Having an early night from reading Pried and Prejudice and speaking to his contacts, it was polite to say that Lez was slightly shaken when an earthquake caused him to topple from out of his cot.
“What the devil?” Lez cursed as he rubbed his sore shoulder, sleep still clinging to his eyes and befuddled brain.
His mind numb Lez stood on shaking feet trying to remember where he put his trousers.
His Wood Elf ears did not fail to pick up the commotion from outside, others were drawing themselves away from their tents and he was determined to do the same.
Quickly he snatched up his boots but in his rush for answers hopped out of his tent swearing as he tried to put his shoe on his left boot on his right foot.
Thankfully the rain had ebbed, but with the constant cloud cover people were forced to hold flaming torches just so they wouldn’t trip over their own feet.
Still trying to get his boot on Lez navigated his way through the mud to draw himself closer to a large tribe of men who looked about ready to piss and shit themselves at the next crack of thunder.
“What is happening?” Lez asked.
The now sober drunks could only shrug, equally confused.
A roar like a mountain sized lion getting stabbed in the balls deafened the village and caused Lez to be taken of his feet.
“By the Gods.” Lez groaned.
Naturally panic ensured, but surprisingly there were few screams.
The men who had been drinking away their boredom didn’t waste another second. They ran but not for the hills, they jogged to their individual teams and to their stashes of weapons.
Though no one knew or understood the cause of the alien roar they all had a good idea that it didn’t belong to a scared little bunny rabbit. It was too primal, too thunderous, too full of hungry pain.
Experienced around crowds enough Lez put himself into a ball.
Only when he felt safe enough that no one was going to step on him did the scholar stand. His clothes covered in what he hoped was just running mud, Lez ran for his tent.
A part of the Wood Elf wanted to save the books which lay in small mounds, though, they were just bundles of paper and ink the treasures that the foreigners had given him were precious.
Libraries, universities, and collectors would fight for any one of these miracles that had so neatly came into his possession.
Lez felt as if he would go mad as he tried to come to terms with what he was even thinking.
A shrill scream from some distance away forced him to think less and act more.
He grabbed his traveling sack and started shovel as many books as he could, done with that he rapidly put on some some-what fresh clothes and began to smuggle anything he could into his pockets.
His code book, his sketch book, his coin purse. Anything Lez could see he tried to put into some pocket or another.
Lez had been around the block a few times
He had dined with kings and slept with their wives, had visited the worst places imaginable, and had even survived a few wars, and this was always the time when the shit came raining down from the sky.
He needed to get out of here and escape before whatever it was that the foreigners had pissed off decided to trample him.
A fan of books but nowhere near crazy enough to die for them, Lez picked up his bag and short bow and readied himself to run till his legs took him no further.
Outside, Lez could tell that a few others had got the same idea.
Though no one knew if what they were up against were just a few fucking brats playing tricks, men were loading carts full of whatever they could grab and forming up military ranks.
Unsure of which escape root he should take in his escape Lez caught sight of Nancy coming from out of the Inn.
As if she could feel his stare on her, the waitress turned her head in Lez’s general direction.
“Bugger.” Lez breathed getting the feeling that he should have jumped onto the nearest cart.
Almost gliding across the filth and mud the she-elf narrowed the gap between herself and her informant, “What the bloody hell is going on, is them doing this?” her cold eyes almost accusing Lez for this madness.
Lez guessed that Nancy was referring to the foreigners. “How should I know, woman?”
Nancy’s accusing stare landed on Lez’s bag full of overflowing novels. “And where do you think you’re going?”
As far away from this sheep pit Lez wanted to say but knew that it was probably not a good idea to tell Nancy that.
As Lez was carrying a couple of dozen copies of Sherlock homes and a few other books that had been written by authors from another realm, Lez’s cowardly act might be interpreted as theft. “I.I…”
“What the fuck is happening?” Peppercorn asked.
Having been interrupted from another segment of her employee evaluations Peppercorn was currently wearing a simple nightgown. From the way she held her long curved knife it was obvious that Peppercorn was a bit shaken up.
Lez, not only took notice of the one eyed High Elf’s curved knife which had a hand carved shark bone handle, but also that her white top was slightly damp allowing him to just see the woman smallish breasts.
The travelling spy/author/bard leering gaze was not missed by his contact.
“Owe.” Lez called out after Nancy slapped him on the back of the head. “Why?”
“Because you’re pissing me off.” The waitress explained.
The waitress should have saved her slaps up as Enzo came out running, his only equipment a pair of office pants. “Okay, which one of them fucked up, and how bad is it?”