Work Text:
A town in danger… cries for help… a battle, fierce but swift… plumes of fire, his friends dodging and weaving out of danger... the screech of the intruding drake as it felled, the final blow struck with Quinn’s own spear… the thanks of the mayor… the rejoicing of the people… a lead on their quest…
“Is this the place?” Quinn asks as their party of three approaches a cottage.
“Hmm, yes…” Dayereth glances over his handwritten directions. "12 Greenleaf Road. The mayor said we could find a guide here to lead us into the Dark Swamp—the best in the business.”
Kava gives the house a critical glance. The two-meter tall armored dragonborn looks rather out of place amid the bucolic flowerboxes, white picket fence, and extra-petite garden steps. “Doesn’t look very tough. I don’t even think I’ll fit through the front door.”
“Let us reserve our judgement until we have had a chance to speak with him,” Dayereth reminds her. The elf leans down to press the doorbell, which is about on level with his knees, and a cheerful chime echoes inside.
A moment later the door swings open and a cheery gnome with a shock of short red hair steps out. A wisp of a fire elemental hovers over her shoulder. “Home of Ariel Barnaby Carterson, who's calling?”
Dread washes over Quinn. Something isn’t right—he knows this isn’t right. He glances at Dayereth and Kava. Can’t they feel it?
Apparently not, Dayereth is busy introducing them and explaining their quest and Kava is squatted on her haunches trying to look past the gnome into his tiny house.
“Hm, you’ve come to the right place for a guide, but I’ll warn you I charge steeply for my services.” her gaze sweeps over the party and settles on Quinn, taking in his face and his distinctive clerical robes. His eyes narrow. “…or I could call the lawkeepers now and collect the bounty on your friend’s head. Twice the money at a fraction of the work, if you follow me."
Suddenly all eyes are on Quinn. Kava looks confused, Dayereth gaping with shock. “Wanted?! Quinn isn't... that is, you never told us—“
“It’s a mistake!“ Quinn pleads desperately, but he knows it’s already too late. The redheaded Barnaby is cackling gleefully. Stony-faced guards begin to materialize from around the corners of the house, from under the flowerbeds, from out of the windows, brandishing handcuffs and batons. “You have to believe me! I didn’t do anyth—!"
——
“-ing!"
Quinn jerks awake, heart pounding. In the moonlight he can see four occupied beds around him—his friends, asleep and safe. A mess of red hair protrudes from under the blanket of the bunk nearest him. It stirs at the sound of his cry.
Ariel pushes herself onto an elbow and looks at him bleary-eyed . “Another one of the evil-me dreams?” she asks, stifling a yawn. He nods. “Who was I this time?”
“Barnaby.”
Ariel raises an eyebrow in mock affront. “Barnaby? That little snitch who offered to guide us through Dark Swamp and then turned around and tipped off the Cantor lawkeepers? That’s worse than the time you dreamed I was Horse-faced Lou, and he spent most of his time as a literal rat.”
Quinn returns a small smile. “Yeah, that was a bit of a strange mashup, in retrospect."
“Anyway, I’m going to get a bit more sleep, and you should too.” Ariel rolls over, pulling the blankets back over her head. “Just don’t make me the eyeball guy next time. He’s a bastard."
“Zirlaq? You mean the parasitic hivemind living inside Kava’s head that slowly driving her insane right now?”
“Yeah. Now imagine all that, but ginger.” Her voice is muffled from under the fabric. “How’s that for nightmare fuel?”
“Right, thanks for that,” Quinn mutters, but Ariel is already snoring. “Definitely helps a guy drift off peacefully."