《Journal of an Adventurer》Time to run!

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Hopping up, I send a rude sign to old Ratface, who sneers at me. “Wait till I get the boss!”

Turning back to Pete, hearing the door slam close, “You are right, Pete; the only answer is to become an Adventurer. I guess I’m off to the Hall.”

Jara, Mela, Jenell, what horrible timing for the Dock Boys to be looking for me. I thought I would not be seeing them all week. They have been thick as thieves with that rogue Charter of late, the Fellowship of the Sword. I hate that group of ex-Duke’s Shield men: Helmut and his thugs love killing people for fun and money. Especially that brute Roth with his oversized meat cleaver. I do not want to be on either gang’s list.

Running up those rotten stairs into my room, it would be best to duck out through the secret back exit. I am glad that there is a back door; I shouldn’t be caught by the Boys.

Looking around my room, what do I need? My sword is a definite, Jack too—my armoured vest, a must if I run into some more Dock Boys. Some knives, one in each of my boots, and another in my belt-sheath, and I am done. I feel like I am missing something. Oh yes, where is my slip pouch of sixty slips? That’s right—in with my dirty underwear. Glad I had the foresight to hide money; no one would look there!

Taking a deep breath, I open my door a crack to see if anyone is in the corridor. Good, it is empty. Only twenty steps down the hallway and I am out that back door.

It is terrific, this door is on the same level; it is a far subtler exit. Strange that I am using it for avoiding the Dock Boys instead of the usual wife or loved one worrying that their husband is cheating on them.

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Heading down the even-more-rotten back steps, I make sure to miss the exposed, rusted nails and other deteriorating objects. The last thing I want is to be heading to the medical-shrine to have some Green Aspect treat me, even if they do excel at healing.

How should I reach the Hall? There are three back-alley ways from the Anvil to Route Street. This should be easy.

Once I hit Route, going to blend in; look like I belong to the afternoon crowd. Darting from the steps into the first alleyway.

I am glad of my scouting experience from the army. Otherwise, I would not have noticed the heavy breathing. Who is in this next alley? I take a quick look. A Dock Boy, a brute of a half-breed; he must have some dwarf in him. His dark, heavy beard and pointed ears are a dead giveaway.

What to do? Perhaps he is waiting for someone else. Bold is best!

“Hey, what are you doing here?’ I ask with an affable tone. “Doesn’t Malik have you lot on the docks every morning?”

He turns to me and bunches his shoulder. If he bunches anymore, he’ll rip his shirt.

“Oi, you stay right there.”

He starts sauntering toward me. Drawing my knife from my back sheath, I hold it in my fist. He grabs me, and my first instinct is to stab him, but I squash that thought, smashing him across the face with the pommel instead. As he drops to the ground, I step around him and run.

Only Ratface and that brutish Truth-spawn have seen me. Just one more lane and I’m blending into that morning crowd. By Mela’s grace, the second alley is clear. Maybe I should have killed that brute? Just keep focus. Nearly at the third lane.

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Running into the last alley, I crash into another Dock Boy. I can smell the grog on him. He takes a lazy swing at me but then my army training kicks in. I duck and twist towards him, so I have a clear shot to knee him in his Jara’s hammers. He drops to the ground, clutching at his groin. I am nearly home free; Route is just a stone’s throw away.

As I peek out, I see only carts. Easy to blend in here.

Casually moving out from the alleyway, ducking behind a cart, then moving to another. Thinking I can chance it, I look around and, my luck, the Dock Boys, are out in force. I could still make the other back-alley course. Just need to get there quickly.

Someone calls out above the noise of the heavy footsteps and creaking cart’s wheels, “There he is, Malik!”

Why do they have such a hard-on for me today, I only flipped off Ratface. What day is it? Do I owe them money today? Have to make a run for it. Dodging left and right, I am a hair’s breadth away from the alley.

Coming out of the alley is Malik, flanked by eight thugs. Exit cut off, and more footsteps behind me. It is not my day.

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