The man tensed, his sword wavering. Was the ruse working? She wished she could see his face, but the black outfit covered it. The four of them stood there in the rain. What was this guys problem? Either talk or fight, just get on with it!

The movement was so slow, and the arm so well camouflaged, that she almost didn’t see it. The priestess silently said a prayer to the goddess. “Oh, goddess of goodness and light, please, help me to defeat this terrible, mean, man.” Then, with a surprisingly swift motion, the weresloth’s claws swiped at the assassin’s arm. Nancy dashed forward, dagger at the ready.

Grim must have seen it too because at the same moment the claws struck, the branch flew through the air, nearly missing her and crashing into the man’s chest, knocking him back. His blade dropped to the ground where he had been. She went for it but tripped over a rock, flailing forwards. That blasted goddess was supposed to be helping her! The man regained his balance quickly and dove for the sword as she stumbled.

Bracing herself for the fall, she threw her hands forward, dagger spinning away into the grass and mud. She closed her eyes. Her left hand hit something hard. There was a brief gasp, followed by the sickening sound of metal piercing meat and bone. Peeking, with just one eye, she saw the assassin’s hood, not a foot away from her face. His sword point was protruding from the back of it, fresh blood washing quickly away in the rain.

She opened her other eye and looked down. Her hand had landed on the hilt of his sword, now running red with the man’s blood. It had landed on a rock, just above the hilt, and her weight had thrust the blade into the air just as their would-be murderer dove to grab it. Lucky. Perhaps the goddess could learn a lesson from this.

The others approached, Tybol’s head poking out of the grass nearby. She sat up. The blood had gotten all over her hand. Gross. Cringing, she wiped it off in the grass. Wasn’t this just the way things always went? Goddess letting her down, in spite of her prayers, but she managed to make things work out anyway.

Lightning flashed overhead and thunder boomed across the hills. On top of everything, the storm was getting worse. “On your feet, princess.” The tone was a much more gentle one this time, as Kendrik held out a hand.

“I can manage on my own, thank you.” She stood. Or at least she tried to. Her knees buckled and she fell back down. What was wrong? She shivered. She was sweating, why was she cold? The intensity of her fears and excitement suddenly dissipating must have left her weak. Groaning inside, the girl reached up and took Kendrik’s hand. Do not look at him. That horrific grin was undoubtedly at it’s most horrific. If she saw it right now, he’d be lucky to get away with just a slap.

She was clearly avoiding looking at him. Probably embarrassed that she needed his help. Kendrik understood, though. It was a type of shock that came to people after near-death experiences. He had felt it often enough himself.

“Nicely done, everyone. Good team effort there. Love it when a plan comes together. Distract the assassin until the weresloth catches up and disarms him. The barbarian knocks him over with a log. The priestess pretends to trip and fall so that she can deliver the killing blow. Perfect.” Why was no one else grinning but him?

“Funny,” Tybol said. Great, only the weresloth was getting his jokes. Nancy shivered again and swayed. Grim looked ready to catch her if she fell.

“Hey, Tybol, how would you like a change of perspective?” The weresloth raised his arms and Kendrik lifted him. “How about it, Nancy?”

“What?” She looked horrified for a moment before realizing how it might be taken and attempted to turn it into a grin. “I mean, I’m sure he’s more comfortable with Grim.”

“Sloth man warm. You carry. I take pack.”

“Look, I get it, you’re acting tough.” She glared at him. “You don’t have to. We all just saw you charge an assassin head on. There’s nothing you need to prove to us. You’re just suffering a little bit of shock. Perfectly normal. A few minutes with a cute, cuddly creature and you’ll be ready for suicidal assaults again, I promise.” The young lady actually smiled a bit and nodded. He placed Tybol on her shoulders.

“Not sure if I should be offended right now,” the weresloth said. Everyone laughed.

Kendrik kicked the assassin over onto his back. “It’s true what they say: Live by the sword, die by a clumsy priestess.” No one laughed. Too soon? He reached down to pull the blade from the man’s skull. It resisted at first, but eventually come free with a sickening squelch.

“Are you taking that?” Nancy asked, more curious than accusatory.

“And anything else useful. I’ll give it all back when I’m done with it,” he said, flashing his grin. The blade was well made, but not fancy. He unbuckled the scabbard for it as well, then began searching pockets. The others just stood there, watching. “Well? Feel free to help. We’ve got a couple dozen more bodies to search over there,” he gestured towards the road with a nod.

“You can’t be serious.”

“You have something against relieving dead brigands of their belongings, priestess? They were trying to kill us just minutes ago, you’ll remember.”

She shrugged. “I don’t care about that, but this storm is getting worse. Searching all those bodies could take an hour or more.”

“Too long. Search assassin man. Leave others.” Grimrod really didn’t seem to like the rain. Kendrik looked to Tybol for backup.

“They’ll have money and weapons. These assassins were well trained and geared. Might even have something magical.” Magic? Kendrik hadn’t even thought of that.

Nancy turned and spoke to the weresloth on her shoulders. “Think about it, though. Every hour of rain means deeper water in the marshlands. That might not affect you much, but we really don’t have time for this.”

Deciding to put Tyboloth’s theory to the test, Kendrik removed the assassin’s blood-spattered hood. A gold chain gleamed wetly in the dull light. “Ah, see!” He took the medallion from the corpse. It was still warm. “This could be magical. The others might have more. If nothing else, it might help us find out who’s after us.”

“How?”

He shrugged. “Maybe Laetimus will recognize the symbol?”

She rolled her eyes. “Grim, would you please help me out here?”

Grunting, the big man reached into his satchel. Once again he pulled out the thick platinum coin. “Heads, stay. Tails, leave.” Kendrik didn’t like that these decisions were being left to chance, but said nothing as the coin spun into the air.