One veiled young woman, sitting on the ground behind Le Lune Silvestre, reading a book.
Apparently, anyway.
In her mind, she was counting to two hundred. Beyond her, she could hear a distinctive male voice singing-
"Leo sisi kunywa, ndugu..."
-and the well-made tavern doors slamming shut. She got up and looked around her. Two women gabbing their way up the lane back toward the centre of the city, one visible guard, one unexplained male deeply considering the meaning of the first finger on his left hand.
"Kesho silaha zetu ladha damu..."
The woman tucked her book under her arm and marched resolutely away from the voice, heading in the same general direction as the guard, who seemed shocked to see her approach. She supposed it wasn't every day that a priestess of Lliira was seen outside of a festival, but put on her brightest smile and waved to him as she walked past. Three houses down, on the right side of the street, was a small house, upon whose door she knocked delicately. A brightly dressed Elf quickly answered, taking a half step out of the house.
"Didn't like the night air, Ellie?" the Elf asked sweetly, then backed up slightly. "Well, come on in." When the door closed, the young woman was presented with a bag and pointed toward a closet door. "Go ahead, there's nothing but roots in there."
Back at Le Lune Silvestre, the guard had just gotten punched for asking the Orc not to sing as loudly. It had actually seemed like a reasonable request, but there was the little matter of reputation to uphold. After laying the guard out with a right hand that could have shattered a brick wall, the Orc turned and sang his way up the street until a nicely dressed courtesan bent delicately down to inspect a ribbon on her garter that was, of course, perfectly fine.
"Huh," the Orc snorted, crossing his powerful arms over his chest. "Girl like you'd bear a chieftain many healthy princesses."
The young woman picked up her curly haired head first, then slowly brought her upper body back up as well. "Looking to feel like a chieftain?"
"Funny, too," came the response. "Think you're good?"
"Why don't we find out?"
So the Orc reached forward and grabbed a fist full of the woman's hair, yanking her head back mercilessly and roaring into her face.
"Oooh," the woman managed in a strained, but teasing voice. "Power- I like it. My room's two houses down- and I'm an upstairs girl."
The Orc threw her forward a few steps, releasing her hair in the process. "Let's see it."
On this side of Le Lune Silvestre, there wasn't a soul on the street that wasn't paid to be. This western face of the tavern was the one that faced the predominantly Human area of the town, and most of them didn't frequent the place. It wasn't for lack of curiosity, or because Humans were berated or physically mistreated, but instead because the prices for things strangely went up for them. The quality of the food and drink was always excellent, and the Elven waitresses were famous for their sweetness, but a simple, common ale cost a startling 30 gold for a Human while the nearest half-Elf would pay a third of that amount for a stout. This didn't keep roving Human males from picking over the various consorts that were to be had in the lanes nearby, so a few Human females risking their overall night's earnings for just a few customers that would pay top dollar frequented the area. Only one other male was in the street at this time, however, and while he looked a little concerned at the Orc's handling, a sidelong glance and a snort from the powerfully built creature encouraged the much smaller Human to keep his reproach to himself.
After a short walk, the strange pair came to a cottage just hardly big enough to accommodate one family. With a wink, the Human female opened the door and beckoned her prize inside. The door was hardly closed behind the Orc before he made his move toward her, throwing her hair up over her head at once.
"Thanks for the concern," the female said laughingly. "Honestly, I really am experienced with that sort of thing. It smarts a little, but I was raised in Zhentil Keep. I've put up with far worse."
"Talk all you want," the Orc responded with a sigh, satisfied. "Bag?"
"Upstairs, like I told you. Throw me on the floor, and I'll make a bit of noise."
He took the peasant shirt and trousers off, standing in unashamed nakedness for a few moments. "Can't stand the clamhands?"
"It's awful," the woman laughed smilingly as she began to walk up the rickety wooden stairs that sliced the house in half. "I never know what's in their trousers until they pull it out. All petting and cuddling and smoothing- may as well be women."
So with little effort, the Orc walked up the stairs, hoisted the woman up by her waist at the top of them, walked straight into the small upstairs room with her and slammed himself and her down onto the floor as though he were a wrestler. After a sharp intake of breath, the Human shook her head slightly as though she'd just splashed water on her face.
"Fabulous. Makes me wish you could stay a while- so get going. Even if your new pet were lame, she'd have to have gotten to the mark by now."
"I'm her pet tonight," the Orc responded. "On probation. Little impetuous, but smart. In like a wind, quick."
"Big compliments, coming from you," the woman marveled. "Never told me I was smart."
"You got a mouth, ask questions. Clothes."
"Under the pillows- path's clear, and the other girls shouldn't come back unless they're worried that I'll snap like a twig, too."
With a forcefulness that took her breath away, the Orc sat on top of the woman and leaned down into her face with a snarl. "When I'm ready to break you, you'll break."
Mi'ishaen re-wrapped the bootstrap around her leg for the fourth time, still amazed at it. It wasn't easy to make boots that fit hooves instead of feet and legs that jagged awkwardly backward where most folks' stood straight. But Stitches had done masterful work, turning out armor so well fitted that Mi'ishaen felt as though she hardly had anything on. Dyed jet black, studded, padded and enchanted, Mi'ishaen had been hard pressed to take it, even with Rashiira's nearly offhanded belief that her ability would pay for it.
"Don't worry," she had shrugged. "As I've said, we're useful to each other. Go enjoy yourself until I find a project for you."
And this night had been that project. Or perhaps just one of the many that were to be requested in the future. Rashiira's words seemed to the Tiefling as uncertain as a changing wind.
A heavy hand weighted her shoulder, but she wasn't surprised at it. "You're kind of late."
Stone gave Mi'ishaen a gravelly voiced snort. "Other business- kept it short. What's doing?"
"Two Elves. Look full blooded to me. Bunch of Humans running in and out, but just servants. No scary guards, just five strategically placed, casual looking Elven fools counting their fingers or something equally as obvious. I heard that most of them are great bow-masters, so you'd think they'd post up, but I've seen nothing of the sort."
"Race don't give you smarts. They're mages, not rogues," Stone shrugged. "Not many good spellbows."
"I need a leg up to the second level- I'll clean the prancers out."
"I got the finger-counters. Closet window, right side?"
Mi'ishaen nodded, and the Orc moved into position first, kneeling down with his hands cupped at his chest level. Mi'ishaen made it easily to the back corner of the house, then moved forward quickly to put her right hoof into Stone's waiting hands. As soon as the two made contact, Stone launched the Tiefling upward, sending her soaring like a shot arrow up toward the second story window, which she took hold of immediately, pushing her lower body away from the wall so that only her tummy hit the wall of the house with a cushioned thud. She reached a hand up and pushed at the window to find that it was strangely unlatched- it swung open, but not far enough to smack on the walls. Inwardly marveling at either the unwary trust or the haughty pride of the Elves, Mi'ishaen carefully pulled herself up and into the window.
By the time she had pushed the window open, Stone had spied the first guard casually making his way toward the rear of the house- probably after the shadowy figure who'd taken off like a dart from the corner of the house. Posting up against the back wall and waiting until the guard had walked about four steps past him, the Orc suddenly moved forward, grabbed the much-smaller Elf's entire head against his shoulder and punched him straight in the throat with spiked knuckles. Nodding at what was a clean job, for him, he waited until the blood stopped gushing from the holes, then laid the guard down and pressed himself against the back wall of the house again, waiting for someone else to get curious.
Mi'ishaen, who had stuffed a few biscuits into her mouth, opened the closet door just enough to tell that there were no guards on the upper level of the house at all. Turning to her left first, she found that the door to the bedroom on that side was locked. Nodding to herself, she pulled out one of the hairpins that she'd bought from the market earlier that afternoon. She had no trouble picking the simple lock, and eased the door open carefully. Inside, she was greeted with two sleeping figures on a double bed- either both Elves were sleeping in the same room, or the guards who were absent in the halls slept with their masters. The Tiefling crept just close enough to note that both were at least of Elven descent, and that neither of them matched the description that Rashiira had carefully relayed to her the day before. With another quiet nod to herself, Mi'ishaen backed away and scanned the room, forcing herself to take her time. On the desk to her right, she noted a set of keys, and swiped them immediately.
Stone sat the fourth guard next to the other three and turned around to find the fifth behind him with his slender arms crossed.
"Why, thank you," the Eladrin smiled craftily. "I've been trying to get rid of those half-breeds for years. While Dresan is right about many things, his toleration for Humans and their ilk is unbecoming. Mixing with their kind gives you creatures like... say, Nithraz, doesn't it?"
Stone said nothing.
"A barbarian, I see," the High Elf continued as though the Orc had responded. "Well, I won't tell on your little spree- if you'll be a good boy and do something else worth my silence."
The Orc turned his head to one side momentarily, then smiled as though he'd understood what the conditions were. He turned calmly, whipped a knife out of a pouch and cut one of the guard's fingers clean off the hand. Sticking that one into his mouth like a cigar, he sliced off another and turned to hand it to the visibly disturbed guard. His shaken response prompted Stone to narrow his eyes and growl, playing the barbaric beast the Eladrin had expected him to be.
"Not hunter, prey. Hunter eat prey. Eat." And Stone snapped his head to the side to quickly make the finger disappear into his tusked mouth.
"Of course, of course," the utterly terrified guard said quietly, his eyes darting around to see if anyone were around to help. "No need to overreact- I- just- was- not hungry, eheh."
"Take," Stone smiled, instantly forgiving. "Share, yes? Come, take."
Seeing no other solution, the Eladrin moved forward to fib his way out of the situation. But the two steps the guard took toward Stone's gristly offering were his mistake. The minute he reached his hand out, Stone grabbed it and pulled him into an embrace that easily crushed his lungs. Not wanting to visibly damage him much more, however, he let him drop to the ground, then sat on top of him and strangled him to death. That done, he spat the finger out of his mouth, opened his victim's mouth and crammed it in. The second finger he dropped on the ground near its original owner, glad for prejudice and simple ignorance.
After pocketing some exposed gold and a small ring, Mi'ishaen closed the door to the room she had been searching, leaving both inhabitants asleep. Breaking the hairpin that she had been using in the door, she turned and sneaked down to the doorway that was on the other side of the closet she'd entered. That door was open, strangely enough, and the bed had only one inhabitant. Mi'ishaen assumed that this meant that the second guard was up and about for whatever reason, and so allowed her impulse to get in and out as quickly as possible to take over. Seeing that this was the Elf with the longer hair that she'd seen before, she left the broken pin at the center of the dressing table. However, while there, she decided to go through the drawers, finding a scroll and a darkened gem of some sort. Deciding that it would be worth enough money to at least pay for the daggers, Mi'ishaen pocketed the gem to sell to the shark-like merchants that worked with Spectre. Turning her attentions to the other various options in the room, she spotted a leather bound notebook at a short table just next to the sleeping Elf. It was simplicity itself to swipe the thing- and while she couldn't tell what was in the book by its cover, she knew that at least the cover itself was expensive enough to warrant its taking- but her hunch had been right, and the bed's second occupant returned, closing the door softly behind itself. By the time that person turned, Mi'ishaen had ducked around the other side of the dressing curtain and crushed herself into the corner. There were a few breathless moments of concern as the person ambled around the room, but the hiss of the bed covers and the soft grumbles of the sleeping companion were comforting. Mi'ishaen counted to one hundred, concentrating on stilling her beating heart and breathing as quietly as she could as she finished sneaking the book she'd taken into the largest pouch she had, which was behind her.
Stone had found two keys on his stooge, and nodded satisfactorily when one of them opened the side door. He assumed that the other was for the front door, which actually served as the entrance to the apothecary shop. He took a few moments to sneak a peek at the front room through the curtains in the archway, and was amazed at the assortment of poisons and potions on display. He found himself wondering if the kidnapped half-Drow that they were trying to find traces of were being forced to resupply her shop remotely from wherever the hell it was that she was being held. Behind him, a window opened.
"Too good for stairs?" he asked without even turning around.
"The Elves have got their inner guards sleeping with them, right in the same bed," Mi'ishaen replied with a note of disgust.
"Had your girl in your bed, once," Stone commented, raising an eyebrow as he turned to look at her. "Haul?"
"Dunno what's important. Just took stuff that looks expensive- and keys. A whole string of 'em."
"Seems wrong," the Orc frowned. "Phoenix are stupid. Wouldn't use locks. Would use alternate dimensions, just to say they did."
"Cellar," Mi'ishaen noted with a brevity that her compatriot appreciated. She fit keys into the cellar door quietly and carefully until one of them turned, then stopped. "Wait- trap."
Stone nodded and moved the Tiefling out of the way by yanking on her tail lightly. She flicked it instinctively, nearly catching him with her new tail knife, which made him smirk and give his head a slight toss to her. When he turned to the small string that ran from the floor to the door, however, he was completely focused, and analyzed the situation for nearly an entire minute before placing his fingers on the bottom of the string and pulling while he cut the bottom. He shifted his head to the side, and Mi'ishaen opened the door just enough for her to get inside. Certainly enough, the rope ran clear through the door and was holding up a jar roiling with mageflame of some sort. Mi'ishaen put her hand to the side of the rope that was on the inside of the door and stuck her other hand around to tap Stone and let him know that he could let go. When he did, the weight of the jar surprised Mi'ishaen, who nearly moved forward. Stone, having had the feeling that this would happen, quickly moved around the door and got his hands back on the rope.
"Go."
Alchemic ingredients lined the walls of the place, making Bahlzair's set up in the collapsed Avariel city look like child's play. Mi'ishaen identified a few roots and herbs whose properties she still remembered, and was gratified to find a few useful poisons and healing potions. When she stepped farther into the room, however, she noted that there was a large burn mark at the center of the floor, and some of the more delicate ingredients had been thrown to the floor as though by an earthquake.
"What happened here?" she marveled quietly.
"Fight," Stone said simply, putting the rope into the extinguished jar. "Fire mage against alchemist, and the mage won, of course. Look out for fire runes; they're loud, and they hurt- hey, that our girl's livelihood."
Mi'ishaen looked up from the poison shelf and shrugged. "Who cares? Look, I've got what, five potions, and this is a well-stocked apothecary. I leave this here, it's like passing up a bag of gold sitting unguarded in a whole treasury. What's five potions gonna hurt her? At least it's going in my pouch instead of some Phoenix's."
"Wouldn't let your shadow hit a church, huh?" Stone replied with some small measure of disdain.
"M'lord works for a criminal coterie, so give the high horse a pass, won't you?" Mi'ishaen spat back. "Oh, hey, here's another one of these stones."
"Another?" Stone echoed, interested. "Don't recognize it."
"I'm taking it- if nothing else, they're probably damned expensive," Mi'ishaen noted. "Give me that rope that tied that trap up too- okay, I'm done here, Sir Tenderheart, let's go."
"Go; I'll clean," the Orc sighed, his eyes narrowing at the epithet. The Tiefling nodded, and both exited the cellar quietly. Mi'ishaen slipped back out of the window in which she'd entered before, allowing Stone to pull it closed for her. He carefully looked over the room, checking for anything out of place, but when he saw nothing that struck him, he moved through the curtains into the front room and easily picked the lock to the iron strongbox behind the wooden counter. He was surprised to note that nothing was there, but shrugged and left the strongbox unlocked anyway. After checking to see that there were no further witnesses- and indeed it seemed the Urmlaspyr guard was dreadfully slow to even come toward the direction of the half-Drow's shop- Stone exited the apothecary door and broke the handle from the outside to keep everyone as confused as possible for as long as possible.
As he wound his way quickly back toward the entrance to the tunnel that had been marked for him, he heard the echo of a little boy's voice, scolding.
"Ach, back to sleep with thee, Sparra, 'tis but a dream. Tieflin's dinnae fly, eh?"
"But 'tis true, I swear it," came the plaintive female reply. "I seen the tail dairtin' over me hed!"
And Stone smirked, because Sparrow's brother was unknowingly sparing her from having her neck snapped for being a witness to a Spectre operation. He made a mental note to tell Mi'ishaen to avoid hopping rooftops over sleeping street children, since he really didn't enjoy killing them.
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