Tavern Brawls S07PRE02

Chris stared across the table, his angular features cutting through the dim light to outline a silhouette against the lanterns hung throughout the tavern.  Kevin’s eyes, however, were on the table itself and the colored chits laid upon it.  He followed potential moves and countermoves with his mind, trying to fathom what his brother had planned.

He found it.

With a look of smug triumph, he picked up one of his red chits and moved it over 2 of the black chits in a row.  Pulling the black chits off of the grid on the table, he swept his hand over the playing field.

“Ha, ha,” chortled Chris.  “That’s not the end of this game.  Not by a long sho-, wait.  Wait!  Ah, man, you got me.”

Having seen how the game must play out, he stood and held out his hand to his brother.  Kevin took it gladly.

“One of these times, I’m gonna beat you.  For now, I see patrons coming this way.”  The shorter of the two brothers rushed over to the door to welcome the new faces.

Business was slow at the moment, but that was about to change in a big way at The Two Brothers.  The latest version of the Brawl was about to take place, not to mention the huge party at the end of the season that would double as Kevin and Vala’s wedding.  In fact, the establishment would probably fill up this very evening after the draft was complete.

Chris opened the door of the tavern in time to see the large nest drop onto the hood of one of the travelers outside.  It fell off the front of his head and landed face down on the wooden porch of the tavern.  The soft but sharp crack and subsequent wet spot left no question as to whether any eggs were still in it.

Chris looked up into the clear night sky.  There were no trees next to The Two Brothers.

“There was a thing with an eagle and an ear of corn,” the woman on the figure’s right explained.  “It’s a long story.  The name’s Maggie.  Got any food in there?”

Chris smiled.  “I always have a plate for friends of Mike Murchadha.”

“How did you know it was me?” came the squeaky voice of the cursed man in the middle of the group.

“Because he knows you, doofus,” said the man to Mike’s left.  “I’m Zeb.  We’ve been traveling all day and would love some grub.  What’cha got?”

“Fire!” exclaimed Kevin sharply from behind Chris.

“You want us to eat fire?” asked Zeb incredulously.

“No,” said Chris, pointing towards the park.  “The draft tent is on fire!”

The three travelers whipped around on the spot.  As they did so, Mike stepped on the nest and slipped, falling on top of Maggie.  He apologized quickly, and struggled to get back to his feet.  Standing, he turned to face Chris, but the man had already started running towards the fire.

They watched him run for a moment, but jumped at the voice of Iris the waitress.  “What’cha doin’ out there, anyway?  Come inside and get a drink.”  As they did so, she spotted Chris running towards the now towering inferno.

“Chris,” she gasped, then ran after him.

—–

The tent was a total loss.  Cantrip, Selena, and Fletch were combing through the ash looking for clues as to the cause when Chris ran up to them, panting.

“Wow!” he huffed.  “That…went up…fast.”

As he caught his breath, Iris arrived and punched his shoulder hard.  “What do you think you’re doing?!  You don’t run TO a fire.”

“But I knew my sister was there as security!  I had to try to help.”  Chris turned to Cantrip.  “Philomena, is everyone okay?”

Cantrip hated her given name, but she allowed her little brother the small irritation.  He had never stopped calling her that, even when she had asked him to.  Brothers were like that.  “Yes,” she explained.  “Everyone got out.  But we haven’t been able to figure out what happened.  Tents don’t just go POOF.  Well, unless Mike Murchadha is around anyway.”

“Oh, he’s back at the tavern,” responded Chris.  He continued hurriedly as the 3 investigators gave him a questioning look. “But he was with me when the fire started.  It wasn’t him.”

The five of them looked over to where the clerics were tending to the wounded.  DblDubz and Tuff were being examined by two of the elder healers as they attempted to breathe normally between intense coughs.  Selena held up her finger to stop the inquiry she could see coming from Cantrip and made her way to the event coordinators.  She sidled up to Tuff and bent down to pick up his dropped bag.  She held it for him and smiled.

“I know we just met before the draft started, but you need to trust us.  No cryptic one-liners.  No mysterious clues.  No wild goose chases.”  She stared into his eyes.  “We are the ones who are going to keep the Brawl safe.  We can’t do that if you don’t help us.  This could just be the start of something.  We need to know what you know!”

Tuff stared back into her eyes, then seemed to focus behind her head.  His eyes crossed and he slumped onto one of the cots the clerics had brought with them.

The nearest cleric looked at her solemnly.  “We gave him something to put him to sleep.  His lungs were filled with smoke and this will allow the body to purge the smoke naturally.”

The young rogue felt her shoulders go slack.  “Fine,” she muttered.  “I’ll hang onto his bag.  Tell him to come find me tomorrow.”