He looked up from his work, smiling as he put a paw over the shocked animal’s throat. It squirmed in pure terror, not knowing what had happened to it. Everything the creature knew was different, its own body stolen away... and its life, as Mal tore the throat out with his claws. It sputtered and eventually went still after a whole bit, the kill clean. He wished he could have given it a quicker death.
”An’ there we have it!”
”Pads,” a boy stepped forward, looking nervous and scared. He couldn’t’ve been more than fifteen Arcs.
”Speak freely, I don’t bite,” Mal assured him.
”That knife, stickin’ outta you. Doesn’t it hurt?”
The Becomer’s eyes seemed to grow distant, and he went bone-chillingly still. The pain crept back into his mind like fireworks, all that adrenaline sloughing away from his n but a moment. “Ow, shit!” he barked, turning to look at it. “Do me a fav’ah an’ pull it out?”
The boy seemed to grow nervous. “Okay,” he said coolly, and cautiously approached the terrifying beast. His scrawny hands grasped the handle and gave a tug, upsetting the wound. A bestial snarl resounded that had everyone on edge, and the boy froze.
“S-sorry!”
”Rip it out with all your strength, use your muscle! Don’t worry ‘bout hurtin’ me!” Mal said.
Finally the boy took hold with a firmer grip, this time laying his palm against his prickly, metallic fur. He began to pull, rivulets of red percolating up from the blade. Mal hissed as it gradually loosened, and the blade popped free covered in his crimson essence. Red spurted from the hole in his side, but his body felt the trauma and gradually began to seal the wound as he thought it might.
”Thanks, lad,” Mal said, one eye shut from the pain. “Was’ ‘yer name?”
”Barron, Ser.”
”I wan’ you to keep that knife. Les’ call it Redtooth. Is’ yours, alright?”
”Yeah, thanks... Pads,” the boy wiped his face casually, but he smiled.
The whole thing seemed to warm the crowd up a bit. Those that thought about leaving after seeing that bird get completely warped by magic really started to see the good side of Mal.
”Who among ‘ye can butcher ‘an cook? ‘Dun wan’ anything goin’ ‘ter waste.”
”I can, ser.”
”An’ I,”
”Guess I can too.”
”We got a lotta cooks,” Mal said. “Thas’ good, ya’ll got talents.”
The Becomer looked over to the guy supposed to be managing the place. He didn’t like that the male was just sitting there, doing nothing.
”Get off ‘yer ass and help these gentlemen get that corpse to the kitchen, carve it up, and clean the bones. After that you’re gonna change this place to a respectable tavern here in the underground.”
”Aye, Padfoot,” the gent slowly stood, popping off his hat and removing his coat. He still looked none-too-amused.
”Was’ ‘yer name, ‘ya got family?”
”Moriandis,” he said solemnly, pausing. He seemed to shift at the question. “Y-yeah, I’ve got blood, but ‘e’s not in Etzos.”
”Mori, who’ever it is they’d be really cross with you for that shit you were letting happen here,” Mal said, taking a moment to look out over all the naked bodies.
”Speaking of which, could the rest of you lot get these fekkers piled up outside so ‘e can burn ‘em later, then come back ‘ere’?”
”Sure thing, Boss.” a man said.
”Boss?”
”Well, you saved our hides,” he glanced around. “Owe you at least a bit, don’t we?” he elbowed a despondent skinny man, who piped up.
”Y-yeah.”
Moriandis was still standing there while men clad in the most sordid, bloody sundries passed him by, each content to wear the used raiment of their oppressors.
“Hey, why’re you so quiet?” he said. “The quiet ones are dangerous.”
”You’re taking my business,” Mori snapped. “Do you know how hard I’ve worked for this?”
”’Ya, so work a bit harder, pay your dues. You owe Etzos and its underdogs, you abused it, you abused them. Now things are balancing out, eh?”
“I don’t-”
“I don’t give a shit. You’ve got a kid, you’ve got someone you care about righ’? Do them proud, life’s not all about Nels, ‘ya twat.”
The gent put his face in his hands and began to sob.
”I’m makin’ change ‘round here. First the Underground, then all’a Etzos. Help me bring that change, do right. They who have too much, they don’ need it, ‘ey can share. ‘Elp me put these sods to work, anyone with the will to do it. Forgive ‘em ‘fer what they did.”
Well, I’m one to talk. I just butchered a whole Wing worth of miscreants. An’ fekkin’ hell I’m start’n to sound like Rockholm. Bastard of a Highmark.
“If they wanna change, that is.”
The men returned from their corpse run, each of them one by one sitting ‘round a table. The group of cooks had since managed to drag that cumbersome beast to the kitchen, and Mal let Mori have a few moments instead of pressing. He loomed over the skinny lads, who seemed troubled and nervous, but one remained determined--that boy of fifteen, Barron.
”Now, show’ah hands. Who knows these tunnels?” Mal called over them. Three out of nine raised their hands.
”You three, I want you to come together, I’ll give ‘ya some Nel on the ‘morrow, then you’ll go an’ buy a map. After that I want all of the rubble, the crumbled and lesser-known passageways, every secret, every nook, every locale and Etzori outpost detail.”
”Aye”
”Got it, Pads,”
”Wass’it for?”
”It’s so we can protect ah’selves. Now, these crooks, the Etzori. They aren’t gonna like us. If we have a map we can set up what’s called ‘a stratagem’, learned ‘bout these things as a war vet. I was Etzori once, but I’m a deserter.”
Some of the men reeled with surprise, blinking. “You were Etzori?”
”Yeah, but y’know Vuda, that prick? He’s a mage, an awful one. Forced my enlistment and threatened to kill some’ah my friends if I di’nt join.”
”If he’s as terrible as you say, why would I want to cross him?”
”Honestly, leave the fighting to me. We’ll pull this place up and I’ll protect you lot, then maybe we’ll get some allies. Vuda’s gotta be hated by a whole lotta people who’ve got some power of their own.” he said. He didn’t think any of these men were in any shape to fight. “’Ya should at least train to handle yourselves, those guys I let go with nothing might want some revenge.”
“I’m guessin’ you can change shape. How do we know if is’ you.”
“My eyes are always the same, an’ I got an accent.”
“Fair enough.”
”Actually a bit impress’ so many ‘ah you lot stayed, got your reasons?”
”Don’t have much else, and I think I’m losing it. Figure throwing in with a talking fox monster is a given.”
”Same here.”
”Aye.”
”I just heard there’d be food.”
The rest of the group went dead silent, and stared at the young man for a good while. Then they burst out laughing, and Mal let out a chuckle too. “Well it’s ‘ya lucky day,” he said. “Days. If ‘ya work for me you’ll never go hungry.”
Mori came over to the table and hovered, every seat filled. He had his hands behind his back, and fidgeted nervously.
“Was’ up?” Mal said.
”If you want them fed, we’ll need Nels, and I’ve got some ideas. I know you don’t like slaves, but your morals are questionable elsewhere. Would you like to outline what you’re supportive of, so we can operate without these fellows starving?”
”Ah, good man Mori!” Mal chuckled. “I knew you”d come around, good ideas!”
He looked out over the men for a brief moment as if sizing them up. “Well,” he looked back to Mori. “Indentured servitude’s fine without abuse, so long as they’s paid an’ they get some time off. I guess ‘ah slave is fine too if ‘ya treat them with the same respect with free time, but that shit going on in here wasn’t right, and you know that. ‘Yer a good man, I don’t have to tell you was’ fekked up and was’ not.”
”So slave labor is fine, provided they aren’t pushed too hard, and they aren’t abused...” his voice trailed off, his mind working out the problems.
”The rest ‘ah you wanna object ‘ter this thought?”
”I think a slave should be able to earn their freedom.”
”So be it. But no slave whores, an’ no slave fighting rings. That shit’s detestable.” his eyes narrowed, and he thought about it a bit. “An Arc of labor under our business, and we turn ‘em loose. Get ‘em cheap but able, and offer ‘em a job, groom ‘em for a role we need.”
”That’s too short of a slavery term,” Mori countered. “Five Arcs?”
”Nah, one. I don’ think I wan’ us to profit off the backs o’ the lowest rung, y’know?”
”Then what are we going to do for profit?”
”Ain’t give two shits if ‘ya steal from the rich.”
”Now there’s something I can work with. I know a fence.”
”Good.”
”Any objection to the enslavement of Mr. Whippy?” Barron hooked his thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the bound and naked, gagged man, the former oppressor now oppressed that the group had decided would be their slave as punishment for his sins.
”An Arc, yeah, tis' fine. Watch 'em though." Mal said.
He thought for a moment as silence filled the table, and found a gritty subject on his mind.
”An' religion?” he questioned, weary of where this subject would lead given the nature of Etzos.
”Never bothered me much. You guys?”
"Nah," one said. "To each their own."
"We can offer protection services to temples here in the Underground," Mori smiled.
"So long as they's decent immortals. Like, don' wan' them sponsoring senseless murder an' gross shit. Lisirra had it coming when I helped burn her nest of fekking worms to the ground. Gotta be the flexible sort."
"Kiba's whole thing is neutrality, and we'll probably want support from Ethelynda and Raskalarn to fight our battles," a man with a shaved head spoke calmly. "I did a sermon for mercenaries."
"'Ya some kinda monk?"
"Sorta, lost my position in Ne'haer from drunkenness and followed family to Etzos."
"If 'ya can stay off the booze, maybe we shoul' get 'an temple goin', never been helped by an Immortal before, but it ain't hurt to try, righ'?" he looked around the table.
"I guess," said Barron.
"I'm not gonna pray or some fek-all pointless shit, but if some fancy magic thing comes down from its perch and wants to help me I'm not gonna say no."
"Name's Garn," said the monk. "A new faith coul' work, wouldn't mind it. Lotta people gonna hate us though."
"Let 'em hate. Is' fine. They'll be too afraid to cross me. I take it the motto will be 'ya dun' fek with us, we dun' fek with you? Spread the wealth, make things fair. Don't be an asshole? Fight when you gotta?"
"Yeah." The monk scratched his chin, really thinking about it.
"Sounds alright, wouldn't be opposed to it. Still shouldn' let the immortals fek with us too much though," another said. "Name's Ziggy by the way."
"Hah, glad we're all gettin' along 'n such," Mal said. "Normally in Etzos 'ya bring up faith and people are at each other's throats."
"Most of the Immortals I dun' wanna know that well. Like Faldrun. Fek that guy."
"Aye'v heard ah' that one," said Mal. "The Aukari were attacking Etzos 'n I was in the Etzori. Sounds like a prick."
"Yeah, shoul' stand against the jealous immortals, hold our own, but accept the ones that aren't tryin' to push their agendas on us."
"I can't believe I'm talking religion with a surprisingly sociable mage," Mori managed to say, though he was careful with his words.
"I don' like that word, 'mage', jus' call me Padfoot." Everyone seemed to nod in agreement, and Mal let it go.
"Y'know, I got a question, and don't bite me for this," Ziggy said.
"What's it?"
"So you's a female right, 'ya ain't got any balls back there?"
The question struck a nerve with Mal. It was a source of constant distress at times. "I'm a guy," he said.
"But you're not."
"Don' make me turn you into a female dog."
"Whelp." Ziggy crossed his arms. "The fact that I'm still alive and myself shows you guys we can trust 'em."
"Fek you too, buddy."
Everyone burst out laughing hysterically, even Barron giggling up a storm as he slapped the table. At their apex the doors to the kitchen opened, and all of Mori's silver dishes came out on a cart loaded with steaming Hyx steak. By the scent of it, the cooks had made good use of the spices available to them. Everyone had a look of wonder, and one of hunger at that.
"Well then. It's time for the first good meal you guys've had in however long."
"Forever," gasped Ziggy.
"Give," Garn reached out, taking a plate off the cart. He immediately started to chow down on the black meat, nobody really care what color it was, as starved as they were.
”Thanks,” Barron eep’d out with a plate placed in front of him. He stared, and as he did Garn finished his own serving.
“You gonna eat that?” the monk said with his mouth full.
“Gr!” Barron tugged his plate away, then dug into the meat like a wild thing.
Mal just froze. He watched all of the joy, the unity in these people who had suffered less than Breaks ago, and he felt all warm and fuzzy. Nightshade... his mind drifted back to her. Are you still within Etzos? Why am I so afraid to go looking for you?
”Thanks, all ‘a ‘ya. Especially ‘ya folks who’ve prepared this meal for us.”
”Well, you provided the kill, Pads!” said a cook.
”’Ya guys mus’ be starved. I shan’t keep you. I’ll... I’ll go keep watch. Enjoy yourselves, don’ get into any brawls, an’ ... yeah.”
The big ol’ Hyx meandered out of the place, his heart heavy. He sat by the busted door and peered out into the flickering halls solemnly. Is that really me? Can I really do these things? Who am I but a monster to these people?
“To Padfoot!” the men cheered, clanking their glasses of fine wine together. Even Mori was starting to get into the swing of things. Mal looked over his shoulder through the door, not sure if he trusted the motley thirteen that comprised this little group.
How can they share a glass with the guy who ran this shit hole?
“What have I gotten myself into...? Fek, Mal...” he sighed. All he saw in these men were more people Vuda could use to strike him in the heart. No, I’ll kill that bastard. I’ll kill him right quick, and then I’ll gut Pahrne too if I have to. But I need help. There’s gotta be mages that aren’t in the Coven somewhere, mages gearing up to strike Vuda down just like me.
I think that’s where I’ll start. But are all of them going to be fekked up?
We’ll see.
