Skoli furrows his brow and chews his bottom lip. "'s no good getting mixed up with police-folk. Bad f'yer health," he says, shaking his head. "That one was free."
Taking another gulp, the rat-faced halfling wipes the dribbling beer from his mouth with the back of his hand. "Barius Kent is a very popular man these days. Lots o' peeple askin' abou' him, you're the fourth one this week. If you're wantin' him pinned, I can tell you where to find his fence, but it'll cost. Twenty gold marks."
Skoli pockets the money and wipes his hands on his vest. "Well she's a woman, ain't she? She's got yellow hair, blue eyes. Probably some Kellid blood'd be my guess. Blokes say she's got what counts, but if you're askin' me, all your women kinda look the same, right?" Finishing his drink, he taps his fingers on the bar. "Better watch what you're doin', friend. Kent gets put away, you're liable to make some new enemies, and I'm not talkin' 'bout the Watch. Friendly advice is all."
Stepping back out into the blanket of fog, Selene is caught unawares as she's attacked from the side - the Varisian from the bar. "You will pay for your arrogance," he snarls.
In his hand, he clutches a long knife, curved like the tooth of some wild animal. His hand trembles, but from anger - or fear? It was a lucky hit, and reckless of him to start a fight in the middle of the street, in the middle of the day. Fog or no fog, he has no idea the trouble he's in.
Now exposed, the man attacks again. What his strikes lack in finesse, they make up for in unpredictability, and he scores another his, slashing Selene's arm. "I don't know who you are, but these insults will not stand! We won't be pushed out so easily!"
Selene quickly finds herself talking to nobody as her first blow knocks the thug unconscious. The body goes limp and crumples to the ground, the man's weapon clattering out into the fog.
Selene stands alone on an empty street in the East Docks, enshrouded by fog with a body at her feet.
The barman takes little notice as Selene dumps the unconscious man in the corner, and Skoli just shakes his head.
The rest of the morning passes uneventfully as Selene makes her way toward the West Docks. Passing through Ashtown, the fog is supplemented by the haze of dirty smoke. Many of the buildings are flecked gray with a coating of ash, the product of the district's dirty industry. Ashtown is alive and filled with the sounds of people working, in stark contrast to the stillness of the East Docks. Despite the activity, it isn't difficult for Selene to find an empty alley to make good on her transformation. The gruff-looking man from Fume End emerges on the other side of Hawthorne Rows a patrolling constable.
The West Docks are bigger and busier than their counterpart on the other side of the peninsula. The sooty and smells of Ashtown give way to a salty sea breeze down by the water. The fog is lighter here than in the choked streets of the city, and the black-and-purple-sailed ships of Caliphas's navy can be seen across the harbor. Ships of all kinds are moored here while sailors and dockworkers crowd the piers, loading and unloading cargo, while captains treat with customs agents and barter with merchants.
Grimm's Grinns is a popular watering hole just a couple of streets off the docks, frequented by sailors and merchants alike. The atmosphere is much more lively than the Wretched Wraith, and looking at the colorful clientele, you'd think the circus was in town. The place is buzzing with the lunch rush, and wenches are busy ferrying trays of food and drink to the hungry patrons.
The bartender nods casually, the request barely warranting his notice. Between Skoli's information and the well-earned reputation of dock-side establishments everywhere, it's a fair bet that he gets questions like this one a lot. "Have a seat over there," he says, gesturing to a section of smaller tables for individual diners. "She'll be along shortly."
The designated section, like the rest of the tavern, is packed with diners and drinkers. There seem to be two serving girls working this corner; during the lunch rush at Grimm's Grinns, turnover would be high. One is a portly dark-haired girl of the usual mixed stock, maybe a little more Ustalav than average. The other is a taller blonde with green eyes and more striking features. The bartender throws a glance her way and she acknowledges Selene's arrival as she delivers a tray of stew and bread to another customer.
While she waits, Selene takes the opportunity to take in her surroundings. Most of the tavern was filled with sailors and longshoremen on leave or at lunch, with large tables for rowdy crews. Her section took up a smaller portion of the establishment, reserved for individuals or pairs. The patrons on this side appeared marginally less wild and seemed to be composed of a mix of merchants, sea captains, and locals.
After about ten minutes, or so, Selene starts to get the impression that she's being kept waiting on purpose, the way the wenches revisit some of the tables to refill drinks and bring the occasional additional course, when Ariel finally comes around. "Gudday luf, what will you be having?" She's got the easy sort of false friendliness expected at a place like Grimm's Grinns, and there's definitely traces of Kellid in her accent. Up close, Selene can see faint pockmarks on the girl's face, traces of healing acne scars that make her look as if she's just beyond adolescence, but there's something hard about her eyes.
A cool look passes across Ariel's face momentarily before rattling off the day's menu. "Toady, mutton stew's on wif leek and potatoes, we got fish and chips, and our Grimm's famous meatballs," she says. "Meatballs are the best, naturally, but they'll cost."
"Got a couple o' choice brews none o' the other taverns haf got. Grimm's got some friends, orders 'em special." She rattles off a few different imported ales and beers from around the Inner Sea, a bottle of elvish wine from Mierani Forest, and a dwarf firewhisky -Dragon's Breath. "Dragon's Breath is new just this month. Dwarves don't like lettin' that one outta the mountains. As fer the rest, ye can't order off the menu durin' lunch rush, so if there's something special ye be wantin' you'll haf to come back later."
After Selene finalizes her order, Ariel sends it to the kitchen and returns to taking care of her other patrons.
She nods. "Tha'd be fine, or ye can sit around and have a few drinks. Those meatballs will take you awhile. Make a day of it," she winks.
When she returns, she delivers a steaming bowl of meatballs, swimming in brown gravy, with a hunk of rye bread on the side. Each is roughly half the size of a man's fist; together, they'll make for a very full meal. Selene's heightened senses can easily detect the various flavors, even covered in gravy. The chicken meatball is coated in various peppers and was smoked before cooking, the lamb-and-pork meatball was basted with green herbs and some red pepper for kick, and the beef meatball has warm notes of nutmeg, ginger, and allspice along with the onion and garlic, and was browned in a red wine sauce.
After finishing the meatballs, which does indeed take awhile, Selene has some time to sit and digest. And to watch.
Grimm's is a typical dockside tavern with the typical dockside patrons. While she sits there, Selene witnesses a game of cards at one table nearly devolve into a brawl, merchants and captains making deals, money changing hands, and drunk patrons patting wenches and getting slaps in return.
As the lunch rush dies down and people trickle back out into the fog, an unexpectedly familiar figure enters the bar. A tall blonde woman with a cocksure grin and swaggering affect takes a seat at a far corner in Selene's section. Disguised as she is, Dionne doesn't recognize Selene as she passes by.
It doesn't take more than a few moments before Ariel makes her way over to Dionne's table. From her positioning, Ariel's body partially blocks Selene's line-of-sight on their interaction.
With her heightened senses, the background noise of the tavern gives her no trouble as she listens in on Ariel's conversation with Dionne. Ariel seems to drop her guard as she talks to Dionne, her accent becoming thicker and more noticeably Kellid.
"Anything for an old friend, Ariel. But professional curiosity makes me wonder, what was he doing with a freaky painting like that, anyway?"
"He would not say. Something about this new 'patron' of his. I told him if he was looking to join up wif a gang, the Wild Bunch would be more than good enuf, but he wouldn't haf any of it."
Dionne's voice is suddenly sharp, dropping to a harsh whisper. "I've told you all never to use that name! You never know who's listening in this town."
"I'm sorry, Dionne. Forgif me."
"And watch your accent. It's slipping. I told you, if you're gonna make it in Caliphas, you've got to blend in. Outsiders like us don't belong, and they'll never let you forget it. Anyway, tell me more about this new patron he's got. Who could have any use for something like that?"
"He doesn't talk much about it. All I know is that he has been spending more time in the Jade Quarter."
"The Jade Quarter? He's getting mixed up with the Syndicate, then. That's bad news. He might have been better off if I'd left him in that cell."
"Do not say such things! Please, there must be something that you can do?"
"Maybe. I'll have a chat with him, but I'll have to make some arrangements. You're sure this is the guy for you? You're a pretty girl, Ariel, and you've come a long way already."
"All thanks to you! Yes, I am sure. Barius has his problems. But when he looks at me, he sees me. Not tavern wench, not whore, not Kellid. Just me, Ariel."
"Alright, alright, if you're sure. Anyway, I've got to get going. Hoptler's got a hair up his ass today, and I've got a lot of work left back at the office. Keep your nose clean, kid. I'll be back for a plate of Grimm's meatballs soon."
After their brief conversation, Dionne stands up and leaves without having ordered anything. Her eyes scan the room as she approaches the door, her eyes passing over Selene in her disguised form without noticing anything amiss.
After a few more minutes and a few more patrons, Ariel finally makes her way to Selene's table. "How were the meatballs?" she asks, her Kellid accent now almost entirely disappeared.
Ariel scowls playfully. "What does this look like, a teahouse? I can dig some roots out of the garden and throw it in some water if that's what ye be wantin'. Otherwise, it's ale, beer, whiskey, or wine. Best be off doin' your work, but if there's something special you're wanting later on, you'd best make an appointment."
After some coy banter, Ariel finally catches on that Selene isn't interested in the usual services, that she just wants to talk. "You could have said that right from the start!" Ariel laughs. With the customary lull in business after lunch, thigns are slow enough that she can chat with Selene then and there. "Rosalind, I'm going on break."
After some cajoling and dancing around the topic of the local underworld, Selene cuts a deal with Ariel for her friend Mister Kent to steal a particular item from a private home. Ariel wants half the selling price up front, to make sure the money is real, but Selene talks her down to a quarter of the price. After coming to an arrangement, they agree upon a meeting time for Selene to hand over the coin and talk further details.
Refusing to deal in her side-business of fencing stolen goods (and apparently arranging heists), Ariel directs Selene to meet her the next evening in an alley just off Barragaro Road.
Walking down Barragaro Road, especially at night, is a tour through the city's social strata. The top of the route begins just south of the well-to-do neighborhood of Eskcourt. Traveling south through Hawthorne Rows, the surroundings quickly shift once the road reaches Oracle's Alley, soon after crossing the intersection at Dock Street, which connects the bustling West Docks with Ashtown and the seedier East Docks. As one continues to push through the fog past Dock Street, they soon find themselves in the open-air market the road is famous for.
At any time of day, any time of year, rain, shine, or the usual fog, the stalls, stands, and holes in the wall are filled with hawkers, mongers, and criers selling anything and everything. Fish (dried, fresh, and braised), meat (whole, butchered, or still breathing), produce of all kinds. Used clothes, furniture, housewares and hardwares, you can find it all on Barragaro Road if just look long enough. But if one keeps going, all the way down to where the road nearly runs into Lady's Harbor, Barragaro Road offers a different sort of market. Streetwalkers ply their trade while shady characters in cloaks beckon from the shadows, offering any manner of stolen goods or illicit services. As Selene walks through in her disguise, one of those shady characters waves for her attention.
"He says he'll do it," Ariel says. She wears a rough-spun brown cloak, the hood drawn over her head. "You have the money? Good." Accepting the partial payment, she opens the sack and pours the contents into her hand. "It's all here," she confirms, stowing the payment in a pocket. "It is going to take him some time. Maybe a week or more. Your target, this Navickas woman, he says it will take some work. Good security. How should I contact you once I have the item?"
Ariel nods, silently accepting the arrangement before withdrawing into the fog and shadows.
The trap set, Selene mentally reviews the details and preparations she'd need to make. For one, it might be wise to let Layla know that there would be an attempted robbery at her apartment sometime in the next week, especially wit the Ball coming up. She was already nearly loosing her head over last-minute preparation; she had fussed with the dressmaker for what felt likehours, time Selene could have spent doing something useful instead.
As Selene makes her own way through the night, the hair on the back of her neck stands on end and she gets the unnerving feeling she's being watched. It was a feeling that was beginning to become familiar; she'd been experiencing it intermittently since the incident three months ago, but hadn't been able to attribute to anything. There didn't seem to be any pattern, except that it only ever happened at night, well after the sun had set. Whatever it was, it hadn't interfered with her work, but it certainly didn't feel friendly.
Selene's blast of magic shoots upwards, leaving a clear trail as it burns off the fog. The bright light shines like a beacon as it travels, lighting up the whole street for an instant. In that brief, clear moment, Selene can see three pairs of red eyes staring down at her from the roofs on either side of the street, glinting with something like hunger.
Grinning between themselves, they each begin climbing down the walls, crawling on their hands and feet. They move with an unnatural grace but their paths are lazy, zig-zagging back and forth, and they call out to each other as they come.
"The strigoi wants to play," laughs one, nimbly crossing over a windowsill in his path. "We should oblige her," says the second, scrambling along the outside of a balcony. "But Grandfather said not to make moves," admonishes the third from the other side of the street, its tone mocking.
"The strigoi attacked first," says the second, gently tumbling in a handpring from the wall to the ground. "Yes, we have to defend ourselves," says the first, touching down a little ways from the second. "Grandfather will understand," agrees the third, leaping the last six feet or so and landing without a sound.
Through the hole in the fog, a moonbeam illuminates the street and the surrounding fog glows gently, casting an eerie pallor over the scene. As the creatures circle, Selene gets a better look at them. Their clothes were maybe once something approaching finery, but now they are now just ragged tatters. Their shirts are torn and dirt-stained, their pants are frayed, and their gray flesh is gaunt. It stretches tightly across their faces and their bald pates, the bone-structure thrown into sharp relief like a dessicated corpse, but their eyes gleam red and their tongues run over their enlarged incisors.
As they circle Selene, they begin to edge closer, slowly tightening the circle, but they seem to be enjoying their little game far too much to attack just yet.
"We've waited so long to see the strigoi for ourselves," says one of them. "Yes, ever so patiently," says another. "We've been watching for months," says the third, saliva gleaming on its teeth. "But the months feel like years," complains one. "And the years pass like days," laughs another.
The vampires recoil in pain as the city block glows like high noon. The creatures cast no shadows, but they burn like paper in the light. One screeches, "It burns!" Another tries to block the light from its eyes to no effect. But even as their skin smolders and smokes, Selene can see some of the damage repairing, the burns covering back over with new undead flesh. "The strigoi fears not the light," says the third, and takes a swipe at Selene. The others get a grip on themselves and pounce as well. A sharp contrast to their graceful display on the walls, the vampires strike with brutality and viciousness. Though dangerous, they lack finesse, and Selene manages just to duck and dodge away from swipes that could tear her throat out.
While the first two keep Selene occupied, the third wrenches her arm around as it grabs her from behind. "Blood still runs in the strigoi's veins," it rasps, a note of pained desperation in its voice. With the vile creature's face so close to her own, Selene gets a big whiff of the smell of rotting, burning flesh. .
The vampire screams in pain as Selene slashes at it with her claws. Between her strike and the searing light, the damage is too much for the creature to take. Selene feels the force holding her down disappear suddenly and dozens of tiny legs on her skin. Looking down, she sees herself covered in spiders that flee the light as quickly as they can.
The other two haven't quite gotten the message yet, but as the skin continues to burn off their faces, they seem to have traded talking for pained growling and snarling. One slashes at Selene again, but its attack is turned aside by Selene's claw. The other reaches his hand out towards Selene and jerks it back toward himself. A moment later, something heavy collides with Selene's back with a Suddenly, something else replaces the stench of the burning vampire in Selene's nose, though the smell of old fish isn't much better.
The fish heads covering the ground make for poor footing, and as she takes her shot, her foot skids just enough to throw off her aim. The energy passes by the vampire, creating another tunnel in the fog that terminates where the blast hits a building. The creature avoided the blast, but looks spooked. "The strigoi is powerful indeed," it says to the other.
They both snarl in pain as the light continues to burn away some of their gray flesh. "The light burns," growls the other. "Let us be done with this!" Silent agreement passes between them, and suddenly explodes into a whirling cloud of bats that take for the sky through the hole in the fog while the other nimbly scales back up the wall to disappear over the rooftops.
As Selene stands in the fog, catching her breath after her brief exercise, she hears the sound of a pair hands clapping in applause. "Well done," calls a voice through the fog. The voice was deep, masculine, and a moment later, the figure it belongs to steps out from the edge of the fog. "But you should work on your aim. Nobody likes collateral damage."
As the man steps into the glowing nimbus of light, Selene gets a good look at him. He wears armor underneath a long black coat, and the knobbed pommel and grip of a longsword poke over his shoulder. The man is lean, and there are clear traces of Kellid in his features, though it's mingled with something else that Selene can't put a finger on. A black, wide-brimmed hat sitting atop his head completes the picture.
The man cracks a faint smile. "I was going to help, but you seemed to have the situation well enough in hand. You have to admit, lighting up a city block and fighting off three vampires isn't exactly the least inconspicuous thing you could be doing."
Despite his impertinence, the man complies with Selene's request. Reaching into his coat, he withdraws a badge that Selene can't help but recognize as the insignia of the Bureau of Special Affairs. Whoever this man is, he works for Mirakas Vashalnt in Whiteshaw's shadowy underbelly. "That should be sufficient," he says, replacing the badge. There's a lightness in his tone, but it never reaches the corners of his pale eyes. It's hard to tell what color they are in the glow. Blue? Green? Maybe even gray. "Who I am isn't nearly as interesting - or important - as who - or what - you are, Selene. Or, at least, what they think you are. Douse the light," he commands.
"Yes, I'm familiar with your record," the man says. "And as far as I can tell, you have no idea what you are. What matters is what they think you are, and there's sure to be more where that came from. So if you'd like to be tonight's main attraction for all that goes bump in the night, by all means, shine on you crazy diamond. But if it's all the same to you, I won't be sticking around for it."
With that, the man stalks off into the fog, seemingly keen to get away from the glowing city block.