"THERE you are you damn teuf!" The brightly dressed dandy of a young lord stomped over to Kormwind X and his party. Shoving a piece of paper in his hand, the dandy turns to storm off. "Drink with your reprobates later, get those supplies NOW!"
The note read, however, --My father's plotting to kill you, please flee town and stay safe.-- -- Anon Guest
There's fighting words, killing words, and fight-for-your-life words. Of the three 'teuf' is usually a clear signal that someone's going to die. The Hellkin in question will fight tooth and nail to make sure it isn't them.
That was why Kormwind Arachis Felbourne Whitekeep, tenth of his name, (Dex to his friends) was ready to throw the speaker through the nearest solid object. He wasn't armed and, thanks to his father, he didn't need to be. Those around him knew a defensive stance and gave their friend room.
The speaker was also unarmed, and not balling their fists for battle. all they had in their hands was an ordinary piece of paper, which this individual slapped into Dex's palm. "Drink with your buddies later. Get those supplies now!" It was in that exact second that Dex recognised Marchess Xylpherr. Heavily disguised as a young and arrogant merchant. She even had the pathetic facial fuzz going.
He'd have to ask her how she hid the points of her ears like that. But that was obviously a matter for a different time, location, and name. Dex was meant to be incognito and, evidently, so was she.
"Mistaken identity?" guessed Klarth the Barbarian.
Dex looked at the paper. "No. A warning. Someone's after my head on a pike. Finish up quick and move on out."
"We've only been in this town for one evening," said Ygrethine the Wizard. "Who could you have offended and how?"
Dex tapped one of his horns and grinned, just like Dad did every now and again. "How do you think?"
Mallaidh the Druid sighed and rolled their eyes. "Not everyone is out to kill you, Hellkin."
Dex showed them the message, "This kid's father is. From the look of things, he has the money to have a small army after my ass. So I'd best haul it."
"We need supplies," argued Klarth, gesturing at his battered battle-axe. "Potions and food and stuff."
"Hold still," said Ygrethine. "I can make you look like a young Wudzgaad, so the searching soldiers won't find a Hellkin. That should work long enough."
"Should is not is," said Dex. "But it's worth it for an hour or two's grace. Just... hurry the fuck up."
"Only if you explain why you're in that much trouble when we're safely away."
And by then, he would have a veil of half-truths to give them a sketch of what was going on. Thereby letting his companions colour it in how they pleased. He knew he had to begin with, I can't tell you very much. My safety is a great concern and keeping the information vague helps us all.
He could only hope they'd forgive him for hiding his truth from them.
[Photo by Anatol Rurac on Unsplash]
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