Post by Sire Halfblack on Aug 4, 2014 19:00:49 GMT
Aiprus IM 1002
Elan sneered at the pile of rags that lay before him. “You disgust me.” He said simply and let a little of the dark fire trickle onto the tattered clothe where it slowly ignited, giving off a pungent, dark smoke to mingle with the surprised cries of pain from the beggar. The wizard stepped back a little, his head tilting to one side as the beggar twisted in reflection to the curl of Elan’s own lips. “Does it hurt – you can tell me if it hurts.”
“Please…” The beggar coughed.
Skraagh shook his head and kicked the pitiful wretch painfully in the stomach, keeping him down. Elan stepped forward again and pushed the thug back where he was meant to remain – firmly in the background. Poor Baby wimpered at the conflict within himself, but his blubbing halted when a sharp pain burnt down his left shoulder. With a shout of surprise he turned to see a shadowed figure flash another knife at him from a distance of ten paces but this one he avoided by ducking down into the filth of the alleyway.
“Bastard!” The Kallah hissed. “What do you think you’re doing..?”
“I hate beggars!” Baby managed. “Bloody layabouts, what good do they do anyone?”
“In our city we do as we wish – mostly we kill people and make poison.”
Elan through more fire at the newcomer even as Skraagh roared in anger and pulled free his weapons but the Kallah danced upwards until he could stare down at the angry figure now below him from the relative safety of the rooftops.
“I preferred it as a wand…” The wizard snapped. Skraagh though pulled a brick from the nearest wall and hurled it at the Kallah who ducked out of the way. “Go away, beggar!” He added as an afterthought.
He then noticed how quiet it had become.
He then noticed that the sensation of being watched was becoming acute, alarmingly so. Shapes that had previously been nothing so innocuous as shadowed parts of the city were moving now and Baby began to realise that the beggars of Deci were not quite the easy target he had at first assumed.
“Is he the one?” A thin voice came from somewhere in the darkness.
“I don’t know. Does it matter?”
“Crow was fairly insistent – after that dagger thing came into our Hall, threatening Fade, threatening the Kallah Lord…”
“Perhaps it did us a favour?” Yet another voice answered from a different direction. “Perhaps if it hadn’t done what it did then we wouldn’t have been out in such force.”
“Let’s kill this one anyway…” The first voice agreed.
Baby ran.
He could (he was sure) stand and take them on but he hadn’t actually seen any of them and they were on their own turf. No one knew Deci like the cities Kallah.
Slamming into his heavy shape Baby pushed it aside and maintained its flight. Ducking under a line of ragged washing, jumping a number of walls and occasionally taking a random turn as the odd knife clanged into a wall in an almost playful fashion the vindictive mercenary only drew up short when he scuttled before the familiar door to the Poison Club.
Hastily slapping a few grulls to the doorman, Baby entered. The main room was large and as dark as the street. There didn’t seem to be many people in the chamber and he headed for the bar where he ordered a stiff drink, sank it, then paid for another. The tall man behind the deeply varnished bar grinned at him with a mouth too wide for normal humanity and crammed with a layer upon layer of sharp teeth.
“Bad day?” Mr. Wyvern asked.
“No.” Baby snapped back.
“Friends of yours?” The barman continued despite the patron’s abruptness. Baby turned to see a single figure in last-years fashionable Deci garments saunter in and come to where he stood. The man did not order a drink, just leant backwards on the bar.
“Good evening.” He said.
Baby ignored him.
“This place is neutral territory so we won’t cause trouble here,” he nodded at Mr. Wyvern who smiled back, “so we’ll wait outside. When you want to come and get carved up we’ll be waiting for you. You picked a bad night for your pettiness friend,” the Kallah yawned, “we were attacked earlier this evening, we were all on the street. I’m sure Ulis would just love to have a word with a thing that sets fire to his servants.”
Skraagh snarled but Elan remained silent.
By Alan Morgan (CI4V5)