Zensuon: Crystal Age

Not Getting A Break In Break City

Where our halfling has no time to consider his new revelation, as before long a new one causes things to complicate further.

The halfling was sprinting back across the bridge.

This is not happening, he concluded objectively, within the confines of his reality.

They're already one step ahead of me, Mica reconsidered as he got to the other side of the bridge while deep twilight fell across the warehouses before him, drawing long shadows.

I need to change clothes, hide my face- no, that'd just look more suspicious! Gaah!

The thoughts were running through his head at the same quick pace he was running through the alleyways.

He knocked himself back to his senses just in time, noting the marks of cloth and dagger at the edges of the alleyways that were still fresh in his mind, although now having to occupy the same place with a stream of 'what ifs' as Mica tried to calculate how far he'd have to run-

"Ah seen 'im!" A voice erupted from an alleyway junction he just passed.

This caused Mica to jolt. Glance left, then right, then dive into an uncomfortably smelling heap of discarded wood and cloth that for a human child might count as a decent fort, for a halfling it was just as good.

A cross-eyed man, tall, lanky and lacking in muscle what he had in old green clothing appeared, alongside him was a well padded man in yellow clothes, wearing a black hat, which Mica peeking from his hiding place realized was in fact a torn shoe.

"Wh'rs it? Ah? Haffin'! Hafffflin'!" The squat man called as if for a dog in his squeaky voice, looking around and causing Mica to dive further into what he hoped was rotten food.

"Ye sure ye saw him?" The squat man looked up to his cross-eyed friend, waving a broken glass bottle he was firmly holding in front of his friend's face. The taller man swatted his hand with an arm where he was holding a broken knife at the blade.

"Ye ah did!" The taller, green rag wearing ragged man pushed forward, looking around furiously to prove himself right, as the squat person behind him watched his friend's flailing about.

"Yisterde ye swo' ta si dem grind eveshad!" The yellow coated man shook in disbelief, and his torn shoe did with him, yet somehow refused to fall as if glued onto his head. Mica felt a bit of bile coming up from his throat watching that, but held back. The thought that it was not exactly by glue came to his mind, as something greener was popping out of the sides of his bald head.

"Shaddup!" The green man growled in the most mewled of voices, and took his glare off the yellow man and into the alley. Only to peer with his cross eyed glance at Mica's pile of trash, at least Mica thought that was the case. To then be approved shortly after as he started tiptoeing towards him.

"Whacha doin'?!" The shorter person, a charitable word to describe him, shouted and made the lanky man of green flinch and pause.

"I'mma bin qua-yet ye dolt!" The shrill voice of the green man shrieked back at the yellow man as he turned to face him. Mica suddenly felt something weigh down on him and heard a very distinct, somewhat soothing sound.

"Mrrrowww" A dirty white cat smeared with a bit of whatever greenish thing kept the yellow man's boot on his head, latched to his otherwise fluffy fur, was settled on top of the heap of trash Mica was within, claiming it as its own.

The two men glanced in shock, awe and likely confusion as they stared at the cat.

"Git otta 'ere, git!" The green man sniffed horribly, spat a patch of something much more solid than liquid from his mouth, as Mica had to once again stifle his stomach reflex and bite down on his lower lip.