Private Tales Three Fingers and Five Wagons

[Gella Rerra]

"This ale tastes like troll shit."

The grumbling half-elf couldn't help himself from griping over at the dwarf seated beside him between swigs from his flask, peering at the wagons that were gathering at the gates of Osteriam from his spot on the steps leading up to the Hag's Head Tavern. It was only dawn, and already the chilly air of the old mining town was biting at the skin of his face. The short little runt beside him? He didn't really remember his name. He was one of those recruits that had come in with the latest batch of fresh meat; a dwarven caravan seeking to peddle goods. The Jagged Emeralds had, of course, rounded them up in the Hag's Head, taken those willing to work for Gella, and killed the remainder.

Induction day was always good fun.

The Dwarf, whose name was actually Njarlborn. peered up at Gella, eyes full of caution and unease. He'd been summoned by name in the early hours of the morning to meet with Gella Rerra here, and yet so far those had been the only words said to him. The half-elf leader of the Jagged Emeralds had a bad habit of dispatching those who said the wrong thing to him, and he had no desire to be fed to the 'pet' Gella kept behind the tavern. In the interest of self-preservation, the Dwarf merely nodded with a simple "Yeah." to Gella's complaint. The notorious male's dark green eyes didn't even flick down in his underling's direction, instead watching as the wagons near the gates lined up in a straight formation, all facing Gella and Njarlborn. His gloved hand raised to his mouth, and his teeth bit down as he scanned over each and every one of them, as though he were choosing a bride from a selection of beautiful women, and he needed to suss out any imperfections.

Njarlborn couldn't stand this any longer. What was he doing here? Why was he working for this lunatic, staring at a bunch of horse-drawn wagons so early in the morning? He had to say something. "Sir, please don' take this the wron' way, but you asked for me 'ta be here this mornin'. Is there somethin' I can help ya wit'?"
He tried to sound as timid and meek as a dwarf could possibly sound, and Njarlborn, with crimson red hair braided down to his waist and a beard as thick as a morning fog, couldn't sound very meek.

Gella's eyes flicked down to his dwarfen associate, a small little smirk tugging gently up on the corner of his lips as he pulled his hand from the grip of his teeth and patted the short man's head with it. "Patience is a virtue, short-stack, but since you've mentioned that... I'd like to ask you something. You came from Belgarath, yes? Some outliers who never left the old relic?"

Njarlborn was taken aback by the sheer amount of disrespect he'd been shown in just two or three sentences, his eyes going wide and mouth slightly agape as he stared back up at Gella. "Y-Yeh, but I don' thin--"

"Good, then you might just earn yourself some extra coin today if you play your cards right." He giggled, almost unsettlingly as he patted Njarlborn's back. "I need you to be back here in this spot in, oh, about 3 hours. Bring your weapons, and some food. Don't be late."

The last warning was spoken with extra emphasis. The poor little thing wouldn't want to make Gella go behind schedule, and Gella had plans for him. There was somebody else who he needed to speak to first, and he hadn't the time to chat with the new blood any longer. He rose from the steps and dusted the fallen snow off of his jacket. The rabbit fur it was lined with inside protected him quite nicely, but the outside of it was beginning to get a bit dirty...

Turning on his feet, he heads back up the stairs to the Hag's Head. Normally, he would merely summon the Emerald in question to his presence if he needed to speak with them; far be it from Gella to go searching about for some goon just to tell him that he was on gate duty for the next year. The Emerald that he now sought was different, however. She held something that very few, if any, could claim to possess; Gella Rerra's respect.

Joia had been recruited quite young, an orphan on the streets of Osteriam with nowhere to go, and only a few years Gella's junior. At first, Gella doted on her a deal more than the usual Emerald because of her extraordinary abilities. She wasn't the most skilled with a blade or a bow, but she was without a doubt the fastest and most quick-minded person to ever join the gang. Her affinity for magic, while strange and homebrewed in nature, gave the Emeralds much needed firepower in their operations. In many ways, she was a far better candidate for leadership than Gella could ever be. However, as Gella came to rely on Joia and her abilities, so too did Joia become intensely loyal to her fellow half-elf crime lord.

Most of the Jagged Emeralds recognized Joia as Gella's lieutenant, his enforcer. Some even whispered behind their backs, spreading rumors that they'd become much more than just a leader and his right-hand. So when Gella passed through the main room of the Hag's Head, headed down the flight of stairs that led to the bunkhouse, most of those enjoying an early morning drink or a game of cards already had a guess as to who he was on his way to meet.

The bunkhouse provided accommodations and rooms for all of the Emeralds and had been a rather large addition to the once small tavern. In fact, Joia had even assisted in its construction. The quarters were nothing special; rooms with 4 beds each, with a closet for armor and a case for armaments. Joia, however, had her own chambers located in the back of the bunkhouse, the only private room in the building. Some called it favoritism, but not to Gella's face.

It was still quite early, and many of his men and women were still in their beds. This likely included Joia, as she tended to spend a good deal of time in her room, for whatever reason. Reaching out to push the door open, Gella allows himself inside without a knock. A bit rude, but then he never claimed to be kind.

"Morning, Three-Fingers."

Joia Three Fingers ​

 

[Joia Three Fingers]

Gella Rerra 's abrupt intrusion brought with it a cacophony for the senses. A step inside would cross the line of red brick powder, ochre to protect against the spirits. One more would bring with it the earthy scent of peat, musk, and burnt steppes sage. The eyes would graze upon the hanging jars that hung from the rafters, lightly swinging to and fro due to the draft of the open door. The dim glow of candlelight against the glass gave off a diluted, pale yellow glow, highlighting their contents. White spherical eyes would twist and spin, a multitude of pale, lipid colors that death had claimed on their vibrancy. Bulbous gourd jugs and dark glass flasks, each strung up with twine and twirled tight against iron nails along the rafters. Clear bottles skirting of movement within their contents, a multitude of insect and serpent eyes mirroring the twisted visage of the Emerald leader, their sharp fangs glistening with poison, some even attacking the wall of the glass as if makeshift guards of the room Joia called her own.

This was Joia's sanctuary, her playground. There amidst the clutter was organized chaos. Bits of tokens collected throughout the years; bones, teeth, claws aplenty, skulls shrunken in solution, and upturn skull caps used as bowls. There was a collection of plaited hair in a large woven bin to the right, as was a large shelf constructed of used ship planks with fleshier bits Joia collected as trophies and tributes for her haphazard gutter mage concoctions.

To the left, a series of jars in carefully cultivated giant glass jugs were the most recent concoction brewed by Joia; It was thick as syrup, tawny as molasses, and gave off the stench of sickly sweet fermented apples and honey. It packed enough of a punch to knock anyone on their ass that was brave enough to drink it, and with any brew concocted by Joia, a medley of side-effects that the Herald may deem to be a boon or a flaw. Whether or not this was poison or tonic was anyone's guess -- but ah on the oft chance it could be a boon...

While there was enough candlelight to see the dim outline of the room, the way shadows would dance and slide amidst the dangling jars and items would make it difficult to glean just where the half-elf sat. At least, considering just how dark her skin melded against the shadows. Only the glint of bronze from the cuffs woven into her hair would draw attention to the half-elf as she hovered over her latest creation; the careful craft of a small doll-like figurine whittled slowly to life by the cautious carve of her blade.

"Gellah," the acerbic but quiet, undisturbed greeting towards the Emerald's leader was a simple affair, the throaty rasp of her voice drawling the last syllable of his name with her husky intone. Those vibrant, green eyes would not lift to catch his gaze. Not a token of disrespect, but for amity. Nonetheless, her senses were intimately aware of his presence, so much so she felt the tip of her right ear twitch. A telling tick. The man could not contain his energy, be it nervousness or arrogance; it bled through his skin like sweat under Amol-Kalit's unforgiving sun.

He was here for a reason. Joia did not ask why. Body and tone would soon deliver what be on Gella's mind. Sometimes, all he needed was to vent out his frustrations, at others, his fears. All the power, loot, and what Gella knew he was due would not be enough to fill that void that had broken him so, patchworked together to try and make shiny and new. But a mutilated sow's ear could not a silk purse make. Instead, they improvised their lot in life and took what be desired to fix what festering scabs were left behind. They all bore those scars. One way or another. It just manifested differently.

All Joia had to do now was wait.

 

[Gella Rerra]

It wasn't the first time Gella had ever been inside Joia's room. She was a confidant of sorts, the kind of person Gella could tell things in confidence that she wouldn't go flapping her gums to his men. Even though he'd made more than a few trips to this snapshot of Joia's life, the sudden darkness that surrounded him as the door slowly slid shut behind him. He would never get used to her chambers; it was almost like stepping into another world, the blanket of black barely pierced by the dim glow of the candlelight. It took quite a bit to shake Gella, but as that low orange glow lit the jars of contents most dubious, Gella took a step to avoid getting too close to them.

He respected Joia's craft, but that didn't mean he wanted to be part of it. If there was one weakness Gella had, it was his lack of understanding in regards to the arcane. Normal magic was strange enough, but Joia's odd patchwork method of performing spells? It frightened him, but there was also something undeniably alluring about it, about her. His face would visibly twist in discomfort as his eyes scanned over some of the things she had stashed away in here. Bones, claws, and teeth from animals killed who knows how long ago, bits of skull sliced and shrunken, flesh that glimmered almost menacingly in the low light of the room

"Three-Fingers..." Gella began, stepping forward towards the glimmering cuffs that highlighted her shadow against the dark room that her ebony skin blended with, ducking his head low for fear of disturbing a jar or some odd or end that suck out from a shelf. "I almost didn't expect you to be awake. Working on an early morning project, are we?" He couldn't make out the details of the little doll she busied her hands with, but it definitely suited the rest of the room. No doubt it had some purpose; Gella didn't know Joia to pick up hobbies, except for the occasional brew of something in the same vein as that sickly sweet-smelling liquid she had cooked up not too long ago. She'd offered to let Gella taste it but... well, there wasn't a chance in hell.

"I've got a job, Three. One that might be a really nice score if we can pull it off." His hands tightened into fists as he began to talk business. "You familiar with Belgrath? Old dwarf city not too far south of here. Most of them are long gone, who the hell knows why, but the way I see it there must be something worth good money left behind." He gestured over towards the assortment of things hanging from her rafters. "I bet there's even some stuff that falls under your jurisdiction..."

He couldn't tell if he was selling her on this or not. With any other Emerald he would have merely ordered them to join him. Joia's opinion was respected though, and Rerra found himself squinting at the vaguely woman-shaped shadow buried in the darkness. "You know I want you to come with me..." He spoke quietly, like a child trying to convince his playdate to run off and start trouble. "Come on. This will be fun! I haven't had much playtime with you lately, you know? I've been itching to cause some trouble. With your--- Oh for fucks sake Three, can we get a little more light in here? I can barely see where I'm walking."

Joia Three Fingers ​

 

[Joia Three Fingers]

Gella Rerra was excited about this job - that was clear to see. Joia didn't have to glance up to observe his animated gestures and pacing to gather as much. The sheer energy that radiated from him was enough to relay that.

Like a little boy asking for his best mate to play with him, so was Gella doing his best to coax and tempt the guttermage to join him in his revelry and the potential of bountiful spoils.

The corner of her mouth gave a perk, and a sideglance slid those vibrant green eyes to pan over to the Emerald leader. Amusement ignited in her eyes as she caught him making a fuss with all dim light.

He was wearing his rabbit-lined jacket. It kept him warm plenty enough and was a luxury that the man enjoyed wearing. Sometimes she caught him enjoying the feel of it, reveling in its softness like a child delighting in his possession. The edges were starting to get dirty, likely already bothering him. For one who grew up in squalor, Gella had a finicky side of him when it came to clothing. Perhaps because it was one of the few comforts, he could enjoy now that he made a name for himself. That and it made sure that he made quite an entrance wherever he went.

"Aye can see you just fine," she said simply, chuckling to herself. "But if it be light you want," she coo'd, her throaty voice coating the room like thick honey. Rising to her feet, the brass cuffs interwoven throughout her hair giving a slight, melodic jingle. Drawing closer, she gave a slight flick of the whittling blade in her right hand, the silver flash glinting under the candlelight.

Weaving a path along the various jugs and curios hanging overhead, the half-elf took lazy steps over towards the Emerald leader, full hips swinging to and fro. Well-worn dark leather pants and a dark gray muslin blouse suited her well, the protective leather arm braces and tunic left nearby.

"Dhen light you get," she continued, drawing closer to Gella until she was but a few feet away. There, to the right, was an oil lamp. Reaching towards it, she lengthened the wick to allow a brighter glow to ignite the flame.

"So," Joia began, the light brightening around the pair in a warm sphere.

"Tell me bout dhis job. Belgrath you say? What does dhat dead Dwarf city have to do with it?"

 

[Gella Rerra]

Oh, Gella would have been making a right fuss if he'd been able to see how Joia was looking at him. Of course, she was right, he was excited at the prospect of getting his hands on anything that could make him richer, or his gang more powerful. Somewhere inside that twisted immature heart of his, he was as giddy as a child going after sweets. Even though he couldn't see it, Gella knew what Joia was doing. She read him better than anybody else good, knew him like a book. In a way, he hated it, despised having his flaws and weak points known. On the other, hand, sometimes it did feel somewhat good to have a confidant...

Still, his lackeys would likely take issue with calling Gella happy or Jovial. He was as unhinged and unpredictable as ever. So having a playground the size of an entire town and a small army to do his bidding sometimes put him in a somewhat decent mood, that didn't mean he didn't get bored! Even now, standing here in this dark room, shifting his weight from one side to the other as his hands brushed impatiently at the slightly dirtied hem, he longed for some semblance of action.

"I know you think I'm cute, Three, but if you're going to undress me with your eyes, at least do it more subtly" He teased as a hand came to rest on his hip. "You're going to make get all shy." He finished dryly. The idea of him being shy in any capacity brought a chuckle to his own lips. The last person who accused him of being shy was still trapped under the floorboards of the tavern cellar, although he doubted there was much left of him now. He'd have to get somebody to clean him out eventually, it was starting to stink a little down there and he couldn't afford to let the smell waft to the ground floor.

The brazen half-elf caught the glimmer of her blade and the shine of her bronze cuffs against the dim light as her thick, pleasing tones filled the room again. It was difficult to see, but admittedly his eyes were adjusting enough to see her shape swaying enticingly towards him, that alluring walk that she had down to a T. If she wasn't somebody he knew so well, and if he wasn't somewhat convinced she'd cut him for doing it, he'd probably be admiring the curvaceous shape she made against the room around her as she stepped through the oddity-cluttered room to stand in front of him. Hell, maybe he still was anyways.

When she finally lit the lamp, illuminating the babyfaced criminal and the bronze-skinned guttermage in a small sphere that pierced the veil around them, Gella gave her a blatantly shit-eating grin. "What I want, I get indeed. You keep reminding me of the reasons I like you. Of course, you're the only aesthetically pleasing thing in this room, so I'm hard-pressed for something that isn't a skull or an organ to look at."

Now, to business. Gella crosses his arms, drumming his fingers on his bicep as he speaks. "I've gotten a tip. A tip that says that city isn't as dead as it's so widely believed. If my source is correct, there are still dwarves that live in that tomb, and they're sitting on a gold mine of old dwarven shit. Artifacts, machines, riches... who knows? Now, normally I'd say breaking in, stealing everything, and then escaping would be a tough job. However..."

He licks his lips, his pupils dilating as a nasty little plan forms in that rotten brain.

"Three, do you know how to work a portal stone?"

Joia Three Fingers

 

[Joia Three Fingers]

Gella Rerra

Joia’s gave a throaty chuckle, amusement glittering in her jade green eyes as Gella sang his tune. Once more that little boy grin cut a wide arch over his face, mischievousness coloring his visage with wicked intent.

“Dhat be dha dhey when such words such as shy and Gella be in dha same sentence ahn be held true,” she teased at first, before resting her hip against the nearby table, facing him.

“So dhere be life in dhat mountain grave, eh?” Intrigue percolated in her eyes, one dark brow arching high. She set the wooden figure she’d been carving on the table and the knife followed suit.

Now as to his query….

“Dhat I do,” she replied, crossing her arms under the fullness of her breasts, leaning back against the table with such a casual air about her. That was just how she was. Where Gella radiated energy Joia took her time to observe and think. To mull things over. At least, as long as it didn’t revolve around an order by Gella. That was one area she would not hesitate with. Some considered her too serious; cold perhaps. But that is just a by product of her upbringing. One can’t get their ass kicked or be picked on if one could manage to blend into the surroundings. It made it easier to survive.

“Need portal keys.” She told him, bringing up a hand to rub her dark chin.

“Something’ Dhat I do not have.” She admitted. While portal stones were easy to use, getting a key depended on proximity.

“But perhaps dhere might be a way to get one…”

 

[Gella Rerra]

Shy was indeed a phrase one would be foolish to associate with Gella Rerra. He'd garnered a reputation for his brashness, and his absolute absence of subtlety. Then again, when most of the town knew you as the boy who publicly beheaded his own foster mother, they weren't exactly chomping at the bit to get to know you anyways.

"Oh, don't be so cruel. I have a sensitive side, you know." He said sarcastically as he walked past her, turning around and jumping up to sit on a small empty space on the table. "Money, fresh meat... I would do anything for them..."

He picked up an odd-looking bone trinket on the table beside him, holding it up to his face to examine it boredly, his eyes seeming to glimmer in the light. "What else matters? It's not like I have anything else to look forward to in this dump."

He continued to toy with the bone charm, one of his pointed ears seeming to twitch in interest. "Oh, the majority of the Dwarves left there long ago, yes. According to one of our dwarven loyal, however, there remains a devout group who refuse to entirely abandon their ancestral home." His eyes flick over to Three, lips curling into a smirk. "And apparently, there lies a portal stone within the city itself. We could take the backdoor, and they'd never see us coming."

Dwarves, Gella didn't care much for them. It wasn't so much their stature as it was their way of life. Honor this, warrior that. It was so 'holier-than-thou' that it made him want to vomit. They could fight, but they were just no fun. The way Gella saw it, he'd be doing the world a favor clearing them out from that old ruin.

Portal keys? He stopped toying with the bone, instead closing his gloved fist around it as she announced the snag in the plan. He'd never heard of such a thing! Of course, he rarely left Osteriam. They needed the one thing she didn't have? Her, the woman who seemed to have one of everything? He felt the blood rushing to his head, his teeth grating in irrational anger.

“But perhaps dhere might be a way to get one…”

There it was, that trademark reliability he'd come to expect from Three. All the anger that had been building up dissipated in a flash, a wild grin crossing his features. "You genius, You beautiful genius you. I'd take you into my arms if that's something I did. Always have a way to get just what we need. So tell me, Three." Gella slides off the table, moving over to lean against his loyal companion. "What do I have to do for you in order to get inside that city, my dearest friend?"

Joia Three Fingers