The Shady Adventures of Fabian

Chapter 3

Fabian awoke with a start in a cramped completely dark space. For a moment he didn't know where he was and suspected one of the numerous enemies he'd made over the years might have tracked him down and thrown him into a trunk. Then he remembered that he'd rented the broom closet at the local fleabag inn.  He'd been napping for a few hours, so presumably night had fallen, although it was difficult to tell since there weren't any windows.

He stood up and bonked his head against a shelf, scattering a bunch of cleaning supplies all over the floor. He reached around for the doorknob, but couldn't find it from his current position. There weren't any candles handy to provide a little light either. He took a step forward and managed to get his foot stuck in a mop bucket. He gave it a good tug, but it appeared to be stuck pretty tight. He let out a sigh and inched his way forwards, looking for the exit. The bucket made a loud clanging sound as he stepped.

Eventually he found the door and stumbled out into the hallway. After the darkness of the closet, it seemed really brightly lit at first and he had to squint his eyes for a moment until they adjusted.

There was a raucous noise originating from downstairs. This sounded like a bit of much needed action to Fabian, so he waddled awkwardly to the stairs with the mop bucket still stuck to his foot. The stairs were narrower than he remembered when he had climbed them earlier that afternoon and he immediately lost his balance when he placed his bucket foot on the first step. He fell forward and tumbled roughly down the stairs.

He landed at the bottom in a heap and let out an involuntary groan. His cloak had ripped even more during his fall. On the plus side, he appeared to have dislodged his foot from the bucket.

He stood up slowly, checking to make sure he hadn't broken anything. It was likely he would have a few sizable bruises in the morning, but otherwise he thought he'd be okay. He took a minute to survey the room. The long tables were filled with large men, most of whom sported beards. They were drinking out of giant-sized tankards of ale and talking loudly. The round tables were considerably quieter, but there were no empty seats as some intense card games were being played. Most of the men here were skinny and shifty-looking other than one decidedly muscular brute whose face was covered in tattoos and scars. There was also one player whose long pointy-ears marked him unmistakably as an elf. The rest of the patrons of the tavern all seemed to be human.  A couple of them gave him a funny look after his less-than-elegant entrance into the room, but most of them were too absorbed in their drinking and card games to pay him much attention.  

There were a couple of fat wenches serving ale, but otherwise the place was a complete sausage-fest. He sincerely hoped that none of these people were the lady of the evening he'd been told about.

There was a bald man with a scraggly yellow beard and an eye-patch standing behind the bar. Fabian walked over and took a seat. "Hello, my good man. I'm a guest in this here fine establishment and none other than Maude herself told me I had a free ale coming to me."

"Yeah?" the bartender said. "Where's your voucher?"

"My voucher?" Fabian said. "What is this voucher of which you speak?"

"When you checked into the Inn, Maude gave you an ale voucher. I got to have it to give you a free ale. No voucher, no ale."

Fabian vaguely recalled that Maude had handed him a bunch of papers when he checked in. He hadn't really been paying attention to what she said because he found her unattractive, and therefore uninteresting. He had wadded the papers into a little ball and chucked them into the fireplace before he headed upstairs.

"Look, pal," Fabian said. "Maude's an old friend of mine. She said I didn't need any vouchers. In fact, she said I could drink as much as I wanted on the house."