The miscreants

  Not much has happened since we last saw them. They did what they did, which is whatever they set their minds to do or not do. Sometimes they got drunk and sat around the fire and lied to each other, even though no one ever believed them. Other times they helped old ladies with their groceries or cut their lawns. They never asked for any pay for their help, but they also would never refuse it if offered. They preferred to be paid in wine or whiskey, but they would take cash as long as the liquor store was open. The owned nothing and spent their days wandering, picking up things others left behind, things thought useless by their previous owners. The miscreants would take these things back to their camp at night and find new uses for them, uses not thought of by the item's inventor. 

  The crab-looking guy made his way around at night usually, so he wouldn't be frightening the local people. The robot, scarred from use, never forgot his lost love. He was either drunk or busy trying to fix the broken things around the camp. The vagabond came and went farther than the others in his daily travels. Each day would take him little farther from his companions, but he always seemed to come back just when the others had stopped thinking he would. Every once in a while a lizard stopped by and stared at them as they sat around their campfire, but he never said anything.
  The lizard didn't drink like the others and was often counted on for confirmation in any disagreements. He mostly just shook his head and the others took this as deep wisdom, unfathomable by their drunken standards. The vagabond, called Hiway by some, took the lizard on his trips sometimes across the lands. Sometimes they would split up somewhere in their travels and come back to the camp separately, with a shared story that had two endings.