If You're Going to Be Evil Part 8
"State your business," came the terse bark of the guard.
Poot stepped up and started telling them our business, giving them fake names and false reasons for traveling across the wilds of this land. There seemed to be a bit of static going on there but nothing that Poot couldn't handle. So I started jotting down a loose framework plan that we could use for our next big operation. Seems that while I was jotting down my notes the group had made its way to an inn, rested, and been well fed; because by the time that I looked up and suggested it they were laughing at me for being in my own little world.
We sat about the table in Elton's Lifetime Loser Lounge discussing our next move when Neverwas' new character started working his way through the streets towards our inn. He had rolled up another thief, since the last one had gone so well, and was picking pockets as he went. The pickings were good too as he had more in his bulging pockets than we had managed to collect the whole time we were raiding caravans out in the woods.
It was too easy and had I have been more awake I would have noticed the noose being set about our necks and gotten us out. As it was, I was too busy trying to entice some non-player characters to escort us back toward Darkholm, the town we had burned to the ground, so that we could murder them in the night on the way and steal all their shit.
You'd be amazed at how many epic level characters are bored out of their skulls and just begging for an escort mission.
Anyway, it wasn't until Neverwas had his little halfling thief sit down at the table that any of us noticed the guards coming in. I should have gotten up, and brought Poot and Biggboy over to the bar with a loud display. Maybe I should have screamed It'll be a cold day in Hell before you find us working with you fuckhead! But I didn't. Instead I sat there watching these incredibly well equipped guards take up their positions around us, and then I watched as they put us all under arrest.
We were so taken aback that we didn't even resist.
It was a good point to be wrapping up the night and as we shoved books in backpacks and picked up loose dice Little Boy looked over at me and Poot and said, "I thought I was fucked up, but you fuckers . . . Jesus Christ."
"Don't you fucking what me! You've killed like 200 npcs and 8 player characters!"
You're way off. And he was too, we had killed way more than that.
I was looking forward to the next session, but sadly Little Boy had an emergency come up and had to move across the state two weeks later. We never did get to escape, but I've often imagined that between me, Poot, Biggboy, Kid Icarus, and Baby Momma that not only would we have escaped, but we would have burnt Harn to the ground as well.
I hope that you've all enjoyed this short series as much as I have. Thank you for reading, commenting, sharing, and all your Google +1s.
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