Chapter Text
Kremy Lecroux has been alone ever since he lost his dear meemaw. For countless years, he has bounced from job to job, grift to grift. People have come, and just as soon, they’ve gone. The longest he’s been with anyone was while studying under Mr. Remy Garoux, but he knew he couldn’t trust anyone in his employ any more than he could trust the big man himself. No, the only person he could truly rely on was himself. He’s been reaffirming this to himself every day since escaping Mr. Garoux and forging his own path. It’s been a lonely existence, but at least he can claim it’s by choice.
Yes, this is his choice, Kremy thinks to himself as he quickly slinks through the shadows of a bustling street. A lone suitcase rests in his left hand, a skull-topped cane in his right. He casts frequent glances around and behind him, never comfortable relying solely on the magically enhanced shadows to keep him hidden. Leaving a town has a special way of making the lizardfolk paranoid. By the time he’s through, half the population often has reason to want him dead.
Kremy hears a distant train whistle as he spies a ragtag trio across the street searching the crowd. In the front is a hulking hobgoblin whose fists keep clenching and unclenching, and behind him is a svelte changeling and a stout half-orc. The hobgoblin is clearly the leader, his carefully neutral face betrayed by the burning fury in his eyes. The other two appear far more impassive, but Kremy knows better than to believe they’re any less invested.
Having seen these types many times before, Kremy fights to swallow the panic welling up in his throat as he quickens his pace. When the thugs nod to each other and start walking parallel to Kremy, his paranoia quickly takes hold of his heart with icy fingers. Unable to look away from the ruffians, his brisk walk slowly mounts into a sprint through the shadows which now struggle to hold him. It takes all of his power to keep his steps quiet, but it’s all for naught when someone suddenly darts out from the crowd toward the alley next to him.
The shadows drop instantly as Kremy collides with the much larger form, sending him flying to the ground with a yelp as the other person merely stumbles back a step or two. For a few moments, the two simply stare at each other in shock before Kremy curses and grabs his cane in a panic, fearing that this red-skinned man is with the hired thugs that are after him. A shout draws his attention across the street once more, where the changeling is now pointing at them, as color begins to slowly bleed into his pallid skin
Before Kremy can think, the man who knocked him over grabs his hand and starts pulling him up, sounding utterly terrified as he curses and shouts, “Come on! We gotta go!” Startled, Kremy desperately reaches for his suitcase, but the man’s strong arm yanks him away too fast. His blood runs impossibly colder, feeling as though he left his stomach in that trunk as he stares hopelessly at it until it disappears behind a brick wall as they race away down the cobbled road.
Biting his tongue, Kremy turns his gaze forward and struggles to keep pace with the longer legs of the mysterious man who is now clearly running away from the same thugs. Glancing around, Kremy notices the half-orc following parallel across the road and an elf wearing the same clothes as the changeling fighting through the crowd. Where’s the--?
The man dragging Kremy along lets out a scream as he stops short so fast he stumbles and falls to one knee. Kremy whips his head back around to find the missing hobgoblin blocking their path with crossed arms and a glare that could kill. Scrambling back up, the red man turns and sprints down the alley to their left, almost dislocating Kremy’s shoulder in his haste.
Turning, Kremy puts up a wall of shadow at the mouth of the alley to block the hobgoblin from following. The other man doesn’t even look back as he tugs Kremy down a long series of alleyways. He keeps his wide, feral eyes ahead, as they dart back and forth frantically to find the best escape route. His dark hair is plastered to his skin, clearly dirty and unwashed, and Kremy vaguely remarks to himself that he looks like an animal.
They pass countless street openings, seeing neither hide nor hair of their pursuers. A more inexperienced Kremy would almost start to believe they’ve lost them, but he’s made that mistake too many times in the past. Having been in the business for several years, with countless similar chases under his belt, it only makes him more anxious. He doesn’t see any fat ladies singing yet, and it seems neither does the other man, as he shows no signs of slowing his pace.
As they turn to escape into another street, a shirtless man steps into the mouth of the alley with a grin. Kremy can’t help but think that this changeling is really bad at disguising himself as the red man rears back, pulling him with as they return to the backstreets. They only take a few more turns before the half-orc blocks their path, forcing them to turn the other way. It isn’t long before a tiefling forces them into a different turn, and even sooner after that, the half-orc shows up again. Kremy recognizes a corral when he sees one and tugs on the red man’s arm to signal they have to completely turn around. These bruisers clearly know these streets better than them, and they’re leading them into a corner on purpose. The only way out of it is to hope the thugs won’t account for them turning all the way around and will keep moving forward until it’s too late.
Unfortunately, the red man doesn’t understand his cue, nor does he look back. All he does is tighten his grip and hasten his stride, looking for all the world like a feral animal being backed into a corner. Knowing that’s exactly what’s happening, Kremy is frustrated, but he has no choice. To be frank, he stands a better chance against a group of ruffians with someone as large and muscular as this guy than he does on his own. Unfortunately, that knowledge does little to help the pit of dread in gut as his fears become a reality.
As they stop short at a brick wall, the red man’s eyes grow impossibly wider, and he whips around wildly. His tight grip on Kremy’s hand pulls him around as well, and the alligator loses his balance, falling to his knees. He uses his cane to help himself up, watching as the half-orc and the changeling, now returned to his natural form, enter the alley with sinister grins on their faces. When the hobgoblin slowly rounds the corner with crossed arms and narrowed eyes, the man tightly clutching Kremy’s hand whimpers, “No…” Shocked, Kremy looks up at the pure terror on the man’s face. He slowly shakes his head as he repeats in a steadier but still quiet voice, “No…”
The hobgoblin chuckles cruelly. “Oh, yes,” he says, grinning. He glances between the two of them. “It’s time to pay up.” Kremy can’t tell which of them he’s talking to as the hobgoblin takes a step forward. “It’s time to come with me.”
Dirt and soot fall from the man’s hair like snowflakes as he shakes his head vehemently and shouts, “NO!” Finally, he lets go of Kremy’s hand, and he feels the blood rush back in with pins and needles as the man throws his hands forward, the manacles and chains around his wrists jingling. A warm glow emanates from within the cuffs, accompanied by a soft whistle. “I won’t go back!” As a cone of fire blasts from each of the man’s palms, the sooty grime falls almost entirely from his hair and beard as the ends begin to float gently, now revealed to be small fires of their own.
Kremy watches in awe as this man unveils his fire genasi nature and sends the two thugs in the back scampering away with lightly scorched clothing. The hobgoblin in front, looking thoroughly unimpressed, merely throws up a magical shield, which doesn’t save him from the errant flames that singe the tips of his hair. Enraged, he howls, “How dare you?” Hiding behind the shield, he starts pushing forward. “Submit!”
“No!” the genasi shouts again as the flames begin to glow brighter, burning hotter. The hobgoblin’s shield flickers, and for the first time, his mask of rage breaks, giving way to a sliver of fear for but a moment before returning. Seemingly cutting his losses, the hobgoblin backs away with a contemptuous growl. His shield breaks just before he gets out of the way of the fire. Kremy sees him clutch his hand to his face with a grimace before turning and running off into the falling night. The fire doesn’t subside for several minutes, and Kremy turns back to the genasi to find a single tear trailing down his face as he stares vacantly where the hobgoblin had once stood with eyes larger than any moon.
In a rare display of sympathy, Kremy sets a gentle hand on the genasi’s shoulder. He jumps and slowly turns his head to face Kremy. With a shaky smile, Kremy says, “He’s gone. There’s no one left to burn, so let’s put the fire away before it attracts even more attention.” The fire falters for a few moments before gradually subsiding entirely. Silently, the genasi nods and lowers his hands. Kremy nods in return and takes the other man’s hand, gently leading him out of the alley. He doesn’t resist. “Let’s go.”
And they do. Kremy casts the shadows over them, and they work overtime to hide the large glowing genasi. He moves slowly, cautiously watching the streets and alleys for their former pursuers and any would-bes. When they reach the edge of town without any further conflict, he sends a quick thank you to the Good Baron and prays that he’ll continue to watch over him. They’re not out of the woods yet, but at least one obstacle is behind them.
Kremy takes them further into the forest, avoiding the clear sight of the road. Upon finding a small clearing a few hours from the city, he stops and attempts to set up the best camp he can without the supplies in his suitcase. For a brief moment, he considers going back to retrieve it, but he wouldn’t dare risk capture, even for all his life savings and creature comforts. After all, it’s simply an occupational hazard. This has happened many a time in the past, and just as with every previous occurrence, he’ll keep his gaze toward the next town and his mind on the next con.
As Kremy works on the camp, the genasi stands where he left him, silent and unmoving. Kremy knows he took a serious gamble bringing him along, but he sees great potential in having him around. The man is massive and can clearly hold his own in a fight. Between the fire and the muscles, he could be useful for simple intimidation as well. Kremy would have to clean him up a bit, but he could make a more than suitable bodyguard. Doesn’t look like he has anywhere else to go anyway.
After moving sticks and rocks out of the way and fabricating makeshift bedrolls from moss and leaves, Kremy sets up a small pile of kindling and sticks in the center of the clearing. He fumbles with his flint for a moment before a fire flares to life. The genasi jumps as his head whips to the flame with wide eyes that reflect it brightly like burning coal.
“Take a seat,” Kremy offers, gesturing vaguely around the fire as he takes his own advice. The genasi stares at him silently for a few moments before nodding and sitting in front of the fire a few feet from Kremy. Smiling, Kremy extends his hand and says, “The name’s Kremy. Kremy Lecroux.”
Hesitantly, the genasi takes the hand offered to him and shakes it firmly. “Uh, Gideon. Coal.”
“How would you like to travel with me for a while, Gideon Coal?”
Still hand-in-hand, the genasi pauses for a few minutes, studying Kremy’s face carefully before slowly breaking into a bright grin. “I would love to travel with you, Kremy Lecroux.”