This is my entry for Weekly Wattpad Contests #40.

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Number 3:

Prompt:
The gang have narrowly escaped death twice now, and they arrive at 'Heaven Hollow', where they're moody and don't get along well.

Some locals ask them for help, and the part splits into two groups to attend to these mini-quests. They realise that without the entire team, they really suck at what they do.

Bonus points if Ever Underhill becomes the town hero while doing absolutely nothing.

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This might be a little long(3000 words) but TimberWoolf , is there a hold button for ADHD by any chance?

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Part 3:

Vicarious Grey stormed towards the local pub, ignoring the cool breeze that sent a shiver down her spine as her brown cloak fluttered in the wind. A thin layer of fog covered the town-Heaven Hollow, through which only a glimpse of the full moon and starry cobalt sky was visible. The streets were as dark as one expected them to be after three chimes past dusk. The sound of thumping feet against wooden floors and drunkards singing at the top of their lungs became louder as Vicarious neared the godforsaken pub.

People had always called Vicarious a logical thinker, someone who didn't make rash decisions, someone sensible enough to know that alcohol was a poison, someone smart enough to stay away from places full of men out of their minds. Vicarious would still be that person if Hershell Odinus hadn't existed. If Hershell wasn't a powerful mage and one of the good guys, Vicarious would have found a way to kill him ages ago.

She stopped at the entrance, kicking the door displaying 'Angel's Nest' open with a loud bang. She ignored the curious stares and the raised eyebrows and scanned the room for her companion. Within seconds, the drunkards had forgotten about her and had gotten back to their drinking. Hershell was nowhere in sight.

"Can't find him either?"

Vicarious whipped around, sighing as she registered Ndawapaka behind her. She shook her head in response.

Ndawapaka, as fashionable as she was, wore a white silk robe that revealed a little too much and a thin gold belt around her waist. Vicarious hoped that the dagger and crossbow she had gifted her unarmed companions had found their way into Ndawapaka's wardrobe.

"According to the few sober people here, Hershell left the pub muttering about how birds weren't allowed to be as high as he was," Ndawapaka let out a melodious laugh, earning a few glances from the pub's inhabitants. Ndawapaka was talented enough to charm people with a laugh as well.

Vicarious took a deep breath. Things were not going as planned and Vicarious didn't like it one bit. As a healer, she did not have much potential, but as a follower of Asha-the god of light and justice, Vicarious could guide her group of adventurers to victory.

Vicarious snapped out of her thoughts as she felt a presence next to her. There was a loud thud as the 'presence' fell face-first onto the floor.

Ndawapaka gasped, bending to help the man up. He had a black scruffy beard and was dressed in what looked like a sack more than a pair of clothes. Vicarious rolled her eyes in annoyance when she realized that there was drool all over his chin.

He coughed, his eyes someplace else, "You two, you are the travellers from Cape-" He frowned, waving it off, "The ones with the mage?"

Ndawapaka and Vicarious shared a glance. It made sense that the news had spread but after two near-death experiences, they had to be wary. The Dark Knight would do the impossible to stop them.

"Demons!" The man whispered, "Demons! They took him-" He choked.

Vicarious sighed, "Sure they did," She grabbed the man's arm. "Let's go get you somewhere to sober down, shall we?" She laid a hand over his forehead, putting him to sleep.

"No! I need your help!" He thrust her hand away, his eyes blazing. "They took him!"

"Took who?" Ndawapaka asked.

Vicarious groaned. They didn't have the time to listen to a drunkard's tales.

"M-my son."

Ndawapaka cast a worried look at Vicarious, to which Vicarious shook her head at. The man was either talking about the Dark Knight's army of the undead or was out of his mind. Vicarious leaned more towards the latter-the Dark Knight didn't kidnap people for no reason.

"Did your son do anything out of the ordinary? Show signs of magical powers? Did he act suspicious before he was taken?"

The man paused for a moment, blinking a couple times before looking at the two women once again.

"He was an innocent lad, didn't do much, just minded the horses. They searched for him for days but all that was left was his scarf."

"Anything else?" Ndawapaka prompted him.

"I saw them take him from the forest when he was hunting and they chanted all sorts of spells before vanishing with him in a cloud of smoke." He rubbed an eye with his soot-covered hand, "Legend says they only take the people who suffer the misfortune of seeing them -"

"But they didn't take you?" Vicarious interrupted.

"Because they didn't see me see them."

"Asha help me," Vicarious muttered turning away, "I'm going to do something useful, such as finding our mage. Ndawapaka see if you can get something useful out of him and then talk to other locals to confirm it."

Ndawapaka shot her a scowl, turning back to the man. Vicarious stalked away, her cloak billowing behind her as she made her way to the back door.

***

"Is that a roasted crow?"

Hershell shrugged, "Maybe."

"If you could use your powers to throw fireballs at our enemies and not at innocent birds, my life would be a lot better," Vicarious grumbled, shoving a twig into the wet mud below her.

"But they are my enemies."

"Because they're higher than you are?"

"Precisely."

Hershell groaned and stretched while against the tree behind him, closing his eyes.

"I'd like to have some of what you're having," Vicarious piped up.

"Trust me," Hershell's eyes remained shut, "you don't."

"You say that you're here to live not to stay alive, what if I want to too?" She shrugged, "A little alcohol won't kill me."

Hershell jerked upright, his eyes flickering open. "First off, this isn't you speaking," He conjured up a fireball in his hand, throwing it upwards, "And what I'm having ain't alcohol."

"Then wha-"

"Did you hear of the group of bandits terrorizing this town? They've looted hundreds of travellers in just one year," He changed the topic, "I made some new friends," There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, "Heaven wants our help."

"I've only heard of demons," She mumbled. "Let's talk to the team, everyone seems to want to be heroic today."

***

"I overheard one of the servants talking. I think the 'demons' are the bigger problem here, mere humans do not chant spells and disappear in black smoke and are thus less threatening," Ever Underhill finally spoke up.

The five members of Vicarious' team were assembled around a table at the inn they were staying in. Ndawapaka and Hershell had brought up the demons and the bandits, leading to the group splitting up and taking sides, debating on whether the team had to defeat the demons or the bandits.

Hershell scoffed, "Like you would know who is more of a threat." He rolled his eyes, "useless human."

Tarin Towers gestured to Ever, "I agree with him."

"So," Ndawapaka started, her eyes on Vicarious, "majority wins. You two going to listen to reason now?"

"Yes," Hershell answered, "Come on Vic, let's go find some bandits. At least Ndawapaka's team got Towers, if their demons were real I'd like to see how a songstress and a scholar like Underhill could survive."

Ndawapaka ignored Hershell's remark taking a long sip from her drink and crashing the cup down on the wooden table all while glaring at Vicarious, "A man's son is missing and you think bandits are the highest priority?" She crossed her arms, "For a team leader, your decisions always end up letting someone get hurt."

"Good thing I'm a healer then."

Tarin sighed, "I think splitting up would be a better option, you two can take care of the bandits and Ndawapaka, Ever and I can take the demons down-Ever has a few notes on exorcising demons."

"You mean you and Ndawapaka will," Hershell laughed mockingly, "we all know that Underhill will either back out or whine like a baby while watching you two fight."

Ever glared at him, "I had a perfectly good reason-"

"Enough," Vicarious ordered, "Ever, we need your help to find out more information on the bandits here. Our groups will leave at dawn after we get a good night's rest," She stood up gesturing to Hershell and Ever to follow her, ignoring their hostility towards each other.

***

"Blow it open."

Pebbles rained down in front of Vicarious as the boulder blocking the bandit's secret lair shattered into a million pieces. Hershell's hand was still thrust outwards, a smug grin on his face. He conjured up another fireball and threw it behind him, his smile growing even wider when a frantic cry of a crow was heard.

"Hershell."

"Alright, alright. I'll stop."

The cave was about thirty meters high, and their only source of light was through the tiniest of cracks in the ceiling. Vicarious strode forwards, Hershell right behind her. Click.

"Did you hear that?" She asked.

"Heard wha-"

The ground below them broke open and Vicarious felt herself falling, her heart in her mouth. She braced herself for the impact, rolling over as she hit a cold, hard floor.

"Ow," She groaned, rubbing her sore joints and healing herself.

She spotted Hershell above her, his eyes wide as he hovered in mid-air. She lifted herself up while Hershell landed, conjuring up a fireball and preparing to throw it. Torches all around the underground lair flickered bright with fire. Her mouth fell open as she registered their targets. The bandits weren't their targets anymore, Hershell and Vicarious were theirs. All fifty of them.

"The travellers," One of them drawled, his voice slightly muffled through the mask. "Do you guys come in two's?"

Hershell swore.

"That's right," The bandit continued, "we found your friends too. They actually believed that we were-" He snorted, "demons! Amazing what a little black smoke and senseless chants can do when you kidnap someone and then rob," He coughed, "and kill them. Alright maybe torture them too, it's a lot of fun."

That poor drunken man. Vicarious hadn't even asked his son's name.

"Where are our friends?" Hershell growled, the fireballs in his hands burning brighter.

"Imprisoned, obviously. The pretty one is quite the charmer, confusing name though-Nidapakaka, was it?," The bandit took a step backwards, "Honestly, I don't want to know. A merchant's family came here for a stay, my boys and I got some work to do," He smiled.

Hershell let his fireballs fly. Vicarious drew out her crossbow, nocking a bolt. She took her place behind Hershell and they fought back-to-back, letting Hershell light some of her arrows just for the fun of it.

They failed. Miserably.

The bandits deflected her arrows with ease, their swords flashing swiftly. Where was Tarin? He would have been a blessing at that moment. Come to think of it, Ndawapaka would have been pretty useful too, the girl had the power to make people drop down on their knees. If they hadn't split up, the bandits would have been no match for them. Ever would probably have been useful too-in his own way. None of them really knew what he was capable of doing other than writing.

One of the men grabbed her by the neck and shoved her against the rough wall, an inch away from the lighted torch. She reached for her knife but he blocked her, binding her wrists. On the other hand, Hershell was having the time of his life, letting out maniacal laughs while throwing fireballs at the men.

"Take that you worthless, half-witted, overweight cow!"

Just when he stole just one glance to see if she was okay, a bandit ran onto him, holding him down as another poured a bucket of water on him. A third knocked him over the head, and Vicarious gasped as she saw his eyes rolling back into his head.

***

Ever Underhill had his head in a book, as usual. With a pen in hand and a head in the clouds, Ever Underhill was the definition of a writer. And like all other writers, he was a brave, handsome, hero who always got the girl - in his books. In reality, he ran away. He ran away from people, he ran away from the world.

He tripped on a rock.

With his nose stuck in mud and his hands holding his book high above him-it mattered more than his life after all, Ever's ears perked up to the sound of hooves nearing his location.

"Hey kid, you okay?"

Ever shakily got up, hastily rubbing the dirt off his robes and shoving his book into his back pocket. When he looked up at the figures on the horses-forty or more of them, he gulped. The bandits Vicarious and Hershell were on about were right in front of him, and he regretted calling them less threatening. Where were the demons? Ever would have rather dealt with them. Actually, maybe not.

"Y-yes," He stammered, resisting the urge to tell them that he was in fact a skeletal scholar and not a baby goat.

"Got any," The bandit waved his sword in the air, beheading an invisible person, "cash?"

He felt through his pockets, "No."

"Jewellery?"

"You don't seem like the type of guy who would like jewellery," Ever muttered, confused.

The bandit next to the bandit who liked jewellery roared with laughter, "I like him."

Ever Underhill took one look at the bandit's missing tooth and ran in the opposite direction, the bandits right behind him. He stumbled across the mucky plain, frowning at the feel of soggy muck in his sandals. The sound of hooves against the ground began to get fainter and one glance behind told him that the bandits were taking the longer route to avoid the horse's hooves getting stuck in the muck. He finally came to a sandy plain and took a stop behind a boulder. As he crouched behind the rock he glanced behind once again almost letting out a yelp as he realized that the ground ended where he sat.

Ever Underhill, the skeletal scholar with a terrible fear of heights, was crouching over the edge of a cliff.

Ever gulped, hearing the bandits coming closer once again. He crouched lower, trying to find better hiding spots. He spotted a large tree a few feet away and began to crawl towards it. The bandits had now reached the edge of the cliff and all forty(or more) of them had gotten off their horses and were peeking over the ravine below.

"I really hope he didn't fall," A bandit with a red scarf spoke, "we wouldn't be able to take the gold off of him if he was all the way down there."

"That's him!" Another yelled.

Ever was just three feet away from the tree.

The ground below him gave out a low rumble. The bandit's horses tensed up, frantically neighing all of a sudden as the bandits rushed to mount them. Without even looking at their masters, the horses took off faster than they had before, leaving a cloud of dust behind them. The sound of rocks breaking as the ground below the bandit's began to shake, distracted them from their state of confusion.

"What the-"

The bandit was cut off as the ground fell apart. Sand, rocks, Ever's boulder, all forty(or more) bandits and the remnants of the cliff all tumbled into the ravine below. All Ever could do was gape as he realized that the bandits had just fallen to their deaths because of a natural disaster. Where were his companions? The last chunk of earth fell into the ravine and Ever Underhill was left standing at the edge of a cliff once again.

***

Vicarious heard a low rumble from somewhere beyond the cave. She stopped trying to desperately untie the rope around her wrists and looked up at the ceiling of the underground cave, where bits of rock were falling from.

"What was that?" She asked.

The unconscious Hershell did not answer.

She fiddled with the knots around her wrists trying to recall Ndawapaka and Ever teaching her some simple ways to untie knots. Ever had brought out diagrams and pictures of the different knots while Ndawapaka had actually demonstrated how one could free themselves. Where was everyone when she most needed them?

Vicarious jerked upright when she heard voices this time from somewhere in the cave. She began to yell for help. Within a few seconds she heard the sound of running footsteps.

"Vicarious! Hershell! Are you two alright?" Tarin hurried to them.

"Yes, could you please untie us?" Vicarious croaked out.

Ndawapaka worked swiftly, loosening the ropes around Vicarious' hands and feet while Tarin picked Hershell up, not bothering to untie him.

Vicarious lifted herself up, exhaling at the feel of freedom. "Where's Ever?"

Ndawapaka was about to answer but Tarin beat her to it, "He said he'd catch up with us later, he received news that an army of the undead may attack a nearby area. He wanted to confirm it."

Ndawapaka coughed at that. Tarin glared at her, "I think we all realized that we wouldn't have gotten ourselves in this situation if we had worked together," He met Vicarious' guilty smile, "I hope we can now. Let's go find these bandits."

The three of them marched to the entrance of the cave, helping each other especially when they needed to jump through the stone opening Hershell and Vicarious had fallen from. When they reached the opening of the cave, they were met by what looked like the entire town cheering "The bandits have been vanquished!" in the woods.

"I don't think we need to," Vicarious replied to Tarin's earlier statement.

The crowd neared the four of them, they were carrying someone, someone who resembled Ever Underhill.

Vicarious' mouth fell open, "Is that-"

"No, it can't be," Ndawapaka sputtered in shock.

Tarin looked amused, "That's our companion-Ever Underhill."

********