Jamboree man hightailed it with Skellian and Joe McShoots, and ran through a large stone archway off to the side of the throne room. The same way he’d entered the building.
They passed numerous strange vines and buds growing from the walls and ceilings, and water was slowly dripping through a hole from above.
Joe McShoots was nervous. He was sure they’d be captured. By guards. By dogs. By dragons. Anything really. Something was going to capture them.
As they made their way through the winding underground passages, Joe McShoots started panicking. “Skell, where are we going to go? I mean, we don’t know many places, we’ve only ever been in this here city, ya know?”
Skellian patted him on the back. “Don’t worry about it, lad. You worry too much. Ol’ Jamboree here is gonna get us out, and help us on our way.”
“Skell,” McShoots said. “I’ve only known Jamboree for about four whole entire minutes. Why should I trust this lunatic?”
Skellian laughed. “He’s me mate, McShoots! He’d never betray me, so just cool yer head. Here, get some more of me whiskey down ye.”
At that moment, Jamboree man came to a sudden halt. In front of them, armoured all in black and neon green shiny armour, was an army of half-men. Called as such on account of them being half-man, half-beast. Some of them had the heads of horses. Some had the lower bodies of lions. In their hands they carried long gleaming weapons, some of them already dripping with blood.
Joe McShoots whimpered. “Skell, I ain’t likin’ the look of those things. My god. Oh no. Oh please no.” He was shaking uncontrollably.
Jamboree man placed an arm on McShoot’s shoulder, and said some soothing words, before taking some pink dust out of his satchel. “NOYHAMEN SKEGZHABAR!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, as he threw a handful of the dust round the corner into the group of half-men. Nothing happened. The dust fell to the floor, and the beasts continued onwards.
“Fiddle fucks,” Jamboree man said.
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