The Harpy Den A lean Komodi male rose from the plush comfort of a lounger, the pale scaled body made stark by the extravagantly colored silks wrapped around his body. Red, greens, blues, patterns in all manner of design. He had been called, to the office of their Matron. A stern hard woman who had very little patience for Dysmas, and only kept him for the mere money flow of those who sought to spend time with the creature in many ways. "Yes? Madam?" He spoke softly, walking in and closing the door behind himself with his tail. She was of a ruddy complexion, and seemed a darker shade of human from the norm. Her face was red though, at this moment, a crumpled page of vellum in her hand. "Dysmas. You cursed lizard." She ground out between a clenched jaw. "You've ruined us." She was seething, her rage barely contained behind her normally cool facade. Dysmas canted his head to the side, the decorated horns on his head causing the trinkets that dangled from them to shimmer and tinkle softly. "Mi'lady? Ruined? May I ask how?" He spoke, keeping an even tone, even as his tail twitched in irritation. She closed her eyes for a moment and opened them again. It had felt much longer than a minute to Dysmas. She tossed the missive across the room, a bit of ribbon falling from a broken wax seal. She drew herself up as tall as she could manage, still shorter than the male by several inches. "The Ambassador, Joau X'en. He died this morning. Of a common disease. The family is threatening to close me down. To bar the business from practice." Dysmas' breath caught in his throat. Surely it hadn't come from himself. He took greater care than most here in the brothel to ensure none such business took place. The Ambassador X'en had been his best client, having paid for Dysmas' company on many more occasions than was publicly and socially acceptable, and daring anyone to say differently. With him dead now, the family could ensure he was well and truly ostracized from the lively Courts. Dysmas had few other clients, men and women alike, who could afford to take the place Ambassador X'en had etched for himself. Dysmas kept a neutral face on, keeping his opinions to himself. The Matron shivered, still raging. "Hipwe! Oejir!" She called the names of the two out of three males allowed to carry weapons inside the establishment. It took a moment of heavy footfalls before the pair appeared, their arms laden with Dysmas' belongings. Books, letters to his clients half written, inkwells, papers and ink quill, clothes and pillows. It appeared they had even stripped his bed. He imagined his room was indeed bare now. "Lakei!" She shouted another name.That was the third one, the largest and by far scariest. He was a mercenary, and was some amalgamation of half-orc. The male followed behind the other two. "Remove this disease ridden filth from here. And ensure that he may not return...." Lakei smiled, his snaggle-teeth yellowed from chewing herb, and grabbed Dysmas, restraining his tail against the back of his neck with one hand and wrapping the other around his trim waist. They walked through to the back of the brothel and Dysmas was thrown into the back street. His items thrown onto the dusty ground. Apparently that wasn't it, he watched in dismay as his items were torched, and the four of them retreated back inside. Back Alley Doubts Dysmas normally calm face soured as soon his belongings turned to ash. The only bit he had was the robes he wore, and what he had in his coin purse, on his waist band. The Komodi male scratched through the ashes, looking to retrieve some measure of item, succeeding in pulling one copper pen nib, the metal ink well, and what jewelry that hadn't been damaged by the flames. He could sell off the jewelry if he needed to. With the rumor going around that he'd killed X'en, it would be difficult trying to find work as a Courtesan, let alone anything else. He pulled the robes tighter about himself, stowing his now smaller hoard of worldly possessions in the many hidden pockets of his innermost robe. He rubbed the small bit of tail that had been handled in such disgraceful ejection and stood, walking slowly down the alley, trying to run through scenarios in which he doesn't die in his search for shelter and food. Soon enough, the sun grew low in the sky and Dysmas had failed in successfully finding shelter. He wasn't quite hungry yet but he knew with time, it would come. He found himself on the roof where three houses met and huddled against the chimney of the most protected overhang. He was most certainly not happy, but for the moment, it was out of the elements and warm enough against the chimney, that he could feel his blood warming. He wasn't sure how long he could stick it out like this. His mind wandered to leaving this place, but it was all he had ever known. He wasn't even sure what tribe of Komodi he had hailed from, his markings giving the only clue as to his lineage, but he had no resources to find out. Dysmas' tail wrapped itself around the chimney, and he soon fell asleep, with all manner of worry and doubt filling his mind. He would likely end up dead on the street somewhere, with the relieved sigh of passerby as they spied one more dead lizard. Dysmas slept terribly the first night, and for every night after for the next three days. He had scrounged up a hunk of bread before retreating to his safe place, somewhere the other scavengers couldn't find. Even amongst the rabble of society, he was unwelcome and disgraced. Dymas rubbed a small bit of blood stained scales, trying to ease the ache of the bruises his beating had caused. Amidst the rough treatment, his tail had done the work to hide the bread. And so he was sitting against the wall of his secret place, trying to surmise what his plan should be.