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Scanlan wasn’t sure how he’d ended up in this particular predicament.
Actually, he was quite certain. He just wasn’t sure why it had to be him of all people.
It had been a pretty normal week, all things considered. A few scuffles here, a job that took them from the city of Westruun to deep in the Tal’Dorei wilderness and back, and a lot of gold now in their pockets.
Well, momentarily in their pockets. Between supplies, a night to celebrate their latest victory, and whatever inevitably came up, he was certain it wouldn’t last long.
Regardless, they had enough coin for a night in the taverns, and that was about as far as he’d decided he cared after realizing there weren’t any brothels in this section of the city.
It was pretty nice, really, to just watch everyone relax. Vax ribbed Percy about ordering whatever wine the place had instead of ale, the former noble taking it with his usual smile and retort about having civilized taste. It had devolved, briefly, into typical banter between the two about whether or not Vox Machina qualified as civilized company, only interrupted when Vex threw a gold coin at her brother and told him to get himself a drink before dragging Percy away as she bought a mug of ale for herself.
Scanlan had taken to playing accompaniment to the local band for a bit, just watching Grog and Pike drink others under the table while Percy and Vax gently tried to keep Keyleth from getting blackout drunk within an hour.
Which, hey, they hadn’t kept it from happening, but she had made it to hour two before she was practically a melted puddle of druid at the table they’d confiscated.
They were having fun, letting loose and enjoying themselves.
At some point, Pike departed with Keyleth upstairs to the rooms they’d rented out for the evening.
Vax started up some dagger-based betting game with Vex, and Scanlan wasn’t certain if the twins were cheating or not but they certainly seemed to be making more than they were losing if the continued good mood was anything to go off of.
Grog was still downing ale and winning arm wrestling competitions.
Scanlan hopped onto a barstool, grinning. “Another round, please!” he requested, holding out his mug to be refilled.
A small handful of gold coins fell onto the bar. “For his refill and mine,” Percy hummed, tilting his own empty wine glass.
The barkeep nodded, taking both and returning them a few moments later with them filled once more.
“Ah, thanks, Percy!” Scanlan grinned.
Percy rolled his eyes. “Merely convenient,” he hummed, sipping at his own wine as the gnome turned to face the bar at large and took a swig of his drink.
Sure, whatever helped the gunslinger sleep at night.
“Bets on whether Vax is cheating with whatever he’s up to?” the bard asked, nodding at the twins as they seemingly won another round of their game, the other player already forking over a bet for a rematch.
“Hm…” Percy turned, considering it for a moment. “Fifty-fifty. It is daggers, some sort of precision throwing I believe, so hard to cheat and his wheelhouse. However, with money and Vex involved, you never know. I’m certainly not going to try my luck at finding out.”
Scanlan chuckled. “Even Grog wouldn’t poke that bear.”
“Exactly.” The human grinned as Vex shouted in triumph, delight on his features as he watched the twins practically glow with satisfaction as another contestant stepped forward.
Scanlan let his attention drift over the tavern once more, reveling in the atmosphere and the music, the booming laughs of Grog off to the side and the subtle clink and clunk of glasses and mugs as they were shifted and cleaned behind him
“I’m thinking of heading northeast from here.” The conversation wasn’t really hushed, though perhaps drowned out by the louder tavern-goers for the most part, but it was still curious.
Northeast… That would be heading towards the Shearing Channel, wouldn’t it? He couldn’t think of much in that direction other than wilderness… And sure, Vox Machina had gone into the southern most reaches of the Parchwood Timberlands a couple of times, but that was rare.
Westruun was, honestly, about as far east as they usually went, barring the Lucidian Coast where many of them originally met.
“Northeast? Have you gone mad?”
“Of course not, but I’ve got plenty of goods from Emon, things that I reckon are hard to find up north.”
“No one goes up there. They say people don’t come back.”
Scanlan raised a brow. He’d… heard that rumor, a couple of times, but it always sounded exaggerated. A joke made by people who never would’ve considered the journey anyway. That sounded far more serious than the passing mentions he’d heard before.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Percy had stilled, head half tilted as he no doubt listened in to the same conversation Scanlan was.
“Ah, poppycock. You tellin’ me that people really go up there and just disappear like that? All of ‘em?”
“Yes!”
“Nonsense. You’ll see. I’ll be up in Whitestone in two weeks time and write you.”
Scanlan wouldn’t have thought much of the name, because really he didn’t even recognize it but he’d guess it was a city or town in the north, except for the fact that Percy froze, body going rigid as his grip on his wine glass tightened suddenly enough Scanlan half-expected it to shatter.
“You’ll be dead in two weeks’ time then.”
“Do you really believe all that nonsense?”
“Look, all I know is that something’s not right up there. Whitestone’s best left alone, let them sort out their own problems if they’ve got them, don’t waste your own life for business you can find elsewhere.”
Scanlan eyed his companion out of the corner of his eye, Percy’s jaw clenched tight enough he worried about the man’s teeth, gaze now resolutely fixed on the merchant duo.
“I think you’re letting legends get to you. I mean, really? No one goes in or out alive? Strange howls and unnatural creatures the closer you get?” There was a derisive snort even as Percy almost seemed to bear his teeth.
“I’d rather be a live fool who believed legends than a dead one who didn’t.”
Percy looked about ready to either have an aneurysm or scream, an expression Scanlan usually delighted in achieving from the composed man. But this wasn’t a round of campfire stories, wasn’t Percy getting flustered or riled up by Vox Machina with nothing but harmless intentions. No, those particular looks were amusing, but they lacked the line of tension laced through Percy now.
Right now, there was no edge of exasperation to the expression, none of the begrudging amusement that was usually tacked on with the twitching of a lip or the way he couldn’t quite meet their eye for fear of cracking and losing the frustrated look. No, this was just… anger, touched by something close to despair. Emotions that were deep and dark and suffocating yet somehow contained, only the thinnest veil keeping them at bay.
“Percy? You okay?” Scanlan prompted, fidgeting as his hand started to move for his lute. Just in case…
His gaze darted to the twins, their game seemingly over and the two drinking happily, Vex’s bow and quiver of arrows on her back and Vax no doubt armed to the teeth with daggers. Then his eyes flicked to Grog, still merrily chugging ale, great axe at rest where it was strapped across his back. All three of them armed, would be ready in a second if shit went south.
Percy was quiet, and Scanlan dragged his full attention back to the gunslinger. He’d almost swear the room looked darker than he remembered as he peered at the gunslinger… “Percy?” he repeated, a little louder in case he somehow hadn’t been heard.
“What?” There was a harshness to Percy’s voice as his head snapped down to Scanlan, and for the briefest moment the gnome swore the man’s eyes were gold instead of their usual green-blue. But it must’ve been a trick of the light, a weird flicker of the tavern’s candles, because a moment later they looked normal, Percy’s entire expression softening as his shoulders suddenly relaxed, the very air around him seeming to grow lighter. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know what came over me. What do you need?”
Scanlan’s brow furrowed, before he shook his head and offered the human a smile. “Just to make sure you don’t explode your brain with how hard you’re staring,” he hummed.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Percy huffed, and Scanlan wasn’t sure if he was playing it off or really hadn’t noticed just how intense he’d gotten a moment before.
“Whatever you say, man,” Scanlan replied, shrugging as he let it go.
Percy nodded after a moment, downing the rest of his wine in one go in a way that normally would have appalled him. “I think I’ll turn in for the evening. Have a good night, Scanlan.” With a nod, the gunslinger was gone, leaving Scanlan frowning after him.
The bard huffed to himself, shaking his head. He must’ve had more to drink than he thought, he mused, if he was tricking himself into thinking the tavern’s light level was changing and Percy’s eyes were gold.
Maybe he should call it a night too… Things would be back to normal in the morning, he was sure.