This post is my entry to November's Scholar and Scribe Invitational - you can find the details in THIS POST
For tohse who have been following my scribblings for a while, yes, Marv has appeared before. He's one of my favourite characters, a young (and beardless) gnome in my Dungeons & Dragons setting who is possibly the most inept (or unlucky) inventor in the world 😁
Enjoy !
Image created by AI in NightCafe Studio
The young gnome spared a glance over his shoulder as he ran full-pelt down Park Lane.
The wreckage of Engineer's Tower was almost invisible, just a stump where it had stood proud and tall only twenty minutes ago. It's position was given away not by imposing stonework that had stood for centuries, but rather by the cloud of grey smoke rising from it's remains.
Marv couldn't stop and stare, though. A clattering of boots on cobbles told him that the squad of City Watch pursuing him weren't far behind. He needed to find somewhere less open, where the space between his shoulder blades didn't itch in anticipation of a crossbow bolt from behind.
He knew the next left would take him into Market Square. Lots of stalls, lots of people, lots of hustle and bustle. He could easily get lost there; it was his natural environment.
With a skill born of far too much experience getting out of tricky situations, he flung himself left, careering off a wall with a thump, using the impact to shift direction without losing momentum.
Damn ! He'd forgotten it was Tyrsday. Magoran Market was closed for the day. Stalls all closed, no-one around. There was no safety here.
"Oi ! You ! Stop in the name of Count Traymor !"
It was be one of his pursuers, standing at the end of the lane he'd come in on, aiming a lethal-looking crossbow right at him.
There was absolutely no way he was going to stop. Last time he'd crossed paths with Count Traymor, the city's ruler had tried to introduce him to Sigismund the Pitiless, his most efficient torturer. This time would be unlikely to go any better.
As he started to duck under a colourful closed canopy, he heard the sharp smack of the crossbow being fired. The bolt whipped past his face, missing by less than a foot.
Rolling under the stall, he saw the one behind it was also a wagon covered with canvas to make it into a mobile stand, so he kept rolling. He could hear guards pouring into the square, but from the sound of it they were unsure where he'd got to.
Making the most of the brief respite, he hid under a stall for thirty seconds to get his breath back. Then he moved as stealthily as he could to get to the southern exit of Market Square. If he could make it to the city's Southside, he'd have a good chance of disappearing in it's warren of bustling streets and narrow alleys. It would be dark in an hour, and that would help.
A while later, he was sat in The Dancing Owlbear Tavern, having found a seat in a corner snug screened by a curtain from the line of sight of anyone coming in but with a good view onto Jugglers' Square.
He'd folded his distinctive red top hat down into a disk that hung from his belt, and turned his coat inside out so that it was now green instead of crimson. He was glad he'd paid a little extra to get the lining made of the same overcoating as the outside.
Just as Marv started to relax, he heard heavy footsteps. With relief, he realised they hadn't spotted him... yet. He could hear them talking to the barkeeper.
"Sergeant Horberd of the City Watch. We're looking for a gnome who calls himself Marv the Magnificent. Blew up Engineer's Tower, you must have heard the bang."
There was a pause. He guessed the barkeeper was asking for more information, but he didn't hear the question. He hoped he wasn't being pointed out. The sergeant continued.
"He told the Mages Guild he'd invented a way to make their favourite whisky in super-fast time. They let him set his distillery up in the bottom of the tower, and the very next day.... boom, it's gone. If you see the gnome, he's beardless, got a red top hat and coat. There's a substantial reward."
Marv shivered with dreed. If he was turned in, the thought of Sigismund getting to work with heated knives and crushing stones made Marv feel sick. He could hear the barkeep and sergeant exchanging quiet words.
Then louder.... "I'll let you know if I see him. Have a good evening, Sergeant."
A few moments later, the barkeeper put his head around the curtain drawn partway across Marv's snug. "Reckon it's you they're looking for. Don't worry, I'd never grass anyone up to those bastards. But it might be best if you went out the back once we're sure they've gone."
Nodding vigorously, Marv thanked him. It was a relief to know there were others in Magoran who detested the brutish thugs of the City Watch.
It didn't take Marv too long to work through the network of alleys and streets deep into Southside. Despite the name, it wasn't a real slum like The Chasm further west.
Southside was the commercial hub of Magoran by day, and the heart of it's nightlife now it was dark. Crowded, risky at times, but not downright dangerous.
He kept moving in a kind of Brownian Motion, flowing with the crowds of shoppers, visitors and merchants. All the while, he had to watch for squads of guards who were clearly hunting for him.
Eventually, without really thinking about his exact route, he found standing outside The Rouge, the seediest brothel in the seediest street in town.
"Pssst, Marv.... come in 'ere. I know they're looking, you'll be safe here, and have a good time to boot, if you want."
It was a slender fellow dressed in cerise and green pantaloons, a purple hat with far too many garishly dyed feathers, and an extravagant coat in what looked at first glance like cloth of gold, but was more likely cheap brass.
Marv knew him. It was Brillo the Grease, known con-man and snitch. He'd come up in the world over the last few years. Despite this, he still had an indefinable aura of being a bit too slimy for his own good, as if he was still more at home waiting in dark alleys to swindle old ladies out of their life savings.
Marv couldn't wander the streets all night, he was exhausted, so with a certain amount of trepidation he followed Brillo through the door with it's faded red paint.
Straight into the arms of a smirking Sergeant Horberd.
"Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. A little rat. A rat who blew up an ancient tower. A rat who can watch while Sigismund turns his finger bones into penny whistles for the city's kids."
Terrified, Marv lost control. Crunching forward, he threw up all over the watchman's boots. It earned him a punch in the face.
Wobbling and blacking out, Marv felt multiple hands grab him, tying ropes around his arms and putting shackles on his legs.
He was dragged backward out of The Rouge, and realised that this was a scrape he probably wouldn't get out of.
Then there was a voice. One he knew.
"Excuse me sergeant !"
The voice was soft and high, but with a tone like cut glass that conveyed absolute authority.
They all turned and looked. It was Lady Merielle. She was the most beautiful woman in the city, and often seen in the company of Count Traymor. It was clear who was the brains in their relationship. Right now, she was wearing a ground-length pure white fur cape. There was no clue what (if anything) she was wearing beneath it.
All the guards knelt before her, dragging Marv down with them with a vicious tug. She looked down at them regally, and held the group in silence for a while.
Then she spoke.
"He is mine. He comes with me, sergeant. Don't worry about the Count, or the tower. Both will be dealt with. Rufus, pay the man."
A previously un-noticed flunky stepped forward and dropped a full-looking purse onto the ground before Horberd. It would be full of the wedge-shaped gold coins known as Shards. Merielle was well known for not using Silver Splinters, saying they were nowhere near valuable enough when it came to offering incentives.
The guards hurriedly untied Marv as Horberd looked on with a mixture of frustration that his hunt had ended without success mixed with greed for the gold.
Merielle gestured for Marv to follow her, and without waiting for a response turned to stride towards Body Lane. All he could do was trot after her obediently.
When they were out of sight of the guards, she turned and looked at him with a dazzling smile.
"You're a funny little man, Marv. You have the makings of a genius, but it never quite works out right for you. That's twice I've saved you. Soon enough I shall require a small favour to repay the debt. But for now, run along, enjoy Magoran, and do please try not to blow anything else up..."
Image created by AI in NightCafe Studio
One for @oblivioncubed - an ancient relic, the original map of Magoran I drew circa 1980. It's on it's side; south is to the left.