Private Tales Alleys, Thieves And Mercenaries, Oh My!

[Vandor Colton]

Spoiler: Music OOC

It was late in the day, approaching evening, when the mercenary had entered the alleyway. It was a place many would not dare to spare a glance at, never mind gaze, certainly not trek, but many more would just as surely venture toward.

It wasn’t Scum Alley. This isn’t Gin Alley. If it had a name, suddenly the mercenary couldn’t remember it in that moment, so distracted by a woman’s bare breasts just as soon as he had entered this backstreet of Ragash city.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm on a bit of a mission."
"Oh, no worries," she replied. "Handsome."

Amid the vertical structures of the settlement, where upward was favored over outward, and the domes evoked beauty, were those less than beauteous sections of the city where one mercenary had taken his feet.

There were no vaulted ceilings here, no spires that stabbed the sky, but a knife just then stabbed some guy over what sounded like an argument about drinks and currency. Oh my. The mercenary harmlessly walked on by.

Granted, there were other elements of Ragash who could welcome him, with rich citizens willing to buy his blade, yet he had already heard of a proposition within the darker dens. A sellsword was little and less unless he was willing to vary his opportunity, and promise might just lead to profit, if not much and more.

Of course, it may just lead to death. Who knew? Walls flanked him, dirty and dreary, quite unlike the colors of the city proper. Down this dismal path, some mad man plucked a fistful of his own hair. Another drunkard. Perhaps.

The mercenary was flanked by strangers, some gazing his way with licked lips, others spitting on the pavement as if not brave enough to spit in his face. He looked the part, garbed in plate armor, with a black cloak, hood down, the scabbard of his sword not hiding at his hip, a helmet held in between, and a shield at his back.

Well, where is it? The contract that had since been gestured to him was somewhere further ahead. The Painted Chicken was the tavern’s name and where his employer would be waiting. So the mercenary walked onward, unfazed by his surroundings.

If someone messed with him? Go ahead. He winked at some men who looked ready to slash his neck as he went ahead. This street's denizens could mess with him if they wanted. If they did then Vandor Colton would just have to eat every fucking chicken in this alley.

Verminn Ikhi

 

[Verminn Ikhi]

Pushing aside two pretty obvious stalkers and rushing by their target, two burly men would dexterously tear his shield off his back while a smaller one ripped a jangling bag of coin off his side. A small song played above them, clear and tranquil, dispelling the magic and revealing them as rats. Now, instead of hands holding the valuables, teeth clamped onto the shield and held it in place while the string of the previously pilfered bag looped on one tooth. The rats would grow to the size of a bear while still moving, their paws kicking up clouds of dust. One of the rats turned, The rat who was once one of the bigger men, no longer holding the shield. Growling and scaring off the others trying to pull a fast one on the man, he would cry in victory, knowing his life was secured for the day.

The rat finally began to run again, and a song played, shrinking it into a normal sized rat. The rat would escape into a hole, knowing it lead to the next alley over. Getting to the next alley over meant safety and it meant food, which was always good. Given he was such a nice boss, the Sultan's servants trusted him with their lives, and he trusted his to them. Sliding down a long silken curtain, Verminn would join his grey-furred friend, laughing in genuine pleasure. Though the job of a criminal was by no means safe, it was incredibly, unreasonably fun.

He had seen their target, a man with the swagger of a mercenary in plate who walked around with no worries, and initially frowned. It wasn't that the guy struck him as particularly off, but his aura almost seemed to broadcast the fact that he thought he knew everything there was to know about alleyways. Well, thought he knew, anyways. People like that made his nose itch, but pulling one over on someone like they had just done never failed to invite a joyous smile and chase away the blues.

"He must be looking around in shock by now, after getting bamboozled like that." ​

He'd chuckle, imagining the poor merc desperately searching for them as he rounded a corner while petting the rat holding the shield on the head. That one was named Ogre, and he was the best muscle a man could ask for. Most of the Bigs were pretty strong and sturdy, but he kept Ogre on missions because of his reliability. Verm would inwardly sigh, lamenting how such a pretty shield would have to be sold. Still, that didn't matter. He and his friends had to survive even if it was at the cost of some other person. Finally, he noticed the rat who had once been the smaller man, Zeigh, had his mouth open and was rumbling as if asking a question.

Verm would smile and unhook the bag from the rat's tooth, opening it shortly after. Looking inside, he would at once become mesmerized by the glow of copper and silver shining in the sun. It wasn't gold, but that didn't matter. Even five silvers would feed them for weeks, and he pocketed almost twenty of them. Well, that just meant those weeks turned into months. Well, I said it would be at the price of someone else, but I didn't expect it to be this high, He'd think. Of course, the normally poor Verm stayed oddly silent, still not willing to draw attention to himself for the sake of celebration despite the happy news.

 

[Vandor Colton]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Well, it was certainly one thing to go walking along down the street of an alley, all but certain and rested assured that any enemy would have to first contend with the mercenary’s sword and shield before getting to his coinpurse.

What then? Oh, of course. Thieves from either side, moving in between, trying to pin the mercenary like a fish between teeth. He would prove not so easy. Just then, the two burly men had ripped at his back, with speed and dexterity most unfitting for beings of their stature.

Song? What the hell did Vandor Colton know of it? All he heard were the drums of desperate measures. The violin of violence. He didn’t have enough time to perceive his threats as his shield was wrenched from his person.

“You little shits!” Vandor cursed. From man to rat, whatever had happened, the mercenary immediately reckoned that he wasn’t dealing with your average thief. He spotted his items go missing, didn’t contest to wonder how they fit through the hole so whole, not to mention his upturned coinpurse.

Bastards! The vermin would pay for this, give or take a silken curtain. The mercenary had not entered this alley any differently than any other, except he had indeed come in plate armor that some might be accustomed to. Maybe his confidence was his mistake.

It wasn’t rich plate, it wasn’t engraved, just basic, but all the same in a place like this it would be mistaken for nobility. Indeed he was even used to thieves, but not these. This was another breed. Rats. Vandor gritted his teeth. I fucking hate rats.

He advanced, brushing past pedestrians left and right, shoving past them, for they were a hindrance at best. He looked to a bystander on one side. “Quickest way to the next alley?” Vandor demanded, if patiently.

“...Uh…” The man answered.

The mercenary lifted his hand and the dagger that came with it. “Left or right, my guy?”

The guy gestured leftward.

“Thank you.” So Vandor took off. He would reclaim his possessions one way or the other. His suit was one thing. Yet he needed his money for the missions ahead. His shield? That was another story. More sentimental to a mercenary than it should be, surely.

Verminn Ikhi

 

[Verminn Ikhi]

He would catch the conversations of the merc trying to find them in the next alleyway over, and pick up the pace. He knew he had to get to Sultanhome, where the rest of his friends were waiting, so he could change and make his way to the city proper. Finally, after a few tense seconds of speed walking, he'd see the comforting sight of the shiny orange door of a little hole in the wall restaurant and relax, slowing to a walk. The place had no windows and was closed off from light, and had lost business because it was infested with rats. Despite that rather unappetizing trait for a restaurant, what better place for the Scavenger Sultan to stay and house all of his friends?

Tossing the bag of money aside, he consciously left maybe a silver in the bag and all of the coppers, since he had stolen what amounted to 200 coppers in taking 20 silver. It wasn't as if he was heartless, despite making his living off of stealing, and things could get pretty bad for someone who was new to the city if they were broke wandering the backways of Ragash. Besides, if the mercenary did end up tracking them, it could be fun to have a small conversation on his turf. He never caught the man's name, or at least never heard it, and he seemed to have no symbol or emblem, so he concluded that the unfamiliar victim was here for some kind of job, assuming his occupation was indeed that of a sellsword.

Taking a key from his pocket, Verminn would open the somehow still sturdy door and enter into a jarringly decrepit room, muscles relaxing as the pitter-patter of tiny feet soothed his nerves. He bent down to greet his friends in the dim light, giving each a pat on the head. It's great to be home, but I need to think of the little ones, He'd think firmly, walking over to the kitchen and placing the shield against the back of a cabinet in the run down kitchen. It couldn't be used for cooking, but it sure as hell made good storage, what with all the drawers and doors. Finally, he would approach the bathroom, the one place no rats went. Why did no rat dare to step foot in there, though? The answer was in fact, simple:

It was obviously old and tired and not functioning, but in it was a chest that held a collection of civilian clothes he had scavenged from victims of other crimes, such as taking the shirt or pants off of people unconscious due to receiving a thorough mugging. These clothes allowed him to be seen in the light of day for the short period of time he was out,without giving people the impression he was a thief, so if he wasn't there and the rats ripped them up, well...It would be bad. Once he was inside, he'd open the chest and take out a dark green shirt and beige pants, discarding his normal thief outfit and depositing it in the container. Finally, he would put on the new clothes, looking in a broken mirror with a satisfied grin.

Finally, Verminn would store his flute in a pocket and also put the currency there, before walking out of the building. Surely, the person chasing his rats would not recognize him, given he was on the roof the entire time. Still, if something were to go wrong on the way out, he was not some helpless kid. "Ogre, with me." He'd say this casually, holding out his hand for the now normal sized rat to leap onto his hand and then come to rest on his shoulder

"Thanks, buddy. We'll have bread for days 'cause of your squad."​

Vandor Colton

 

[Vandor Colton]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Down the main alleyway. Thanks to a dagger in his hand and a man who did not want to die a beggar, the mercenary was sent left, through a junction of more than two that was cut in between buildings in a kind of grid. A shorter, smaller alley, essentially.

Beneath an archway, a potted plant overhead whose leaves were dying, faded green, as was much of this section of the city. Keeping a brisk pace, careful not to trip over the body on the ground, the mercenary stepped over him.

“Spare change?”
“No. Sorry, mate.”
“YE DIRTY DOG”
“I was robbed.”

He called back, walked on, negotiated his way between crates. He reached the end, emerged into the other alley, looked right, looked left. It wasn’t much different and, to be certain, he had no clue if these rodents had even escaped into this opening. Could be in the damned wall for all I know.

Gritting teeth, thinking of what he was going to do to these thieves who had become his enemy after stealing his money and his shield, the mercenary caught the attention of a bystander.

“Rats.” Called Vandor.
“How DARE you, SIR!?”
“No, no,” he answered her.
“Rats. They stole my purse.”

She looked like someone who had just been asked if she had any hair left on her head despite the long blonde locks. To be fair, magic was definitely not uncommon, and the last alley had reactions of some looking as shocked as not quite upon those bear-sized rats. Vandor had wagered maybe these beasts had been seen before at least. Then again, some of them alleymen were too drunk or drugged to give a shit.

“If you're looking for rats, mister, check out Sultanhome and leave me the fuck alone.”

Just my luck. Vandor sighed. “Thank you but, not be to rude, the sultan gives as much thought to this district as the contents of his chamberpot.”

“No, dipshit.” She pointed forward. “Sultanhome. Restaurant. Now piss off.”

Vandor took the tip and approached the establishment’s entrance. No windows. Smashed glass. No light. Business is lifeless. Someone had posted a sign on the outside: ‘Beware of rats’. Beware of rat-bears, more like, and their predators.

There wasn’t much else of a lead so Vandor decided he may as well enter the building. Surely rat city would take him to the men who had robbed him so he could stick them with the pointy end. If not? He’d just light a fire and do this neighborhood’s citizens a favor.

He had seen no others enter or exit the building. The denizens of this alley were walking, talking, standing, sitting or sleeping. Someone was singing while pissing in a corner. One man walked past Vandor and gave the mercenary pause.

Hum-Diddy-Dum. He had only glanced at the smaller figure on the man’s shoulder. That was all the evidence he needed to be suspicious at the least. “Excuse me,” the mercenary turned back and called to the man so as to give him halt.

The sellsword kept his left hand on the hilt of his sword at the same hip, giving the impression that the limb was just in a resting position, and gazed into the man’s face. “Your pet rat have a name, mate?”

Verminn Ikhi

 

[Verminn Ikhi]

Of all the things Verminn had been expecting, it wasn't his victim being quite so easy to trick. Now that the Merc had seen the rats, he would probably be suspicious of each and everyone. That was fine, as long as he didn't do anything to Sultanhome. Suddenly, as if summoned, the very same mercenary called him to stop, and he naturally walked towards him while slowing down each step. "My rat? Well, his name is Det, short for Detreckh. He's my best friend, if you'd believe it. Not that you'd asked, but My name is Verm, or Verm Khi to be precise. It's nice to meet you." These lines would be delivered with a cordial tone, the lies flowing effortlessly from his mouth.

As a thief, you had to do everything you could to survive. That meant thinking, and thinking fast. The sword at the merc's side was a threat, and he was surely waiting for him to make a move to try and steal it. Therefore, he would do just the opposite and instead begin a conversation. "If you don't mind me asking, why was I so suddenly pulled over and interrogated about my rat?" Hopefully, the Merc's apparent urgency would compel him to not waste any more time on some random bystander. "Actually, your armor is pretty good. Too good to be on someone just stalking the slums. Are you here for the Painted Chicken job? I heard somebody was looking for Mercs or Adventurers at that bar."

It was the only listing he had heard of, and hopefully the observation was true, since he knew the way there and could offer to take his former quarry on a field trip, hopefully finding a good spot to bow out...well, forever.

 

[Vandor Colton]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

Sultanhome. In retrospect, it was as akin to ‘sultan’s home’ as it was a name of respect. It sounded fancy, perhaps in the past at least, given that it was infested with rats in the present. Yet, for the moment, Vandor Colton had no intention of entering it, having approached while still at a distance.

Had this man with the rat on his shoulder exited it himself? One could wonder, but Vandor had not noticed. He had also not been given enough evidence in order to place an accusation upon him, never mind render judgment. Not yet.

Det was the name of his pet rat. Detreckh. Whatever the heck. Best friend, and the sellsword could believe it. He had seen men befriend a boar before. Then they ate it, as far as Vandor remembered. He blinked the memory away in an instant.

Verm. Nothing unusual about that name, language being language; it just so happened to be reminiscent of ‘vermin’. Verm seemed a pleasant guy. Then again, Vandor had seen pleasant men flay guys alive while smiling.

A question came the mercenary’s way. He trained his gaze, offering an amicable countenance all the while, but he did not break his vision from the other man’s eyes.

‘Interrogated’, Verm mentioned. ‘Pulled over’. Those were words, not of a bystander, but of someone wondering if they had done something wrong, like a criminal, one of ill intent, one with guilt. Vandor’s question of the pet rat could just as much have been replaced with the name of a dog being walked.

Intriguing. His contemporary seemed to be on the defensive already. It wasn’t abnormal to rest one’s hand on the hilt of a sword at their hip, after all. It was natural. As for Vandor’s armor, it was strong steel indeed, if nothing fancy. In this alley? That was another story.

“Painted Chicken?” That a coincidence? Vandor, too, gave nothing away in his gaze, his countenance sound. Now, how shall we play? He could confess he was robbed right there and then. Instead, he would let Verm on and further determine whether he was innocent—in this case, anyway.

“I am a sellsword and I am indeed searching for the door to The Painted Chicken.” He wasn’t wrong. He had been looking before he was robbed. “Vandor,” he exchanged. “Nice name. Det, I mean." He winked at that rat. "I’m struggling to find this tavern. Do you know where it is, sir?”

Verminn Ikhi

 

[Verminn Ikhi]

The rat returned the wink with a smug little blink of his own, and Verminn inwardly shook with laughter. Even a rat had a low opinion of this guy, and he knew this was the case because he could feel almost the imaginary aura of smugness radiating off of his friend. So far, it did not seem like the mercenary suspected the duo had been part of the effort to rob him, and if Verm was less aware of the sword at the man's hip, he might have been laughing as well. Instead, he would smile cordially, the expression on his face almost designed to make someone lower their guard.

"Lovely to meet you, Vandor. You have a nice name yourself, but I can't exactly tell where it comes from." He'd reply, smoothly returning the compliment in place of Ogre. It wasn't as if the merc understood Vermin, a language only he and the rats knew, so it was the best solution.

"Anyway, if you're that eager, I can totally lead the way. I know this might sound odd coming from someone around this place, but I'll even do it free of charge." He'd say this casually, a sort of subtly suave edge creeping into his voice. What an odd feeling it was, the hunter to be so close to the hunted and know full well one wrong move might flip that order entirely on it's head? A jarring thought, even to Verminn.

Well, at least he isn't killing my rat. He actually complimented Ogre, but that might be a joke. Still, I can afford to be nice. He'd think, the laughing stopping and being replaced inside him with a voice that solely spoke strategy. All that was necessary to get out of this sitch was to be kind and build trust. It wasn't as if he hadn't already taken enough in exchange for this "free trip". Thinking to himself, he would reflect back on his prior thought: Honestly, considering how much money I stole, I can afford a lot more stuff than just the ability to relax.

"However, sir, if it does not displease you, I must make a quick stop along the way. My friends have the sad luck to be less wealthy than me and I provide them food every so often. Besides, it's been a while since my last restock." Obviously, this was another lie since his only friends were rats, but the fact remained they had to be fed. As he continued to speak, Verminn began to see a web of lies form, inwardly cringing as his words continued to weave a web that could easily trap him if given time to grow big enough. Either way, he would have to make sure he owed his former quarry nothing. "Shall I lead the way, or will that be all for this interaction?"

 

[Vandor Colton]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Verm’s smile was ever innocent, though life had since taught the sellsword that there was no innocence. Only degrees of guilt. As far as where his own name came from, Vandor simply shrugged. Moving on. The mercenary had a job—and had been robbed, of course, but Verm didn’t yet need to know. He was the door to the tavern first and foremost.

Odd? Free of charge? Not every alleyway passerby was a back alley whore or a cutpurse or cutthroat with a dagger for that matter. Perhaps Verm was just bored or gentlemanly enough to lead this stranger onward. Perhaps, of course, both men were playing pretend, but if they played, no matter: Vandor loved games. A sellsword needed four things in his life: sword, wit, luck and a love of the gamble.

Ah, and so it begins. Verm mentioned a bit of a detour needing to be taken. Keeping his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, Vandor gently waved a hand as if to dismiss any concerns. He, too, could be a gentleman. “You’re offering to lead me to my quarry where I have no map and never learned to appreciate mazes.” Except where there are rats in a maze.

“Please, by all means, feel free to stop along the way. I will wait.” Whatever Vandor’s suspicions, he gave nothing away on his countenance, his face the shape of a patient tourist; a cordial expression.

“Lead on. You have my sword.” Vandor didn’t notice any weapon on his counterpart. “I’ll walk as a guard all the while. To keep watch for thieves in these streets.” His smile did not fade from his face. “I bloody hate thieves.”

Verminn Ikhi

 

[Verminn Ikhi]

Verminn grinned at the mercenary's acceptance of his terms, stretching a bit as he did. "It appears I'm not the only gentleman around here. Ah, that is to say, your lenience is most appreciated." At Vandor's notice that he would stand guard, the thief almost chuckled at the strong irony of the whole situation. Still, it was nice to have protection, even from a man with nothing to his name but a decent sword and some armor. Even so, he couldn't exactly complain, since he had put his newfound guard into such a position.

So far, his plan was being added to by the second in parts. The first: Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Well, he had no friends around beside his secret agent riding on his shoulder, but the other half would definitely serve him in continuing to build the ruse he was shrouding both himself and his unknowing opponent in. At the mercenary's declaration of hate for thieves and his ever genial smile, Verminn would give a relieved look, knowing that somehow relating to this man might help keep the lights off in his head.

He had also said something about leading on, so Verminn began to walk, trying to both balance the conversation and recall the way to the tavern his "client" had requested. "I despise them as well. For instance, sometimes the streets are crowded, so I choose to go through the back alleys and that seems to be prime time for them to strike. Lost quite a few silvers to a mugging, I have." At this thought, he would appear to look somewhat embarrassed, but that was just a ploy to crush his intrusive thoughts of stating he had been the robber all along and running off maniacally.

"Any plans here besides taking a job?" He'd ask this conversationally, noticing that although the conversation was not dangerous, spending too much time on a topic such as thievery was. He also noticed that the mercenary had scanned him for a weapon, and silently thanked fate that his main method of attack could fit in a pocket.

Vandor Colton

 

[Vandor Colton]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

It would have been remiss of Vandor to not watch Verm’s face for any indication of a reaction to his words about his hatred for thieves, though the mercenary’s eyes were only subtly studying his guide’s face, trying to give nothing away that he was being scrutinized for lies.

On the other hand, Vandor was rather relaxed and that much was not an act. He did need the direction of this tavern as much as he needed a lead to discover those thieves, and this ‘Verm’ man was one such thing. But, more than that, perhaps, he was having some fun under the circumstances.

“Could be worse,” Vandor returned over Verm’s upturned silvers. “Could have been gold.” Truth be told, money was much and more to a mercenary, but little and less in comparison to his equipment. One buys the other. One earns the other. Was one adage.

Any moment, the sellsword could shift his cloak, let Verm know he had been robbed, what was stolen, innocently ask if he’d heard a story about giant rats, but for now he left things open as the pair kept going.

“Yes sir,” the merc answered with minor enthusiasm. “I plan on taking the job in the tavern and eating and drinking in said tavern.” He shrugged. “Before or after I earn my silvers.”

Games of thrones, games of words. What’s a sultan in comparison to a gambler of the highway? A bit distracted by some folk tumbling dice in the road, Vandor gave Verm his attention. “And you? What do you do?” Besides whispers to whiskers. “I don’t suppose you work in Sultanhome…do you?”

Verminn Ikhi

 

[Verminn Ikhi]

"Work at...Sultanhome? The only "workers" left are rats, or so I've heard." He'd say this jokingly, not really taking his companion's question seriously. Well, he took it casually on the outside, but on the inside he focused a little more than he had before. He's trying to move in on me, trying to see if I'll slip up. I need to be careful and show him I'm far more tricky than he thinks. Still, there wasn't much time to think, because if he didn't convincingly bullshit an answer, there would be problems.

"I don't anticipate us crossing paths again, but if you must know I work at a schoolhouse as a teacher of finance. Money has always been an interest of mine, and I hope to one day become a banker at a large establishment." He'd say this wistfully, actually more occupied with thinking about how much he could theoretically steal if he ever got a job at a bank. Though this line of thought was not particularly helpful, he was still a thief and had certain machinations because of that.

It was wise not to get into any more trouble, though, given he was also technically a murderer, so he shut off that train of thought. Looking back at his compatriot, he'd give a confused look. "I must ask, though, why does a probably months-shuttered hole in the wall interest you? It's a very specific topic, so I was simply wondering." With this comment, he would follow up with a noncommittal shrug, as though he was only slightly interested. However, deep within his soul, he smiled a bit. Dancing mental circles around armored thugs was normally easy, but he was actually having fun battling this man.

Alright, Vandor. You tried to start something, and it's your turn to be pressed. I hope you can entertain me with your response, because right now things are flowing smooth as silk on my end.

 

[Vandor Colton]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

Either Verm was a good liar, a man who could play the game, or he deserved his own topic for his honest life. Teacher of finance. The sellsword could have sworn he'd heard one robber title himself as such in the past. That man’s interest in money was ultimately what got his head removed from his neck.

A very specific topic. Simply wondering. Oh, Verm spoke nonchalantly enough, but a gambler’s best bet was to take the question as a joke and leave it alone. Broaching it, no matter how seemingly disinterested, was only going to raise suspicions.

So Verm approached and Vandor did not let go. Rather, he offered the expression of someone who suddenly wondered whether it was a simple topic and, conversely, if his contemporary was specifically wondering.

“Well, beyond merely jesting, you’ve got a rat on your shoulder for one thing,” he observed. “And that restaurant is infested with rats.” His tone more matter of fact than accusing. “I dunno. We were both near it at the time. Might be somebody finally decided to do a bit of spring-cleaning!”

The denizens of these streets could only hope. “Rodent companions notwithstanding,” Vandor continued expanding on the topic with Verm’s own opening. Were they innocently conversing? “I hear the best thing when it comes to getting rid of pests—thieves, in another sense—is to burn the nest. Then exterminate the rest with poison, traps, or the pointy end of a sword, perhaps.”

The pair passed an elderly lady feeding her cat. It hissed at Verm’s rat. Vandor grinned. "Not that I hate rats, of course." I just fucking hate rats. "Yet I do hate pests."

Verminn Ikhi

 

[Verminn Ikhi]

"He's on my shoulder for his own reasons and I allow him for mine. Rats are very hardy creatures, but they are also easy to please. Food is a favorite of Det, and he can even find his own and come back to me. We're friends, but only because it's beneficial for him. Besides, this is just cheap companionship for me, costing nothing like the money one might spend on a dog or a cat. Unlike most men, I've found, I find the presence of a furry friend more comforting than the embrace of a whore." This line was delivered with a conversational tone, as if he was telling his new friend nothing special. It was true, though, and Verminn was a pure little man on the inside. If there was a competition in terms of whose V-card had lasted longer, his was winning due to getting damaged by age more than anything else.

He'd shrug, effortlessly sending Ogre jumping a few inches up and landing back on him as though he could, at any time, buck his furry friend off and end their partnership. Obviously, this wasn't the case, but his talking companion did not have to know that. In fact, he couldn't ever know that given they had already been to Sultanhome. Despite probably understanding the situation, Ogre did not appreciate his carefully planned facade and dug his claws into Verm's shoulder. Verminn winced in pain but did not cry out, realizing Ogre had just accidentally helped him further his own point.

A little bit of blood dyed his clothes, and he looked over with a surprised expression."Fuck. Case in point, though, as you can see. I might need a bandage for that, but I can handle it 'till th' Chicken. You won't find much more trouble from me, don't worry." At his companion's next question, Verm would visibly become a bit annoyed. "I'd ask you to not mention traps, poison, or use the word "pests" in a negative light around my friend. You might understand why he's not so fond of those words." For the first time this conversation, Verminn was being just a bit genuine. Ogre was one of his favorite officers, and this line of conversation would not be good for morale or popularity within the family.

They passed a cat, who hissed at Ogre. Both the rat and Verm ignored the sound, walking past. "Quite disagreeable creatures, felines are. I use this to get back at them without their owners knowing. " He'd pull a shabby looking flute out of his pocket and blow on it, smiling as he did. Nothing came out of the instrument, or at least that's what it looked like. A nonmagical variant of Calling the Guard played much louder than the magical variant, the single sharp note registering too high for humans (and rats) to hear. However, the lady's animal friend did. Behind them, the cat would fall over and begin scratching wildly, yowling in pain. "That never, ever, ever gets old."

Vandor Colton

 

[Vandor Colton]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

Well, Verm's first words were ones that this sellsword could not help but chuckle quietly to himself over. For a couple of reasons. Verm spoke of those rats, or at least his own, with unexpected wisdom in his tone. You learn something new every day. He knew rats. Vandor would remember that.

What was just as amusing was Verm’s finding his furry friend more comforting than the embrace of a whore. In the merc’s experience (albeit not personally), sometimes the furry friend was the whore. It was just that kind of universe.

The man and the rat did seem to share a relationship different from the lady with her cat. She doubted she would allow it to bleed her like the rat had the man. Vandor certainly wouldn’t, lover of creatures that he was. More dogs than cats or rats.

Ooooh. There was another reason for the mercenary’s glee. Looks like I opened another kind of wound. Verm had visibly stiffened at the mention of pest extermination. That reaction wasn’t entirely unexpected. Yet it did elicit more of what Vandor had since suspected: That rat could listen to more than a cat’s hiss.

Then again, maybe Verm had just spoken figuratively. Either way, there was a difference between feral dogs you had to put down and dogs you kept at your camp. Were pet rats and rat pests any different?

“My apologies,” Vandor offered, nonchalantly if not sarcastically. Seemed that Verm had his own sense of humor, however. “Ouch.” Whatever the flute’s true effect on that cat, it hurt it. “Curious. You seem a wee bit selective in the treatment of other creatures.” He mentioned more in an observation and less in an accusation, but Verm could take it any way he wanted.

From don’t say “traps” or “poisons” to sending a harmlessly hissing kitten yowling in pain. Apparently this man had more of an affinity for those rat-pests of Sultanhome than this elderly lady’s pet cat.

“I do hope The Painted Chicken has less pests than Sultanhome, though.” Vandor held up a hand of surrender, other still resting on hilt. “Sorry. No offense intended.” He just as much meant cockroaches. “Have you eaten in either establishment before the latter was closed?”

Verminn Ikhi

 

[Verminn Ikhi]

"You are excused, my good sir. We'll forget all about it." He'd say this nonchalantly in turn, as though he didn't really care whether Vandor apologized or not. "Selective, you say? Well, obviously." He'd chuckle as though the mercenary had just said something stupid. Well, he kind of had. Everything in life was a series of selections, and frankly the mercenary had no need to question him on his choices so far.

"Besides Det, no other animal calls itself my friend. Let me put it this way: If you had to choose between saving your best friend from getting mugged or some random homeless man you've never met from getting mugged, would YOU save the random homeless guy?" Ogre was one of his best soldiers, and Verminn's honor as a benevolent boss would suffer if he let the cat get away scot-free.

"I've never been to the Chicken, but I know the area because an associate invited me out once to one of their rival places. Me, though, I usually tend to haunt bars and taverns closer to my house. As for Sultanhome, I've heard it was just some hole in the wall with a decent reputation, but I haven't been." At this point, he had an idea of what the mercenary needed in order to move forward. He thought of Verm as a lead, and hopes that because this random man has a rat on his shoulder, he's connected to the rats that robbed him.

Well, this would be easy. He just had to get to the Painted Chicken and drop off the mercenary, and that would be it. The truth was, without Verm making a mistake, Colton had no lead whatsoever. Keep on your toes, Verminn, and he'll be gone eventually. As was becoming clear as this inane interrogation continued, Vandor wasn't even grasping at straws. Currently, he was holding onto a single straw. Even that straw, as it was, seemed to be slowly but surely breaking.

Vandor Colton

 

[Vandor Colton]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

It was indeed obvious. For all Verm’s words as earned and deserved, there were certainly a few things that Vandor had observed: his contemporary preferred rats over cats, had a thing for rats including pet rat and rat pests. And if said pet rat was more than the human’s companion? That meant it was intelligent enough to potentially be one of the very rats that Vandor is after.

The sellsword was himself more or less selective when it came to the treatment of other creatures, but he wasn’t the one being subtly or not so subtly interrogated. Vandor did wonder if the rat on the man’s shoulder had actually called him its friend; as in, with words to be heard when no one was listening.

The fact was, whatever the other man said, Vandor wasn’t going to suddenly drop his suspicions. He would follow any lead until his contemporary convinced him of his innocence. Of which, Verm’s best bet was to offer no indication of this conversation being an interrogation if he didn’t want to come off as suspicious.

Verm managed by casually answering Vandor’s question of restaurants. “Well I shan’t get the chance to dine in Sultanhome anytime soon, I imagine, but I’ll wager that The Painted Chicken is a tavern that serves chicken.”

Speaking no less casually, would Verm yet detect the interrogation in that sentence? Granted, if there was any to begin with? It's his reactions that Vandor observes as they walk along, passing a dog on a leash, however mundane his speech.

“I don't have a best friend,” Vandor finally answered Verm’s earlier question. He heard a tune in the distance, a lute, and remembered that flute. The instrument’s magic that Verm had offered that cat. And Vandor remembered those rats, and their songs. Coincidence? Suspicions. Only an idiot wouldn’t have them.

“And a homeless man probably has little and less worth robbing.” Still, it was a hypothetical question at best. But if this is a game then Vandor would bend it his way. “I’d save neither and mug the mugger. He’s probably got more on him as it is. Such as silver.”

Verminn Ikhi

 

[Verminn Ikhi]

"Ah, so you'd save the homeless man and your friend while also serving your own purposes. Quite a smart way of going about it, Mr. Colton." He'd say this with a bit of extra pomp, obviously not serious about his formal way of speaking. Verminn had indeed stolen silver and saw with clarity what the mercenary's last comment was meant to look for. Still, though, it was a weak way to dig, with a quick way out for the opposition.

Plus, time was on Verm's side. It was much easier to play defense than offense in a "baseless" questioning, and the man would let him go at the Chicken, of this he was almost certain. After all, given that he had considerably lowered Vandor's funds, he wagered that a man money-hungry enough to go this far for the chance at recovering anything wouldn't want to be late for his request or whatever.

"If we're going off names, I don't believe I'd want their chicken. I can't speak for you, of course, but I prefer the paint off my chicken before I eat it. See, my stomach would get quite upset eating paint, I'd wager." Hmm...maybe he should talk about the Sultan? Not in any personal way, but make him into more of an urban legend. That should go some way in getting the merc off his back. "As for Sultanhome, I wouldn't want to go there either...rumors say someone calling themselves the "Sultan" has taken residence there. I dunno who would be depraved enough to bear living inside that wreck, but they must be scary."

Even better, if he actually believed him, the merc would probably rush over and find literally nothing. Most of his rats scavenged in the city during the day, almost like spies that didn't report back. Oddly enough, what first seemed like a possibly losing situation was turning more into a win-win. Though there were many things about Verm, one could be said to always be true: I'm a good liar, and know how to speak vaguely.

Die Shize

 

[Vandor Colton]

Was that a compliment from his counterpart? Vandor might only wonder. To think. Vandor Colton. A savior.

Silver. Sure, it was a word worth its weight in gold in this conversation, but it just as much went back to Verm’s own words about having been mugged of quite a few silvers. Words were words. To be interpreted however they were.

What had Verm’s reaction been? Who was this man, really, anyway? In the end, Vandor’s lead might prove to be nothing, this entire journey and conversation little more than entertainment, but if not his enemy, as suspected, perhaps an ally?

“Quite right,” the mercenary briefly interjected about paint in the stomach. He did not feign his amusement. Then came the notion that one “Sultan” might have taken residence in the home of his namesake, of which Vandor had one question, spoken vaguely.

“Who in their right mind would dwell in an establishment with a rat infestation?” He yet again self-corrected. “Present company notwithstanding.” A fair question, wasn’t it? A person like that would have to get along with rats enough to put up with them.

It could prove to be a rhetorical question, for Verm could answer but only after Vandor quickly followed up with another question. “Are we near your friends, by the way? The ones you have to make a stop for?” A sellsword could wait.

Verminn Ikhi

 

[Verminn Ikhi]

"No offense taken, you corrected yourself. I don't mind the rats as much as I think that living in a place ignored for so long means, most likely, you're staying in an absolute mess." He'd shudder a bit at the thought of splinters and mold, just to add something to his performance. Besides, insulting the restaurant was a tactic as well. After all, who would insult their home like that?

Wryly smiling inside, he’d go for the second angle: “I believe your question answers itself, in a way. Nobody in their right mind would stay there, just like nobody in their right mind would go around calling themselves the “Sultan” while hiding like a…cockroach, or something.” Oh, yes…. Just enough of a pest to convey slight disgust, while also making anyone being there sound like more and more of a wild theory. Finally, and perhaps of greatest benefit, “Nobody in their right mind” gave the idea of a crazy person. If there was one thing Verminn could say of himself, he wasn’t crazy at all.

At the mercenary’s next question, Verm got to thinking, inwardly (of course). He had made it a bit harder for himself by complicating their path, but ultimately, the pause added to his civilian guise. Something else that helped, though, was that he had asked about his “friends”, not about what he needed, so there was no need for the extra trip. “Ah, not at all. They live somewhere inside this maze of alleys and streets called Ragash, much further away from the grocery than I do.” He maintained a calm reaction, holding up his hand and motioning in a way that was reminiscent of brushing something off.

“I’ve decided to buy the things they need later, though, because your employer might not be so happy at tardiness. Mine happen to hate it, and I wouldn’t want to cost you a job.” Verm grimaced, this expression partly genuine. He had been fired before, and had been laid off the day he found his greatest treasure. In fact, it was his most recent employer who he started his life of crime off from, stealing food from their shop using the few rats he had under his command.

At that moment, Verm truly smiled, remembering how freeing the whole experience had been. “Pardon me, I was remembering a time past. Foolish, surely, but seeing the world in 20/20 is somewhat…addicting, I suppose.” A small chuckle escaped as he refocused, turning to look back ahead.

No time to dwell, not now, he thought firmly.

Vandor Colton

 

[Vandor Colton]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

In hindsight, all it took was a crazy person to stay in a crazy place. That was one facet of life to which Vandor Colton would lose against in an argument. Granted, he had met enough crazy persons to know it. Could just be a hermit living in Sultanhome who had a thing for rats..?

At the answer to Vandor’s other question as to whether the pair were near the rat-friend’s friends, the mercenary didn’t need to pretend. It was a genuine question of which he was given a genuine answer. ‘Maze of alleys and streets’ was a great way of describing Ragash, no mistake.

“I appreciate it,” Vandor offered honestly in response to his contemporary not wanting to cost him a job. These were actually the words of a guide just helping his guided along. Right. Pardon Vandor Colton for being suspicious. It was in his nature, like it was for an inspector. Only, from his much more selfish perspective, he had been robbed of shield and coin, and was just about ready to blame a whore for it.

“Reminiscing is addicting,” Vandor added as they passed a beggar in an alley who looked like he might secretly hate his wife and was in the street to pass time by. Visual acuity, the mercenary had since discovered, was an inherent gift as much as something you were given from experience.

Then again, Verm’s decision from making a quick stop along the way for friends of sad luck to buying the things they need after the fact of delivering the mercenary…did it warrant suspicion? Maybe.

Yet, he did claim to work as a teacher at a schoolhouse, with the hopes of one day becoming a banker. When it came to the former, it hurt to be late before your classmates.

“Will you drink with me?” Vandor did not pause as he asked the question, walking along. “A tankard is the least I can offer in the tavern for the services you have rendered.”

Verminn Ikhi

 

[Verminn Ikhi]

"I don't drink much, but the sentiment is appreciated." More than ever, He couldn't afford to ingest anything capable of loosening the tongue, because there was no telling what he'd say. Finally, he decided to just fuck around for their little time left. "Honestly, I'm glad you came up to me when you did. I can fight off the average robber, but that was a really bad part of the city, muggings abound. I'm sure it was thanks to the courage at your side we got through." He'd say, looking at the shiny broadsword on the merc's belt and making a humorous show of impressed whistling.

What he was really impressed with, though, was the merc's tenacity. What was this? Was he really having...fun, doing something as pointless as this? I didn't think it at first, but you are a worthy if cocky opponent, Vandor Colton. "Still, I'd love a quick break, so if you ever feel the mood, we can just sit in some bar and chat. I hope that sentence wasn't weird, not my intention."

Vandor Colton

 

[Vandor Colton]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

At the notion of his present companion not being much of a drinker, Vandor simply nodded. Not everybody was even in this crapsack pisspot of a setting. Then some camaraderie finally followed their journey as Verm admitted his appreciation for defending against criminal elements within this city.

“Good steel has gotten me through more than one encounter with a robber, for real,” Vandor tapped the scabbard at his hip with the sword in it. Granted, alleys were generally bad business for tourists, good business for thieves.

“Sir,” Vandor began in answer, his eyes into his guide’s, standing motionless, if with hand on hilt, ever in a resting position and just so innocent, never mind his missing a shield. “The Painted Chicken may be a great place to take a break, to sit and sip or, in your position, simply chat.”

Vandor shrugged both shoulders at that. “I hope that invitation wasn’t too forward. Isn’t my intention. Simply seeking a way to repay someone who has asked for nothing.” In an alley filled with thieves and mercenaries.

Verminn Ikhi

 

[Verminn Ikhi]

"As sad as it is, violence is sometimes the only option, indeed." he said with a sigh, almost as though wishing it wasn't. In a way, he did. Fights were grueling until the rats came to his aid, and it all amounted to a drag for the thief, who preferred to work in stealth and trickery. He didn't exactly get why someone who seemed relatively stable but also new would take the alleys anyway, but it was fine. He had never really done anything undercover, so this was cool.

"The Painted Chicken...well, I didn't plan it, but..." he said, as though weighing something in his mind. Was it safe to follow this path. His eyes relaxed and he became less pensive, having figured out that refusing would definitely be less safe.

"Well, i suppose a rest break couldn't hurt before I get on with my day." Continual rejection was not only an inelegant tack, but in this situation it was rather suspicious. Vandor had made an offer he logically could not refuse. Appeasement, on the other hand, benefited just from this scenario. Plus, if Vandor made a bad decision and had one too many drinks, that was just even more of an advantage for him, since drunkenness made one less logical, or at worst, stupid.

Vandor Colton

 

[Vandor Colton]

Spoiler: Music

Vandor offered nothing in the way of deceit or deception, or anything in between, and to see no difference was a misconception. His glee was genuine. A new person to this alley he may be, seemingly out of his element within this environment, but stable and able indeed. Bereft of shield, if still equipped with sword and armor, he stood as still as a soldier, if as casual as a thief before a robber.

Maybe that yet meant nothing. Maybe Vandor Colton was simply guilty of stealing the time of this guy beside him. His guide in these dirty streets. However, danger was just another reason for a mercenary like him to put on a brave face. Yet, in that moment, he simply smiled back at the man.

To be honest, they both needed a break from all this nonsense.

“Excellent! I can certainly use a drink as could you, I think.” A hint of accusation as to his contemporary being potentially nervous? Nope. Not in this instance. Just genuine geniality once again. After all, the sellsword had long learned that one could lie while winking right into the eye. Whatever that meant.

“First round’s on me.” He winked. Oh. Right. Vandor had been robbed of his dear silver yet here was copper in his other pocket. Only an idiot kept coin in one compartment amid cloth and iron. Right. And only an idiot gets robbed by rats, Vandor Colton.

They entered the tavern called The Painted Chicken. Both men were greeted with men and women, mostly human, and most were keeping well to themselves, ignorant of yet more patrons. It was to be expected in an establishment located in this city section.

Music came from violin and drum, flute and harp. The female flutist was after Vandor’s own heart but he gazed away toward the bar. “Ale,” he requested after the bartender, standing rather than sitting beside a stool. “And I’ll cover whatever my partner wants as well.” Copper offered.

Verminn Ikhi