Private Tales A wrong turn and a blind alley

[Salogan]

“Even in the depths of the city, the brutalist architecture is always in view...” The man whispered as he stood against the wall of the alleyway, stone expertly placed and shoddily maintained. Looking across from him stood a man that seemed to be shrouded almost entirely in darkness, standing by the same wall. “The only true difference is the flags and livery. Up on top, it’s like a carpet draped across rows of teeth.”

Standing up straight, he crossed his arms over his broad chest. Dagonet was a large figure, scar riddled, and burdened by a self-proclamation of above average cunning. “But down here in the guts, like patches of skin marked by mange and disease.”

The figure across from him seemed to shift, glancing at the hint of a golden view towards the open sky and the ensnaring top levels of the nearby buildings. Dagonet understood the figure, his confusion for the meeting location was clearly causing some trepidation. It wasn’t much more than a bulge in the alley, where the route widened to hold extra space for any manner of reason. But it had particular advantages, including nearby entrances and intersections.

“In the gaps we’ve got the limbs and glares of all manner of would-be criminals. Veterans too, on the prowl for the next rush.” The hooded figure looked upwards again, as if the statement was literal. “And the ruckus can be deafening in the breaks between the quiet, noise for all manner of undertakings…”

“I understand.” The figure, seemingly immune to the shine of the moon or nearby lamps, interrupted. “There are many mouths to feed and very little food to feed them. I should be fortunate to be alive, let alone standing here to receive this opportunity.”

Dagonet seemed to pause, startled by the strange tone of the voice. Scratching his bald head with a set of dirty nails, he smiled.“...Right. That’s…that’s right. Uhh, anyway. You’re here for the…”

“Yes.” The man interrupted again. “You have requested a man’s life. I am here to see that balance paid.”

Riley​

 

[Riley]

"Foosty fuking gobshytes," Riley swore beneath her breath. Hazel eyes ringed with more of a yellow in the shadow of her cowl peered on the darkened streets. It was raining. Her cloak nearly soaked through. Magic-lit street lamps and the flickering fire ones barely providing a decent glow to see out in this din. She was in a really chitty part of Vel Anir. The kinds of back alleyways and slums she'd escaped to from the Academy so long ago. The kinds she'd hid in before coming across Arwyl and Kaius and joining their group of elven rebels.

The kind that left a stink in the air and on the bottom of your boots.

A quiet huff of air and rise and fall of her chest as she squinted through the rain-slicked cobbled streets. She'd lost him....no wait. There he was. A small lad who worked in the manor of the one she was hunting. Taking a breath, she flicked her fingers in the dark, sending a small wave of invisible force that nudged a few of the other miserable sods out at this hour away. Making her path to follow the boy just a little more clear as she stepped into the streets. Head ducked from the rain but lifted enough to keep an eye on that kid.

A small cant of her head as her eyes flickered around.

It would be foolish to use too much magic here. Didn't want to get the attention of the local guard or magistrate. Didn't seem like anyone had seen her. At least so far.

 

[Salogan]

“I…I don’t understand. W…why?”
“Fal’car’o Naeg…” The hooded figure whispered as he approached. The man, addled by scars and a confused disposition, laid partially propped against the alleyway wall. A pool of red grew beneath him, filling in the cracks of the cobblestone.
“How do you know about that? Only…” Dagonet coughed into his hand, coating crimped fingers in a spatter of red. His vision wavered as he focused on the handle of the blade, rising and falling with each breath.
“A house of pain, a mockery of the Gods. And in the ancient woods of all places. It is no place for children and the suffering they endured. For you and your patrons entertainment.”
“Those weren’t children…they were elven tra-” He was interrupted as another blade gleamed through the dark, sinking deep into his shoulder and knocking the thoughts clear from his mind.

In a flash, the hooded figure was kneeling and face to face with him. Salogan’s scars, eyes, and the hobbled horns on his head were in full view. He placed a scaly hand on Dagonet’s forehead and breathed in deep.

“Weight not your pursuit for otherworldly forgiveness with childish notions and the bigotry of your people. The Pantheon will not look lightly upon you as it is…”

“Fuck your panth…” His words cut off again as the blade twisted in his chest, wrenched free by the assassin. Wiping the blood against Dagonet’s leg, Salogan sheathed the weapon and stood. This man had always been his initial target but it seemed this bounty was worthy of pursuit as well. Or, at the very least, investigation into the claims made by the corpse and the implications of the assignment.

~

Condensation escaped the dark hood as he kneeled quietly, bathed in the shadows of the passing night. It wasn’t particularly cold but the combination of breathless winds and heavy rain left the air overburdened with moisture. The roof tiles were slick to the impertinent step, though the concern was alleviated by the abundance of cracked slate or outright missing shingles that ensured a sure footing. Above, he was the limbs and eyes that Dagonet once spoke of, surveying for opportunity. That opportunity came in the wake of a child.

Nothing more than a scamp. But as it were, mice held the true power in this undercity Keep. Knowing the ins and outs of enterprise and networks, serving as the front line for information, trade, and knowledge. Knowledge like when and where the master sleeps.

Salogan approached the edge, a story above, and watched as the figure scurried through the writhing night traffic. Observing, he whispered a solemn prayer to Iasimu before shirking into the dark. Silent steps followed as he bided his time for the appropriate moment, chasing the quarry from on high.​

 

[Riley]

Riley moved expertly through the quickly thinning crowds. Her shoulder barely brushing others. Even the poor didn't like the rain. They were clambering to get under the few shoddy places that provided some shelter. There weren't much.

The runaway saw the kid duck down an alleyway.

"Stupid move, kid," a whispered growl went into the night for no one.

Booted feet quickened their pace as she rounded the corner and saw the boy surrounded by a motley gang of other street urchins.

"I-I don't have anything," he held his hands up as there was a glint of silver in the night. A redheaded girl sporting pigtails held a knife out.

"Expect me to believe that? Someone like you working 'cross town. Empty your pockets!" She lunged to mean she meant business. But that girl's hand holding the knife suddenly froze in the air.

Riley flipped the cowl of her hood down and tsk'd as she approached that small gang. One shoulder leaned casually against one of the narrow brick walls. "Oliver, Oliver, Oliver. Didn't they teach you not to wander down dark streets by yourself? Fething hells, kid."

The gang of street urchins turned their attention on Riley. Sizing up the young woman and passing silent looks to each other. Even though the red headed girl suddenly staggered forward, that invisible force releasing her.

"Get lost! This ain't about you."

"Who-who are you?" Oliver stammered. Still surrounded though the group's attention was on Riley.

"Shut the fuk up!" It was an older boy who stepped forward this time and immediately went to throw a punch at Riley.

 

[Salogan]

He came to a slow stop, ensnared by the competing shadows of the nearby dormer and a false gable, peppered in the broken gnashing shingles of an angry roof. He was quickly finding that everything and everyone was encumbered by it, a foreboding sense of despair. It was something that seeped into every busted brick and stone facing. He was seeing it now, the loss of time and patience for the fellow inhabitant that bred anger where curiosity should have lived. And he was certainly not immune to it; there was a tangible ease in the slip from despair to anger, like a thickness in the night air that gripped and clung to the pants leg, preventing someone from rising above it.

Vel Anir was not a kind place.

And it was an unpredictable place at that. In all his calculations and predictions of what could have occurred as he followed the scamp in the shadows of the city, him running into another gang with a chaser on his targets heels wasn’t up there in the realm of anticipated conclusions. But it was something that needed to be managed if he was to be successful in running down this lead.

As the older boy lurched forward to strike Riley, he seemed to slip in route. As he attempted to catch his footing, the offending hand rotated outward, as if it had been struck by something. A polished stone clattered to the ground.

“Ah! What the fuck!” He screamed as he held his hand, looking down at the back of the palm where a large welt was forming. Beady eyes darted around, pregnant with concern and confusion. Though it was apparent, as his expression steeled, that he wasn’t particularly keen on waving around his weakness in front of the rest of his crew. But as he moved again to strike the woman, the sound of the gentle rain was impeded by the click clack of rocks and pebbles raining down from the nearby roof.

Above them, the light of the nearby lanterns hinted at something sitting quietly above. All that could be seen where burning irises and a stretched out arm, lizard like fingers and claws pressed against the shingles. A single finger tapped rhythmically as the figure remained motionless - his gaze fixed on Oliver. ​

 

[Riley]

"What the hell is that?" The red-headed pigtailed girl yelled as her eyes tracked up to where the others' gazes were going.

"It's a fucking demon!"

"It's the boogie monster! Run you shitheads!" The boy who'd try to clock Riley a few times yelled, still nursing his hand as he took off. Didn't take long for the other street urchins to scatter. As a sudden flash of lightning illuminated the alley, casting it in that bright-hot flash of ethereal glow.

Riley's natural gaze followed the others up and up. Hazels locking onto those of Salogan. Flecks of yellow, green, and blue locking onto those twin orbs of glowing gold. Oliver stood frozen. His throat bobbing as he swallowed. "Hey, it'll be okay Oliver." Riley took a step in front of the scared kid, putting herself between him and the man who was decidedly not human.

"Oy. Thanks for the assist." Riley's arms crossed stiffly as she called out. Whoever he was, he was pretty bold to be in Vel Anir. It wasn't like non-humans didn't exist here. There was a whole 'free' elven quarter now. But it wasn't like there were a lot of non-humans running 'round, either.

"You comin' down so we can talk real and nice like adults or are you gonna be a clueless numpty?"

 

[Salogan]

He had been called many things in his life. Demon. Hellspawn. Devil. If given enough time, he could likely conjure a name for every letter in the alphabet. But boogie monster and numpty were certainly not on the list.

Letting go of the false gable, Salogan slid down the slanted slate roof to the sound of gravel and rocks plummeting to the ground below. But when he landed in a crouch, the act was silent. And as he lifted golden eyes to the woman now standing between him and Oliver, he slowly stood encumbered with an air of passivity. As if he had every intent of introducing himself when the time was right.

Approaching slowly, it quickly became apparent that there was a sizeable difference in scale. Standing at nearly two meters in height, Salogan moved quietly until he came to stand before Riley. He was draped in a tan rob and cowl and where horns should have erected from his forehead, there stood two freshly cut stumps encircled by runic carvings that covered his face. The flicker of the nearby lantern, which drew his attention for a moment, gave brief hints towards the nature of his lineage.

"You're welcome..." He leaned forward and picked up the polished round stone from the ground. Holding it out for Riley to see, his scaled fingers opened wide for her to take the stone. "For the assist." Eyes glanced towards Oliver as he seemed to look beyond Riley. "The open air is no place for conversations such as this, even for clueless numpty's. Right, Oliver?"

The boy nervously nodded, partially shielded by Riley. Salogan offered a kind smile as his attention returned to her. "We should leave. Your wake is soon to be filled with curious eyes."​