"There was a time when heroes roamed the land... Deeds were performed which won them great renown. The time for heroes, however, is ended. Dark days are upon the distant kingdom, and tyranny reigns supreme. There is a glimmer of hope, however, for how can one survive without whispered tales of heroism? These are tales for which three men are about to pay for with their lives. Allow me, your majesty, to paint the scene."
"Continue, raconteur. After all, the people need some entertainment this evening!" Announced the king with a merry chuckle.
"Very well..." Said the raconteur with a bow, his face grave, "Here follows the tale of the three unfortunates."
*******
"Oi, you lot! Keep it moving! Don't wanna keep the gallows waitin', do yer?" Said the portly gaoler, with a nasty leer.
"Actually, there's something I have to say about that..." Began one of the prisoners, a man in his early twenties with fair complexion and an unruly shock of dark hair.
"Yeah, yeah. Heard it all before. You lot is innocent, eh?"
"Actually, no. We're all guilty of "spreading stories of heroism", as the judge put it. Why should we be hanged for that, though?" The gaoler stopped in mid stride, surprise stamped on his features.
"Say what? You're guilty?" The young man's companions also looked taken aback by this unexpected turn of events.
"Are you mad, Jim? What the hell are you thinking?"
"Well Tom, what are they going to do to us if we admit further guilt? Hang us again?" Their other companion, who had been silent until then, let loose a gruff bark of laughter.
"Aye, the lad has a point. No sense in being meek little lambs now, is there?" Jim winked at him.
"That's the spirit, Matt. I was starting to think your fire had left you!" The sudden crack of a whip brought them back to the moment at hand, followed by the self satisfied sneer of their gaoler: "Well now, me lads, feelin' better after natterin' a bit are we? Then get a move on!" As he raised the whip once more, he felt a mighty tug on the end which sent him sprawling backwards. When his eyes focused again, the gleaming point of a dagger was millimeters away from his face, causing the gaoler to turn pale and stutter in his terror. "W... Well now... There's no need for hostilities, is there?"
"I think we've gone past that stage, don't you?" Came a quiet voice from behind the dagger. "After all, you were happily going to see these three men hang, eh gaoler?"?
"Me? Not on your life, yer honour! I'm just a poor wretch doin' 'is job!"
"Well now, how about one innocent releasing another three?" Piped up Jim with a chuckle.
"Master James, so glad you haven't lost your sense of humour."
"And you your sense of timing, Quint. Although," he added with a smile, eyeing the portly gaoler, "the good, bloodthirsty townsfolk are waiting for a hanging. Maybe we can still give them one?" At that, the gaoler began blubbering and wheezing. "Please spare an innocent man, yer honour... I didn't..." He began.
"Oh, shut it fatty. The gallows probably wouldn't have held your weight anyway. No, I have other plans for you." Said Jim. The gaoler's face sagged in relief, then further in terror as Jim outlined his plan.
"You'll have me killed either way..." He began in a terrified voice, until a second dagger flashed through the air and buried itself in the ground between his legs.
"Not necessarily, fatty." Smirked Quint.
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