At an abandoned house on the outskirts of Foghaunt...
A spot of lunch with friends was one of life's greatest pleasures, of that there could be no doubt. Particularly when the food was this good - Murder-Thought could hardly be grateful enough to Rattle-Knife for the skill and passion he consistently displayed in the preparation of meat, both for culinary and intimidation purposes. If there was any member of this group he considered absolutely indispensable, it would certainly be him. All of life's worries faded away as Murder-Thought took another bite of his friend's cooking - he was full by this point, but that was hardly something that usually stopped a man like Murder-Thought.
As he ate, he looked across the table at his other fellows, but their faces, cheerful as they were, showed not the understanding Murder-Thought had achieved. Typical, but he would not hold it against them. They were hardly connoisseurs, after all. Strangle-String in particular could and probably would eat anything, as he had demonstrated on one of their previous jobs. And Arson-Stick, bless his soul, always did seem to have other things on his mind. Rattle-Knife himself, meanwhile, seemed to be blissfully ignorant of his genuine talent despite how often Murder-Thought assured him of his unquestioned dominance of the kitchen. To him, this was merely the way it must be, and not something worthy of recognition. Admirable, in a way.
"Here they come again. The prince seems dissatisfied," Rattle-Knife suddenly said, and the rather cordial atmosphere of the lunch they'd been having dissipated, much to Murder-Thought's displeasure. Had the prince caught on somehow? The royals did have some magic at their disposal. Killing him could turn out fairly messy. Sure, the others would certainly enjoy the chance, but it would hardly be something that could turn out very well in the long run. Murder-Thought sighed, and the four grabbed their respective bits of food and went their separate ways, skittering into the many nooks and alcoves of the house, and in half a minute they had virtually disappeared into the labyrinthine structure of the building. Within the next ten seconds, the air took on a supernatural stillness, and the disturbed dust shuffled into place exactly as the three had left it on their last visit.
Four minutes and twenty seconds later, Prince Arcus began to bang on the door. Murder-Thought, soundlessly munching on his food, wondered what would be the best method of getting rid of him.
"Oh kinship spirits, come out to pla~y. V wants you to come with him on his magical adventure to lala-land."
Probably orcs. Orcs were always a good tool to dispose of people. After all, one never knew where an orc could hide himself. There were even tales of orcs eliminating one of the border dukes by entering his castle secretly and hiding themselves under the beds, knowing nobody would expect an orc to hide somewhere that predictable. And there had just been an orc attack, too. Fortunately, the Prince did not seem to suspect anything just yet.
"I need a godsdamned drink," the ignorant kingspawn said under his breath. "I don't think anybody lives there," Jum added obtusely, and Prince Arcus sighed again. They left shortly thereafter. Now Murder-Thought and friends could plot on what to do in case he came back a third time and, more importantly, resume lunch.
At one of the many reasonably disreputable pubs of Foghaunt...
Angu absolutely loved the afternoon crowd. They were so utterly remarkably dull, and hardly ever spared her a glance. All they ever wanted were drinks, it seemed. She did not even have to smile at them, and they did not appreciate conversation. Or any sort of more shallow flirtatious banter, very much unlike the evening types. They were mostly just content to wallow in their misery (and sometimes share it with their buddies), and there were hardly ever more than four of them in the pub at a time. Furthermore, they were very easy, yet very fulfilling to despise, and highly insensitive to verbal abuse as well, thus providing the barmaid a very handy emotional outlet. Sneering at these people both openly and behind their back was the greatest pleasure currently in her life.
Though she did hate to have to admit it, she had to say that her mother probably did the right thing by making her work here a while. To think that she had ever considered being kind to filthy ingrates like these. Luckily, such childish ideas were well beyond her now. The most childish idea she currently entertained was the thought that the evening crowd, in light of the recent orc attack, might have thought twice about showing up here tonight. A gal could dream.
And, as was typical, just as she began to really dream of the possibility of not having to talk to anyone on a friendly basis tonight, no less than three men walked into the pub - one was huge, one was definitely Prince Arcus Fogeye and the third looked strange. Angu looked over at Hanjie the barkeep, and he, evidently having had the same thought, stared back, smiled and nodded. Oh, gods. She'd have to start entertaining patrons already. Sighing to herself, Angu strolled bouncily over to the arriving men, putting on her best fake smile.
"Welcome to the..." she began and then realized she had not bothered to really learn the current name of the establishment. Hanjie had told her numerous times, but the name had a highly repellent quality to it that instantly made her want to forget it. "Welcome to our place!" she then said. The patrons did not appear to be very impressed by her, which was slightly insulting. Aside from the strange one, anyway, who seemed intent on making eye contact and staring at her ponderously. The prince spoke after a short moment, looking slightly depressed.
"I require a stiff drink. Will you procure one?"
No, she thought.
"Of course, sirs," she said. "Royalty and retainers drink for free, naturally," she then added, bowed and quickly retrieved the round of appropriately stiff drinks Hanjie had fixed in record time, then showed the esteemed guests to their own personal table - the afternoon crowd naturally gathered in the darker corners, so there was no trouble finding a clean and presentable spot. The prince, despite appearances, seemed to be your typical afternoon drinker - Angu could safely say she looked down on him already, and the feeling was absolutely glorious. Though the way he kept glancing around the room was slightly suspicious. And his two bodyguards did not seem willing to imbibe any of the offered refreshments, which was a little disappointing. After looking at Hanjie to confirm her suspicion, she grimly realized that now she was obligated to offer the other two something else.
"Can I get you two anything?" she asked, smiling uncertainly, and was most unsettled when the strange one got up immediately. His eyes reminded her of two stars - incredibly distant, yet still unsettlingly bright.
"What is a spirit of virtue and beauty like you doing in a place such as this?" he asked earnestly, and Angu's very being shrank back a little. Why'd they always have to do that? She hated that she had to play along with schmucks like these.
"Waiting for a brave prince to come along and save me, obviously," she said, smiling in her slightly forced manner. That was probably the worst line she'd spat out yet, and she'd had some terrible ones. The man raised a single eyebrow and his eyes narrowed.
"But what if it is the prince that needs saving?" the man then asked, tilting his head.
"Well, I-" she began, trying to think of something witty. But he was unlikely to appreciate wit, she thought. People of his caliber scarcely ever did. At least not proper wit, anyway.
"Would you step up?" the armored individual asked, stepping closer, causing Angu to step back reflexively. Probably a bad move, but this man may have been a psychopath.
"What?"
"Would you save the prince?" repeated, emphasizing each word.
"I don't kno-"
"Would you or would you not?" he asked, drawing closer. Angu could very easily guess what answer he was expecting.
"I... would? Somebody would have to, right?" she said, and felt mildly disgusted when the man grinned at her with his darkened yellow teeth. She had half a mind to kick him when he took her under his arm and pushed her to the table, and most definitely did not appreciate what the man blabbered out next.
"She has the spirit in her," he said knowingly to the drinking prince, who looked up from his beverage bemusedly. Angu was filled with a sudden sense of danger. "We should take her along."
At the southern gate of Foghaunt...
Shai was feeling rather exposed and unsafe, and yet also very conscious of the slight discomfort he was causing to his captor by hiding behind his back - he wondered if he should apologize and go back to stand next to the knight. But then those two strange people would be able get at him, he thought. They probably had not washed their hands after they had last brutally murdered a wild animal with them. Who knew what kind of horrible maladies he could catch from even breathing the doubtlessly vile stench wafting from them. The uncleanness of these two barbarians was quite an effective direction for his thoughts - why, he hardly could think about the way he was captured and bound to adventure by an unfamiliar person when there were unsavory individuals like these nearby.
"More than a hunt, fellow! A quest, I see - to kill the dragons of old!" a random wizard dressed like some sort of clown suddenly said, his voice brimming with strange sageliness. Shai was always having trouble imitating that sort of thing. For some reason, sounding inscrutable and wise did not come naturally to him. Probably his voice, he thought.
"Indeed it is," the knight said with an air of slightly forced indifference - clearly he found these two offensive to at least a similar degree as Shai, and probably was none too pleased with the wizard man either. "And you fine fellows have made an excellent choice. I am Prince Grimm Grimmeth Fogeye, and I and my brothers have been tasked by our father the King with a most important task - investigating reports of dragon attacks in the South," he continued. The mention of dragons made Shai's heart skip in what he quite frankly thought to be a perilous manner. Maybe he should have run while he had the chance. He most certainly could not now - he was fairly certain the two bloodthirsty yokels in front of him could smell fear, and that they probably had no compunctions about having him for dinner if the opportunity arose. And even if they did not run him down while guided by their savage yokel reflexes, the prince probably would. And he had a horse, though it did seem a little bony and malnourished. Things were looking grim.
"Dragons," the less disturbing man said, grinning in a mildly absent fashion as his eyes seemed to stare over the prince's shoulder (and even though it was not over the shoulder Shai was hiding behind, he still shivered a little) and his fingers began idly wandering over his arbalest. His friend licked his lips in a disturbingly audible fashion, though his face was looking dull as ever. That was what Shai disliked about yokels the most - their intentions always seemed so ambiguous and only tangentially related to what Shai could describe as a competently executed nefarious agenda.
"Seeing as our forefather killed all the dragons off aeons past, I would think at worst it's a case of some overgrown lizards snaffling a few lambs or small children, though more like simply an excuse by the peasantry to keep from paying their taxes. Either way, there shall be ample reward for all those who accompany us in finding the truth behind these strange rumors. Of course, if there did happen to be live dragons still roaming the countryside down there, well - 'twould make for a fine "hunt", would it not? Certainly a simple task for a party such as ours, with just the right amount of excitement to save us from boredom," the prince continued, and the two yokels looked at each other for a second, then the speaking one looked at the prince again.
"The only payment we ask for is first pick of dragon parts if we... come across any," he said, grinning widely. The prince seemed to be considering it - it was probably a good deal, Shai thought. The good part about yokels was the way they were fairly easy to placate. The prince undoubtedly knew this as well.
"Tell me, what are your names? Have you any need for additional equipment before we set off? I imagine we shall be setting off shortly, just as soon as mine brothers get themselves ready...." he said, looking over the two men - both of them did look like what Shai would expect from cave dwellers, or maybe even orcs - draped in hides, with faces that had been put through deliberate scarification, messily shaven heads, pouches visibly holding mysterious, arcane tools of murder and skin-stealing, pieces of carved and polished bone affixed to their outfits in certain places - doubtlessly primitive hunting trophies, Shai guessed, hoping that his skull would not one day hang from one of their belts.
"We are prepared, and we are Tobber, who is me, and Habber, who is he," the crossbow-wielding one said, pointing first at himself, then at his friend. Shai wished they never would find out his name. Maybe they would forget to ask. It was important in this case to look too unimportant to bother and too important to eliminate - if only Shai had ever bothered to learn how to do either.
In the reasonably ostentatious home of Gutiruk...
It was certainly predictable that the little guy would find the images familiar - after all, that was why the Seer had completed them, Gutiruk thought.
"Hmm, quite interesting. The crown likely represents my brothers and I, and we did in fact agree on the dragons... I'll have to remember these, they could prove quite useful to the quest... In fact, honorable seeress, you could as well, if you would be willing?" the fellow said. Gutiruk felt a little alarmed - what would happen if the Seer went? Would his credibility in the city be ruined? That could turn out terribly. Awfully, even. He would have to try and refuse this man and... and the Seer nodded already.
"Huh?" he involuntarily said. That was an unexpectedly bad sign. It practically reeked of destiny. And he would know the ungodly stench of predestined outcomes - it was all he could smell around here lately. The person continued to speak, his entourage showing a rather interesting variability of expression, from scowling to acceptance to contained bemusement.
"I take it this woman is under your care sir? I am Prince Don Honsonson, and my brothers and I require her services. Do you object? If not, would you mind fetching some writing material for her?" the little guy said, and Gutiruk's eyes widened as he placed his palm over his mouth, a gesture his mother had taught him. The civilized way to register surprise, she called it.
"Uh... yes, sir. I mean, I do not object," he said, knowing it was probably not a good idea to defy a prince's wishes. He quickly stepped away from the group, the idea that he was reduced to what amounted to a manservant in his own home hardly even occurring to him, and returned moments later with an inkwell, a quill and as many sheets of paper as he could scrounge up, which was most certainly a sizable amount. The Seer took a sheet and the inkwell, then dipped her finger into it, immediately beginning to sketch out an image on the sheet - it seemed to be a crown with an arrow pointing away from it, with a very accentuated exclamation mark on top. It most certainly did not look like it meant anything good, Gutiruk thought. And once she was done, she immediately showed the image to the prince, who seemed rather unmoved.
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Topic: Kingspawn of Allochthon: important question! (Read 19666 times)