The Last Game In Town

More Bad Decisions

Warlords lead the way.

Brug wasted no time in searching the avenger’s body. Drew wiped the blood off his own cheek, and said, “It’s pretty clear what this fellow was: light armor, angel wings on the collar, massive sword, and a pernicious penchant for killing a man when he’s out with friends…. MINDING HIS OWN BUSINESS!” He shouted, and kicked the face of the corpse in front of him. The lights of the street started to turn on. It was only too lucky for the men that most of the neighbors had gone a few blocks eastwards to the central plaza for a public execution.
Drew, filled with delight and a sick adrenaline rush, kicked the face again. Then again. And again, and again, trying to smash it with his scrawny legs. Marik noted, “Um… We’d better go inside. That alchemist across the street has to have called the authorities by now.”
Drew was positively manic. “What are they going to do? Self-defense, baby! WOO!” and stomped on the head; the skull was finally giving way. Brug felt a sickening feeling in his stomach at the sight of it. “Drew, maybe you’ve had enough.”
“GO INSIDE!” Drew barked at him, then took a suddenly weary look around him, half-smiled, half-winced, and shuffled indoors.


“Get out of my house! What- what did you doooo?!” Esteban howled. “Morons! All of you!”
Drew riposted, “You just called us morons. Let me make this clear: we just killed a dude outside your house, and you think you’re going to talk to us that way? Brug!”
Brug stood to attention, uncertain but ready to smack Esteban with his mace.
Esteban tore at his hair, and psychotically minced aroud his living room. “Idiots! What do you think? Do- do- do you think that b-body is just going to disappear? By the gods! Agh!” He heaved himself around the room, and Marik took one step back cautiously. Esteban shrieked, “I promised, I PROMISED I would never go back. Oh! Okay. Okay. Okay.” he cradled himself.
Drew eyed him.
Esteban looked up, arms crossed. He looked less like the weakling they had pushed around for the past week and seemed oddly… what was it?, Drew tried to figure. Uncertain, he took the initiative. “Look, we’ll cut up the body and shove it down your toilet.”
Esteban stood upright, suddenly, his arm bolting towards the door with a finger pointing, shaking. “Go. Go to the mason and get lime. And… cover up the blood on the porch. Brug, help me bring the body out back. We have pigs that’ll take care of him. Vecna’d illegitimate sons of…” his lip quivered as he shoved his way past the much-shorter Merik, and picked up the body around the torso. “Merik, go get the lime. NOW!”
Merik looked to Drew pleadingly, with a look as if to say “You’re not really going to let him tell me what to do, are you?!”, but Drew was occupied, looking in a dusty mirror on the wall, examining his increasingly-puffed lip. Drew shot a glance of wonder at Esteban, and said to Merik, “Well, you heard the man. Mush!”
Merik buttoned his lip, clenched his fists, and walked out. He didn’t even look at Brug nor Esteban, who were hoisting the body like professionals.



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