Fate - First Reply Strangers in the Night

[Zoskir]

Elbion, The Port District

The drow opened up his eyes as the sun was going down. Twilight hues of peach and purple glowed in through the window glass and painted the room in watercolor luminosity. He lay sprawled across a shabby bed in an upper room of dockside inn. Waking up, groggy, he grabbed a bottle from a bedside table, threw the cork across the room and took a few glugs of wine to get himself off to a good and proper start. Slowly he got up and finished off the bottle as he dressed himself. Once he got all geared in his typical black outfit, the grey skinned elf went down to the bar to breakfast. He ordered the leg of lizard and bantered with the barkeep, as he reflected on how he was going to get set up with a home in the residential district.

He'd have to make a name for himself in the right circles. Pirate vengeance and petty criminal fueds paid by the zoldo. He needed to get his name out there as a professional to the people in power. People who could and WOULD pay by the docatto. Or hundreds of docattos. Just one solid contract could make it happen too. All he'd have to do then would be to make sure the contract went off without a hitch. And then boom. He'd suddenly be getting meetings with the real movers and shakers of the Merchant's Council and the College. Even the Elbion Templars still had deep pockets from what his criminal contacts told him.

It's a universal constant. Everyone in power wants somebody dead who they can't just kill, he thought on as his teeth tore through a big leg of grilled reptilian flesh soaked in a tangy sauce, he just needed to let them know that their twisted prayers had a possible answer waiting just a stone's throw away. Maybe he was going about this all wrong. Suppose he got his dream contract and pulled it off perfectly and without flaw. If he did his job well, then nobody would know it was him. And if no one knew it was him, then how would his renown grow in any way?

Soon he'd finished his meal, finished his thoughts, and finished off another bottle of wine. It was about time he did something to get the word out that Elbion had a skilled killer available for hire. Sure he couldn't just go knocking at the Palace of the Commonwealth and asking the High Councilor if they'd like anyone murdered, but there were ways to get noticed without attracting the notice of the city guards. After all, he thought as he bid the barkeep goodbye and went out into the cool night air, the last thing he needed was the Chamber of Preservation on his ass.

 

[Yuna]

THE COLLEGE OF ELBION​

"Women don't make good mages, you know."

Yuna sat before Professor Thrumbolt's desk in a chair that had become more and more uncomfortable as the meeting progressed. Inwardly, she was seething—outwardly now too, probably, despite her best efforts. She knew Professor Thrumbolt had a reputation, and that he had said some things of this sort—though milder—in his Alteration class before, but she didn't think he would be so brazen about it! Look at him. That fat fuck! Sitting there with his big belly pressed against the edge of his desk, with his hair combed over that growing desert on top of his head, with his porky little stub fingers constantly molesting that bowl of peanuts. His mouth was constantly in motion. He never stopped chewing this whole time. Ha! Matched those bovine eyes of his.

But the awful part was this: Yuna needed to get her marks up. Admittedly, she had slacked a bit in Thrumbolt's class. She could easily ace this rudimentary Alteration stuff with her incandescent genius if she wanted, but she had been busy of late. So that's how she ended up here, watching the cow chew his cud, looking for guidance on how to make up those marks. And, damn it, the worst part of all this was unwittingly falling right into Professor Thrumbolt's stupid theories.

On which he was plenty happy to continue elaborating as his fingers fished for more peanuts. "They can be decent mages. Just not good ones," he said, speaking with an air of certainty, even banality, as if what he was saying was a plain and obvious truth. "Too unstable. Volatile, you see. The arcane demands the labors of the head, not the heart."

Chewing, chewing, chewing. Dull, bored eyes looking at her.

"It's not your fault," he said with a shrug. "It's just the way you are. You've learned a bit of Obanese history by now, haven't you, Yuna? Look what happened to them. Woman mage, lost control, nearly killed everyone."

Every now and then Professor Thrumbolt, while munching on those peanuts, would let out a quiet little mmm as if the mere act of chewing alone provided him a small dose of ecstasy on occasion. Whatever ecstasy Thrumbolt got from it, Yuna found it revolting in equal measure. It was to her more than just a little gross.

"And that's what I'm saying. Some people mistake my argument as me claiming that women cannot be powerful mages. Oh no no, 'good' doesn't just mean powerful here. It's control, you see. Not merely on a technical level, but on a personal level. Women are emotional. They lash out irrationally. Add magic into that mix?" Professor Thrumbolt whistled, by some miracle, despite having one cheek inflated like a squirrel hauling his hoard. "That's a recipe for disaster."

He swallowed and then puckered his lips and placed his entwined hands on the desk, leaning forward. "Now what does this have to do with you, you might ask. Besides the obvious, of course. Well, harvesting glowvine requires very fine precision. Very fine control. And, Miss Fairweather, it wouldn't be appropriate of me to send you on a field assignment for which you are inherently disadvantaged. Goodness, I almost didn't even allow Sebastian to partake of this assignment. As for you, Miss Fairweather, let's be reasonable. There are easier, more appropriate, ways we can discuss—"

Yuna had enough. "I CAN DO IT!"

"Please, Miss Fairweather—"

"That's not even my real name!"

"It is your real name."

"The point is! I can do it! I'll get a sample of glowvine and bring it back to you and it'll be sooo~ easy, Professor."

"Your current marks don't lend any validity to your claim."

"If I come back to you with a sample of glowvine, that I plucked myself, no buying it in town or elsewhere, will I get those extra marks, Professor?"

Professor Thrumbolt cleared his throat. "Well. I can't control what you do with your own time, you see. But I would advise you not to do anything rash or—"

"Don't you worry, Professor!" Yuna said, standing up suddenly. She grinned. "I'm as careful as careful can be."

Then Yuna reached over, grabbed a small handful of peanuts, tossed them all into her mouth, chewed them aggressively as she looked Professor Thrumbolt intently in the eyes, and then at last turned and left his office. Professor Thrumbolt, stunned for a brief moment, came to let out an exasperated sigh that without words expressed his bias aloud, and then simply went back to looking over the papers which required his attention.

And the peanuts.

* * * * *

THE PORT DISTRICT​

"This is bullshit," Yuna said, lamenting her present pickle as she sat on some barrel or whatever, lightly kicking her legs and listening to the thump of her heels bouncing lightly off the wood.

Okay, did she say that she was going to pick some glowvine herself? Well yeah, because that's what Professor Thrumbolt wanted to hear—aside from his own teeth gnashing those peanuts to pulp, of course, the swine. But did she actually have any real intention of getting those marks cleanly? You know, actually do the assignment herself? Pah, no! Why would she do that? Glowvine was dangerous; if Sebastian blew himself up she'd be the first one to laugh (he was a spoiled asshole, so fair game). And besides, why pick some stupid vine herself? That was soooo beneath the stature of her towering intellect, her incandescent genius.

So go to the Port District, she told herself. Ask some of the sailors, she told herself—because they wouldn't rat her out like the shopkeeps and their ledgers which Thrumbolt could easily check. Shipments of all kinds of rare reagents like glowvine came in all the time! But these stupid sailors and merchants didn't have any! Not one little strand of glowvine. Really? How rare could it be? What, did it cost a fortune or something? Her plan would've worked out beautifully if it wasn't for these sailors and merchants mucking it up!

"Hey," said some dock worker passing by and noticing her sitting on the barrel. "Get the fuck off of there. Go home."

"You go home."

"It's late. Go home, girl." The dock worker thrust out his finger, pointing away from the docks at large and back into Elbion proper. "Last chance. Go. Or I'm throwing you out."

"Give me five more minutes to sulk."

"No."

"Too bad, I'm taking 'em."

Yuna should not, in fact, have been so testy with the man. Because as it turned out, he wasn't kidding. The dock worker did just as he said, picking her up cleanly off of the barrel, carrying her by her clothes as if she were unwanted luggage, and tossing her away from his area of work.

As it so happened, said tossing and the subsequent crashing of Yuna to the ground happened but a few paces in front of a certain drow. The dock worker dusted off his hands and turned to leave, and Yuna groaned there as she lay upon the ground.

Zoskir

 

[Zoskir]

Silence in the dockside streets punctured by an occasional drunkard singing his woes away or a cat hissing at another. As he made his way along, it had occurred to Zoskir that there was supposed to be a meeting of what the locals affectionately referred to as The Elbion Fist Fighters Guild tonight. On board one of these ships there was going to be a series of amateur boxing matches, rife with untaxed betting. Perhaps it could help him draw the right kind of attention if he stepped into the ring there and showed off his talents. It might be a waste of time. It might be that all he got the attention of were mercenary companies and brigand outfits scouting for new blood. But he had to start somewhere. And if nothing else, he could make some decent coin by winning a few matches. So he steered himself towards the docks with every intention of keeping his eyes peeled for a dock that still had it's lamps lit and had a few too many workers hanging around.

And sure enough he heard some commotion from one of the docks. As he got closer the argument had died down and then as he approached a fetching young human woman was literally thrown at his feet. And here he thought that he'd have to become a legendary dealer of death before clients started doing things like that for him. He couldn't help but chuckle a bit at that thought. Though he realized it would seem like he was laughing at her.

Zoskir looked her over and noticed that she didn't fit in around here at all. She came from money, certainly. And she looked like an easy mark. But you never know who wants somebody else's burial to be rescheduled. So he walked up to her, squatted down and offered the girl a hand to help her up. "You know it's probably not a good idea for you to be hanging around the dockside at night, right? Lots of dangerous folks like to hang out around here after sunset." He spoke with the chuckle still in his voice, and offered no hint that he was being self-referential at all.

Yuna

 

[Yuna]

Okay. So. Maybe that was a little bit her fault. She could admit her faults. She didn't think that the dock worker literally meant he was going to throw her out. Who does that? Just picks somebody up and throws them? And worst of all! While she was being a knucklehead, she didn't even ask that guy if, you know, maybe he'd seen a shipment of reagents coming in and, you know, maybe there was a bit of glowvine which some coin might grease his hand up enough to make slip and, oopsie, lemme just pick that up, wouldn't want to make a mess.

Was that chuckle? She thought she heard a chuckle.

More than just a chuckle, she heard someone talking to her. Dragging her face over to the side, she was able to look up. She gasped, a quiet little sound, born of surprise and reflex. First, he—the owner of the voice—was a drow. Not an elf like Gier, whose heritage came from the Falwood, but a dark elf. Second and even more than the novelty of the elf's rare presence, he had a bit of a scary look about him! He didn't say anything or do anything that was cause for fear, but...oh get it together, Yuna, what are you gonna do, lay here all night?

Yuna took his hand. "I know, I know, but I didn't think I'd end up being around here so long."

And when she got to her feet, she said, "Thanks," and fiddled with straightening out her tie.

Zoskir

 

[Zoskir]

Her gasp caused the grey skinned elf's lips to part, transforming a mild smirk into a full on smile. Plenty had reacted to him that way since he'd left the underground world behind. Drow were not nearly as numerous on the surface. So many of the upperworlders who saw him, especially other elves, seemed to immediately be put off by his presence. He had always assumed and still did, that his scariness was simply mixed up with his race. And that made sense to him. After all of his experiences at hands of his family in Revash Qelnoth, even he wouldn't trust a drow.

But humans... they were so very odd. Hard to gauge at times. Some worse than his kin. Some were so innocent it was like they weren't even sentient creatures at all. Or like they were made to be prey animals. Or well... something. It was all so unfamiliar to him. Scruples were fine in theory, as an idea or something. But the cold truths of reality and survival never seemed to take precedence for many of these round eared balls of chaos. At first it was merely an irksome quirk of their culture in his eyes. But as much as he loathed to admit it, it was starting to seem almost charming sometimes. Although, perhaps those were all just times when he'd had a little too much wine.

And this human was giving off some of that innocent energy already. But not too much. She was all dressed up so ornately, tie and everything. Quality tailoring. That outfit alone probably cost a couple thousand docattos. And she looked good in it. But she also looked nearly as if she was still a child. Yet what did that one elf from the bar, Carleliel, always say -'Humans are all children anyway'? Still here she was in the dockside of the Port District, apparently snooping around where the local fight club was to be held, with only the excuse that she didn't expect to be out so late. Clearly she was up to something. The only question was how could he turn it to his profit?

Maybe she was an unhappy merchant's daughter sneaking out at night to prove herself in the ring? Or maybe she was spying on a sibling, lover or friend who was participating in the fights? Would she pay to have some sense knocked into one of the fist fighters? Could be a nice bit of business, something like that. He began to doubt that she would give him the opportunity to literally make a killing, however. These younger humans. They never sought out his specialty except that they had pain in their eyes and the scent of utter desperation seeping out of every pore.

"No problem..." He let the words hang in the air for just a moment as if he was puzzled by something. His entirely red eyes trying to read her grey irises as if they could reveal some truth of her inner workings and motivations. As he had helped her up, he was shocked by just how light she was. It was like lifting up a fragile little spider who'd been knocked from her web by a big bird. She was definitely not here to participate in the fighting herself. Not unless she was suicidal. In fact, if she'd thrown a punch right at him then and there he wondered if he'd even feel it.

"The name's Zoskir." He finally offered, after a few long seconds of apparent internal deliberation.

His voice was actually a bit gravelly, mid to high in tone, and yet somewhat deep in pitch. With a surreal accent, combining the sneeringly haughty intonation of a Zar'Ahal drow with the fiendishly aggresive pronunciation of an Arradum duergar. The accent of Revash Qelnoth. Certainly his slightly otherworldly voice would add something to his alien and scary quality, but it also definitely had a drowish version of masculinity and toughness to it. To any surfacer, surely, it was the voice of someone or something you'd rather not have as an enemy. "What happened anyway? You didn't come by to watch the fights, did you?"

Yuna

 

[Yuna]

Why'd she even bother with fiddling with her tie anyway? It's not like she wore it tightly as was the fashion. Her hands were just busy bees, she supposed. Like with her roommate Heidi and her feet—Heidi always had to be tapping her foot or bouncing her heel off the ground. Make that doubly so whenever someone was playing music nearby.

Yuna glanced up from her fiddling. Woah. The drow, Zoskir, now that she had properly noticed it, had an accent that certainly wasn't Elbionese. It almost didn't even sound as if it was from Arethil. But that would be ridiculous—right? It had to be a dark elf thing. How would she know, anyway? Zoskir marked the first drow she'd ever spoken with, so maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. Okay. Shut up. He asked you a question.

"Fights? I don't know about any fights, but I'll tell you what happened, alright! Do you know what glowvine is? It doesn't matter, I don't either. I just need it. Not a lot, I'm not even asking for a lot, just a little. Is that so much to ask? Well, aaaaah~parently it is, because I came out here to the Port District when the sun was right above my head and now here I am, still flopping around these smelly docks, no glowvine to my name whatsoever. I skipped dinner for this! Can you believe that!? A girl's got to eat, you know. But all these sailors and captains and merchants, not one of them had the common decency to be carrying any glowvine on those big stupid ships of theirs. What the hell are they so big for if they don't have what I need? Might as well be hauling a cargo of sundried rocks, for all they're worth."

She huffed out one big breath, expelling the lion's share of her exasperation.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to rant. I could do with watching someone get punched in the face. You said something about fights? Oh, and the name's Yuna, by the way."

Zoskir

 

[Zoskir]

Great. She had a boatload of frustration and an impressive talking speed. It almost reminded him of the time he met a halfling girl out of her mind on red spice. But that this human woman was actually understandble. As she went on, however, went on Zoskir's smile began to fade. For it was becoming clear that she wasn't in the market to have anyone killed, or even beaten to a bloody mess. How uttelry disappointing.

Nor did the glowvine she spoke of ring any bells. It wasn't a kitchen herb or a poisonous herb that he had ever heard of. Or one of the addictive agents like red spice that surface world kingdoms always tried to outlaw despite how much their economies were fed by them. No. It sounded like something she should be looking for in an alchemist's shop. But then why come to the dockside looking for it? If it's something an alchemist can get then they could just order more if they were out... Something was still off about this...

But her changing of the subjects, and subsequent introduction distracted him from those thoughts. It might not have been a total disappointment after all. Perhaps it was just the wine talking, but if there was no business to be had between them, maybe pleasure was still an option. She was good looking girl, almost elven in how slight and petite she was, but still so human with those exaggerated feminine curves... Maybe the Fist Fighters Guild could provide a nice little thrill for her now and then they could get a few drinks together afterwards...

"Hmm? Like a little violence to get the blood flowing, huh? Well Yuna, if that's how you feel then follow me. I was just on my way to the fights, myself."

With that he walked the way that Yuna had been thrown from. Right back onto the dock, past the barrels, and up the gangway onto a docked boat before the same guy who threw Yuna tried to impede their progress any further.

"Hey!!! Where the fuck do you think you're going?" Yelled the dock worker who was acting as a bouncer tonight. The man started to walk up to Zoskir broadcasting violent intentions.

But Zoskir just calmly waved him off without wasting a single drop of sweat. He even sounded a bit annoyed. Like he was putting a servant in their place. "Relax draego. We're here for the Guild."

At that the man suddenly stopped, and his whole countenance changed to be slightly more amiable. No longer raising his voice he simply said. "Password."

"Veridian."

The bouncer merely snorted. "The fighting's down below. Just follow the commotion."

°•°•°•° °•°•°•° °•°•°•°​

The commotion was coming from a huge chamber below deck with a bar to one side and plenty of seating, mostly claimed, around a circle formed by wooden planks on the floor. The bar had no bartender. And inside the wooden ring two bald muscular human men were trading blows with no shirts on. While a downright amazonian orcish woman with a black mohawk was acting as referee. She looked like she could beat every competitor here one handed. In the far corner near the bar, a distinguished looking dwarf with short hair and a shot, braided, blonde beard was sitting at a table taking bets. Meanwhile so many of the people here were yelling at the ring.

"Get him!"

"Break him in half!"

"Knock his head off!"

"Come on! You call that a punch!?"

"Uppercut him!"

And as the crowd roared for more blood, the scrawnier of the two men went on the offensive delivering blows to the bulkier man's chest and head in such quick succession that the bigger fighter couldn't even start to block them all. And soon he was on the floor with the orc woman beside him counting to three. After three the crowd burst into cheers and the orc held the winner's right hand up high.

"And the winner is our very own Radrick! Let that be a lesson to anyone else who doesn't feel like paying their tabs! Hahhahahahaha!"

The crowd surged with hollers again as Radrick left the ring, put his shirt back on, and walked back behind the bar to resume his job as bartender for the rest of the event. There would be a bit of a lull between bouts, but that was why it was a good time to drink, socialize, and place bets.

"Welcome to the Elbion Fist Fighters Guild."

Yuna

 

[Yuna]

Follow she did.

And would you look at that? Look who it was: Mr. Unhelpful No-fun himself. This time around he was trying to throw his considerable weight at Zoskir. But Zoskir had some choice words for him. Yuna grinned ear-to-ear; yeah, draego, relax. Relax and shut up, munch on that apple why don't ya? Horseface. One password exchange later and admission was granted to proceed deeper into the ship.

Yuna made sure to stick out her tongue and wave her hands in a taunting gesture as they passed. She just made sure she didn't stray too far from Zoskir as she did so.

* * * * *​

Tobacco and sweat. That's what it smelled like down here, and it was first thing Yuna noticed because it greeted her on the steps down before her eyes could even look over the chamber proper. The smell made for a fitting preamble to the sight of the "Fist Fighters Guild" as Zoskir would in a moment come to name it. Yuna paused at the last step down, her leading foot hanging in the air, lips slightly parted in wonder as she took it all in.

This looked exactly like the sort of thing her Grandpa would talk about. He loved to talk about Teth and his days flying the black flag out in the waters of the Ra Gnamh Sea and elsewhere. When she was a kid he'd get her and the other Fairweather young'uns gathered up and regale them with some new facet of outlaw life, a tale of a big haul, or the story of a grand adventure on occasion. Whenever Yuna visited home in the Residential District, Grandpa still liked to talk to her about his bygone days of piracy. There's other Fairweathers yet! he'd say, other Fairweathers still sailing the seas! Other Fairweathers living fast and free!

He really romanticized it. But he lost most of his teeth and looked like he was actually double his age for a reason. It wasn't all pretty. And who better to cosign that general sentiment than the man who had just gotten flattened by Radrick in the middle of the makeshift ring? Everything had winners and losers, and a lot of the time people were both.

Yuna took that final step down when Zoskir at last named the sordid locale they had come to, that wonder smoothed over with a broad smile. Winners and losers! So she didn't find any glowvine...yet. That was alright, there was still time, didn't mean she lost there. She always had backup plans! She was a genius! And genius needed to be fed. Sometimes with food, sometimes with drink, sometimes with entertainment—and she could get that last source of sustenance here, alright!

"Wow," she said. "I didn't even know this place existed. Fist fighters, huh? Are you a fist fighter, Zoskir? You look like you might be a fist fighter. How'd you find out about this Guild? Do they send out invitations to tough guys: 'Come here and stick your foot in someone's ass and don't forget to say Veridian.'"

She giggled.

Zoskir

 

[Zoskir]

"This place DOESN'T exist. No one's supposed to talk about it. Never happens in the same place twice. Password changes each meeting. And you have to know someone in the guild to get the password, time and place for the next meeting." The dark elf looked around the room and gestured to the whole motley assembly. "And it's all kept alive by local people who love violence and don't much care for authority. Refreshing really. A bit of sanity in an otherwise insane world."

It was a funny story how he discovered this place. Too bad he wasn't nearly drunk enough to tell it. But he reflected on his eyesight. Drow could see anything in the pitch black darkness just as if it was under a different light. Just the same, it seemed like he had a natural talent for finding shady secrets thought to be so well shrouded that they might always remain unknown.

And who knew what secrets this Yuna and her glowvine might be hiding? Who knew? Maybe she had cause to hire a killer after all? She certainly seemed gleeful enough to think about watching him fight. "And sometimes... I don't always fight when I come to these meetings. But I was thinki-"

"ZOSKIR, You sly little fucking imp!" Growled the meatiest, bulkiest feminine voice you could imagine. And suddenly the orc referee with the big mohawk of nightblack hair, in her dark blue and black, sleeveless fighting gi, was walking forcefully forward to the unmoved drow. He braced himself as well as he could for the torture that he knew was coming. Suddenly the big beast of a mildly girlish green powerhouse embraced the comparatively tiny grey fighter in a friendly hug that happenedto lift him off of the ground.

Well to most surfacers it would seem like a friendly hug. To the drow in that moment it was like being a squirrel that had been captured and was now being squeezed to death by a little human baby child whodidn'tknow any better. He noted distinctly the desire to get away. It reminded him too much of his mother. And that was never good. He really couldn't afford letting a potential client see his anxiety, but...

"Shugra, put me down at once!!!" The muffled voice of the drow escaped from the referee's cleavage and she laughed before setting Zoskir gently back on the ground and placing her hands on his shoulders. He took precisely one half of a second to close his eyes and center himself. Fortunately that was all he needed. Back to normal.

"Ancestors, where were you? It's been weeks! Vek left the Guild because he didn't have any competition without your scrawny little grey ass hanging around! What the fuck gives? Huh?" To be fair, Zoskir WAS scrawny compared to her. But to be even more fair, so was literally everyone else. Yet before he could respond, Shugra's eyes fell on Yuna. For a moment the orc's almost silvery, icy blue eyes gleamed with jealousy and resentment. Soon she grew almost offended and serious looking. She snarled at the human girl revealing her sharpened uppee teeth and crossed her arms in front of her chest before accusing Yuna angrily. "What did you do to him!? Have you been telling one my favorite warriors not to fight???"

Yuna

 

[Yuna]

Oh. Oops. Doesn't exist. But that was alright. Yuna could keep a secret. Everyone always trusted Yuna with their secrets. She knew how to keep her mouth shut. And even if she didn't the problem would solve itself, what with this Guild that wasn't a Guild (because it didn't exist, see?) moving about and its other particulars changing all the time. Not bad, actually. Sounded like something she, with her incandescent brilliance, might come up with herself.

But I was thinki—

Whatever Zoskir was thinking got roughly put in second place in the precedence of things. That orc referee (swords and sails, she was huge!) came marching over and gripped Zoskir in a hug that even a deep woods bear might've thought was a bit rough. Had she a mind for it, Shugra probably could've clasped Zoskir and Yuna together and lifted them both with only a touch more effort.

She certainly didn't have a mind for it. What Shugra did have a mind for was SLANDER!

"First of all!" Yuna began, pushing aside the image of her friend Gier jibing her for her "lists" as he called them. "I didn't tell anyone not to fight. You did! Second of all, that man Vek sounds like a big baby—maybe he left to get some cheese to go with all that whine."

Yuna, as ever, had the startling ability to throw what caution she had only a second ago to the wind and potentially get in over her head.

Zoskir

 

[Zoskir]

Bold, Zoskir thought. Foolish, but bold. How human. The drow almost laughed at his companion's snarky retort, however. He was temporarily amused by how spot on Yuna had accidentally described Vek. But then he realized what was about to happen. Again. Shugra was nothing if not predictable.

And right now she was infuriated. She started to growl deep in her throat without even realizing it. Whatever part of the orc had been less than serious was gone now after the way Yuna responded. Rage was turning her vision red as her arm started to move, and her body started to move, closer to the human. But Zoskir's hand was grabbing the referee's arm before she could even fully begin to swing. His movement speed was intensely quick. One second nothing. And now his hand pulled the orcs bicep back.

Shugra looked at Zoskir's hand, then his face, then at Yuna. She glared at the human. Staring her rightin the eyes. Not looking away for anything. Already trying to psyche her out and establish dominance. Already fighting her without even throwing a punch. She wanted to intimidate Yuna into looking away first.

"Fine then. Let's settle this in the ring, little miss smart ass!"

Zoskir just sighed. Exasperated and annoyed. And with a forced calmness growing more and more obvious in his slowed and deliberate speech. "Stop challenging every pretty girl you see me with to a fight, Shugra. You're not my big sister. If you were, I would have killed you by now. You know that. Leave her alone. I'll fight."

But the orc wasn't leaving her alone. She wasn't going to stop staring her down until she got the satisfaction of hearing her refuse the challenge, or the sweeter satisfaction of hearing her accept.

Yuna

 

[Yuna]

And just like that, her big fat mouth got her into trouble. Again. So with the surly dock worker, so with Shugra the orc. Now what came again, distinctly again, into Yuna's awareness was just how massive Shugra actually stood. She towered over her. If Yuna sat on Zoskir's shoulders she might only then be able to look Shugra eye-to-eye. And this was all to say nothing about the sheer mass of muscle which accompanied Shugra's looming stature.

Yuna's more skittish tendencies flared up in an instant. She froze, went a little pale, and watched with big eyes as only Zoskir stayed the approach of the infuriated orc.

Yuna, absolutely, was the first to break eye contact, glancing all around the Guild's chamber and makeshift arena. She mumbled something mostly incoherent, and it was this: "I mean, I'm sure Vek is a swell—"

Fine then. Let's settle this in the ring, little miss smart ass!

Fortunately, Zoskir interjected.

Yuna pointed sheepishly to Zoskir with both index fingers, and said in a small, mousy voice, "He volunteered."

And awkward smile made for terrible punctuation.

Zoskir

 

[Zoskir]

The powerful orcess was about to make one more intimidation play against Yuna. A quick stomp in her direction combined with throwing her upper body forward as if she was going to attack. But she decided not to. She knew Zoskir. And she knew what he did for a living, and didn't want him to get the wrong idea. Besides he agreed to fight. And his little human distraction was already nice and cowed. So underneath all the wrath and roughness, the orc was satisfied. She looked at Zoskir, who was just relieved that the girl didn't get goaded into fighting. That's exactly the type of thing his brash younger sister would have done. And he hadn't realized how much he'd been expecting the same kind of thing from this girl here and now. At least this one had SOME sense beyond her sense of humor.

"Hanin and Dorian are up next then YOU can fight Lugaid." She said to the dark elf, and at that she turned, looked disgustedly at Yuna, and walked away saying "And don't bring anymore stray fucking humans around. Too many people have been talking about this place as it is."

The dark elf turned back towards Yuna. His muscles relaxed a bit.

"Shugra's the one in charge of these meetings. At least here Elbion. She claims there's a Fist Fighters Guild in every major settlement across Arethil. And she's MY contact to get the guild meetings information from."

Then he turned towards the bar and motioned for the girl to follow.

Meanwhile two new contenders were stepping into opposite positions in the ring. A female ginger dwarf with long hair worn in fighter's braids and covered in geometric and angular tattoos all across her torso and left arm, and a clean shaven half-orc who stood at a human height, had no tattoos, and wore his dark brown hair short and well groomed like many of the local upperclass humans. It seemed the common practice in these fights for men to go in shirtless. Hanin didn't wear a gi like Shugra though. Instead she had her chest wrapped tightly in swathes of fabric.

"I'm glad you didn't fall for Shugra's trick." Zoskir explained when they got to the bar. "She loves to destroy beautiful faces."

Then he turned to Radrick behind the bar.

"You know what I want, Rad. Put her on my tab too."

The bald bartender looked to Yuna, and waited for her to order a drink. This clearly was not his day job.

Yuna

 

[Yuna]

Okay. Good. Okay good. Shugra decided to put herself a little bit more over there and leave Zoskir and Yuna a little bit more over here and that, Yuna had to say, was fine by her lights. If she had more a mind to it, the orc might well have picked her up just like that dock worker did and tossed her into the ring. So the more distance between her and Shugra, the better—Yuna could slap a big fat docatto on that!

At least Zoskir had some familiarity with her to calm her down. Geez, what a hothead, that Shugra, huh?

Over to the bar, now re-manned by Radrick, they went. In the ring the next fight was primed to begin, and the lightning among the crowd was beginning to crackle.

I'm glad you didn't fall for Shugra's trick. She loves to destroy beautiful faces.

"Ah ha! I knew it all along!" Yuna said, not knowing it all along. "Everyone always asks me, 'Gee, Yuna, how do you have such good intuition?' and I tell them, not to brag or anything, but I tell them, 'Oh, it's just one of my many gifts you know.'"

Zoskir, certainly counted among one of the regulars in that he could order a 'usual' from the barkeep, did so. And he was even buying for her too.

"Great! I'll have a—"

Yuna snapped a glance of realization from Radrick back over to Zoskir.

"A beautiful face! Aw, you think so?"

Zoskir

 

[Zoskir]

Shugra was back in the ring announcing the contenders and giving the audience a chance to place their wagers with a bit of ceremony. She was certainly a lover of ceremony. And strategy. And violence. And she liked Zoskir just a bit too much for his liking. Also she still hugged him like that just to get on his nerves. Even though he told her about that more than a few times now. Really it was those hugs, if anything, that had kept him away from this Guild and their meetings lately. Well, that and a quick trip to Lazular to put an end to a certain landowner there.

Ah ha! I knew it all along! Everyone always asks me, 'Gee, Yuna, how do you have such good intuition?' and I tell them, not to brag or anything, but I tell them, 'Oh, it's just one of my many gifts you know.'

Zoskir smiled and tried not to laugh, but the laughter came out amongst the words as he spoke. "Oh, is that what you say?"

There was something in the way she rambled. Something in the perkiness of her voice. In the playful way she wielded words. It was so whimsical that it really should have annoyed the hell out of him. But it didn't. Maybe it was because it reminded him of his little sister. The only bright spot in the dark tapestry of his past before coming to the surface. Or maybe it WAS just the wine.

Radrick meanwhile had given up on waiting for Yuna to order as soon as she cut herself off and turned to ask the drow if he really thought she was beautiful. He didn't have time for it. He went and grabbed a bottle of cheap wine for the dark elf seeing as how that was his 'usual'. Hmph! Usual. How could you hate old vintage wine but get enjoyment out of garbage like this? It had be a drow thing. That was the only explanation.

A beautiful face! Aw, you think so?

There was the slightest orange tint in his gleaming red eyes as they looked back into Yuna's. His voice was calm and certain.

"Yes! You're a very beautiful woman Yuna. ...And not just your face." And he almost playfully looked all the way down and back up her body, enjoying the sight of her, as if to prove his point.

Yuna

 

[Yuna]

Yuna melted like butter on a hot day when she received compliments. Her perennial curse was always to be caught in another girl's shadow, whoever she happened to be around, her roommate Heidi or her friend Iliana or anyone else. She had to work for what scant attention she did get—it wasn't fair! Why'd she have to be born destined to grow a meager bosom? The price she paid for her astounding genius!

So she smiled and cradled her cheek in a palm and felt herself blushing openly. "That's so sweet, Zoskir! You really are a sweetheart. Alright, confession time—I thought you were a scary guy at first. Ha, ha, you know, um, I don't know, Shugra-scary or something. You know what I mean. Point is! Books and covers. Yeah!"

Then she made fists his hands and pumped them down by her sides excitedly.

"And you know what? You're gonna get in there and you're gonna shove your foot up Lugaid's ass. Your whole foot! You're gonna remind all these ruffians that you've been missed! They haven't yet even seen any fights tonight! Not until you get in there!"

Zoskir

 

[Zoskir]

The assassin's lips curved upwards as he saw Yuna blush and reach up to cup her cheek. He'd meant what he said. Meager bosoms were still all the rage amongst elf kind, including the drow, even after countless generations. Sure there were some exceptionally proportioned elven ladies. But they always were, and still remained, exceptions. And like with so many of the odd habits and strange standards of the surface realm, Zoskir just didn't get the appeal of the large chested tavern wenches who were the subjects of so many dirty jokes.

In the ring, Dorian was holding back and Hanin could tell. And it was pissing her off. The dwarf started going on the offensive, but her opponent thrived in defensive fighting. The overly civilized looking half-orc could dodge and block for days. He maintained his guard despite his opponent increasing her viciousness. The crowd was starting to get excited again.

That's so sweet, Zoskir! You really are a sweetheart. Alright, confession time—I thought you were a scary guy at first. Ha, ha, you know, um, I don't know, Shugra-scary or something. You know what I mean. Point is! Books and covers. Yeah!

That same chuckle from when they met escaped his lips again. Most days it was quite obvious that everyone who wasn't a Shugra, a criminal, or a fellow drow found his presence at least somewhat intimidating. Nor did he do much to make himself appear more approachable.

"Well, thank you. But that's a common enough reaction to my presence. I've been above ground for nearly two years and I'm quite used to it by now." He explained without a hint of bitterness or trouble. In the drow's eyes it was simply how things were. And probably more deserved than not.

And you know what? You're gonna get in there and you're gonna shove your foot up Lugaid's ass. Your whole foot! You're gonna remind all these ruffians that you've been missed! They haven't yet even seen any fights tonight! Not until you get in there!

The dark elf couldn't help but look a bit smug as his smile revealed itself again. Maybe she really did have amazing intuition, after all. Violence and deft maneuvers were a part of what Zoskir lived for. And few of the combatants here could match his skill.

"You have no idea." He assured her proudly. Lugaid was a good fighter. Probably one of the tougher human fighters that Zoskir had met. And he had a few tricks up his sleeve, too. But grey-skinned slayer of men had a confidence that spoke louder than his voice ever could. A confidence born of decades spent fighting for his life and not being dead yet.

Just then Radrick put the bottle of wine on the bar were the dark elf stood. Then he acknowledged Yuna again.

"Figure out what yer drinkin' yet, missy?" The bartending brawler asked with only mild annoyance in his voice.

Yuna

 

[Yuna]

You have no idea.

The axles of little machinations started to turn in the back of Yuna's mind upon hearing this. She was as ever a schemer, and getting her hands on some glowvine remained the goal which lurked behind tonight's entertainment. Zoskir looked like a tough customer even at first glance, and with him being a Fist Fighters veteran? That could be handy! Quite handy! She might have to do a little convincing, but something could be arranged, right? And if she convinced Zoskir, he could in turn "convince" somebody like Sebastian or whomever else happened to be toting some glowvine to part with some of it. Call it a business deal, or her last name wasn't Fairweather! All she needed was the right opportunity to present itself.

The bartender returned, putting a stay on her scheming. Yuna flashed him a friendly grin and said, "Yeah! What's the sweetest wine you've got?"

She looked over to Zoskir. "I can't stand bitter drinks! They're disgusting! Honestly I don't know why men pride themselves on how much ale or beer or whatever they can drink. It's dumb."

Zoskir

 

[Zoskir]

Radrick had managed to grunt in response to Yuna. Great. Cheap wine and sweet wine. What a charming fucking couple. It also bothered him that she was sounding like this was a real bar, not some makeshift set up on the lower deck of a docked boat. Just what did she expect him to have, anyway? Meridionalis Vintage Chronicles 198??? Bah! Rich kids these days...

I can't stand bitter drinks! They're disgusting! Honestly I don't know why men pride themselves on how much ale or beer or whatever they can drink. It's dumb.

Zoskir could kind of relate.

"Indeed! When I first came to the surface, I thought I had mistranslated your language. I had no idea that the drinks of the underrealm would taste so different from surface drinks. It was only later that I learned what grapes were." The dark elf laughed a bit at his former self. "Wine is one of the few drinks up here I can tolerate. Of course I was used to wine made from iserk and elder mushrooms. Nothing like what you'll taste in Elbion taverns. It's a spicy, smooth flavor."

Speaking of wine, Zoskir took a drink from the bottle that Rad gave him. The bartender knew he liked it straight rom the bottle just like some wino off the streets. Something else that made the human shake his head.

And soon enough Radrick returned with a bottle and poured some of it's contents into a mug for Yuna. It wasn't a famous brand or a good year, but it would be sweeter than what Zoskir had.

Of course as they had been talking, the fight was progressing as well. Dorian continued to stay on the defensive and rely on swiftness and finesse to dodge and block the dwarfs heavy attacks. The half-orc had gotten a couple of hits counterstrike in but mostly he was just infuriating her. Finally having had enough, Hanin launched her fist right Dorian's crotch with all the force she could muster.

The next thing she knew, the crowd was hissing and booing her and Shugra was holding her high in the air by the throat with one hand.

"What the fuck was that, Hanin?! You knew the rules when you signed up to fight!'

The dwarf, struggling to breathe as her windpipe was being crushed, could only kick her feet and gurgle in response. Disgusted, Shugra almost let her hand do the rest of the crushing. But unlike Zoskir, she had some qualms about murder. So, getting ahold of her anger, she threw the small fighter towards the stairs that lead to the deck.

"Disqualified. Fight goes to Dorian."

Suddenly the crowd was a cacophony. Some just happy their wagers had paid off. The rest embittered by the whole display. But the referee ignored them all and went over to check on Dorian, who was still on the ground clutching his groin, curled up into a ball.

The dark elf, who had been distracted by the crowd's reaction to Hanin's low blow, matter-of-factly turned his face back to Yuna and said:

"Well, looks like I'm up." He sighed, took a big swig of wine and then looked right into Yuna's eyes and told her "Bet on me."

He knew she wouldn't be disappointed with the result.

Yuna

 

[Yuna]

The surface. The underrealm. Now look, Gier was a swell guy, a good friend, but he was an elf who was born and bred in Elbion. She lived in Elbion all her life, one little excursion to the deadly town of Rostok in Epressa notwithstanding. All she really knew was Elbion and Elbionese people, and a fair mention for a couple of Anirians—mostly humans, altogether. What could she say? It was neat to meet someone like Zoskir! Even if it had only been scarcely an hour. He had a wholly different perspective on things!

Yuna took a small drink of her wine (easily pleased, Yuna, for she hardly had a refined tongue when it came to spirits) as Zoskir elaborated. She took another that she nearly spit out with giggling when Dorian got punched in the jewels. The noise! The face he made! Yuna certainly wasn't above a bit of crass humor.

That stunt got Hanin the dwarf disqualified, and Zoskir's fight was on next. He looked intently at Yuna and for a small moment she was transfixed. In those red eyes of Zoskir's could be seen a tangible danger, and in a way which truly eluded words the feeling was exciting and captivating.

"G-Good idea!" Yuna said. As if she had briefly forgotten her own possessions, she patted around her belt with her free hand and rediscovered her coin pouch. "I've got a little bit of spending money. I could double it up!"

Now what she was aware of, even if vaguely, was the distinguished dwarf with the neatly braided beard who had been exchanging coin with some of the onlookers. She'd seen him on the way down. And even if she was wrong she could with a little investigation find who was the "house" of the Guild.

But she kind of wanted Zoskir to take her over there. So she said, "Alright! I'll do it. Who do I talk to? I'm gonna drop my whole pouch on you, Zoskir." She smiled broadly. "Careful not to sock Lugaid in the balls!"

Zoskir

 

[Zoskir]

"Fucking bitch!" Could be vaguely heard in the distance. Before the thunderous footfalls began ascending the steps.

Good idea! I've got a little bit of spending money. I could double it up!

"That's the spirit!" Zoskir smiled. Yuna investing money in his victory was a good sign that she would be open to doing business with him in the future. He might have said something more but for the sounds of those heavy steps coming from the the deck punctuated by a a distant version of the same "oof" that Dorian had made but in another, rather familiar voice.

Alright! I'll do it. Who do I talk to? I'm gonna drop my whole pouch on you, Zoskir. Careful not to sock Lugaid in the balls!

The dark elf laughed at this before leading her towards that table where the very same dwarf was seated. He left his bottle on the bar knowing it would bother Radrick. Everything bothered Radrick.

"Relax, I'm a professional." He said and began to remove his shirt as they made their way to the betting table. This revealed two things. One: he was chiseled like a statue. This was clearly a drow who never missed leg day. Or ab day. Or bicep day. Or any of it. Two: he had been wearing light leather padding and had several sheethed knives underneath his shirt. The armor was particularly on his chest and back and in the form of thin, plain leather bracers wrapping around his forearms. All of it black in color. Just like the rest of his attire. These weapons and armor, he also removed.

"This is Egan." He told her, before turning to the dwarf. "Egan, I told my friend Yuna here who the sure thing is, so she'd like to put everything she's got on me." This caused the dwarf to grow visibly baffled and narrow his eyes.

"Well!" Egan looked at Yuna with this slightly shocked and confused expression still on his face before turning back to Zoskir with an inquisitive tone "If you told her who the sure thing was, the why in the depths is she betting on YOU???"

The dwarf held the exaggerated expression on his face for one long moment before they both laughed. He then turned to Yuna genuinely.

"A pleasure to meet you Miss Yuna," Egan nodded his head politely. He was warm yet businesslike at the same time, and could have been a banker in the Merchant District easily. Yet as with just about everyone else here, he had something dark about his personality. Slimier than the average banker even. And he wasted no time before taking up his quill and dipping it in ink. "Now just how much has this miscreant talked you out of this evening?"

Yuna

 

[Yuna]

Now Yuna, known among several of her peers as a little imp who liberally took whatever threadbare occasion she could to go streaking (and convince others to do the same), was never too shy about where her eyes or her even her hands went. In this case, her eyes. All the knives were scarcely of note, and distractions if nothing else. Her gaze was busy appreciating all the definition of the male form on display.

"Oh my god, you're made out of rock."

She had forgotten all about the dwarf and the bet.

"Who's Eg—?"

That's Egan. Oh. Seriously though, what did Zoskir do for a living? Sculpted like a marble statue! Was he a warrior of some kind? Maybe! She'd seen a warrior's physique before, and, oh ho ho ho, it never got old, no it didn't, no it did not, oh no.

Now just how much has this miscreant talked you out of this evening?

"What?" Oh! Rats! The bet! "Right! Wellllll~, what I've got here is nothing too special." She removed her coin pouch from her belt and gave it a light toss and caught it. "A nice little collection of docatto, zoldo, and tolaro alike. A mean bit of spending money I wouldn't mind seeing fatten up."

"Too bad you won't," said a new voice. Here came a rough man in durable clothing, a black goatee, and an old vertical scar marring the skin over his right eye and cheek. He was flanked by a desert man of the Kaliti sort, big with beady eyes which, belying his bulk, glanced about with an acute sharpness.

"Excuse me?" Yuna said, placing her hands on her hips.

The goatee man ignored her for the moment. Said to Egan, "Fifty docatto on Lugaid," and produced the money.

Yuna glanced over to Zoskir and jerked a thumb back at the goatee man and rolled her eyes.

Zoskir

 

[Zoskir]

Oh my god, you're made out of rock.

Zoskir loved the appreciation Yuna had for his physique. And he had every right to. It was a weapon that he had been forging for half a century. Every muscle honed into a masterpiece of fine craftsmanship. He basked in the attention like a a reptile whose warming sun was her feminine gaze. Smiling with satisfaction as she was so distracted from the world by his body. Sometimes it was the little victories that made all of the darkness and struggle of a life spent in the training grounds of the underrealm worth enduring.

He winked at her, slyly. He couldn't help it. He could resist anything but temptation. And what red-blooded elf wouldn't have found this impish human girl tempting? And as her eyes explored his body, so too he would grow less shy about returning the visual attention and admiring her.

What? Right! Wellllll~, what I've got here is nothing too special.A nice little collection of docatto, zoldo, and tolaro alike. A mean bit of spending money I wouldn't mind seeing fatten up.

Now within the slums of drow contingents of The Independent City of Revash Qelnoth Zoskir had seen boys and men who would seduce well to do drow women in order to benefit from their ladies' vast fortunes and respected estates. And he hated to seem like one of those gold diggers, but it really was so nice to see her wager her entire purse on him. Now THAT was sweet of her!

A pity that such a sweet moment should have been interrupted by such a bitter and belligerently wagging tongue. No wonder he had a scar across his face. He must have been great fun at parties. The dark elf was still carrying his recently removed attire, bundled and draped of his left arm. Which left his right hand free and rather well concealed to reach down and loosen the strap that held an ornately crafted obsidian dagger tightly within a sheath upon the drow's belt in a quick fluid motion. And that was before Yuna even said

Excuse me?

But the man's wager upon Lugaid only confirmed Zoskir's wine addled suspicions. He had seen this kind of thing too many times before. Lugaid was a human fighter, they were humans, and Yuna was a human. He, on the other hand, was a knife-eared grey skinned red eyed monster that one of THEIR women folk was getting a little too friendly with. So now they were going to try and do something about it.

Well go ahead, draego. I dare you.

Thats what his eyes said to the bearded human and his foreign friend. And they spoke in a language of red hot fire. Shugra's attempt to make Yuna look away was suddenly made to appear like the excited expression on a pretty pet puppy dog happy to see it's owner's return home. If one of the hairs of their forearms had so much as given the impression of moving in Yuna's direction his blade was going to give these two fools a quick trip to other side. And all three of the men knew it. There was no mistaking the way he was looking at them. It was zero threat and one hundred percent promise.

When the two thugs finally slunk away from the death glare that the dark marble statue of a white haired elf was giving them, he regarded Yuna once again.

"Would you mind looking after my gear while I fight?" And then he added in a hushed voice that only she could hear.. "You might want to wear the vest. In case those fools didn't get the message."

The vest he referred to was a gossamer thin black leather garment, which held his knives at the sides, and which looked somewhat like a mix between light armor and the sort of thing one might expect to find in a nobleman's secret bedchamber closet. It was also special. Nothing like the legendary magical alloys of the surface elves or the arragoth, but it shouldn't have been that impenetrable for being so thin and flimsy.

Yuna

 

[Yuna]

The goatee man, whose name was Quinn, saw the manner in which Zoskir regarded him, he held up a placating hand in a small gesture. "Easy there, soot," he said casually—or, as casually as he could make a pretense of. "This here is just sport. Lugaid's the better man, that's all."

Though that wasn't all. In truth, while some extra coin would be nice, pleasure ended when he recognized the Fairweather girl and business began. She didn't know it—couldn't know it, likely, what with her being a College brat—but Quinn was friends with some guys from the Quarterfell District who felt slighted by the Fairweathers; they'd gotten a raw deal. So Quinn felt a little payback was in order. Problem was, the Fairweather girl was cozying up close with that dark elf, who did by all means look like he got his hands dirty. But while the drow was busy? Hopefully getting rocked by Lugaid? That'd leave the Fairweather girl open. And then Quinn and his muscle Muzzad could have a kind word with her.

For now though, Quinn and Muzzad withdrew, filtering in with the rest of the gathered crowd.

"Jerks," Yuna said as they departed. Alright, look, there was teasing, and there was being nasty, and that guy was just being nasty for the sake of it.

Zoskir got her attention again. "Sure!" And, though added in quiet tones, though there came an implication with the suggestion to don the vest, Yuna was not so mindful nor cautious. "Oh, I'd love to try it on. I don't uuuuuuu~sually wear black, but this looks comfy."

And it was, more or less, her size. Certainly she wouldn't be swimming in it, if say Zoskir was more of Shugra's size. She slipped the vest on easily and took a moment to admire it, running her hands and fingers down her body to feel the texture of the material. She looked back up to Zoskir and grinned. "Look at me—now I'm a professional!"

Zoskir