“Alright, Trolley Car Bandits, present yourselves for inspection.”
In a bustling street of the Shaletop, two well-dressed youths were indistinguishable from the bourgeoisie around them, as they rolled their eyes at Farrival.
“Come on, man, it’s been weeks. Our names are Tensel and –”
“You cannot possibly expect me to commit that to memory. You’ve only just graduated from day players to repertory. And besides, you’re a performing duo. Only your deepest fans should know your names - or the hints and rumors and misinformation you spread about your names.”
“OK, so why are we here?”
“Isn’t obvious? It’s time! WE’RE ROB– we’re robbing someone!”
“Ha! Tut, tut, tut, sweet summer children. No! You do now look the part - you’re very welcome, for the clothes and decorum lessons, by the by - but you’re not ready for this.”
The pair deflated as they sighed audibly. “Then why bring us here, if we’re not doing something? And why is Grummen Boneflowers here?”
The sullen half-orc didn’t so much as stir at his own name. His face was buried in Farrival’s Haversack looking for something.
“You are doing something! You are being inspired! Witness the heights to which you may someday attain if you but adhere to my tutelage!”
The pair exchanged a blank look, and then turned it on Farrival.
“... And maybe if you also crack open a dictionary. I said someday – someday – you can do this too.”
The sound of two sharp claps filled the air, but Farrival’s hands didn’t move.
“Alright, now, you’ve inspired my hauteur, go be about your own practice. I’ve delayed my heisting tour of the continent to begin training you, but it’s time I’m off. Don’t expect to see me for several weeks. And remember, no foolish risks - if the fish aren’t biting–”
Grummen raised his head to attention.
“–I’ve hidden individual gold coins all over the city. That’s more than enough to sustain you.”
Grummen’s head dipped back into the bag. Deciphering the clues and securing the coins will serve as additional practice.”
With two more claps and an invisible hand shooing them, the grumbling young thieves backed away, reluctantly, watching the two adventurers for as long as possible.
Farrival regarded Grummen’s visible portion for a long moment.
“Mr. Boneflowers?”
“Hm?”
“If you’re quite ready?”
“Hm.”
Farrival rolled his eyes. “And what the deuce are you doing in my Haversack anyway?”
“Fish.”
Farrival stared hard at Grummen.
Grummen looked back at Farrival.
One minute later, Farrival turned heel towards their mutual quarry and began walking.
Sprightly he began, “Alright, Mr. Boneflowers, I’ve secured our entré, this should go smoothly, and our friends can certainly put this item to use better than it’s lawful owner.”
Grummen walked beside his companion.
“Yes, well don’t get all teary-eyed just because I’m not attending the wedding. I’ve sent my regrets, but please convey them in person.”
Grummen reached a hand to the Haversack on Farrival’s side.
Farrival flicked his hand down, and a deftly aimed invisible hand slapped the large hand away. “Stop that.”
“Hm.”
“You can fish to your heart’s content back in Quillpond. Now, you all won’t be able to contact me, as I’m relieving the continent of its ill-gotten and ill-used wonders and riches. But I’ll be in touch. Hold.”
The duo paused near a pillar as Farrival scoured the crowd for any audience.
“Be a good man, keep a lookout.”
“Hm.”
Farrival ducked behind the pillar to execute a quick change into the garb of one Harris Teeter, secure in his violent friend’s ability deter attention or to keep it on himself.
Scant seconds later, Farrival peered out from behind the pillar making sure no new attention was directed his way, and then stepped out. A passerby or two glanced Mr. Teeter’s way – his duds were not the style of the Shaletop, but their make was impeccable beyond the __[slums], and that averaged out to make him look, in this context, like a liveried man. But it was odd, how close they passersby were passing. Diverting around a large orcish frame should have put them at some distance.
Hm. Farrival looked to his empty left.
Then, from his right, Grummen returned to his lookout spot, manhandling a protesting footman in tow.
“Sir! Sir? The gentleperson I am to pick up is Gnomish, I’m quite sure there has been a mistake!”
“Gu- buh- wha?” Farrival looked from footman to Grummen to footman.
Grummen looked back at Farrival.
“Grummen, what!”
“He was looking. Give bag. Keep in there.”
Time stopped and Farrival’s brain skipped a beat as he processed Mr. Boneflower’s impeccable logic.
“Yes. Ok. Yes. Ok. I see.”
“Sir? As a fellow liveried man, perhaps you could explain–”
“Not you, not yet. … Ok. Yes.”
“Ok.”
“Mr. Boneflowers?”
“Hm.”
“Are you ***ing with me?”
Ed. Note: These events take place immediately before Farrival’s botched downtime robbery in which “Harris Teeter” was arrested and interrogated by a guard captain, and after which Farrival once again fled Evershoal for Quillpond.
Ed. Note – Minor retcon: During S0, Farrival was always planning to attend the wedding. Now, it’s sort of a necessity thing.