Post by Sire Halfblack on Aug 4, 2014 19:11:47 GMT
Septus IM 1002
It had taken the goblin many weeks to reach home and he was surprised to find that the mood, though foul, was still better in Deci than in Thimon. The ill-feelings and spiteful nature of the city were well worn into the brickwork and sat happily on the city, in Thimon it had been more of an invasive emotion.
Journeying down streets familiar to him Trundelberry felt almost happy. Settling his travelling pack more comfortably upon his shoulder, the goblin opened the door to the ‘Stab in the Back’ and was surprised to see how much the Stepsons had grown! They were nearly as tall as he now and whilst that was not tall at all, it was certainly a change from the more childish forms they had possessed when he had left them. Overjoyed to see their stepfather, the vermin capered about him, eager to show what they had acquired in the last few months.
“Look-look!” They chorused as they placed a number of items before their adoptive father.
The first was, unsurprisingly, a knife. It was made from a dark stone however and even though it had an edge, Trundelberry saw that it was of more use in ritual. He swore as what he had thought to be a dull edge nicked his thumb but then watched as it drew the blood into itself. Nodding, the goblin looked at the next piece of equipment.
It was a stone and when Trundelberry touched it, it grew light in his hand. He weighed it thoughtfully as all the luck he had felt about him since speaking with Querlis came to reside in the stone.
Picking his way through the excellently crafted knives from throughout the known world, Trundelberry’s eyes fell on one that drew his twitching nose to its attention. Wonderfully crafted and inlaid with gold, the weapon bore a crest. He was not sure what significance such would have and asked the nearest Stepson what it meant, knowing they would have looked into it during his absence.
“Crest is of the Kesselharn Magiarch’s, father-father.” The rat explained happily. “We not sure what-what it opens but we do know it is a key! It is lovely-crafted is it not?”
Trundelberry flicked it through the air and caught it on the point of one finger before letting it fall more comfortably into his hand. Wonderfully balanced though it was, Trundelberry was not at all sure what it would open either. Still… it was sharp and pointy and that was good enough for the goblin.
*
The first service went well and the people who attended were not put off by the darkly inclined trappings of the temple, this was Deci after all and most of them assumed that this was some off shoot of the Bhaalist faith that was so predominant in the settlement. Claudious was surprised how easy it was to sway people, after the first few converts he had not needed to rely on his spirits at all and he began to see how easy it was to convince peons of the words of an adventurer such as himself.
The only trouble came when at the end of the first service a thin man in the carefully repaired clothing of what looked to be drow make, though he was obviously human, approached him and pointed at Stumper.
“What are you doing with my Hanot?” The man, patently a Kallah, asked.
“Ahhh, listen.” Claudious began to explain and wove the words of power into the pat phrases he let fall gently on the ears of the beggar. The Kallah blinked but seeming to take strength from the presence of the nearby Hanot only frowned in response. He shook his head and backed away.
“You shouldn’t try that.” The Kallah warned and hurried out of the door before the astonished priest was able to think of any response to the hardly veiled threat.
*
It was dark by the time Mojo had managed to find the place described by Catskinner. Cheapside was the poorest part of Deci and its layout of streets and alleys changed almost monthly as its buildings were enlarged or fell down. Despite the confidence he had in his own power, he was also only too aware that none of that stopped a knife in the ribs. In Cheapside there seemed to be a great many blades capable of doing just that.
He had seen two gang fights since coming here, but hardly a blow had been exchanged since most of it had been posturing. Now though he watched as band of what must be the Straw Dogs came into the street and sauntered past his place of concealment. They were lead by a large man whose bare-arms were crossed with scars that looked to have been cut in such a way to form a pattern about the muscles. His face was masked in leather and the skills Mojo relied on suggested to him that here was someone who would break him with little effort.
*
Not so far away, Claudious watched as two beggars ran past the place he was hiding. He had thought that the rabble of the city would be easy pickings for his church but he had not reckoned on the strength of the Kallah. It seemed they had been on close to a war-footing for the past few months and he wished he knew why. His congregation of twenty had been no use to him and his four disciples had managed to give him enough time to get away as they distracted the approaching Kallah and Hanot. His control of them was still intact so he knew they lived still, he was just hoping that he would be able to enjoy such a state himself for a little while longer. Breaking cover he ran around a corner to near collide with Mojo coming the other way, an unconscious body over one shoulder.
“Trouble?”
“Maybe.” Claudious admitted. “I might need somewhere to lie low for a bit.”
Mojo looked doubtful. “I’ve got a job to do, see…”
“I’ll help!”
Mojo was unsure but family was family after all.
*
The house was an old one, a fine thing that apparently was owned by the rich, merchant house of Becht. Set aside from the others nearby by a set of iron railings it was in a part of Deci that neither Claudious nor Mojo had visited much before. For here dwelt the rich and the powerful in the shadow of the Governor’s Citadel. For the city, the house they now stared at was a mansion and it was to here that Mojo carried his captive; occasionally banging his head against a wall to make sure he would cause no trouble. They had been forced to take a quite extraordinary route to get here and out of the way of the prowling bands of beggars that sought for Claudious. Finding the gates open they crunched up the lose stone pathway and pulled the handle that would announce their presence.
As they waited they saw two men approach the house also, but they went not to the front door but rather to a chute that lay to one side. Pushing a handcart, they seemed not to notice the adventurers as they tipped up their small wagon and tumbled a body into the depths below. Without a word they left again as the door to the house opened.
Fade stood there, arms crossed. “You get one?”
Mojo nodded and let the straw Dog fall to the dark wood of the floorboards. Fade smiled slightly and pulled out a sharp knife of his own. He only paused when he noticed Claudious standing in the shadows of the opening to his house.
“Who’s he?”
“My brother. He’s in a little trouble.”
“I see.” Fade began to work out what favour he could extract to sort out such trouble. It was as he was considering that he saw a shabbily dressed fellow hurry up the street, along the path and up to the door that still stood open. Holding up a finger to forestall any comments from either of his present guests, he waited for the beggar to get his breath back before explaining the nature of his visit.
“Lord Fade,” The Kallah finally managed to get out.
“Yes, Retringer?” Fade having had the time to remember the young beggars name.
“There’s this right bastard possessing beggars into an evil cult. Mr. Tamary want’s a word with ‘im. The boss thought it best to tell you, the Don, and everyone else who likes to keep busy with the Spirit.”
“Which is damn near everyone,” Fade mused.
“He’s likeable enough, our Spirit.”
Fade nodded whilst Claudious and Mojo made themselves as inconspicuous as possible. Thankfully they left out the whistling.
*
Varos sat in Cheapside and watched as the carnival went past. There was little grandeur to it but rather a rough kind of joy as the ragged hundreds that lived in the dismal area of the northern settlement joined in with gusto at the entertainments that the newcomer had enticed them to arrange, with a little help from himself. The adventurer had been careful to buy up stocks of bread and beer, tough as the latter was not in short supply in the Cheapside the stuff that Varos had managed to acquire was far superior to the watery stuff most often seen here. There was, of course, a point behind all this.
For almost a month Varos had taken care to get to know the people. For the most part the Cheapsiders were dirt poor. In a city where thievery was rife and life cheap, Cheapside was often the last stop in a person’s life, there was simply nowhere lower to go. It was said that a citizen lived in Cheapside only twice: once growing up and once on the way down. The actual layout of the quarter seemed to change weekly for when some of the multi-storied shacks, people often making shelters on top of others, rose others fell. The streets were simply places that were clear of people living. Along the eastern edge, where it abutted other places in the city, more permanent structures could be seen but these were generally only because they were constructed within the tumble down remnants of what had once been the old city wall before Deci had expanded beyond it.
Apart from this, only one line of stone buildings existed and in the centre of these stood the alchemical shop of Ulis Tamary. It was hardly a secret that the rather neat, fastidious little man was the host for the City Spirit and despite the differences that were felt between different members of the community, even Vern and Argoth! no one seemed to bear the man any ill will. Considering that the great and powerful all seemed to like him and bearing in mind that the Deci beggars, whom bore him allegiance, were little more than assassins it was perhaps unsurprising that he was so universally popular. Besides, he was just so damn likeable!
But Varos wanted to be popular too and in order to do this he had spread the word that law and order would not be ignored in Cheapside any longer. He wanted to be the Magistrate and for that he would need to draw the eye of the Governor, Jander Sunstar. The real crime in the western quarter, the official name for Cheapside, was not thievery, for there was little to steal, nor was it murder, for what deaths there were tended to drunken brawls or misshaped muggings, but the gangs.
Cheapside was rife with gangs. Mostly young, with a few older hands that typically acted as leaders, the gangs claimed just about all the youth of the west quarter and spent much of their time fighting over turf in the quarter or raising money in the rest of the city. It was not as if they were as skilled in fighting as mercenaries or the thieves of the settlement, but rather that they knew Cheapside so well. Besides, the ganglads tended to ‘graduate’ to more organised Guilds when they came of age anyway, typically because of what they had achieved during their formative years. For many it was their apprenticeship, for some it was their death.
The celebrants filed past and each waved at Varos from where he sat upon a broken post that jutted out from a here-today-gone-the-next tavern. He had become something of a figure of celebration of late and if the people were unsure if he was a religious goodly-type or a man on the make, they hardly cared. There had been no need for official sanction for the procession of the hundreds of people, most with odd costumes and masks made from whatever came to hand, since the city did not really concern itself with such things especially in Cheapside!
Varos though was happy enough. The people of the quarter liked him and that meant he could hide himself as quickly as he could open a door and he suspected that since many of them worked in other parts of the city, doing the jobs others would not, then he had a potential information source.
No, he could be as visible as he wished to be or as hidden as he desired. There seemed to be no one else to challenge him in Cheapside as long as he found out which gang was the most powerful and possibly introduced himself to Ulis Tamary. ‘Whilst in Deci,’ he had told the citizens, ‘common folk should be shown the same respect as Princes, all are equal’. He had added a bit about foreigners but said it quietly enough so as not to be overheard.
By Alan Morgan (CI4V10)