Ch120: Shadows in an Alleyway
“Thief! Get back here!” Krvavy’s furious roar cuts through the clamorous market square as she barrels through that crowd of people, getting a few angered responses which quickly turn into stammered apologies as the various Humans see just who, or what, bumped into them.
The thieving child briefly glances back over his shoulder, eyes going even wider and filling with more panic as he sees how quickly the angry Drakling is gaining on him, despite the throng of people in between them. Apparently deciding that a change of plans will do him some good, the little bastard darts to the side and breaks free from the crowd, scrambling into a nearby alleyway with Krvavy close behind him.
Which seems to have been the right choice for that young thief. He is clearly familiar with the narrow and winding paths between all of these buildings, knowing exactly where he is going. Each sharp corner turned and tight street crossed earns that bastard child more and more distance from the increasingly irritated and incensed Drakling.
Who may be mindlessly yelling out threats against that thieving child’s life. Though any potential threats that might be be uttered quite quickly devolve into growled grunts as Krvavy focuses much more on trying to catch up to that pest of a pickpocket.
A task that is quickly becoming impossible as the seconds drag on into minutes.
Despite her long legs and rather formidable physique... it is looking more likely that this damned thief will get away from Krvavy. She is simply too big, with too much mass and weight. She is struggling with the countless corners, which are very much not on a uniform ninety degree grid. Some are so sudden and sharp that she is left skidding across the gravelly ground, having to quickly turn and run in almost the complete opposite direction she had just been heading.
Her jaw clenches, carnivorous teeth grinding together as hot air hisses through them. Krvavy just barely gets a glimpse of the thieving child as she turns a corner and he dives through the next.
A deafening drumbeat hammers away in her ears, frantic and furious and urging her on this warpath. She rushes down the narrow alley, clawed fingers scraping against the nearest wall as it ‘helps’ her make that sharp corner, bits of plaster raining down onto the deep gouges left on the packed ground by her inhuman feet.
Murder fills her emerald eyes as she spots the little bastard up ahead, looking weak and vulnerable and out of breath as he... as he passes her coin purse over to some cloaked figure, getting a single silver coin given to him in exchange. A hawk, from the look of it. Not even a wolf.
With hardly a thought in her mind, Krvavy raises a hand high and prepares to summon her axe... only to abruptly freeze in place. The absolute fury that filled her very being shifts in that instant, going from a blazing inferno to an icy chill.
Around the edges of this alleyway are a dozen swords made of a glittering silver light, floating in the air with their points all aimed at her.
“There is no need to fight.” The cloaked figure calls out in an annoyingly indecipherable voice, tossing the small pouch of coins back to the barbarian as the child runs off and disappears from sight.
Krvavy catches her stolen money and glares at this figure, completely unable to make out any identifying features beneath that dull grey cloak. “Yeah, and all these magical swords sure get that point across...!” She sarcastically hisses, her covered chest heaving with each heavy breath she takes. Her meaty tail flicks back and forth with a barely contained rage, the muscles in her arms tensing as she bares her teeth in a hate-filled snarl.
“They are my swords of Damocles.” The figure calmly responds. “If you move to attack, they will fly true. And I will warn you: they deal True Damage. But they are here simply as insurance, so that we may talk in peace.”
“Talk? Talk?!” Krvavy incredulously growls back, not even slightly bothering to hide her anger. “You expect me to believe that? You had a child steal from me just to talk in some dingy alley?! What if I didn’t notice him taking my money?! What if I had caught that little bastard before he lured me here into this trap of yours??! What if I lost track of him in this damned maze?! All of this just to talk?!”
The cloaked figure stands still and unmoving, their face hidden by impenetrable shadows.
The Drakling clenches a fist, squeezing her fingers around her coin purse as she glances at the various magical swords out of the corners of her eyes. It may be foolhardy arrogance, but Krvavy is confident that she could survive getting hit by a few of them. Her Naturists Blessing will protect from some of the true damage. But a full dozen of them might be a bit much...
“I truly do not wish to fight.” The cloaked figure states, their annoyingly ambiguous voice so calm and steady. “I just want to talk. But I could not have simply approached you in the streets, amongst all those innocents. I needed insurance. Because I know what you are.”
“A Drakling? A savage tribal from the far nor–?”
“The Champion of a God.”
Krvavy’s heart sinks at those words. But the adrenaline coursing through her veins pushes back the fear and panic, twisting her face into a violent scowl.
“I know these blades of mine are not a real threat to you. I know that if I kill you here you will respawn elsewhere. But I do not want to make an enemy if I do not need to.”
Thoughts rapidly race through Krvavy’s mildly disorientated mind. A few stick, sinking into her brain and causing her scowl to shift into a sadistic smile, one that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Respawn? What a curious word... Whatever could you mean by that?”
The air in this alleyway becomes stagnant and volatile, that pressure building as the tension grows. It feels as if the smallest spark could ignite a fire that will burn this whole city, and all those within it, to cinders.
The cloaked figure stands still and unmoving for almost a minute, before a firm but quiet voice whispers from beneath their shadowy hood, the words almost echoing through the alleyway. “Who do you serve?”
“Myself.” Krvavy’s cruel, smiling façade widens as she says that single word, showing off more of her sharp and carnivorous teeth... even as the beating of her heart becomes increasingly loud and violent, leaving her a little lightheaded. “I don’t do the bidding of any higher power.”
“Your Patron.” A tinge of frustration is just barely audible within that otherwise unrecognizable voice. “Who is your Patron?”
“Who is yours?” The barbarian returns, the knowledge that she is getting on this mysterious person’s nerves filling her with a reckless and heady arrogance.
The dozen floating blades of shining silver light slowly spin in place as silence hangs above their heads, those magical and no doubt incredibly sharp points not once turning away from Krvavy.
“The Mother of Midnight.”
“Not going to give an actual name? Just a title?” A hot breath blows through the Drakling’s nostrils, visible as puffs of steam despite the warmth of this city. Disdain fills her eyes as she gives her head a rueful shake. “Mine is... Vel’ka Dravost.” She dramatically states, acting as if that pause was to give her words greater weight and not just to give her the chance to remember her Patron’s name.
The air around them only grows heavily, filling with tension that only grows greater and greater as the seconds pass until... the glowing swords shimmer and begin to fade into the shadows, disappearing one by one until only two remain, floating over to the cloaked figure and hovering above their shoulders.
“That name is not on the list of those my Patron told me to be cautious of. We need not be enemies.”
“Oh, what, are we suddenly going to be friends now?” Krvavy sarcastically growls, simmering with rage and tightly gripping onto the coin purse still in her hand. The coins within creak a little, grinding and scraping against each other. “Do you really think I’m going to just ignore those dozen magical friendship blades you had pointed at me? No wonder you’re hanging out in this dingy alley, having kids do your bidding.”
“We... clearly got off on the wrong foot.”
“You don’t fucking say.”
“I apologize for that.” The cloaked figure’s hood bows down slightly, ignoring the barbarian’s quip. “But you must understand my worry. This city is one which I call home. I don’t want it destroyed or to see its people suffer.”
“Oh, of course! I definitely believe that this sketchy hooded figure that hangs out in dark alleyways truly has the well-being of this city in mind!” Krvavy bitterly laughs at the ridiculousness of that. “Gee, you sure are a trustworthy fellow, person I don’t even know the name of!”
A faint sigh emerges from beneath the figure’s cloak. “It’s Shadow.”
“That is not your name.” The Drakling dryly points out the obvious.
“It is what I am called.” This Shadow returns. “Now, if I may ask... What is your business here in Raseyne?”
Krvavy briefly considers being an ass and not giving a straight answer, but there is really no need for that. “Shopping.” She blithely responds with an uncaring shrug, reaching down to her hip and tying the coin purse back in its place, all while trying to ignore the incessantly frantic beating of her heart.
“For...?”
“Seeds to plant, clothes to wear, some gifts,” she mockingly counts the list on her fingers, “you know, fairly normal stuff to go shopping for.”
“And what else?”
“That’s it.”
“Is it?” The cloaked figure questions.
“Yes...?” Krvavy answers, beginning to get a bit confused and a little frustrated by this continued questioning. She really doesn’t have any other reason to be here in this city, at least not that she can think of. “Why do you care so much about what I came here to get?” She shakes her head and hisses those words, not letting her anger fade. That fury is a comfort, a reassurance. It is keeping the myriad other emotions at bay.
“Why did you choose to come to Raseyne of all places?” Shadow answers with another question.
“Because it is known for being a trading hub and I figured I had a better chance of actually getting into the city because of that.” The barbarian dryly returns, getting increasingly annoyed at this hooded figure.
“Why would you...? Ahh, right.” Shadow’s hood briefly bobs down in a nod. “But do you really not have any sort of mission from your Patron? A quest?”
“No.” Krvavy immediately replies, before deciding to add onto her curt response. “Well, nothing that involves this city.”
“Depending on what it is, perhaps I could offer some assistance? As a sign of goodwill. To make up for this... sour first impression.”
Krvavy just narrows her emerald eyes and skeptically stares into the impenetrable shadows beneath this sketchy figure’s hood, still unable to make out even a single feature. A fact that is very much getting on her nerves.
The cloaked figure seems to slump ever so slightly, just barely giving off a tired and exasperated feeling. “As I said already, I do not want to make an enemy of you.” Shadow’s gloved hands slowly raise up in a sign of defenceless surrender, which isn’t all that convincing considering the magic blades still hovering above their shoulders. “I would like to be on good terms with you. Not necessarily as allies or even friends, but as something better than cautious neutrality. And to get to that point, I need to work on earning your trust while showing that I don’t mean you any harm.”
“You could start by taking off that hood.”
“No can do.” The shadowy figure immediately states. “My anonymity is my greatest weapon. There is not a single person out there who knows who ‘Shadow’ is. No one knows my race. No one knows whether I am a man or woman. Anyone and everyone could be ‘Shadow’. That is my identity, this hood is my face.”
“How edgy.”
“It is useful. The thought that I could be in every shadow is enough to keep many people in line. It adds to my reputation. And I am not going to give that up to soothe the worries of a woman I just met, even if I am trying to earn her trust.”
“Fine.” Krvavy clicks her tongue, a bit of disappointment tinging her tone. “Do you know of... Duke Dovoryn Terenti of Volhynia?”
“Yes. Revenge, I presume?”
“Mhm.” The barbarian hums back in affirmation, a flash of annoyance filling her very being at Shadow’s correct assumption. “I’d like to kill him. For quite a few reasons, really.”
“He killed you, didn’t he?”
Krvavy’s blood cools to ice, even though that was a fair guess for Shadow to make.
The hooded figure remains still and silent for a moment, gloved fingers just barely visible as they idly tap against each other beneath that shadowy cloak. “I’ll see what I can do to help you with that.”
“Really?” That word comes out sounding much more astonished than Krvavy intended, causing her lips to twist into a scowling frown.
“Duke Terenti is... not a good man.” Shadow states, seemingly picking each word with care. “He is harsh and cruel. This region would be better off without him. I have no issue with his life being cut short. In fact, I see that as a... good thing. But to actually kill him... That is far easier said than done.”
“That’s fine.” The barbarian dismissively waves her hand, doing her best to act calm and collected. As if she was in control of this situation. As if she was in control of herself. As if her heart wasn’t still beating frantically within her chest, pumping liquid panic through her swollen veins. “I’m not expecting to just go off and do that right now.”
Shadow’s hood slowly bobs up and down in thought. “First, you will need more information. The Duke isn’t the most paranoid or secretive of rulers, but neither is he open about his actions or movements... Perhaps...” The cloaked figure trails off and slowly turns their full attention towards Krvavy. “How would you feel about attending a party?”
“A party?” The barbarian skeptically breathes that single word, staring at the figure across the alleyway with a single eyebrow raised.
“Yes. A fairly formal one, nothing exciting. Rather boring, really. But many influential people will be there, from the local nobility to affluent merchants.” Shadow explains in a deliberate tone. “You may be able to glean some information from such an event. Information that, I suspect, you would trust more than anything I would give you.”
Krvavy mulls over that idea for a few long seconds. It sounds fairly solid, but there is a major issue with that plan. “Just how would you get me into that party? I’m not exactly someone who fits into, well, any formal event.”
“It would actually be quite easy.” The cloaked figure confidently declares. “See, the Countess who hosts these parties is... rather open minded. She encourages her longtime guests to give out invitations of their own, usually as rewards or bonuses to lesser merchants and mercenaries. Because of that, it isn’t uncommon for someone not of the upper-class to attend these parties, typically to talk business.”
“So its more of a networking event than an actual party?” The barbarian can’t help but let some disgust bleed into her voice.
“In a manner of speaking, yes. There are still plenty of nobles who attend purely to socialize and would almost certainly get incredibly annoyed by your mere presence, but I suspect that you wouldn’t really care about that.”
“Alright. I’ll consider it.” Krvavy replies, still feeling rather tense despite this rather casual conversation. In fact, the casualness might be making it worse, the disarming calm leaving her feeling antsy and on edge. She is almost expecting to be attacked at any second. “But I’m not planning on staying in this city for very long, so...”
“That is not a problem. You came to visit Raseyne on quite the fortunate day, as one of these parties is being hosted tonight. And I could easily obtain an invitation from a merchant I know. He owes me.”
The Drakling closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, which does little to calm her nerves. She really doesn’t trust this Shadow. And she doesn’t like how short notice this party is either, even if she has hours and hours until it even begins, as now she has to make a rather rushed decision.
Weighing her options carefully, Krvavy tries to think about the very worst thing that could possibly happen. Which would be... the party is a lie and that she would be walking right into a trap by trying to attend. In that case she would probably die fighting or have to kill herself to prevent getting captured.
She really does not want to die again. But she already took that risk coming to this city in the first place, so...
“Okay, fine. But if this is a trap... I will burn this fucking city to the ground and kill everyone in my way as I hunt you down and kill you again and again and again...!” The Drakling heatedly growls that threat, her blood boiling as her fists clench painfully tight, clawed fingers digging into her palms.
Shadow immediately holds their gloved hands up in surrender. A gesture that feels so incredibly hollow. “No need for that level of violence. I give you my word that this is not a trap, and I hope that in time my word will come to mean something to you.”
The barbarian sets her jaw and glowers at the figure across the alleyway, hateful distrust clear in her narrowed eyes.
“Now, if you are to attend a rather formal party, you will need a proper outfit.” The hooded figure continues on, seemingly ignoring the Drakling’s simmering rage. “One of my associates is a rather skilled tailor, and she could help you with that. I’ll even pay for her work as another sign of goodwill. Unless you would rather go and procure your own outfit...?”
Silence hangs in the alleyway for a good few seconds. “No,” the Drakling reluctantly grumbles, “I’m fine with seeing this tailor of yours.” What other choice does Krvavy have? She doesn’t know this city. She wouldn’t even know where to start looking for a tailor, let alone one who would serve her and who could get some clothes to fit her in such a short amount of time.
“Right. She works in Old Town, so you would have to go further into the city, through the Old Wall. She owns and operates ‘Thilanea’s Threads’: it’s a quaint shop with a hard to miss sign painted a vibrant green and trimmed with an interlocked knot of silver lines. I could give you directions to it, but it would easier for you to simply ask those you pass as you go along.”
“Okay, good.” Krvavy gruffly grunts, idly tapping a clawed toe into the slightly scuffed ground beneath her inhuman feet. “Now... Are we done here, or are you going to keep pointing those magical swords at me for a little longer?”
“We are done here.” Shadow confirms with a nod, before stepping back and turning towards the other end of the alley. “I do hope that we will be able to work together, in time.”
Krvavy doesn’t utter a word in response, simply staring daggers into the back of that hooded figure, watching as they leave the alleyway. Once she is alone, the barbarian sharply turns around on the spot and marches back out the way she came.
Her heart continues to hammer away, even as her rage begins to slowly fade.