Post by Sire Halfblack on Aug 4, 2014 19:41:59 GMT
Aiprus IM 1003: The Straw Dogs Take Down
The air seemed thick as a rich soup as the city of Deci stood beneath a dome of dense clouds that were pregnant with a rain of such weight that it was impossible to see why the streets were not awash with the filthy rivers that formed in such a torrent. There was a smell to the air like that of a recently abandoned alchemists lab, tangy and slightly rich that left a thin, oily sheen upon the skin of the citizens who were insufficiently covered against the still chill air of the northern settlement. Beggars coughed and the surprisingly few mercenaries on the streets looked to the skies with the suspicion born of long experience for such scarred men and women had not lived for the years they had without some measure of concern over signs and portents.
The shops and larger homes of Deci had already shuttered their windows and already a group of enterprising youths had taken to selling heavy bags of dirt to people who did not want their homes washed out by what promised to be quite some storm.
Of the Nobility there had been little sign for many weeks. The street outside the Poison Club that was normally cluttered with the carriages and retainers of the landed rich was empty and it was well known that someone had taken it upon themselves to rid the city of a few of the high-born. For many of the citizens this was simply unacceptable. The Nobles of Deci were hardly the sort to put on dramatic airs or to swan about in bright fashions for the families who carried such titles could mostly trace their lineage back to the Robber Barons that had ruled when the settlement had been a free city. Despite what had happened over the years the local Nobility had stayed fiercely loyal to their home and rarely, if ever, even attended Halgar and the Halls that would soon be reopened on the order of a distant Empress.
A dark shape hung within a patch of shadow and watched the townhouse of Lord Gelmanslew. The Lord had been the only Noble that he had seen on the streets for the last fortnight and only then when he had been able to spare the time from watching the backs of his two more accident prone friends. They had used a Rite that he hungered to perform but he needed Blood and the Lord had been the only example of such that he had seen in recent days. The Lord had been easily noticeable. Not just because of his almost unnatural height and gaunt features, nor because of the dark velvet he wore and the subtly placed jewelled chain that denoted his status. No, Lord Gelmanslew had an aura about him, a near palpable tint of superiority and breeding and that had set the mouth of the hunter drooling in anticipation. Whilst the rest of the Nobility were said to have invested in bodyguards, the Lord had only been in the company of one man and that one had been short, skinny and balding badly. A trade factor or other vassal no doubt.
The shadow might have moved then if at that moment the glass of a bowed window had not broken the silence as a body was thrown a clear twenty foot along and down to strike the cobbles with fearsome force.
One Hour Previously…
“Grate master! We ‘as been ‘unted and slewn withaht yer grate and mighty presence!” The goblin was a wretched creature, hungry beyond thought and dirtier than even one of his kind should have been forced to suffer. What hair clung to his head was sparse, patchy like an old women’s quilt and only the eyes seemed bright, intent on the deity that had shown itself to him. “I trusted in yer, Grate One! I kept der faith when d’others said as ‘ow you’d buggered orf or bin snuffed by the drowsies fer yer Grateness! Where’s yer been!”
“Silence scum!” Der Grate Blakk Gobbo hissed. How dare one of his worshippers question him! “I ‘as been killin’ gods and thievin der power wot is inherent to dem. I ‘ave bin ravishin’ things wot could not run away and spreadin’ the seed of grateness!”
“It wus all a test then, master?”
The DGBG blinked, thought about that and then nodded fiercely. “Dat’s RIGHT! It were a test.”
“Den Limply ‘as bin faithful. Even when d’others were ‘ung up an’ bled ter def by dese newbies wot ‘ave come ter der city.”
DGBG held up a dirty finger to halt the flow of excuses from his last disciple. He had come to the alley where he had left thriving community to find it near deserted except for a few goblins that had hid from his sudden presence and now he began to see why. “Wot newbies?” He eventually asked.
The goblin rubbed his long fingers about one another as if washing them in the heavy air but if this was the case then not one ounce of the seemingly tattooed filth noticed the action. “Limply dun’t know, master! Nasty, nasty, creepy creepy types. Limply not know but goblins knows one fing, dat fing is dat Mr. Fade ‘as got ‘imself lotsa new friends.”
“I see.” DGBG looked at his disciple and at the ravages of his former community. They were a pitiful lot and he did not think they would survive long in the next days action. Still, ultimately, better they than he. “Limply, gathers wot boys yer can and meets me ‘ere termorrer. I as to go and gets us fings wot makes the stabbin’s better.”
The fragile disciple bowed deeply and when he looked up again he was alone. “Da miracle!” He announced to the densely sagging clouds but apart from the refuse of his race he was alone.
*
There was an urgency to the action now as Squitt came up into the last house in the row. He already had a small sack that jangled annoyingly with the silver he had stolen already and he was making better time than he had thought since so far the Townhouses had been empty. He had not ventured up any flights of stairs for fear of waking any potential and nosy servants for tonight was for acquisition not murder. That, it seemed, would come tomorrow.
The goblin had already decided to make this the last house and was just moving across a vast, and no doubt richly expensive, rug when it swept him into the air! The folds of the dense weave closed in on him and the intruder struggled as best he could, finding a knife that only all his skill, strength and experience enabled him to stab into a slightly more frayed part of the whole and pull it aside with a sound of protesting age. The rug had become attached to the ceiling and the little figure fell to the floor with more noise than he would have liked, vanishing instantly once the polished wooden boards had made their painful introduction. The grate was now filled with a soft flame that lit the room with a sickly yellow light and standing to one side of the mantelpiece was a short man of such nondescript appearance than even had he been forced to pick him there and then from a line-up of one, Squitt would have taken his time to choose.
“I can see you.” The man said with a slight accent that the thief could not for the moment place. “You are in the centre of the floor. You just frowned. You are now thinking about whistling because sometime that makes people vanish into the crowd. Apparently.”
For a moment there was a blur of dark goblin, a bundle of flapping cloth and trailing ears that only appeared for a moment to streak to the nearest wall. Then it was gone again.
“You will find that the walls are impassable to supernatural traffic. You are now staying very still in the hope that I will think you have used some power of the shadows to transfer yourself to another place. I know this is not so for the fire that burns is fed by wood thrice-turned and four times made fresh. The light it sheds is subtle, is it not? It also casts no shadows other than those you assume to be there. Now you will attack me.”
The man blocked the first knife with the flat of his forearm, the second by slapping it away with stiffened fingers and the next four blows with his own blades, which had twinkled into his fingers even as his hands made the shape of the curved hilts. Squit jumped backwards as one took out his throat, if he had cared to remain where he was, tossed a blade underhand that seemed to catch the stranger off guard such that he was forced to dance aside and with a grunt the intruder threw what power he could gather about himself at what was obviously a bodyguard of some skill.
In the moment it took for the servants knives to slash apart the bonds and power that assailed him Squitt slammed into his chest, almost bowling him over and scampered across the narrow shoulders to launch himself at the window beyond. Beating a retreat now the bodyguard’s return blow missed by almost a full yard and Squitt hit the window, flew into open space and even as he thought about what he could do to stop himself falling into the cobbles below the matter was decided for him with an impact that smashed the breath from his body. Running away was a thing never bettered by others when the person fleeing was a goblin and a little thing like full lungs had never stopped such a creature yet. Squitt scampered away across the square, only pausing at the far end to drop the seat of his patched leggings, slap his arse in the direction of the townhouse and call out a last farewell. “Up yours yer basti! I’ll get me mates on ter you!” Then he was gone.
Across the square, the shadow that had been watching the house decided that perhaps tonight was not the night for kidnap and ritual preparation.
*
The darkness that garbed the room deep within the Poison Club was not the random shadow of annoyingly needed light, nor the absence of illumination that other people might have thought the cause of such inky blankness. Rather, it was an artful thing that owed as much to interior design and a drow sense of taste than any accident of comparative shade. The fact that the room did not possess a door was not a cause for concern for anyone there. When the chamber felt that such a portal would be necessary then no doubt there would be an opening in one wall or another. For now though, the room was content to be small, comfortable and precise to the needs of the occupants.
About a shining rosewood table that one servant or another had bought from a local merchant, Don Argoth poured each of those present a glass of wine so deeply red that it was hard to see if it had any real colour to it at all. The subtly curving glasses were unscarred by tawdry crest or ornamentation and relied instead upon the inherent perfection of their blown forms, the precise curve of their shape and the exact way in which they channelled the wines aroma to the nose of their owner to demonstrate the worthiness of the cost they must have demanded.
“So we are prepared then.” Jagged stared at the wine, his fingers resting flat on the table to either side of the glass but he made no move to taste the vintage.
“All will go to plan.” Promised Argoth. He was in a fine mood and why should he not be? There were many that had answered his call and on the morrow he would teach a lesson to the lowly street gang that had dared to mock he or his people. He smiled slightly as Anath, having already drained his wine, pushed his glass across the table for more. Halfblack did not share the Don’s confidence and although he had arrived, weapons on his person and the darkness of recent prayer in his eyes, he did not share the levity of the Don, the cold certainty of Jagged or the suppressed strength of the Smiling Man. Seated on his own a short distance from the group, Marius chuckled to himself even as he tested the edge of his knife down the length of an outstretched finger. The taller man fluttered his eyelashes to the finger even as he watched the bead of blood flow softly about the outstretched digit.
“Have another.” Argoth offered magnanimously and Anath took the wine gratefully. “I feel sure that you will be safe enough with us.”
Halfblack was not so sure. “Don Argoth, I am a merchant, a thinker, a planner. Not a warrior.”
“Ah…”
“But I have come as you asked. The City is all.”
“Quite so.” Argoth purred. “Well, it is certainly somewhere in the box marked important.” He added ruefully. “Jagged, you are sure of the route?”
“I am as sure as one can be. There is a risk but I consider it an acceptable one.”
The Smiling Man shook his head and picked up one of the weapons that littered the table’s surface. Silver was such a poor substance for crafting a blade and so thinking his fingers twitched out a small roll of files from which his practised finger selected a Number 7 with which he began to see what could be done to turn such ornaments into weapons. Apart from Marius’ continued amusement at the world about him there was silence. The void continued for several moments before Jagged broke it, looking up from his contemplation of the wine before him.
“Where is Fade?” He asked.
*
Spreading from the decaying lump that was the north wall a shanty town had grown over the last year. It was not broad but it was long, stretching along the length of the wall, a tapestry of colour and varied material that undulated from mean huts to wide pavilions of stiff hide. After the long squabble they had endured with the local population the tribal people that had come to Deci some time ago had began to congregate together in this place where at least they had strength in numbers and young bravo’s did not think it funny to set light to a drunken pile of furs that most commonly contained a scarred refugee from the north.
“This is a strange place.” The visitor accepted the bowl of roasted goat from his hosts. He was within the largest of the tented homes and the person who feasted him was the closest the gathered tribes here had to a chieftain.
“It is better than home.” The heavy man grunted. City living had not been kind to Ruthgar and his once muscled frame was now little more than a vast sack of fat. Slinking Thru inclined his head in what was seen by the others there as wisdom.
“No. I spoke to the people here today. They dislike the Empire as much as I but they seem to hate the people of the tribes as much.”
“More. They hate us more.” Ruthgar spat into the fire. “You want warmth for the night? I have many daughters, several wives. Some not so fat, some even clean.”
Slinking ignored the man for now and concentrated instead on picking the meat from the bone in his thin hands.
*
“It’s a religious icon of some dead God. The power within it is so long gone that it does not even remember to whom it was once sacred.” Fade explained. The statuette he turned over in his hands as he examined it further. It was extremely heavy for silver and that spoke of value beyond mere metallic value. As it was he knew he could get a square five grand for it but… “It occurs to me,” he continued at length, “that it is something worth placing in a safe place. There will be time when I feel sure that it will make an important ritual component, possibly it could even be re-smelted, sanctified and so forth.”
“Bit it is mine, yes?” Setiff concentrated on not hopping from foot to the other in his eagerness.
“…yesss…” Fade allowed. “For now. But as I said, do not lose it. I do not want to find in a year’s time that it is the very thing we need and look back on this day with a small shock to find out that it was in my hand and I let it go.”
“It will be safe.” Setiff promised.
“Perhaps I can put together a very attractive price for the object? I am a fair man after all. Let me consider what sort of package I put together for you.”
Setiff nodded, aware that he had something of value but also aware that one of the cities Big Boys knew that he had it. He had been taken to the study within Fade’s large house scant minutes before. A floor down the person he and his friends had managed to bundle from Fryer’s Held lay in a pool of his own blood, though the actual wounds had been tended once the questioning had been completed.
“We learnt something from the prisoner.” Said Setiff, eager to remind fade of how useful he and his friends had been proving.
“We learnt very little.” Fade corrected. “We know that he belongs to a tribe calling themselves the Pal-Enwe. We know that he actually dwells in Deci. We know that the shaman and the warrior who lead them now came to the city and roused them to follow the pair to the village and we know that the statue that they have probably excavated by now belongs, from what he overheard, to a time before those on Primus came to be Princes and that is why, in some manner I suspect, that friend Ulis cannot perceive the village that should fall within our domain. I could learn more but I think that we should not go too far for now else he would not survive. I had hoped to ask for Ulis’ help in this but as you saw his shop is shut, the door locked and there has been no sight of him for three days. He is lying low for reasons of his own and it is clear that he is keen to be seen as maintaining a partisan position on the events that will shortly follow.”
“Yes, sir.” Setiff bobbed his head. The powerful of Deci could be surprisingly generous but he had learnt that they demanded respect.
“Gather your companions then, you shall rest here for tonight and here you will be safe. The morning may prove interesting for us all. I have to go for I have a meeting to be attend.”
*
It was a curious gathering. The old warehouse in Cheapside was not large but is sufficed to hold the gathered, black clad crowd and the even greater number of suspicious looking mercenaries. Don Argoth stood at the front of the dilapidated structure and stared carefully, selecting the eyes of each person there as his gaze flowed about them.
“Are we all clear about the plan?”
Anath fidgeted. Fade nodded. The Smiling Man moved not a muscle. Slinking Thru tapped the tips of his fingers together. Jagged returned his gaze evenly. Marius smiled broadly, a cat yawning. Mojo chewed his lower lip. Troy flexed his shoulders. Andre scratched his arse. Setiff breathed with slow, even breathes. Squitt stood amongst a small group of wretched goblins and nodded vigorously.
“Most of us will pass unseen. Remember that we saw Jander in the streets earlier, armoured in his full kit and looking like he knew something. If you see the Sunstar you are to do nothing to him, he is the Governor of the City and deserves our respect.”
“And he’d kill you before you before you could even think the word ‘knife’.” Anath added.
“Quite so.” Argoth agreed. “We do not play games with the Sunstar? Now then, you have been told what to do, collect a silver weapon each and be ready to go to where you have just been told to wait. Gentlemen, it is demonstrating the power of the Council time.”
*
The Taken Regard was a fine looking tavern, doubly so for being in Cheapside. The fact that it had windows and only a single door was not unusual in Deci and the early morning sunshine played about the split boards of its construction, highlighting the strange grandeur that all could see but yet none of them could actually have explained. So early was it that most of the people of Cheapside were not long in the hammocks, beds or worn place by the fire. So it was a shock when the door was splintered by an unseen force and a large group of Watchmen appeared from nowhere and charged within.
“I note that they are not all falling over dead.” The Don whispered to the just returned Slinking Thru.
“No of course not, I removed the wards as you asked. I will have to be further inside though to give you any direct information.”
The Don nodded and moved along invisibly towards the sounds of violence and the screams of the dying. He peered inside the door to see that the first obstacle to have been introduced of late was an immense cage. The Watch had managed to kill the two gang members on guard within for the loss of only ten of their own and the Jagged shouted for help just as Argoth appeared next to him.
“What is it?”
“Cage. Can’t be opened. Can’t be transported past. Can’t be knocked down.” The bodyguard pointed to the bars, which to the Don’s eye did not look to be either thick or impressive. As he stared at them something sped from the darkness of the chamber beyond and drew blood from a surprised Watchmen. The men were not at all happy to be where they were and already several had run through the doorway and out into the street where Mojo, Andre and Setiff were carefully killing them in case they were escaping Straw Dogs, as per instructions.
Jagged was forced to appear and wave for Troy and the mercenaries to stay back before skulking away to where Marius had found a puppy.
“A delay?”
“Quite.” Jagged nodded. “What have you found?”
“A little puppy. I think I will call him… Stumbler?”
“Why Stumbler?”
Marius frowned before a short nod and a playful twist of his hands dropped a leg from his new friend into the hand of his questioner. “Drumstick?” He laughed.
The watch were thinning in the cage by the time the goblins turned up. Eyes shut, blades in hands, they charged into the room ready to hide and then stab. Squitt had the good sense to not adopt the goblin blind-fighting method and was able to halt them. There were no mercenaries and no one was fighting. Concerned at what the hold up was, Fade and Slinking ducked into the room also.
A sharp pain slashed at Slinking’s face and he touched the wound to feel that he had been opened to the bone by something sharp and fast. “Ow.” He muttered before sealing the flesh with a trailing finger.
“Get this cage open!” Argoth demanded.
“OW!” Squitt snapped.
“What?”
“Someone shot me!”
ZZZZIIPPP!
“And me.” The Smiling Man added but he did not seem overly concerned about it. “It’s a kid hiding in the shadows, he’s got a sling.”
“Right.” Argoth took control of the situation. “You Fade - and you Slinking – get this door open. The rest of you – stop getting shot.”
Fade spoke quickly to the bars and between he, Slinking and finally Anath they churned through their supernatural power until finally three of the bars vanished in quick succession. The Don nodded and stood aside as Troy charged through the door with Mercenaries and as one all the heroes found a quieter place to be as from the ceiling dropping a dozen ‘Dogs and the fight erupted.
“They’re being butchered!” Anath yelled.
“Quite so.” The Don scratched his nose.
“The mercenaries – they aren’t even hurting the Straw Dogs!”
“Yes, yes, yes!” Argoth quietened the small man with a wave of his hand as he tried to keep count of the fallen. “Forty-three, not enough.” He announced as the last of the mercenaries fell to the whirlwind of claws and teeth. “Gentlemen, if I might just trouble you a moment?”
Marius, Jagged, The Smiling Man, Squitt and Fade all ducked to the sides as they all made for the rear of the fight but inevitably they could not all wait for the backstab chance and as they used their various powers to vanish for a moment only Slinking, Anath and Argoth remained as with a roar the twelve ‘Dogs charged, jumped and flew through the air towards them. The Smiling Man, standing to one side of the cage caught the first two in one sweep with a silver broadsword that cut them into four even parts. Slinking ducked back and warded himself safely into a corner whilst Anath just jumped back and through the main door.
The Don was forced to draw a silver dagger of his own and was most displeased at being forced to fight in such a bloody melee. For a moment he was confused, it had been so long since he had hit anybody from the front that he almost forgot where to stab with his knife but then the others came from hiding and the first twelve were killed.
Argoth held his head for a moment and seemed to mutter to himself before turning to the waiting throng. “Finally. Now then, gentlemen – onwards and inwards.”
*
At first Jagged had lead the heroes into the Taken Regard as a group but so many passageways and twisting rooms appeared for their discovery that the Don was forced to step up the plan a little further. He had managed to paralyse the building so as to prevent its changing unduly but it was not clear how long this would last. As they progressed further he had sent people in different directions to continue the mayhem whilst he and Jagged headed straight for the heart of the building.
“How much further?” Argoth asked.
“I do not think it is so far. This has all changed since I was last here but I can get a good sense of where things are compared to where they were. We will not become lost. I thought there were to be three of us?”
The Don grunted for Rusk had not arrived as he had been told to do.
*
The room was long and curved along its walls so that its roof was far more narrow than the floor that ran below it. Standing at one end, Marius flicked a knife from hand to hand and thought about the chamber where he had found the captives taken from long months of the Straw Dogs dominion of Cheapside. Squitt had been with him when he had proceeded to explore the people, not wanting to be rude had left them tied up where he had found them though now there was considerably less of them to be so bound. For Marius had indulged in a little sculpture, the medium flesh, the theme terror.
But even he had grown bored of that after a while and had taken to wandering the tavern looking for fresh entertainment. Twice he had found terrified people huddling in corners and once he had discovered a little gang member who had tried to kill him but the silver knife had seen to that.
He was concerned that the walls were seemingly solid to him, even when he tried to walk through them, which was blatantly not how things went, he had fumed sullenly, so he had been forced to make do with straight lines. And Marius was not the worlds biggest fan of angles, leaving him only with the option of walking forward. His eyes spotted a heavy-set figure trying to creep up on him.
“A sneaky man.” Marius beamed. “I wonder if he will be friends with me?”
*
The Smiling Man kicked the ladder away. He had clambered up to the recess only scant inches ahead of the baying pack and at least from here they could only come at him in groups as small as three. He was not sure what was happening to the others but when he had turned a corner it was to find thirty or more people charging him down. Their clothing was torn and parted as the muscles beneath flexed with each movement. Not a one was now shorter than seven foot and the twisted faces that sought for him in the darkness were, if not those of werewolves, if not human – then something in between.
He was proud of his skill with a blade but the attackers cared nothing for finesse and had been close to simply bundling him with their bodies before, during a brief moment of calm when he had sidestepped one especially large rush, he had seen the ladder. Here at least he could hold them off. He hoped the others were close to completing what they had started out to do as, whilst the Smiling Man had been in worse place, he had certainly been in better.
“Geddown bonzo!” He yelled as he hacked three fingers clear of the hand that had reached for the ledge.
*
There were two of them. Neither looked as large as the lycanthropes they had previously encountered but Fade and Squitt were not in the mood to take chances. Fade himself had stumbled across a round chamber in which a wolf’s head had been placed on a curious tripod made of veined, onyx poles. Both these now sat in the bottom of his sack. Twice now he had met with gang boys and both times his reflexes and the silver knife had been sufficient to the task. Squitt he had found when the goblin had collided with him after running away from three of more of the Straw Dogs. To be fair, he’d killed two others but even Fade had to concede that five to one were not the sort of odds for which he would dig deep to place a bet.
These two were different though. The first, the one closest to them, was a man no taller than Squitt. He did not look like a werewolf. In fact he looked like any other well-to-do citizen of Deci. Behind him his companion was thin, though the hair on his jowls and chin had a tawny, familiar look to it.
“I know you, don’t I?” Fade spoke his thoughts aloud.
“Maybe.”
“…hang on… I’ll get it in a minute. Charmin’ Billy! You work for Vern!”
Squitt flicked his eyes about the room. He had never burnt through so many hidey spells and abilities in such a short time and frankly he was of the opinion that it was probably about time to get the hell out of here. Such thoughts were in no way countered by the realisation that the wall nearest to him had moved. Shuddered perhaps. Like some great beast taking a breath. He smelt the magic and ducked low even as he felt something shatter about him. Quick as a razor he looked about to see glistening shards of silver about the floor near to where he and Fade were placed.
One of the ‘Dogs was a wizard and of course, Squitt thought, and if he was a werewolf wizard he had to concede that blowing the pooh out of silver, seen or unseen, was probably right up there at number one on the research list.
Then the wizard yelped as Fade’s mind burnt into his. Then Charmin’ Billy kicked the stocky man in the nuts. Then fade head-butted him back and for a time Squitt went a little strange as he jumped on the wizard and stabbed him with such rapidity with his more normal knives that he managed to stay ahead of the regeneration for perhaps just a few minutes.
*
Slinking Thru wove his few spirits together to seek for an answer to what was going on around them. “This buildings freeing itself.” He announced at last.
“Marvellous.” Anath answered. Removing the bars had robbed him of almost all his mana and he was feeling so vulnerable now that when the occasional ‘Dog had dashed towards the door he had hidden instead of trying to take it on with his rather meagre knife skills.
“In a few moments it will be sentient and will shape itself as it desires.” Continued Slinking. He looked at the door then looked at Anath and together they ducked into the street beyond. They had done their job after all.
*
“Eat this!” Fade screamed as together he and Squitt pulled the rapidly morphing wizard across the floor and together stuffed the remnants of their blades into its mouth. For a moment the ‘Dog froze and then detonated with such force that both intruders crashed into the nearest wall in a welter of glistening, purple innards and scraps of burning fur and skin. Charmin’ Billy had vanished and seeing that the walls were beginning to flow like spilt ale about their prone bodies both decided that they had done enough in getting rid of the wizard. Neither could have stopped Charmin’ Billy’s departure in any case.
“Let’s go!” Yelled Squitt and fade nodded, then vanished from the area altogether. The goblin blinked before shaking his head violently as he shouted to the empty room. “No yer basti, wif me an’ all!”
*
The thing that was Kremdon sat hunched in the very centre of the Taken Regard. He was only dimly aware of the presence of others there but his mind had long since been pushed so far back behind that of another that his instincts had been subsumed by the lesser senses of that which dominated him.
The room was smaller than Argoth had expected but he recognised the feel of the building now. It was so similar to the Poison Club that fear had begun to gnaw at the edges of his famous calm. Even though the chambers had changed about them Jagged had managed to bring him hear, taking what must have been random choices and even opening doorways by selective pressure as if he had been raised to the place.
The heavy figure of Kremdon slumped before a softly circling patch of light that formed the end wall but neither of the assassins was the least interested. There was only the smallest fraction of a pause before they ripped the back out of the figure and danced clear as the lifeless corpse fell forward. Tumbling from its hands, previously concealed in the thick but now lifeless fingers, a smooth stone clattered to the floor. Then the whole tavern screamed.
*
The Smiling Man had hardly been touched by the claws and fangs and that was precisely the way he intended it to remain. Sensing the change about him and seeing that he had distracted the bulk of the gang for long enough, the bodyguard jumped as far from the ledge as he could. Landing nimbly he smashed his sword into the nearest face and ran back the way he had come whilst it remained an exit.
It did not take long for him to skitter round the corner and see across the chamber the open cage. Ten or more yards away he recognised in an instant a man who he had last seen with Vern but then he had gone through the door and the Smiling Man was forced to bend all his concentration on making for the portal himself. As he came free he turned, snatched a shield from the arm of a dead mercenary and methodically began to kill any of the werewolves that came close. There had been quite a pack behind him but now he was able to fight properly, with good footing and only against one enemy at a time. They did not stand a chance and after the first three fell they sensed this and moved back.
“Need a hand?” Anath asked.
“No.” The Smiling Man and spat at the dry ground of the street to one side of the shield.
“Fine. Good. Splendid.” He and Slinking had seen Charmin’ Billy blur into the street but he had been too quick for them to catch him in range of their abilities and neither had felt the need to pursue.
*
“No door.” Argoth muttered. Jagged licked his lips, knelt and picked up the stone. The walls shuddered but a door did ease itself into reality.
“I see.” Nodded the Don and taking the head of the fallen leader of the Straw Dogs he conjured his powers to take him away also. Jagged howled as pain racked his body and he fought to master the Taken Regard.
*
For nearly an hour Troy, Setiff, Mojo and Andre had used the mercenaries to distract any escaping Straw Dogs whilst they had then hacked them to ruin, from behind, with their silver weapons. In all that time they had not let a single fugitive from City justice escape and they laughed as they another come towards them at an admittedly impressive turn of speed. Four mercenaries warranted less than half a pace of his run and Charmin’ Billy could run fast. He jumped the bodies and realised that four more were waiting for him beyond. Some of them were looking at him in that way measuring him up and for the moment Billy had let his defences drop. The last mercenary had been carrying an axe and whilst it was hardly Charmin’ Billy’s weapon of choice it would certainly do for the moment. He was within ten paces of the remaining obstacle to his path when he became aware, without even looking, that The Smiling Man was in the street though without looking around he could tell what he was doing. Billy was within three paces when Troy yelled to the others. “Leave him!”
He actually pushed Mojo out of the way and Setiff, ever aware of his friend’s unfortunate and habitual mortality, did the same to Andre. Billy almost paused to cut the little men up but he was not about to do that and fight the Smiling Man. He instead jumped clear of the last barrier to his freedom and vanished into the alleyways of Cheapside.
“What are you doing?” Demanded Mojo.
“Trust me, we did not want to take on that one.”
*
Things were becoming desperate. A pack of ‘Dogs still howled at the warrior who held the doorway out. Squitt was behind them and hoped against hope that his cunnin’ really did know no bounds. His howls were a little high pitched and he could not quite pull off the whole seven-foot tall thing but draped in the bloody tunics of three dead tribals he had found in the captives room he did his best to ‘think wolf’. If he still had possessed his knife he could have done the lot of them from behind and saved the day but… who would have believed him anyway. The walls were actually pulsing now and twice it seemed as if a doorway had enjoyed a good, hard look at the goblin. Scuttling under the legs of the pack he leapt forward as they ducked back, screamed as the Smiling Man’s smacked him across the back and scuttled through a tiny gap between shield and doorway.
The warrior’s sword was almost round it had been so blunted and against a rabbit he might have had trouble making a real wound. The blow had bruised him badly but Squitt was a goblin, and bruises came with the territory.
“Did we do it?” Anath demanded.
“Yuh, I was f**kin’ great.” Squitt nodded.
“It is done.” Argoth announced from the shadows and stepped clear even as Fade ran into sight down the street with an ornamental silver sacrificing knife from a shrine whose door he had demolished in the haste to find a new weapon.
“Jagged?”
“Fighting the building. We cannot help him.” Explained Argoth.
“Marius?” Fade pointed out.
“Is he not here..?” The Don frowned.
*
In the heart of the Taken Regard, Jagged fought with the living structure. He had tasted enough of it to know his way through all its tricks and the chaotic flow of his energies. He was alone and if could not tame it he would kill it. If he could not kill it, it might well kill him.
*
The walls had long since ceased to maintain any semblance of solidity and the tall figure walked amongst the madness of the Taken Regard whilst laughter torn from a hundred throats surrounded him and took him to the edges of madness. But Marius did not care. There was nothing here to touch him and when others had fled from the seeping terror he had ridden it like a bucking stallion. Madness was something that happened to other people.
Madness was Marius’ pregnant dog!
By Alan Morgan (CI5V5)