It was supposed to be a quiet night as the massive man stumped his way through the little town that bore his name. He hadn't been here in what felt like forever, but it was still technically one of the places he could call home. Heck, the people here didn't realize it, but they were still paying him rent! That was one source of useful income when he needed it. Still, his hand idly went to his belt as he stumped through the town. It was supposed to be a quiet night, it wouldn't do to disturb too many people. After making sure everything was as it should be, he turned to the focus of his attention.
There was a flash of green light in the window, an unholy shriek of agony, and silence.
It was supposed to be a quiet night...
Grumbling under his breath, the man stumped up to the house, gently pulling the door open as the walls of the house almost seemed to unfold to grant him entry...but surely that was a trick of the light. Houses couldn't open up like that of their own accord, and people didn't naturally get so big that it would be needed. Definitely just a trick of the light, surely. At least that's what everyone would have convinced themselves of by the time they glanced away, without even really thinking about it. After all, wasn't there a saying about people seeming 'larger than life'? Surely that's all it was...
Stroking the mane of red hair that surrounded his face, the man took a few sniffs. "Aye," he muttered under his breath irritably, "this was the doin' o' Sally's brat." He sighed, dragging his wooden leg so the tip - which was wide enough that on anyone else it would be considered a stump - through the dirt on the floor. "Let's see the damage..."
The man stumped idly past the first dead body, a brief glance all he gave it as he walked. The second dead body drew more attention, leading to him shaking his head while muttering about it being 'a damn shame'. As he passed the empty set of robes, he spat derisively on it. "Got what ye deserved, ye doaty, howlin, hackit, lavvy heid, bampot nyaff," he growled out before walking up to the crib. He sighed sadly as he looked down at the scarred infant within who was just starting to fuss and cry. Leaning in close, he saw the nature of the scar...and what that meant. "Great...the scabby walloper can't even die properly...guess this is our mess ta clean up." He glowered down at the robes. "If'n ye weren't Sally's boy, I'da run ya through before ya ever got to the castle. Instead, I'm stuck with the cleanup." He sighed gustily, the waving of his beard seeming to entertain the child as it dipped into the crib. "Still...we clean up our messes..."
With that said, he slipped one hand under the crib to cradle it between his fingers, lifting it up and bracing it against his chest where the child could cling playfully to his whiskers. Turning, he calmly stumped out of the house and the village, no one paying him any attention whatsoever. It's not that they didn't see him, or his actions. They just...weren't important.
Had anyone still been awake, they would have noticed the giant of a man who showed up later and made such a fuss searching, despite him not even being half the size of the one who'd left. But no one was awake then...which was a good thing, as the man apparently had a rather colorful vocabulary.
The young seeming man sat beside the fire, idly tending it as his companions set up the tent they would be sharing, as usual. The taller woman was at work stretching the canvas while the much shorter woman hammered the pegs into the ground. All three were dressed for traveling, their clothing well worn but showing no signs of wear, of high quality without looking too fine. He was dressed in green, while the women were dressed in blue and yellow, respectively. He'd offered to help set up the tent as he always had...but just like always they'd rebuffed him, with their usual joking insistence of how awful the inside would end up looking if they left it to "the boys" to "decorate". Instead, he focused on making sure the fire would keep burning, the food would cook...and keeping an eye out for their fourth who had gone wandering.
"Any idea where Goody's gotten to?" the taller woman asked idly as she worked, her voice careful and precise, sounding quite well educated.
"Who can say, Rowie," the shorter allowed with a wide, infectious grin, her tone somewhere between affectionate, comforting, and boistrous. "But no worries, he'll come wandering back when he smells dinner, he's yet to be late for a meal or a drink."
"Yes," the man stated irritably, his voice cultured and urbane, with a smooth timbre that spoke of one used to dealing with socialites. "And he'll bring trouble with him, Puffy. He always does."
"Like it's any different when you go wandering?" the shorter woman countered with a dangerous glint in her eyes. "What was it you brought back last time again?"
"A lamia, I believe," the taller woman pointed out with a smirk.
"No, that was the time before," 'Puffy' corrected with a smirk. "Oh, that's right! A manticore!"
The man at the fire adopted a playful pout. "She was a perfectly wonderful guest," he offered defensively, but said no more. It didn't matter if she didn't even come up to his waist, he knew better than to rile her up too much. There was a modern joke to be made regarding her honey colored hair and her animal identity, and it suited her to a T...or would it be a B? Or possibly P?
"Did I hear someon' mention food?" the giant of a man all but bellowed as he marched into the camp, towering over the others by more than double their height and yet sitting down among them without a care. "After what I've seen, ah could really go fer a drink."
"Of course you could," the urbane man stated, handing over a mug that he pulled from nowhere, one that was nearly as big as his torso. "So what were you out looking at?"
The giant of a man set down the crib before taking the mug and chugging the entirety of its contents in one mouthful. "That brat o' yours, Sally. He's gone and made a right mess o things."
At the mention of the 'brat', the other three's faces twisted into expressions of distaste and disapproval. "What sort of mess?" 'Sally' inquired worriedly.
"And...why did you bring back a child, Goody?" Rowie inquired curiously, glancing into the crib to take a peek at the young one.
"He's the mess," Goody stated gruffly. "The brat offed the boy's folks, then blew himself up. And he's gone and done somethin' ta mean he ain't actually gone, ta boot!"
Sally's face twisted into a disgusted sneer. "Of course he has..." he grumbled under his breath. "After what he did with Berasha, why should I be surprised? ...still owe her a proper apology when I can..."
"Since he's one o' yours, Sally, that makes this our mess ta clean up," Goody pointed out ruefully as the one called 'Puffy' lifted the child from the crib, cradling him against her chest.
"Well, then we'll just have to do that," she stated happily, sitting down and rocking the child to sleep. "I think we're cut out to be parents, wouldn't you say? It wouldn't be the first time for any of us."
"It has been a while, though," Rowie pointed out thoughtfully.
"Then we'll just have to find a book on it, won't we?" Puffy offered with a smirk, setting the two men to chuckling while Rowie briefly perked up before glowering at her.
When the trail was followed the next day, the only thing that was found was the crib, and no sign that anyone else had been there.