Chapter 15

It had been sunny and dry at some time in the past.  Although that was probably today it seemed like an eternity.  The rain had reached a level of malevolence to which words like, "poured" and "fell" no longer were relevant.  Then there was the mud.  The mud clutched, and grabbed at boots like a horde of  starving beggars.  In the lashing rain and the thick mud falls were inevitable, and upon arising the men would discover that the mud was stuck to them like plaster, and as time went on the mud insinuated itself through each cranny and crevice of clothing.

Heavy, wet, cloying, stinking, foul, slow, gritty, dark misery.

Ughrit was not happy.  The Inn was apparently always, "just a little further."  Ughrit had finished with, "just a little further" and was now more interested in "dry and extremely violent."  He wrenched his vast boot out of the mud and splashed it shortly ahead, lightning flashed.  A titanic boom filled the heavens.  Ughrit slipped and fell face-first into the mire.

"Bugger fuck damn stupid prick fart onion-eating motherpoking rotten shit shit shit ass!"

"A light!" came a call, "up on that hill I saw lantern light."

All thoughts of swift, sloppy homicide left the exhausted mind of Ughrit and he desperately clambered to his feet, fell, writhed on the ground, swore, got to his feet again, swore some more, trudged a few yards, slipped, gathered himself, felt a stream of something organic slip into his armpit, trudged, slipped, pulled a muscle in his lower back, swore..........

Some long, long time later Ughrit stood before a door.  A door from which the sound of merriment flowed.  A golden glow of lantern light spilled out through a couple of windows.  When the lightning lit up the world there was a sense of some vast, shambling structure behind the door, but more than that it was impossible to tell.  The crew was dragging themselves along behind him, sometimes quite literally.  Ughrit took out his massive axe, threw open the door and stepped in.  Another titanic lightning flash seared the eyes of everyone outside, momentarily blinding the straggling trail of brigands.

Within The Addled Prophet all eyes turned to the doorway.  There stood a massive figure, all in black, back-lit by the sky's fury, and emphasized by a huge, deep crash and rumble.  Ughrit stepped through the doorway into warmth, light, and dryness.  He was tired and miserable, but he was here to do something.  He started to raise his axe when a weird looking man exclaimed, "Oh!  You poor man, out there in this miserable weather.  Landlord, do you think we might find this gentleman some hot water and some towels."

Ughrit was ushered to a chair near the fire in the inevitable manner brought on by considerate bustling.  Ughrit could not have imagined fighting against the well-meaning little man at that moment.  he sat down, leant back on his chair and simply absorbed the warmth of the fire.  An unfamiliar lassitude came over his limbs and his mind slowed and relaxed.  He realized that he was in a nice, little pub surrounded by people who welcomed him.  A pint was pressed into his hand and he realized that this was his dream.  Just this simple little moment was his dream.

The rest of the crew blundered in, singly or in pairs.  While they lackadaisically brandished weapons, and yelled some uninspired battle cries, cut off suddenly, within moments they were welcomed, and brought to the fire.  After a while their weapons started forming a haphazard pile in a corner, they had rare smiles on their faces, and soon some of them found themselves actually saying, "Thank you!"

Perhaps an hour later the tall and slender figure of Akhbar crawled over the doorstep.  Akhbar was not an athlete.  He expected blood, smashed furniture, possibly sobbing.  He heard cheering, and then applause?  Applause? Pushing himself up on to his knees he scanned the room and found Ughrit and the crew intermixed with what seemed to be happy patrons.  Akhbar began to feel a deep sense of peace, an acceptance of his situation, a welcoming.  Fearing that this could only be a magical trap set to capture or kill Ughrit and his men, Akhbar fled out into the night, desperate to get himself away from the peace, the warmth, the welcome.