After several minutes and taking various twists and turns, Fabian judged that he had managed to shake his pursuer, at least for the moment. He decided it might be a wise idea to skip town. It would be a shame to leave behind all of his winnings from the card game, but things were getting a little too hot around here. Besides, he reasoned that a master thief like himself should be able to find some more loot to steal shortly.

The more immediate problem was finding clothes and a weapon. He surely wasn't going to hit the road in an old woman's nightgown and he needed protection in case he encountered any monsters out in the wilderness. He soon found a nice pair of britches and a cloth shirt hanging off a laundry line in somebody's back yard. He pilfered them quickly and hopped over the fence into an alleyway.

The blind beggar he had encountered earlier was sleeping behind a pile of rubbish. Despite being covered in dirty rags, he appeared to be sporting a decent pair of leather boots. Fabian peeled them off and put them on his bare feet. They were a little too big, but they would do for now. He also found a small rusty dagger in the beggar's belt, which he took along with the belt. For good measure he stole the rest of the shillings out of the beggar's tin cup and set on his way. "Talk about robbing him blind," he chuckled to himself.

He poked his head out of the alleyway and looked both directions down the main street. Balooga the Mighty didn't appear to be anywhere in sight, so he quickly and quietly made his way to the town's front gate. It was closed and locked for the night, but Fabian climbed over it deftly and dropped to the ground outside the town wall.

He was congratulating himself on a well executed escape when he was suddenly shoved violently from behind. He fell head over heels and then rolled over onto his back whereupon he discovered a large pike was being pressed against his throat. "You, sir, are under arrest."

"What for?" Fabian asked.

"You know what for. I've got you now, Patrice. There's no escaping this time."

"Patrice?" Fabian said. "Gordon? Is that you?"

"Yes, I am known as Gordon the Guard, foul rogue. And from now on I shall be known as Gordon, capturer of the dread king of the pirates Patrice!"

"Oh, for crying out loud," Fabian said. "We just went through this a few hours ago. I'm Fabian, remember? Famed hero and adventurer?"

"You're sure you're not the evil pirate king Patrice?" Gordon asked.

"I'm sure," Fabian said. "See? No eyepatch. No hook hand. No peg-leg. No pet parrots. I don't even sprinkle my speech with 'Arrr Matey's' or anything. I'm most definitely not a pirate."

"Gosh, I could have sworn you were him. Well, I'm terribly sorry about that, sir. I'll let you be on your way then."

"Thank you," Fabian said as he stood up and straightened his collar. "Say, you wouldn't happen to know where the next closest village or town is, would you?"

"The city of Braithvale lies but a two days journey east of here," Gordon said.

"Two days east, huh? All right, I think I can handle that."

"Beware of pirates," Gordon called out after him.

*

It was a chilly night and Fabian became acutely aware that he no longer had a cloak. Even a ripped one would be better than nothing at the moment. The rumbling in his belly also alerted him to the fact that he had managed to leave town without any rations and he was getting pretty hungry already. That two days journey to the next town was starting to sound much longer than it had initially.

Luckily he had some skill in setting traps for wildlife. Using the dagger he had lifted from the beggar he cut some long reeds into a sort of lasso and set it on a small trail he discovered that looked like it was well-traveled by animals. He settled himself under a large bush that offered a little bit of shelter from the elements and managed to doze off for about an hour. When he awoke, he immediately went to check his trap. He found that he had managed to ensnare a diseased looking rat with several large gaping sores covering its body. His belly let out another loud grumble, so he shrugged his shoulders and cooked the rat over a small campfire he built. It tasted not unlike raw sewage, but he figured it was better than nothing. He nestled himself back under the large bush and slept until morning.

He was awoken by the sounds of a skirmish somewhere nearby. Sensing a potential opportunity, he headed in the direction of the battle. He peeked around a tree and saw four warriors doing battle with a group of orcs. Several dead orcs lay on the ground already and the warriors seemed to be making short work of the remaining adversaries. More tantalizingly, Fabian spotted a nice, big treasure chest that the orcs seemed to have been guarding.

He waited patiently until the battle was very nearly over. The warriors had reached the point where they were each battling a single orc and it was clear they were about to dispatch the last of their foes. When there was but one orc left, Fabian snuck up behind it and stabbed it in the back with his dagger. It collapsed dead at his feet.

"Well fought battle, comrades," Fabian said loudly.

"Who the hell are you?" asked the warrior who had been battling the orc that Fabian stabbed. "I was just about to finish that bugger off! What do you think you're doing stabbing him in the back?"

"Why, I'm Fabian, the famed hero and adventurer," he said. "I fought these foul orcs alongside you and just vanquished the last one here. Well, since we all fought this battle together, why don't we split the treasure equally five ways?"

"You didn't fight this battle," the warrior shouted. "You waited until there was just one orc left, who I was clearly about to defeat, and then you snuck up behind him and stuck him with that tiny little poker you're carrying."

"See that's where you're mistaken," Fabian said. "You lot were so busy fighting these orcs here that you didn't see the ten other orcs that were gathered behind that tree over there. I single-handedly defeated them and then came to bravely offer up my assistance with this last one here."

"If you killed ten orcs over there, where are the bodies?"

"I burned them obviously. It's a bit nippy out this morning, don't you think? I don't even have a cloak. Pardon me for wanting to warm myself up a little."

"Burned orc flesh has a very distinct stench," the warrior said as he sniffed at the air. "I smell no such odor."

"That's because I find the scent of burned orc to be highly objectionable, so I sprayed the area down with some nature-scented air freshener. I used up the whole spray bottle and threw it off into the woods somewhere, so I'm afraid I can't show it to you. You're just going to have to trust me on this one. Now, let's open up that chest over there and see what kind of loot we just earned ourselves."

"I ought to cut you down where you stand," the warrior snarled. "You, sir, are little better than these abominable orcs. Now be gone! You shall receive no share of this treasure." The other three warriors approached slowly with their swords held up at the ready.

"You guys are being real skinflints about this, you know that?" Fabian said. "A guy goes out of his way to risk his neck helping you and you're not even going to share in the spoils of victory? Way to keep it classy, guys."

"We are not splitting up the contents of this chest," one of the warriors said. "It belongs to our lord and master the Duke of Farnsworth. These orcs stole it and we are recovering it for him."

"Oh come on," Fabian said. "As if you guys weren't planning on opening it up and taking a little something out of it for your troubles. Everyone knows you can skim a little off the top and those rich guys won't even notice."

"We are men of honor," one of the warriors shouted. "Your suggestion is highly offensive. Our lord treats us fairly and we give him our loyalty and trust in return."

"Jeez, you guys are a bunch of goody-two-shoes, aren't you? Come on. Aren't you at least curious about what's inside the chest? Let's pop it open and have a look."

"The contents of the chest are none of your concern."

"Well, damn it, I could have been killed by those nasty orcs," Fabian whined. "I deserve something out of this ordeal. I'm not leaving until I get some sort of reward."

"I noticed you mentioned not having a cloak," one of the warriors spoke up. "I ripped mine during the heat of battle. It is useless to me now. I was planning on throwing it away, but I will give it to you. That shall be your reward. Ask for no other or you shall find my patience grows rapidly short."

"Okay, I'll take it," Fabian said with a shrug. "Let me just come over and grab it from you. Oops, sorry about bumping into you there, big fella. Oh, clumsy me, I didn't mean to bump into you either, kind sir. Oh, goodness I really need to watch where I'm going. I managed to accidentally bump right into all of you. How silly. Well, I'll be on my way now."

"Don't even think about following us, scoundrel," one of the warriors called after him. "If we catch sight of you again we shall execute you on the spot."

"No problem," Fabian said over his shoulder as he scurried off into the nearby woods. He had been considering following them and stealing the chest at an appropriate opportunity, but he had a feeling these guys would make good on their promise of killing him. He figured he'd have to just get by with the contents of the pouches he had picked out of each of their pockets when he bumped into them. He tightened up his new ripped cloak and hurried away.