Shaddar throws open the sewer grate and lets it hit the ground with a bang. It is obvious to his mental senses that there are no other thinking beings in the near vicinity and besides – he is feeling extremely confident.
The minotaur sticks his head up to test the scents in the air and snorts heavily. The beast is the least nervous of the three thralls, but the strange smells have him angrier than usual. All of them are showing signs of nervousness.
“I’ve never been in the sun!” whines the gray gnome, Cutt. “I don’t want to go!” The kuo-toa seconds the gnome’s statement with wet, unhappy gurgles. The bug-eyed, amphibian biped in particular is not happy about coming up into the bright sunlight that she has never actually experienced before.
“Come, come,” he broadcasts to his thralls who wait below, “At once.” With his firm mental command, the thralls move. Shaddar turns from them with his hands on his hips to inspect his new surroundings.
Shaddar has never actually been in any city other than his home, deep underground, so he is not sure if what he sees is normal or not, but he doubts it. He has, of course, read and studied a great deal and knows that all other races wallow in their own filth. Those who are not of the race are surrounded by trash and vermin by their own preferences.
This alleyway is not like that.
It is clean, with no trace of dirt or litter. There are no mars or damaged sections on the walls, either. If it was not daylight it would be quite dark, with no place for torches or lamps, but it is by no means what he expected.
Snorting in disregard, Shaddar motions for his thralls to secure the area. Quickly the doors at the corners of the alley intersection are found to be locked. They are alone.
Faint sounds of voices drift from one direction and Shaddar can sense mental activity as well. Imperiously he leads the way, his tentacles slowly writhing in the excitement of this new adventure. The alley opens onto a small street.
The sight that greets his eyes is unexpected.
Two men stand on the corner. Both are wearing frilly, open-throated shirts with voluminous fabric puffs on their shoulders and sleeves. Leather boots reach high onto their legs followed by brightly colored hose. Both men wear an eye-patch, but it is plain that neither of them have a need – their eyes are fine. Most ridiculous of all, however, are the huge paper mustaches that each man has strung under their noses with thread.
The shorter of the two costumed men stands five feet in front of the other with a sign-board hanging over his chest that reads, “Mugging Service” in bold red letters. Beneath this in smaller letters, the sign continues, “Entertain your friends and show your bravery!”
“What is this?” Shaddar thinks with disbelief.
“Right. You’re next folks.” The man with the sign waves forward a group of five people from a line that goes around the corner and out of Shaddar’s sight.
The group that walks forward consists of an older, gray-haired couple and what can only be their almost grown children. They are dressed in very fine clothes and it is clear from skimming their thoughts that the patriarch is not thrilled with the entertainment his family is participating in.
The second mustachioed man lunges at the group brandishing what looks like a pewter butterknife.
“This is a mugging!” he yells to the excited titters of the dowager and her daughters, “Your money or your life!”
“This is an outrage, sir!” sputters the gentleman, “Don’t you know who I am?”
“Not only do I not know who you are,” The mugger curls his lip dramatically as he replies with a theatrical pause, “I don’t care.” The man’s wife looks like she is about to swoon. The gentleman’s face turns blotchy red and his teenage children gasp in shock.
“Now hand over your coin!” The mugger flashes the dull blade in the air in a parody of menace.
Stoically, the red-faced gentleman hands over a bulging purse. Shaddar shakes his head in amazement as the mugger digs through the purse contents, withdraws a single coin and tosses the rest back!
“Now begone! Next time, you’ll not be so lucky!” With a indignant sound, the fine gentleman hurries away, angrily chastising his family for the experience. The man’s daughters begin to laugh and the man’s wife tut-tuts him as they go.
“Next!” the shorter mugger hollers and pushes forward a young couple who, from their thoughts, are not yet wed. Shaddar watches as the young man pushes the girl behind him in a show of chivalry.
As before, the mugger with the butterknife lunges towards them.
“Your money or your life! This is a mugging!”
“I’m not afraid of you,” the young man says while tilting his head back, “I don’t believe you are a villain at all. Just playacting as one.” The girl’s mocking eyes agree as they peek over her beau’s shoulder.
The mugger’s ears turn red. “Not a villain, you say? Watch yourself, boy, or I’ll… I’ll hurt ya.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“And what would you say if I took advantage of your lady-friend, eh?”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Oh, no?” And the mugger shoves the young man from his date and steals a quick kiss. The woman faints with a terrified squeak and her fellow barely manages to catch her.
“You horrible person! You villain!” The young man is stricken as he tries to revive his sweetheart from her ordeal.
Cackling with real satisfaction, the mugger snatches the young man’s purse and withdraws two coins. Holding them where the young man can see he snarls, “That lip of yours just cost you double, lad! Now get lost!”
Shaddar watches the young couple scamper off with amusement clearly flowing across his tentacles motions. How droll. With a toss of his head to his thralls, he walks around the corner and gets in line. Many of the others in line take one look at him and quickly leave, but others are far too busy watching the show that the ‘muggers’ are putting on to even notice him.
Slowly drumming his fingers on his crossed arms, Shaddar and his entourage wait.
And then it is their turn. The short man is frozen with uncertainty as he sees who is next in line, but Shaddar brushes past him. The man with the dull blade jumps out of the shadows.
“This is a mugging! Your money or yer…” the mugger’s voice trails off into an inarticulate noise, staring with disgust and shock at the slowly-udalating, tentacled face before him. Shaddar puts his hands on his hips.
“How about your money or your life?” he asks with menace.
“Err… What?”
Shaddar makes a gesture in the direction of the mugger’s pouch. “All of those little coins you’ve been collecting?” He holds out his clawed hand, “Right here. Right now.”
“Now look, I’m working this corner. We don’t want any trouble, sir.”
“And yet you have some… Unfortunate.”
The mugger licks his lips and glances around, but all the other customers and people are gone. In a almost whisper he asks, “Are you Guild?”
“Well, no. We are new here,” Shaddar answers with less ice in his tone.
The mugger grins hugely at this reply and speaks loudly, “Oh, ho! Not Guild are we?”
Shaddar is thinking quickly. This simpleton may be just what he needs. He begins using tones of reconciliation. “No. We wish to be villains in your fine city, as you are. Pray – tell us how this works.”
The man stands up straighter and foolish pride lights his features and his thoughts. “Ah! Heard of Jorin and Bort have you? Came to learn from the best have we?” He laughs and looks over at his partner, “How about that, eh, Bort?” Bort manages a flicker of a half-smile before returning his fearful stare at Shaddar and his monsters.
Jorin smirks at them, “First of all, your costumes are… a little vulgar.”
“We’re more for shock value.”
“I can see that,” mutters Bort.
Jorin ignores his friend’s comment. “Well, a very minor portion of the populace will appreciate your… er…”
Shaddar’s eyes narrow, “Yes?”
“Aura,” Jorin finishes lamely. He shudders and continues, “It is impressive, but it’s just not going to pay. And the more flamboyant you are, the more likely it is you’ll attract the attention of the Guild.”
“Tell me about the Guild.”
“Well, you know… The Guild! The Guild of Villains? Everyone has heard of them!”
Shaddar finds it difficult not the laugh at this, but manages. He asks in a serious tone, matching that of the human, “And are you part of the Guild?”
“Nah!” Jorin waves the question down with a sneer, “They’d always be wanting a cut of everything and telling us what to do. No, me and Bort are free spirits!”
Shaddar nods in complete understanding, “And this is why we are not going to be part of the Guild. We are starting our own Guild.”
“Ah…”
“You think they will stop us, perhaps? How? Will they ask us for our money or our lives?” Shaddar tips his head back and laughs at the thought. The minotaur somehow also gets the joke and begins a snorting, bellowing laugh in chorus with the mind flayer’s that sounds unholy and brutal.
Jorin and Bort both look like they have been pinched at this and begin to gather their things and cast fearful glances around the side-street. Jorin is talking quickly as they move slowly away, “Well! That’s very interesting. I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time with that. Very exciting and all… Oh! Look at that – it’s three bells already? Must be off, lads!”
Bort nods vigorously, “Yeah, you can’t stay in one place for too long or the constabulary will catch you!”
“Right you are, Bort! That’s a good tip – and a free one for you lot on your road to villainy,” Jorin says over one shoulder as he and his partner quickly move down the street, “Never want to tangle with the constables. They’re nothing but trouble!”
As he speaks, a group of six men in dark blue uniforms round the corner at a run. The one at the head of the group points a think club at the two muggers who have frozen in the middle of the street.
“Jorin and Bort! I might have known! When will you two learn that we don’t tolerate unlicensed villainy in Big City? Get ‘em men!” At this, the five men in uniform tackle the two muggers and wrestle them to the ground amidst cursing and hollers.
Shaddar shakes his head in disbelief. How pathetic these humans are! And the slavish nobility to “the law” that he sees in the minds of the constables and especially the sergeant of this group is doubly so. Their laws are meaningless – as are their lives. Only the goals of the illithid race can have any meaning in the universe. Their silly notions of right and wrong are folly. With a step forward, he resolves to instruct them…
“Muggings! Muggings here! Step right up! Your money or your life! Just get in line please – no pushing is required!” Shaddar shouts loudly. The constables and the two humans on the ground all look over at him in confusion. The sergeant straightens his coat and walks over boldly.
He jerks a fat thumb over his shoulder at the two men pinned on the ground, “I know these two jokers, but I’ve never seen you fellows before.” He looks around the street in insure that no one will overhear, then asks, “Are you proper villains, sir? Or do you just look like ones?”
Shaddar’s anger grows at the impertinent thoughts running through this human’s mind. The lesson that he was going to teach has been changed – it will now be a permanently lasting one.
With slime beginning to drip from his tentacles Shaddar hisses, “Your money or your life…”
“I don’t understan-“
Shaddar walks quickly towards the man, closing the distance as he rapidly and angrily speaks, “It is quite simple. A transaction is required. Your laws do not matter. Nor does your false authority. It is thus: you give me the money that you value so much or the remainder of your lifespan. It is a simple enough concept.”
“Ah…” Shaddar’s furious tone seems to deflate the sergeant and he takes a step backwards.
“And since you have made no motion to give me your money, I can only conclude that you wish to pay me in only the other form of currency that you possess.”
“Huh?” At this point Shaddar looms over the sergeant, his tentacles twitching with emotion and excitement.
“I can sense that it is no vast currency, so you will not be bothered at its loss.”
With relish, Shaddar releases a powerful blast from his mind, instantly stunning every one of the humans before him with the exception of the constable farthest away from him. The sergeant sinks to his knees and Shaddar’s tentacles wrap around the man’s head.
A hideous slurping sound echoes down the street and then the sergeant hits the cobblestones like his strings have been cut.
Blood dripping from his tentacles, Shaddar muses, “Or not.”
He quickly walks to the pile of constables and rips another man’s head open, keeping his eyes firmly upon the one man who still has his wits about him. The constable's face is totally white and he begins to gibber at the horrific sight before him.
“Am I a proper villain now?” Shaddar says in a harsh and phlegmy whisper.
Another man dies with casual indifference. “How about now?”
The unstunned constable flees the scene, screaming as if he has lost his mind.
Chapter 1 < Chapter 4 Chapter 6 >
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