The Ward's Guard
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"I don't see her sir, you sure she's here?"
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"In this place? This will be easy."
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Pior made his pay past Aerith before quickly looking through each of the cells. "What does she look like?"
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"it's just that I wouldn't want to waste any of your time, but you said something about the spheres and I can't figure out how they work."
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The Old Man turned dramatically towards the Nurse. "Ah, I hear them coming now! The Parvis Dolor ira Populo will never take me alive! NOT TODAY!" The Old Man grabbed something from his rags and slammed it against the ground, causing a cloud of smoke to arise. As the smoke clouded everyone's vision, the Old Man ran off with his stool.
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Ros turned to Crescendo. "La-, Crescendo, I think I do need your help. That is, of you are willing."
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The Old Man wiped a tear from his grimy face. "I can honestly say, I've never seen nor heard anything quite like that; and here I thought that you knew of no stories my friend. But I judge that to only be worth have of your group, unless half of you want to stay behind, you got anything else?"
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The Old Man raised his eyebrow. "Can't say that I've heard of this one. You sure it's worth me letting you through?"
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Pior nodded while he focused on watching the surroundings and staying prepared to fight. "Got it, I'm right behind you; let's go find that kid."
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Ros nodded his head before starting to walk off, looking for someone to help him. "Oh, yes of course Brightness. I'm sorry for bothering you."
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"Breathing Brightness? So I should just try to breath it in?"
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"Brightness, I hate to waste your time, but how do I use the sphere?"
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Pior ran after Aerith and cursed as the door was closed behind them. "We're cut off from both our escape and reinforcements, we have another way out?"
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The Old Man sat on the stool. "Ah, so what will you do? The retelling of Gorgion the Kinslayer? The Affair of Kortenair the Fair? The Tragedy of Pealinarti the Pear? Or will you be doing an improvised play? I'm already getting excited!"
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"One person paying for a whole group? This is gonna be quite a show!" The old man reaches into the rags that he calls clothes and brings out three sticks tied together, he placed one end of the ground in a way so that it would make a stool. "Ah, a play. It's been a while since I've seen a good one. I'll accept that too. So which is it?"
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"If you are paying as one guy, then I judge you differently. It's much more fun to see a group effort though. So, dance or story? Maybe interpretive poetry?"
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"Oh I forgot to ask, are you paying as a group?"
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"Ah, but are they interesting?"
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"Unless one of your friends has one, then we might need to find another way. Can you dance?"
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"Ah, since my need for money is sated today; all I need is an interesting story or tune for that matter. Dancing is also accepted. If you can't pay the fee, then I'm sure you could use your wonderful map of Des Moines to help you find another way."
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"Yes yes, now about the stairs. I need the usual fare of mine."
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"That will be $7 dollars for that map of a city."
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The old man reaches into his "clothes" and pulls out a folded piece of paper. "Lucky for you, I have this very limited time offer! While supplies last."
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"Ah, so you need a map?"
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"New customers? Where you heading new customers?"
