[center][h3]Olo Dudley[/h3] [/center]
“And I’ll smash your puny head if I ever see you again!” a voice said so loudly that it seemed to reach every corner of the town. Bystanders in the streets watched with bated breath as a raged barbarian took one huge step towards what looked to be a child, ready to do what he said he would do ‘the next time he saw him’. If it were not for the fighter who stood between him and the child, no one would have been surprised if the barbarian did smash the child’s head in the middle of town. The man practically huffed smoke through his nostrils before stomping towards a parked wagon. The wizard of the group, uninterested in the whole ordeal, followed the barbarian into the wagon. When the possibility of a child being beaten up and a fight ensuing vanished, so did the interest of the onlookers. Many resumed what they were doing previously.  

“Are you alright, Olo?” the cleric asked the child. The child nodded weakly, but his honey flower eyes were glued to the ground. The cleric parted her lips, intent on saying something until a new argument erupted from the wagon between the barbarian and wizard. She glared at the wagon with annoyance, tried to continue, but the escalating bickering in the background distracted her once more. “You should go,” Olo said, meeting the cleric's eyes, he offered the smallest of smiles, “I’ll be fine.” The woman returned the smile, “May Lathander watch over you and the dawn bring you hope.” Olo, not sure how to reply, simply answered, “Stay safe out there.” “And you,” the cleric rushed back to the wagon to calm her party members down, leaving the leader of the group with Olo.

“Sorry about all this.”
“No, no. Don’t be. It was my fault. If I wasn’t such a klutz we wouldn’t have almost died back there. I,” Olo’s voiced stuttered, “I know this is for the best… I just wish I could’ve done better.”
The fighter extended his hand to pat the halfling’s fluffy hazelnut hair then thought better of it. Instead, he knelt down to place his hand on Olo’s shoulder. “You’ll get there. We just… can’t risk it right now. If things are as bad as rumors say they are---”
“I’d be a liability.”
“Olo.”
Olo smiled, “Don’t worry, it’s not the first time I’ve heard that.”
The fighter grimaced for a moment, “Maybe… we can team up again. After we clean up the mess around Daggerford.”
“That’s… kind of you to say, but you don’t---”
“I’m serious.” Firm hands turned the halfling so that the two were facing each other, “When you hear that Daggerford is no longer plagued by whatever it is suffering from right now, come find us and then we’ll try out something easier together. Okay?” Befuddled, Olo stared at the fighter’s expression to gauge how serious his offer was. Why would anyone want him back into the group, especially after such a debacle?

“Christoph!” the wizard cried out, “Let us depart! I cannot stand wasting more time than we already have!”

“Coming!” The fighter stood up to leave, “Think about it. Oh, and no pressure.” Christoph glanced towards the dark figure sitting patiently next to Olo’s luggage. “Take care of Olo for us, Dorothea.” The large feline gave a slide-glance in response to the request but nothing more.

As he watched the wagon carry the four adventurers out of town Olo waved both of his hands in the air, “Good luck guys!” He smiled when he saw two out of the four waved back, but as the distance between the wagon and himself grew, the smile slowly faded away and both his gaze and his hands started to lower. By the time the wagon disappeared into the distance, Olo was staring at the ground once again, kicking the dirt every now and then. 

Dorothea butted her head against Olo’s side, snapping him out of it. “Well Dot, it’s just you and me again.” Olo scratched her forehead, “I think I can use a drink, what about you?”

[hr]
[hr]
The tavern Olo found was far from the cleanest place he’d ever been to. The floor was mostly littered with dirt from shoes, pieces of food that fell off the plate for one reason or another, and other questionable things that he and his siblings would have been scolded for if they had not cleaned up back home. What an absolute fit his parents would have if they saw this place. At least the establishment had the common decency to wipe the tabletops when the patron left.  

Olo maneuvered his way towards the bar counter with Dorothea right alongside him. After a few attempts at climbing the bar stool, Olo placed some coins onto the counter, “I’d like a pint of beer, please.” The barkeeper studied Olo, “I think you’re too young to appreciate the taste of beer.”
Glancing at the bottles in the back, Olo asked, “Does… that mean I should try your whiskey?”
The man burst into laughter and was joined in by the other patrons who were close enough to see the whole exchange. “No, kid, I mean that alcohol is for adults, not kids.”
Olo crossed his arms and puffed his chest to look bigger, “I’m not a child.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure thing kid.” The bartender surveyed the crowded room, “Where’re your parents?”
“You can try looking, but I highly doubt they’d be here or this town.” Olo sighed. He hated it when this happened. Olo seemingly stopped growing since he turned ten and he was reminded on a daily basis that he still looked like a little boy at the age of thirty-one. “Look, can I get something to drink? I have the money to pay for it.”
“I don’t serve drinks to kids.”
“Seriously, I’m not a child.”
“Said every kid when they wanted to do something they shouldn’t.”

Olo let out a frustrated noise and slammed his forehead to the counter. “Okay here’s a deal,” The halfling looked up to see the bartender take a coin and slide the rest back to Olo. “I’ll get milk for you and your furry friend so you can grow up to be big and strong. And when you’re big enough, you can try the beer. How’s that?” 

Olo glanced down at Dorothea, who stared right back at him, “Is that satisfactory for you?” She didn’t say anything, but he took her silence as a yes. He narrowed his eyes at the bartender, “You win this round, barkeep.” 

Unable to drink his beverage without his mind worrying about what he should do next now that he had no traveling companions aside from a panther, Olo decided to distract himself by observing the other patrons. Most of them looked like locals. Something about them ---their style, their mannerisms, or something--- just felt similar to every other person in town. The few outsiders were easy to spot in the crowd, but there was one man who stuck out even more than the rest.

Initially, it was the almost outlandishly colorful attire that caught Olo’s attention: he had seen nobles and entertainers wear such garments before and wondered if the man was one or the other. When he saw the markings on his face even more questions popped into the halfling’s head. So many questions. None that could be answered unless he asked them directly.

Olo climbed down his perch and approached the man, only to realize that he was in the middle of a predominantly one-sided conversation with the other customers. He was telling stories about his adventures. Olo’s favorite kind of stories. The plan to wait till the man finished talking to ask his questions, immediately switched to him just listening with the rest of the group. He was a passive listener at first, but as he became increasingly enamored by the tales being told and the way they were being told he started inserting well-timed responses. Some were in the form of comments and questions meant to encourage the storyteller to continue; others were facial expressions that shifted dramatically depending on what the man was talking about. Even as the other audiences slowly drifted away, Olo remained, hoping to hear more from the man named Ronan Argyle.

[hr]
[hr]
Olo expected to see Christoph and his crew, but by the time he and Ronan reached Daggerford they were long gone. Part of him was relieved that he was not in any immediate risk of getting his head smashed by the barbarian. There were, however, many others like them. The adventuring type that is. They came from, Olo assumed, various parts of the world. One quick glance at them was enough to convince him that they were all extremely skilled in their respective fields. The others didn’t know Olo’s talent of lacking talent, but he felt the weight of it in his heart. He was an imposter amongst a group of real adventurers, the ones that could actually make a difference in the world. It was a miracle that he was able to convince anyone, let alone the Duchess herself, that he had something to contribute to the team. [i]No Olo, bad Olo,[/i] the halfling physically slapped himself. [i]This is not about you right now, it’s about people who need help. You can help, that’s why you’re here. Besides, you’ve been doing a lot of adventuring this past decade! You were mostly on the sidelines during battles, sure, but you’ve done lots of exploring! Yeah, you’re just as much as an adventurer as anyone else. Yeah… Yeah.[/i] “Yeah!” Dorothea ---and potentially other witnesses--- watched a halfling spend half a minute slapping himself and energetically saying ‘yeah’ without judgment or interest. 

The travel towards the Misty Forrest was surprisingly peaceful. If the wolf tracks were not a constant reminder of what was lying ahead, Olo would have considered it a pleasant walk. Before the group saw the first few hints of a forest, Olo spent his time trying to get to know the members of the party by attempting to start a conversation with them. Some attempts were more successful than others, though none lasted as long as he wanted them to. When he wasn’t talking, he was taking in the scenery, gathering ideas for a song that he promised Ronan he would compose. 

Olo began to focus on the task at hand only when the group finally entered the forest. The eerie atmosphere and experience told him that he should be ready to use his ‘weapon’ at any given moment. Even Dorothea’s nonchalance was put at bay. Her body tensed and her ears twitched at the slightest noise in the distance. Her alertness allowed her to take an offensive stance a second before the pack of wolves revealed themselves from the thick mist. 

Despite the fact that he could clearly see the wolves right in front of him, the first strike at the group still came as such a surprise to the halfling that Olo reflexively took a step back, only to trip on the ground itself and land on his butt. One of the observant wolves nearby noticed the easy target and took the opportunity to lunge at the halfling. The panther made sure to introduce her claws to its face. 

Dorothea growled at the beasts, warning them to keep away from the halfling. She would fight them to the death if she had to. She was, however, at a disadvantage in terms of numbers: Dorothea could potentially handle two of the wolves at a time, but it only took one more wolf to zip past her and rip Olo’s throat out. Based on the three-wolf formation, they knew this as well. She readied herself for the barrage of attacks. Just when the wolves ran towards Dorothea and Olo’s direction an ear-piercing noise erupted from what felt like out of nowhere, momentarily staggering those with sensitive hearing ---primarily the animals.

Olo was back on his feet but was also in a state of panic when the sound that his ‘weapon’ made was nothing like he intended to be. He had made sure to tune the hurdy-gurdy before the party left Daggerford so he could only imagine that something had happened to it since then to morph the sound. Perhaps it was the humidity of the mist ---what the forest was named after--- or maybe it was from the impact of him falling. Maybe even both, Olo didn’t know. Regardless, he needed to concentrate on fixing it quickly. Olo was useless without his musical instrument. He couldn’t be a burden, not this time. Not ever again.