Fabian woke up to the sound of laughter nearby. He sat up and rubbed his eyes and smacked his lips. His belly let out a loud rumble. Something smelled quite scrumptious. He walked towards the source of the smell and found Derek, Brandon, and Sir Mikael sitting around a campfire laughing heartily as they ate some sort of meat. Druvidia hovered next to them with a big smile on her face, although she didn't partake in the food.

"Hey guys, what's cooking?" he asked as he rubbed his tummy.

"I caught a nice plump dwarf pheasant early this morning," Sir Mikael said. "It was delicious."

"What do you mean 'was' delicious?" Fabian asked.

"I'm sorry, it was so tasty we ate most of it," Derek said. "Here, the gizzard is still left. You can have that."

"I thought I told you to wake me up once breakfast was ready," Fabian said. "What the hell are you guys doing eating without me? This is coming out of all of your shares of any treasure we find. Since Derek is already giving me all of his treasure, you two are going to have to give me even more to make up for his share."

"We're sorry, sir," Brandon said. "We meant to wake you, but we started eating and it was so good and we were having so much fun talking that we just sort of forgot."

"You forgot?" Fabian sputtered. "I am the great and legendary Fabian. Nobody forgets me."

"Sorry, Fabian," Sir Mikael said. "We truly did not mean to forget you. You just slipped our minds."

"Well, I'm afraid you're just going to have to go hunt something else for me then," Fabian said. "That's all there is to it. Now chop chop. Get going. I'll wait."

"Very well," Sir Mikael said. "I shall see what I can find." He stood up from the campfire and walked off into the woods. He returned a few minutes later with a filthy looking pigeon. "Here you go."

"What the hell is this?" Fabian asked.

"It's a pigeon."

"I can see that. It looks like it's got about twenty or so diseases. Where's the pheasant like you guys had?"

"I'm sorry, I couldn't find any pheasants right now. This was the best I could do under the circumstances. You should have gotten up when the rest of us did."

Fabian stared at Sir Mikael. "You're starting to tread on thin ice, mister. You'd better watch yourself if you want me to continue to allow you to assist us in our quest. Now Scrote, why don't you make yourself useful and pluck all the feathers off this thing and cook it for me? I think I might go catch a little more shut eye. Wake me up when it's ready."

"Yes, sir," Brandon said as he began to prepare the pigeon.

"Bunch of ingrates," Fabian muttered to himself as he laid back down and made himself comfortable. "This better be a tasty pigeon or I might have to hurt somebody." He closed his eyes and drifted back off to sleep.

He was awakened a short time later by Brandon shaking him. "Sir, wake up. Your pigeon's ready. I'm afraid I might have overcooked it a little." He shoved a charred, rubbery piece of meat at Fabian.

"Are you fucking with me, Scrote?" Fabian asked. "You'd better not be fucking with me."

"I'm sorry, sir. It was an accident. I guess I don't really know how to properly cook pigeon. I kind of set it on fire."

"I noticed. You're lucky I'm famished or I'd send you out to hunt something else. As it is dinner better be phenomenal or I might have to cut you up. Consider this a fair warning." He quickly devoured the burnt pigeon and let out a loud belch.

"Also, Sir Mikael is anxious to get on the road."

"Oh he is, is he? Well he can wait until I'm good and ready. I'm the leader of this party, after all." Fabian sat with his arms crossed for several minutes. He watched a pillbug scamper across the ground next to him and disappear into a hole. "Okay, this is getting boring. I'm ready to go now."

Sir Mikael was already sitting astride Rothchild and Derek the Cleric was standing next to him holding a large tree branch he had apparently found and decided to turn into a walking stick.

"Ho there! Did you get enough sleep?" Sir Mikael asked. "Let us be off! I hope to make it to the border of Syrenia by nightfall."

"I could have slept a little longer," Fabian said with a sniff. "But being the great leader that I am, I'm willing to sacrifice a bit of slumber in order to lead us into glory and complete our quest. Now, let us be off as I hope to make it to the border of Syrenia by nightfall."

"Yes, I just said that."

"But you didn't say it with the proper authority," Fabian said. "Just because you happen to agree with my plans doesn't mean they're not my plans. Now stop trying to take credit for things that don't belong to you and let's go."

Sir Mikael gave the reins a quick shake and Rothchild began heading down the path at a brisk walk.

"Yes, go on ahead and scout the way for us," Fabian called out after him. "A great leader doesn't always have to be in front. Often times one can lead more effectively from the middle of the pack and let the expendable peons take the risk of getting attacked from the front or the flank. Speaking of which, Scrote! I'm going to need you to take up the rear and keep an eye on our hindquarters."

"Yes sir!" Brandon said as he fell back a few paces.

"You see, Derek? You could learn a lot from a guy like me."

"Actually you could probably learn a lot from me. I'm considered the most learned scholar in my order. I've spent well over half my life locked away in small poorly lit chambers in the eternal pursuit of studying arcane knowledge."

"You hear that, Scrote? Looks like you're not the only virgin in this party."

"I have taken a vow of chastity as well as poverty," Derek said.

"I, too, have vowed to remain abstinent until such time as I take a wife," Sir Mikael called back over his shoulder.

"Oh great, I'm stuck with a bunch of total nerds. Well, no need to worry. I'll handle any hot chicks we happen to come upon. You losers can sit around and talk about algebra, or whatever it is dweebs like you are into."

"I'm actually very well versed on the historical teachings of Merve-Rah, the god of sheep. Perhaps I could regale you with some tales of his writings. They're quite fascinating."

"Do I look like I want to hear about the exploits of some goat fucker?" Fabian asked. "Jeez. Why couldn't you at least been a scholar of the goddess of attractive lesbians? I'm sure that could provide some entertaining stories."

"Actually Merve-Rah never mentions anything about goats in his teachings. In his mortal life he was a shepherd and he spent hours and hours around sheep. He used this time wisely as he studied them in intimate detail and he became so knowledgeable about them that when he left his mortal body he ascended to godhood."

"Oh man. You're going to insist on telling me about this weirdo, aren't you?" Fabian covered his face with his palm.

"Go on, Derek," Sir Mikaeal called over his shoulder. "I would be delighted to hear your stories. We have a long road ahead of us after all and a good rousing tale always relieves the burden of travel."

"Then why don't I tell you about some of my famous adventures?" Fabian asked. "There's a reason I'm a legendary hero and adventurer, after all."

"Tut tut now, Fabian," Sir Mikael said. "Each of us shall speak freely when it is our turn to do so. Now I believe Derek was about to tell us about the sheep god."

"Indeed I was," Derek said. "Now where should I begin? Well, silly me, I suppose at the beginning. Merve-Rah was drawn to sheep at a very early age and proved quite precocious. At the age of two he had a masterful knowledge of sheep anatomy."

For the next several hours Fabian endured the longest, dryest, most exactingly thorough discussion of barnyard animals he'd ever had the misfortune of sitting through in his life. No boring detail proved too minor for Derek to expound upon for lengthy intervals of time.

Fabian couldn't help but feel a large wash of relief when Sir Mikael called a sudden halt to deal with a more pressing issue. They had come upon a mid-sized stream that would have been no big deal to cross under ordinary circumstances. Unfortunately the water appeared to have been turned into tar.

"This appears to be the work of the wizard Delroy," Druvidia said as she suddenly materialized next to Fabian. "Remember, he said his passion was turning water into tar."

"Yeah, well that guy's a fucking dork, too," Fabian said. "There doesn't seem to be any shortage of them around here. Don't you guys have any normal interests like drinking ale and staring at wenches with large bosoms?"

"I have taken a vow of sobriety in addition to my vows of chastity and poverty," Derek said.

"I, too, refrain from drinking," Sir Mikael said.

"I'm not old enough to go to taverns," Brandon said.

"The wild and crazy times just never end with you guys, do they?" Fabian said. "Well, it doesn't matter. How are we going to get across this stream of tar?"

"Perhaps there is a bridge somewhere nearby," Sir Mikael said. "We should split up the party! Some of us shall search upstream and some of us shall search downstream."

"Or maybe there's some sort of simpler solution," Fabian said. "Those tree branches extend pretty far across the stream. I bet I could get across pretty easily."

"That may indeed work well for you, but how am I going to get Rothchild across the stream?"

"Hmm. That is a problem. Well, I'm fresh out of ideas. I suppose we could always cook him up and make horse burgers for dinner tonight. Then we wouldn't have to worry about getting him across other than inside our bellies."

"Or maybe we could make a bridge," Brandon said. "There are a lot of big fallen logs on the sides of the path. They might work."

"Hmm," Sir Mikael said as he studied the logs. "Some of them look pretty rotten. But I suppose there are several that look solid enough. It might work if we had somebody on the other side of the stream who could help position them."

"Sir, you just said you could easily get across the stream on your own," Brandon said.

"So I did. And I could. Easily. If I felt like it. What's in it for me?"

"Do you want our help on this quest or not?"

"Just to be clear I don't need help from any of you," Fabian said. "Still, it is nice to have people to hunt and cook the meals and heal me when I get hurt and to serve as targets for any monsters that might attack us. Consider it your lucky day. I've decided to do it."

He shimmied up the trunk of the most promising looking tree and started to make his way out onto a branch that stretched most of the way across the stream. Unfortunately the branch seemed to be considerably flimsier than it had appeared from down on the ground. He heard a distinct creaking noise as he edged toward the middle of it.

To make matters worse, the heat up here was unbearable. Looking down he could see large bubbles rapidly forming and popping in the black surface. Not only had the water been transformed into tar, but it looked like it was boiling hot. The intense fumes wafting upward were starting to make him feel a little dizzy and he nearly lost his balance more than once.

The branch was getting thinner the further out he traveled on it and it was starting to bend noticeably under his weight. He heard a loud crack and could see the branch splintering up where it connected to the main trunk. Throwing caution to the wind he ran the last few feet and leapt forward just as the branch broke off underneath him and fell into the tar below.

Fabian hit the dirt on the far side of the stream with inches to spare and rolled forward. He stood up and dusted himself off. He appeared to be unscathed. Looking back he could see the branch had become stuck in the tar and bobbed away steadily on the surface. This crazy log idea just might actually work.

Druvidia suddenly materialized right next to him. "Don't even think about abandoning these brave men, you cowardly loser."

"Relax, lady. I'm not going to ditch them. I'll admit the thought crossed my mind, but I was sincere when I said it was nice to have some assistance. And make no mistake, these guys are all my assistants."

"Classy," Druvidia said with a sniff and disappeared. She rematerialized on the other side of the stream and offered her assistance in any way possible, although she was unable to help with the physical portion.

Derek, Brandon, and Sir Mikael had found a long sturdy log and between the three of them they managed to hoist it upright and then lower it slowly over the stream. Fabian was able to easily catch the other end and wedged it firmly into the dirt. The three on the other side began repeating the process with another log. It looked like difficult, backbreaking work. Fabian was happy to realize that he had the easy task, as well he should, since he had been the only one brave enough to risk his neck crossing the stream in the first place. They laid several more logs across the stream in a slow and exhausting process. Not every log was quite long enough to extend all the way across, but they still mostly stayed in place once they got stuck in the tar. A couple of them fell at slightly weird angles, but by the end they had a serviceable bridge.

Brandon made his way out onto the bridge uncertainly. He was relieved to find it held his weight easily and hurried across. Derek the cleric came next, and although he was considerably heftier than Brandon, it supported him as well.

The real test came with trying to get Rothchild across. Sir Mikael decided it would be best to dismount and lead the horse across, so as to spread their weight around more evenly and also so he could look in the horse's eyes and help keep it calm. The bridge was holding up remarkably well and everything seemed to be going smoothly.

That was when the giant direwolf decided to emerge from the woods right behind Fabian.