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[Wolfe]

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Jareth rose slowly, his back aching from the night. The sun wasn’t yet up, but rolled up his bedroll and strapped it to his pack, turning his eyes to the shadows of the forest around him. It was as quiet as it should be.
He walked a short while until he reached the small pond in the woods north of the Blackmarsh tavern, splashing his face with the water, still cool from the night’s embrace. He looked at his own dark reflection, illuminated only by the faint moonlight and the now gray light of the rising sun through the clouds.
Pulling a strip of dried meat and a hunk of bread from his pack, he sat down to a quiet breakfast, watching a lone hind meander through the brush of the forest, not noticing his presence as he watched.
As the sun rose, Jareth made his way even further north, gathering bundles of boards he had left near the trees from which he harvested them. When his pack was growing too heavy to haul, he turned southward and began heading toward the tavern. As he walked, he saw something strange shift in the underbrush. The flash of metal caught his eye to the left, and then movement to his right.
Jareth dropped his pack and grabbed his bow, bending it in order to string it, but felt a force crash in to him from behind. He lay sprawled out on the ground, something on top of him, though he couldn’t tell what.
A moment of struggle passed, and then he heard the hissing tongue of the creature pinning him down.
“Get off of me!” Jareth yelled, attempting to roll over and defend himself.
The creature hissed, joined by the sounds of others. Jareth looked upward as well as he could and saw several lizardmen gathered around him, their mouths dripping with saliva and their skin green with slime.
“Damn swamp things!”
The creature ontop of him rose for a moment, and Jareth rolled on to his back, only to be struck upon the head by the blunt end of one of the creature’s short spears. His vision swam and turned to black as he lay there amongst the monsters.

He awoke to the sound of clashing blades, and as his focus returned he saw where it was coming from. All around him, what looked like gypsies were in battle with the hissing lizardmen. They wielded staves and pitchforks, one had a kryss and had just stabbed a lizardman through the middle.
Wiggling his hands, Jareth realized he had been hogtied, his feet and hands bound tightly by a coarse rope. He watched as a lizardman caught a woman in the shoulder with its spear, causing her to emit a deathly howl.
“Untie me!” Jareth shouted, attempting to wiggle out of the ropes.
A young boy rushed to Jareth’s side from behind a tree, a dagger in hand, and began to cut the ropes. “Help my papa!” the boy said when Jareth was free, and then scuttled back in to hiding under some dense weeds.
Jareth grabbed his bow and strung it quickly, knowing the lizardmen were occupied. He nocked an arrow and turned, aiming at one of the creatures. He released it as the creature rose its spear, and caught it in the side of the neck. A fountain of blood erupted as the creature crumpled to the ground.
Around him, the rest of the lizardmen lie dead or dying on the ground, and the gypsies who had saved him were tending to their wounded. Jareth simply watched on, a bit dazed from the days events, until an older man approached him.
“You alright, stranger?” the man asked, extending his hand in greetings. He had a severe gash across his right cheek, but didn’t seem to notice.
“I’m well. I thank you and your band for coming to my aid,” Jareth said, shaking the man’s hand.
“No worries. They’ve attacked our caravans before, it was a matter of revenge on our part. You simply acted as a distraction,” he laughed, “No offense.”
Jareth grinned warily, dropping his hands to his sides. “None taken. It’s odd for these swamp creatures to be this far south. I need to report this to the Emperor. Forgive me for making haste.”
With that, Jareth bid the band of gypsies farewell, offering to buy them all a round of ale at the tavern, and headed back toward Blackmarsh to tell his tale to the Emperor.