Day 41
He woke in a cold sweat. It must have been a bad dream. He wiped his face with one meaty hand and peered over to the soft snoring beside him. A sharp snort as he recalled how she got there.
Bloody wench had crawled into his room the night before to avoid an overly noxious patron. Literally noxious as he smelled like he had taken a bath in the Kell. He had awoke to the commotion from the common room long before she had entered to a lone open red eye that greeted her.
“S-sorry, sir. I expected you to be asleep.” she stammered out as she creeped towards his bed. “May I sleep here.”
He had answered her the same way he answered any of the whores who worked there, he rolled over and grunted his approval. Most of the girls felt obligated to give him thanks. Those were met with a strong backhand and a night on the rug. This particular girl was content with sleeping back to back with him. There was always contact but it wasn’t enough to bother him. He felt a fear within her that spoke of respect and she wouldn’t push their relationship further. He appreciated that and let it slide.
He remembered that the other girls disliked her. The mouther ones liked to talk when he guarded them. He pretended to not listen but in truth he was hanging on their every single word and inflection. They called her the “Princess” because of the matron’s special attention. She was given the best clients and the best rooms. All because she was ‘unspoiled’ as the girls put it. He had no idea what that meant but he intended to find out eventually. Gods be sure he wasn’t going to outright ask them.
“Always at arms length.” He reminded himself in a gruff mumble as he took in the sight of her, barely covered by the sheets on the bed.
He looked away from her and looked down to his hands. No job had ever got him as jumpy as this one had. He had dealt with divine forces before. The Spider Queen’s many priestesses were a constant in his old life in the underdark but this was different. This was so odd. What word could he really use? It was so ‘good.’
He had felt the energies wash over him as he squared off with the cleric. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or part of his dream that was fabricated by his overactive mind but he thought he heard a woman’s voice urging the man on. The Spider Queen ruled through fear and tyranny. This ‘Ariel’ seemed encouraging and joyous. It was utterly nauseating to him.
Another thing kept gnawing at the back of his skull.
“You’re one of the few bloody flaming fucking Duergar in this city and I didn’t wear a mask?!” he snarled as he launched a water pitcher on his bedside table at the wall. He expected his bunkmate to wake but she always slept through his outbursts. He liked that about her. Especially considering how many of those there had been since he was freed.
Who could he find to make him something to conceal his heritage? Who at this brothel was hiding something? The answer made his lips curl back in a cruel sneer.
He hopped down from the small bed and headed into the hallway. The second he exited he heard the tumbler fall into the locked position. He looked back, nodded and moved on. Many of the girls were meandering in the corridors that led into the rooms of pleasure. They would move out of his way without even acknowledging him. Most of them knew him by reputation and needed no more than that to be weary of this black creature. He preferred it as such.
There was a hallway that led up behind the bar where the beast of a matron was leaning over the counter, showing off her ‘assets’ to the men waiting for their ‘custom.’ As he meandered through the curtain, the face of a man covered in rogue turned to him and smiled sweetly.
“Well met my cunning pugilist. What can this lovely maiden assist you with?” purred the matron.
“It ain’ teh maiden’s advice I be needin’. I be needin’ to speak wit yer husband.”
The smile melted from the face into a cruel sneer that was born from years of abuse. Asking for the matron’s husband was a clever way to address that they needed to speak to her other person. She spat at the floor near his feet and bid him to wait in her office.
He sad on the hard bench in her cramped office and waited patiently, taking a drag from the giant hookah that decorated the center. It was always lit and kept ready for its mistress.
As the matron entered, she ripped the wig off ‘her’ head and tossed it onto a wooden head on the right side of her desk.
“What the fuck do you want, little man?” he growled at him in a voice that was anything but feminine.
“A mask. Ah need teh look like an average chalkie Dwarf.”
The heavy eyebrow lifted as the matron grinned. “This is going to be interesting indeed.”
Day 40 – A New Crew
As he reached the sewer he began to clear off the blood and chalk. Avar had mentioned Dante had disappeared with the head. While he was enraged by the probability of failure, he had other concerns to take care of first. The events of the last few hours began to rush through his head as he began to catalog the information.
N’Alen. No blood? The cleric’s intense hatred towards him? There is something going on there. The punches he delivered at the beginning of the encounter definitely felt off. He didn’t see much of what N’Alen actually did during the fight, but he assumed he would see more of it as time went on with this crew.
Dante. There was a gleam in that man’s eye. He killed with a quick efficiency that was told of a talent. His killing blows on the soldiers spoke of a gruesome enjoyment for carving a body to pieces. He would have to watch that one closely. He would also avoid meeting him in a dark alley. Ever.
Avar. He wasn’t sure what the man was doing, but he had a feeling that his bravado is what caused his blade to meet its mark so easily. He had become the de facto leader which suited Dhent just fine.
As soon as he was cleaned and calmed, he emerged from the sewers with his hood drawn up. He needed to disarm and law low for a while. That many guards having seem him and been allowed to live? He wasn’t exactly one of MANY of his kin in this city. If there was a rumor of a murderous Duergar, he would be singled out immediately. He needed a plan.
He made his way through the back door of his common haunt, the Gilded Queen, and hunkered down until it was time to meet back up with his crew. He had a feeling the violence wasn’t over yet. If Dante had escaped with their mark, he wouldn’t be breathing much longer for sure.
He let his eyes close as he relaxed with his back resting on the door to his tiny chamber. There’s always something.
Day 27 – Respite at Last
These chalkie louts are a joke. They all gather together in safe houses to sleep, trusting each other to watch their backs. Problem is, they’re all fuckin’ crooks. Not a single bloody one is worth the skin he’s made from. I couldn’t begin to give them to satisfaction of slitting my throat in my sleep.
So I wandered for a bit. Inns cost me gold. Alleys weren’t safe. Abandoned warehouses had rats and urchin children who eyed my purse. I needed somewhere that no one would expect me to be.
I was wandering back to the makeshift hole I was sleeping in when I saw a chalkie fuck pulling on the sleeve of a wench outside a fluff house. I had just come back from a mission where I didn’t get to hurt anyone, so I broke his leg in three places with a swift kick. He crumbled down and the wench dove into the door of the house. Seconds later the matron emerged with a cudgel and whacked the stricken chalkie in the temple.
Impressed, I helped her toss him bodily into the alleyway. This matron wasn’t exactly… motherly as you would expect the proprietor of a Fluff House to be. I only say that because ‘she’ was a bloody man wearing the trappings of a chalkie noble. I’m not one to judge so I let it go. She offered me a night with one of her girls, but by now I was so bloody exhausted I just asked her for a room. She was dumfounded, but obliged.
In the morning, I awoke with a start, pointing a dagger at the throat of a half naked ebony serving girl bringing me breakfast. The sound brought the matron in laughing, ushering the poor wench out of the room.
“I expected you to enjoy that one, she’s your ‘type’ after all.”
“Ain’t got ah type.”
“Is that so? What if I told you that you could stay here from time to time if you do some work for me?”
“Ahm listenin’.”
She laid it out for my straight, assuming my grasp on common was passing at best. I like it that way. She said if I helped keep the girls safe, she would allow me to stay there from time to time or hide from the chalkie authorities. Only deal was, I had to keep it quiet and quick. Those being my specialties, I agreed.
“You sure you don’t want a nice bed warmer from time to time?”
“Ain’t wurth teh trubble.”
And that was that.
Day 6 – Adjustments
How many chalkies do I need to punch before they learn to mind their business? I’ve NEVER in my years heard so many people jaw off for so long about nothing at all. The boss thinks its funny how short my fuse is, but it’s getting tiresome. Luckily its working and everyone leaves me be.
“Ah, yeah, that’s Dhent. Watch out for that bastard. He’s got a mean right hook.”
“Aye, his bloody left hook isn’t anything to laugh about either, mate.”
“Feck off about ‘is meat ‘ooks, watch out for ‘is blasted fangs! McCormik lost ‘is ear!”
As my notoriety grows, more of the nosey chalkies leave me alone. I like it that way. Mind you, the people who matter are definitely watching me more closely. The people with the coin and the information.
“He’s quick, he’s clean, where the hell did he come from?”
“I heard he came from the Underdark, those blood dark elves used him up something fierce.”
Let them talk. The more they talk, the more I earn.