[782] – Y03.082 – Vonda IV

[782] – Y03.082 – Vonda IV

The roads of East Port were so full of noise, with hundreds of cityfolk making their way through, going to work, coming back from work, going to meet a friend, leaving their meeting with a friend, making their way to the tax office to pay their taxes, making their way to the tax office to complain about how they had already paid their tax and have the receipts to prove it.

Adam spotted a large number of dogs, cats, and even goats, most being led around by their owners, save for many of the cats, who lazed around freely. Whatever droppings of the animals were quickly swept away to the side, or near an alley, though some particularly decent cityfolk swept them into a small sack full of hay or dead greenery they had filled the sack with in order to prevent the excrement from leaking through.

‘Damn, that’s a lot of-,’

Adam heard a squeal of shock beside him, snapping his head to find Kitool holding up a boy of seven or eight, who struggled against the Iyrman’s grip.

“Let go a’ me, ya bloody tieves! What’cha doin’ catching a good likkle kid loik me?” the young boy said, still trying to struggle against the Iyrman, who had so suddenly appeared to snatch him up.

As the boy complained, several dirty looking children all swarmed around the group, complaining towards them, all the while accusing them of being outsiders.

“Let go of the gem,” Kitool said, her voice low and stern.

The young boy let it go, and while the hands of the nearby urchins blurred, they could not match the speed of the Iyrman, who had also felt the boy’s muscles relax, giving her a head start in snatching the falling gem.

“What a bunch of cute kids,” Adam said, eyeing up the little ones. ‘Damn, Kitool wasn’t messing around when she said she knew a way to catch them quickly. That’s Iyrmen for you...’

The young boy stopped struggling, noting the woman’s attire, as well as her tattoo. “Ain’t got no business wiv ya, miss. Was jus’ pickin’ up tha’ gem the mista dropped, tha’s all.”

“Well, I appreciate that,” Adam replied, his eyes scanning across the children’s faces, some of them scattering away, not wanting any business. “Now that we’re speaking face to face, I’d like to meet with your boss.”

“Sum kinda mistake here, mista, we ain’t got no boss.”

“You’ve got no boss like I haven’t got no gems,” Adam said. “I would appreciate it if you could bring me to your boss, since I have some business I’d like to discuss.”

“Ain’t got no boss, but what kinda business are ya wantin’ ta discuss?”

“The business of gold, young man,” Adam replied, flashing a polite smile.

Persuasion Check (Charisma)

D20 + 6 = 12 (6)

“Like I says, ain’t got no boss, mista,” the boy said, pulling himself away from Kitool, nodding his head to the trio, before backing away and scattering. The other children scattered too, all save for one child, a child who seemed to be about seven or so held out his hand.

“You taking me to the boss?”

“Ain’t got no boss, but ah’ll take ya to ‘im.”

Adam held out a silver coin. “You take me to the boss properly and I’ll hand you a gold coin once I’m done speaking with him.”

This young man smelled of trouble, but that was fine. Once he was inside, he’d be surrounded by far more capable fellows, and he’d have to change his tune once he understood his position.

“I’ll take you to the greeting area, mister...”

“Adam,” Adam replied. ‘Mister sounds kind of like a cool codename. The Mister.’ Adam pulled out his book, writing it down, the thugs around him giving him a queer look.

Adam followed the thug inside, the other thug following behind Kitool, who brought up the rear. They made their way through one room of a building into another, where Adam spotted about ten unscrupulous fellows, six men, four women. They all wore thick clothing, while a couple wore leather with metal discs, and one wore chain. Each carried clubs, daggers, or axes. The woman in chain carried a shortsword, keeping a hand over the hilt. There was also a young boy, perhaps nine or ten years old, who sat quietly beside a desk.

“Would you mind bringing a pair of seats for the ladies?” Adam asked.

The thugs glanced between one another, still noting the playful tone of voice Adam held, even while surrounded by ten others. One of them locked the door from behind, the tension in the air growing thick.

“Sister Vonda, do you have Spirit Sentinels prepared?”

“Yes,” she confirmed.

“Mnn,” Adam replied, affirmatively. “A great spell for such close spaces, just like Fireball.”

“No killing, Adam.”

Adam glanced back towards her, and then her amulet, before smirking to the others. He brushed along his own amulet. “The sheer audacity of a Priest of Life telling a Priest of Death not to kill. It’s alright, I’ve got a few diamonds to bring a couple of them back.”

“No need for such threats, mister Adam,” the thug said, the confusion filling him. “I’ll be getting the boss now.”

“Careful with your words, boy, unless you want to be losing that tongue of yours,” the woman with the chain said.

“No offence, but you’re not paid enough to be threatening me.”

“Paid more than you.” She eyed Adam up. His clothing was decent, but not anything special. Except, it did seem to be of Iyrman design, just like the woman beside him.

“Yeah? How much?”

“None of your business.”

“Like I said, not enough.”

The woman stood up, but the door opened, revealing an overweight fellow, who wore heavy fur coat over his breastplate made of scale. They weren’t any scales, but hydra scales, with silver along the trim. Rivers of golden necklaces fell down across his breastplate, and at his side was a blade, with a gem set within the pommel. He had a clean shaven face, his hair long and thick, his eyes dark, but full of greed, and a smile which revealed his arrogance, and a silver tooth.

“I heard we had guests!”

Mister Trouble?