“So are we just not going to talk about how bizarre that was?” asked Tai. “Is this a normal thing that happens to adventurers? Minor deities opening portals and playing friendly games with those who enter for a prize?”

  “I’ve been on the move for quite some time, but no, I’ve never encountered anything quite like that,” remarked Aritian as they all travelled through the square towards the Mead and Ichor bar on the east end. “While we’re on the matter, say, a crystal like that could fetch us a nice bit of money. If you let me borrow it, I could highball a buyer with my a little bit of smooth talk and-”

  “No way. We’ve got no idea what sort of qualities or magic this crystal is capable of, so its sale might not even be legal,” replied Tai, “And I’ve had enough trouble with the law for one life.”

  Tai knew he might have explained too much in his response when he saw Aritian’s glimmering eyes perk up. “Oh? I wouldn’t really imagine a cleric to be one to break rules…”

  Maybe Aritian’s convincing nature was getting to him. But maybe it was Tai wanting to just let it out as well. “I wasn’t always a cleric…” Tai stated wistfully.

  Back in Tai Rone’s home city of Zebewebehebe (yes, that’s its name), life was simple; in that there actually were no rules. No law, as a matter of fact- no government, no taxes, and all chaos all the time. It's a long story, but ol’ Zebe’ had been a haven for pirates, criminals, anarchists, con artists, mercenaries, and everything in between for centuries. A sprawling jungle of dilapidated wooden buildings and shacks mainly left over from when it was part of an esteemed colony, now left to rot. Whatever property you could fight for or fend off, was yours. Whatever you were powerful enough to take, you took it. And given these basic rules of life in Zebewebehebe, you didn’t have many options for making a living as a young upstart who was born into this mayhem.

  Tai never remembered having parents, he only really remembered the crew that bought him when he was apparently three years old for 16 gold and 4 silver pieces. They were known as the Anklebleeders, after the fact they’d slit the ankles of those who did them wrong, if they weren’t just outright killing them. There were nearly a dozen of them, and although growing up Tai was mainly used for manual labor needs- transporting goods, cleaning, preparing meals, etc., he eventually was let in on the fun stuff- banditry.

  A hobgoblin by the name of Limesniffer was the one who essentially taught him everything he knew. How to pick a spot, how to cover the roads, plan escape routes, who made good marks, who never to mess with, and where to sell the loot once you’ve acquired it. Limesniffer was anything but a parent, but he was really the closest thing Tai had had to a father growing up. He taught him how to fight and use a blade, to which Tai found great enjoyment. In any sort of planned highway robbery, Tai would always volunteer to be the one in front, right in the action of the stick-up. He came to relish the opportunities when the marks would actually try to attack back, so that he would have an excuse to let loose with his own greatsword.

  But with the years of successful and lucrative robberies came mounting greed and arrogance that spread amongst the Anklebleeders like a plague. Just after Tai’s 17th birthday, the crew had received a tip that a royal Cassian shipment of masterwork dragoon pistols had been lost at sea and floated ashore on the outskirts of the city. A single crate held 10 firearms, meaning if you could obtain just one you would have 15,000 gold pieces worth of goods on your hands.

  Limesniffer and some others went to go see if the rumors were true. After three days, they came back, bloody and battered after having fought off others looking for the same booty. But they had succeeded- a very soggy crate had been recovered from the Cassian shipwreck, ready to sell on the Black market for a bigger score than they’d ever seen.

  The Anklebleeders were ecstatic that night, spending more on grog and food than ever before in a grand celebration. After all, they were about to move up in the world- talk was that they could even retire from Zebe completely and move to a safer area of Yilan for good. But everything changed the next morning. Those damned pistols. If only…

  “Huh. I’d never guess you were from Zebewebehebe, Tai,” said Aritian as the group approached the front of the Mead and Ichor, “but I’ll have to wait on the story- John Timber’s waiting for us by the patio.”

  Tai wasn’t even aware that he had been thinking aloud. How much had he said? Was it Aritian’s alluring demeanor that had him spilling his guts? Perhaps… but now was not the time to be nostalgic. He needed to focus up. They had a job to do.

  The sun was just beginning to fall into the horizon far inland when they met back with John Timber, who had been smoking a pipe on the patio deck.

  “Glad to see y’all here,” greeted Timber, “Anything of note happen in the downtime?”

  “Oh! We found a-” chirped up Momo before Mbaya nudged him back quickly.

  “To be completely honest… we got lost. But eventually we got our bearings and found each other,” lied Mbaya.

  “Uh-huh. Well I’m glad everyone found their way. Here’s what’s gonna happen once we head in,” explained Timber with a wary look, “Walk in one at a time, with at least 30 seconds in between, and sit at the bar, facing away from the tables and the entrance- Mbaya, I want you in one of the corners looking out for anything suspicious. We don’t want anyone thinking we’re up to no good being here, so act natural. The bartender, Remizan, is the man I need to talk to. I’ll speak with him as quickly as I can, and then we’ll exit the same way, starting with me first. If there’s any sort of trouble coming, signal with a high whistle. Got it Overlord?”

  The group nodded in agreement. John Timber went in first. Then Mbaya. Then Corvus, Aritian, Momo and Pan, and finally Tai. The interior was nice, with a second floor loft, wood furnishings, stone tables, and a long counter at the opposite end. Propped on the wall behind the bar were various painted portraits of apparently noteworthy lizardkind that had patronized the Mead and Ichor- Tai recognized a snazzy visage of Merizan, the fortune teller there too. The room smelled of smoke, cooked fish, and alcohol- it wasn’t too busy at the moment, about a dozen people were at the tabled area but the bar was mostly free. But Timber had been right about his notions- they were the only non-Lizardfolk occupants around right now.

  Tai hoped he wasn’t making a mistake taking a seat by John Timber at the middle of the bar, but it seemed alright as Timber paid no mind. Taking a quick glance around, he saw Mbaya already by a table in the corner, talking to a rather cute lizard barmaid. Next to his table was a large mural of the sea from Garaizan’s port that seemed to have three lines of text written below it. The last one, strangely, appeared to have been painted over recently.

  “The last line was something about the old goddess of the sea,” Timber whispered in Common to Tai as he caught his gaze, “but ever since they started worshipping Harmony… no more.”

  The bartender named Remizan approached them a few moments later. John Timber greeted the fellow and ordered something complicated in Lizardfolk that came out in a stone cup sizzling with red seeds flaked on the sides of the lip. Under the cup was a small piece of parchment that Tai could easily guess was a map of/to wherever the target was. Tai simply pointed to one of the bottles behind the counter for his drink- he didn’t speak any Lizardfolk at all. Timber and the bartender conversed in hushed tones for a while, back and forth. Some things Remizan said made John Timber squint his eyes and react with surprise. Tai could only hope that they weren’t sticking their necks out too far here.

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  A loud sudden smack caught the attention of nearly half the bar coming from the right corner table. From what Tai could tell, it looked like Mbaya had been a bit reckless flirting with the barmaid. She then ran to one of the backrooms, yelping something that sounded like insults along the way. Remizan stared daggers at Mbaya, who tried his best to look nonchalant about the situation, before heading through a door to likely calm down his coworker. Timber gave a long sigh.

  Fweeeeet!

  All heads of Overlord whipped around to see what the signal had been sounded for by Aritian; at the main entrance, about a half-dozen armed lizardfolk militiamen had just strolled in- definitely the same soldiers that they had seen earlier in the market at the sacrificial pyre. Only Timber seemed able to play it off completely cool as they walked in, simply turning back around and sipping more of his drink like nothing was wrong. Tai didn’t spend too long looking behind himself, but he noticed Aritian wide-eyed and clearing his throat, Momo petting Pan nervously, and Corvus was nowhere to be seen. Damn him, Tai thought, when did he take off?

  The militants moved forward and took a table in the center of the room, while another approached the bar to order drinks, most likely. They seemed very jovial at the moment, and Tai could tell they’d already been drinking even before heading here. All of them were equipped with weapons- halberds, shortswords, battleaxes, bows, and probably daggers. He did his best to look uninterested, preoccupied with the drink he had gotten. To be honest, he wished it had a stronger kick.

  To his right, the militia member said something to John Timber- even though Tai didn’t know a single syllable of lizardfolk, he could tell the words were roughly slurred. Timber turned lazily, faking a half-lidded response:

  “Hey, sorry scales, I don’t speak lizard. I’ve got no clue what you’re saying,” bluffed Timber as he took another sip from his drink.

  From the table with all the other soldiers, one of them rose and approached the counter- from the decorated outfit and more serious demeanor, Tai could tell that this was one of the officers of the troops. He had a red ceremonial stripe going diagonally across his neck that seemed to glow ominously.

  “He’s asking what drink you’ve got there,” the officer said to Timber in Commonspeak with a sober tone, “since it looks like quite the concoction.”

  “Oh, this? It’s uh, honey wine with flaming Suli seeds sprinkled on the rim, with a shot of S’marakan rice wine and lemon. Quite the interesting taste,” Timber explained.

  The tipsy grunt beside the officer mumbled something with a quizzical look on their face.

  “Ah… yes. But you see,” continued the officer, “My friend here points out that none of the staff at the Mead and Ichor speak common.”

  “... I don’t follow,” yawned Timber, who definitely was doing his best to appear as inattentive as possible.

  “So if it’s such a complicated drink,” pointed the officer at Timber’s cup, “and you don’t speak lizardfolk,” pointed the officer at John Timber, “how exactly did you order such a concoction at the bar?”

  Tai lightly pursed his lips and clenched his drink in hand. There was likely a reasonable response that Timber could have given, but he clearly couldn’t think of one right now. Neither could Tai. The silence grew rapidly as the mood between the Harmonyist militia officer and Timber turned sour. A bead of sweat dropped off the tip of Tai’s nose and into his drink. There was a subtle metal click heard.

  The officer was quick to bring a knife to the edge of Timber’s throat… but John was quicker.

  A raucous boom thundered from somewhere underneath John Timber’s coat as a hole appeared through it, billowing black smoke into the air and ripping straight through the officer’s side. He screamed horrendously and was launched onto his back, flat on the barroom floor. Patrons around the room either took cover or began moving towards the exit, shouting along in a panic.

  The grunt beside John Timber recovered from a moment of sheer shock and drew his shortsword, turning red with anger and yelling out something sharply. A second boom, this time clearly aimed from Timber’s other pistol, tore a hole in the neck of the grunt, collapsing him to the floor as well.

  All four of the other Harmonyist soldiers were up in arms now, weapons drawn to kill. The one closest to the gunfire charged straight at Timber, when a cloaked figure from above suddenly crashed down onto them with a greataxe, cleaving into their back. It was Corvus, who had apparently made it to the upper floor balcony before the commotion began. Momo and Pan moved forward to flank the center table. Mbaya in the corner hefted his axes and stormed forward to engage the two militiamen farthest away. Aritian stood up and pulled from his bag a… small handheld harp?

  In the lizard town of Garaizan, with the sun still on the horizon

  We found ourselves in a classic bar fight

  Aritian sang from his corner as the skirmish continued, strumming along a mild melody on the harp.

  Except instead of smashing bottles, we’re using blades to throttle

  Each other all through the bloody night

  Tai didn’t exactly understand it, but he knew the bardic magic that surged from their aasimar companion was empowering the party in battle.

  It was about time that Tai joined the fray- drawing his greatsword he stepped over the downed officer and faced down a kobold armed with two machetes. He considered using more of his clerical magic, but Tai knew that he should save it for when they attack the Harmonyist priest Carnan Frig later that night. The frenzied grunt came towards him, swinging haphazardly, forcing Tai to back up. Maneuvering behind a table, the assailing lizard swiped downward only to be deflected by the cleric’s massive blade and into the hard stone surface. With one machete stuck now, the kobold could barely guard themselves when Tai saw an opening to strike. Swiping wide into the enemy’s unprotected thigh, he felt a rush akin to how he used to in the old days. His enjoyment of the practice of fighting no longer came from a desire to spill blood, but from a purpose to defend those who had done no wrong, in recompense for the vile acts he had engaged in in Zebewebehebe. And right now, Tai knew Harmonyism threatened the lives of thousands of people all across Yilan who were innocent of any real crime.

  The kobold lurched back from the strike, a gash now bleeding profusely from their leg. Looking around, Tai could see Mbaya had downed one of the other soldiers, Momo and Pan were currently backing up John Timber with the officer who had somehow recovered from his gunshot wound, and Corvus had just forced the remaining militiamen to the front entrance. Aritian was still playing and singing away, his glittering eyes now seeming to calm the fleeing civilians still around.

  Suddenly, the bartender Remizan from before was next to Tai; he shouted something that clearly meant to make haste, and pointed to a crate by the doorway. The rest of the soldiers who weren’t dead or laid out on the floor had fled, leaving a trail of blood and armor pieces.

  “Open that box up! We need to get to the wagon in the square and run- these should help,” indicated Timber.

  Corvus wedged open the crate with the edge of his axe- inside it were several tubes made of lightweight metal, about as long and wide as a human arm, capped with a firm string on the end.

  “What the hell are these, Timber?” asked Corvus.

  “These are Zebe rocket cylinders,” replied Tai as he hefted one in his hands, marvelling at its craftsmanship, “some of the more reckless pirates in Zebe love using these things… even if it risks blowing your fingers off.”

  “Looks like fun,” assured Mbaya.

  “Garaizan’s guard is going to be on full alert. Once we reach that courtyard, do whatever it takes to get to the wagon. Let's move!”