It is the end of a fierce battle: the lingering otherworldly darkness dissipates, the final flames smolder into ash, the last of the writhing tentacles sinks into the abyss, and all is well. Nearly.
"You nearly torched me!" Darcarus berates his companions. "And those tentacles! I mean not that I completely minded, but—"
"Don't throw yourself headlong into the middle of our enemies," Mavrus cuts him off with a dismissive shrug.
"Taebin!" Nelly suddenly cries, dropping a tarnished, silver belt buckle she had discovered.
The heads of the party collectively snap to the corner. Sure enough, there crouches Taebin, Lord Gilford's cleric, shaking off the smoldering remains of an old curtain.
Taebin sighs. Not five seconds after being reunited with his companions, already he has been relegated to a walking "Cure Moderate Wounds" spell.
"Come here," he orders begrudgingly. While Taebin heals Darcarus' various burns, Mavrus and Lodge relieve the corpses of their no-longer-needed valuables.
Suddenly, from under a pile of charred debris, a blackened and sooty figure emerges to stumble across the tiles. In an instant, he is off and running, darting through the open door to the courtyard.
"That was Kylvin!" Darcarus exclaims. And just as quickly he charges after the bandits' leader, wounds still half-healed.
"I should have been the one to go first," Lodge mutters resentfully.
Mavrus raises an eyebrow. "Why?" he asks.
"Because mr I mrman," Lodge mutters incoherently.
"What?"
"BECAUSE I'M BATMAN!" Lodge roars.
Confusion abounds, and somewhere in another universe, several RPG players exchange quizzical looks before having a discussion about cross-genre limitations.
The rest of the party follows Darcarus into the courtyard to find a frantic Kylvin wrenching at the handles of a door across the yard. Finding it locked, he turns to face Darcarus, who has closed in on him.
"You'll never take me alive," he sneers, and suddenly throws down a small orb. An explosion of grey mist erupts from the earth, shrouding the area in fog. There is a flash of light, a scream, and Kylvin emerges from the other side, sprinting for the nearest exit.
"Darcarus!" Mavrus shouts in concern, but not surprise. This is, after all, yet another failure in Darcarus’ “ingenious” plans. Mavrus charges into the mist, glaive drawn, and nearly stumbles over the prone figure of the unfortunate bard. "Taebin, quick!" Mavrus shouts.
Taebin sprints after the tiefling, spells at the ready, and stumbles over... nothing. His feet, probably, but the world has a little respect for the importance of the dexterity stat. Whatever it was, Taebin crashes to the floor in a heap of limbs, armor, and embarrassment. Help does not arrive to Darcarus.
Meanwhile, Lodge's eyes alight as he spots their fleeing prey. "I've got him," he crows as he draws his bow.
But before he can react—"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" a voice cries. A bolt of flame sears through the air and pierces Kylvin between the shoulder blades. Kylvin is knocked clean off his feet and joins his adversaries on the ground. Nelly crosses her arms triumphantly, steam blowing from her nostrils.
"That's not how Expecto Patronum works—!"
"Shh!"
Lodge appears disappointed and is forced to content himself with tying the bandit leader up.
By the time he has finished, Taebin has sufficiently healed Darcarus, and the bard bounds over to Lodge's side. "Suggestion," he mutters before declaring to Kylvin, "You will answer my every question truthfully, so we both are perfectly clear as to what has occurred and why!"
"I'll be damned if I do!" Kylvin spits, but as soon as the bard speaks again, he finds that he cannot resist the dulcet tones, or the bard's mesmerizing eyes.
"Now," Darcarus says. "Who are you working for and why did you attack this manor?"
“We heard learned that Lord Gilford was sending a large number of troops away with his most recent shipment, so we took the opportunity to attack. I met a cloaked and nameless man in the village at the river’s fork who offered us armor and weapons in exchange for the deed,” Kylvin replies, glaring with enchanted hatred.
Darcarus opens his mouth to question further, but suddenly a piercing noise splits the air—a whistle, growing in pitch and intensity with every second.
"What is that?!" Darcarus demands.
Kylvin smirks. "My allies."
"Alright, interrogation's over," Nelly declares. "Let's pick him up and fly away."
"He's going to be difficult to transport," Mavrus muses. "He'll struggle the whole time."
"WE'LL PUT A KNIFE TO HIS THROAT AND MAKE HIM TAKE IT!" Lodge exclaims.
Somewhere in the alternate universe, silence once more descends upon the RPG players. "That's enough for tonight," the DM says.
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