Shaddar returns to the tavern feeling quite satisfied with himself. If his thralls and human pawns have done as he asked, many wheels have now been set into motion. Surely one or more of them will work to his advantage soon. He chuckles aloud as he thinks of the latest bit of slander he accomplished.
He claimed to be one of the Lords of the city before he left the brothel. The mixture of shock and veneration he was then shown was fascinating to behold. The madam tripped all over herself in vacillating between horror that one of the Lords of the city would utilize at her establishment and an innate respect that bordered on worship to be in his presence. He told the facility to send him a bill for his distasteful and shocking requests at the city center. More antagonism and slander for those who run this city!
A couple of men stumble out of the meadhall as it comes into sight. Their hair is standing on end and their clothes are smoking slightly. It looks like they have been electrocuted – perhaps by Loolipo’s electrified pincher staff? How comical they look!
Shaddar laughs softly to himself as he enters the Jester and Hawk Meadhall. He picks up on the barkeeps thoughts as he shuts the door, “Curse these new friends of Jorin and Bort! They are driving away all my regular patrons! On purpose!”
Loolipo is indeed already there, twirling her pincher staff with a smirk on her face. She reports at once. Her slanders were so vile that when she told people what she would say they refused to hire her. Eventually she found some customers who didn’t want to know what she would say and she so enraged her victims that one drew his sword at her and she had to disarm him. Everyone who heard her repeat her vile stories were shocked and many tried to get her to stop talking. In every case she told the shocked hearers what guild she worked for and who had employed her. She did not earn very much money.
“What did you say to so enrage them?” Shaddar questions.
“I spoke of how the target has a nasty rotting-flesh disease and that they were an incurable carrier of it. I would then describe what their skin looked like and say that I only discovered this because the fellow tried to take advantage of me in a dark alley with his clothes removed. I would say: ‘I barely escaped with my chastity intact!’ and the peoples would go all quiet and open-mouthy. It was funny, master.”
The door slams open and Cutt enters the tavern with a huge smile on his face. He looks like he has had the most wonderful day.
“Low hanging fruit! Low hanging fruit – everywhere! Ha-ha-ha! It was joyous!” He dumps a large purse filled with coins onto the table as he continues, “A very tidy haul! I worked quickly and insulted the big folk into stunned disbelief. Ha!”
Shaddar is pleased, but would know more details. “And were their reactions indicative of a weak tolerance for insults in general?”
“I almost felt guilty it was so easy. I would insult grown men and they would start crying like little girls. Many of my victims actually fainted! But here is the best part: When I reported back to those who sent me to insult their enemies they were horrified at my report to them and every last mother’s son instantly rushed off to apologize! Such foolishness!”
Shaddar is quite pleased. The disorder that his thrall’s actions will certainly cause is clear from the stunned reactions they are reporting. They hear the clomp of the hooves of a huge and heavy beast and all of them turn to the still-open door.
Toothsnatcher enters the meadhall looking like he has been attacked by the contents of a clothing shop. His back is loaded with rude sacks made from knotted shirts and trousers, bulging with swag. The minotaur kicks the door shut with one foot and then rolls the massive collection off his shoulders and it bangs loudly on the floor.
“Good pickin’s!” he says with a cruel voice.
The minotaur gleefully tells stories of how his afternoon went as they open the sacks and begin to sort the loot. He uses a falsetto tone of voice to mimic the words of some of his victims and pauses often to snort with bovine laughter.
“There was really only three kinds of marks. First you had: ’Oh, no thank you. I don’t want a mugging…’ POW!” The minotaur smacks his huge fist into the other hand with a meaty sound, “Then there was: ‘Alright, here’s your coin, villain, now be on your way. What? No, you can’t have the rest of them!’ POW!” again the fist strikes, “But mostly it was like this: ‘Take it all! Please don’t hurt me! Oh, no!’ POW!”
He chortles with pleasure at the fun he has had crunching humans. Every victim (that was still conscious) got told that it was the Swashbuckling Rogues who had relieved them of their possessions and ended their pain-free day. All of the loot is sorted and piled onto the tables of the meadhall as he tells his tales, covering them almost completely with items, clothing, wigs, jewels, and piles and piles of coins.
Coinage is very strange here. Shaddar has never seen anything like it. The coins are hexagon in shape and of different sizes depending on the value of the metal the coin is cast from. He has seen coins from many of the surface lands, but he must be far from home indeed to have never seen any like these before.
The barkeep is horrified at these stories and the proof of them in his thoughts, but says nothing. “I’ve never heard such horrors! Worse than the Guild of Villains ever was! I can’t believe it! Can’t show any fear at all, though. I learned that much living with villains before. I only have to wait: the Heroes will soon hear of this and sort their hash out. A Guild of Rogues indeed…”
Last to arrive is Jorin and Bort. The thralls stop sharing their tales once they arrive on the immediate mental orders of Shaddar.
“We had such a successful day! Look at all the gold we go-“ Jorin stops mid-sentence as he stares at the mounds of riches in the inn with a small purse sitting in one palm.
“Oh, my word!”
Shaddar sweeps a hand at the haul, “Four percent!” Jorin and Bort’s eyes light up with greed.
The barkeep shouts out, “Good! Rent’s due!”
Shaddar turns to Hawke. “Yes. I needed to speak to you about that. You’ll be renting the entire building to me for at least the next month.”
“But I can’t do that. I have several other paying guests. The whole second floor is leased out, in fact.”
“You will evict them, of course.”
“Humph. That’s a two-month process.”
Shaddar snaps his fingers and gestures with his tentacles to Toothsnatcher. “No, that’s a two-minute process.” The beast lumbers up the stairs and follows the orders Shaddar has given him at once.
The barkeep pales as the sounds of the minotaur’s work is clearly heard through the floor. “Get your things and get out!” “No, I don’t think so.” POW! “Aaiiee! I’m going! I’m going!” ROAR!!! “Mist demons! What is it? Oh, no!” “Find a new place to live! It’s movin’ day!” There is crying, wailing, and running about. In a stunningly short span of time rumpled-looking and weeping guests are rushing down the stairs, their arms filled with what belongings the minotaur allowed them to snatch up. One of them has a nasty black eye that is swollen shut already. The barkeep is very frightened, but has no idea how to respond. Jorin and Bort are shocked as well, but don’t want to get involved in this.
The last tenant can be heard barricading his room. “I’ll never leave! You can’t make me go!” The sound of a door being ripped off its hinges is the inevitable result. This is followed by what sounds like the tenant being dragged, kicking against the floorboards and screaming across the room. Everyone’s eyes except for Shaddar’s stare at the ceiling and follow the sounds towards the front of the building.
There is a dramatic pause of three seconds time when no sounds are heard at all, except for Bort swallowing nervously.
With a horrific crash the poor man is thrown right through the upstairs window! He lands heavily in the street, glass and the window frame fragments falling around him like rain. Moaning softly, he slowly crawls away from the meadhall as the minotaur throws some of his belongings out of the window on top of him.
A few moments later, Toothsnatcher comes stomping back downstairs, cracking his neck to one side with a grunt. It snorts happily and sits back down.
“You see?” Shaddar says in a kind tone, “A little friendly encouragement can solve so many problems!”
“That damage is coming out of your deposit,” grumbles the barkeep weakly.
“That will be fine.” A pile of coins is pushed towards the man without counting or bothering to ask what the rate will be. The barkeep is more than a bit cowed by the violence and the casual manner Shaddar treats such a sum of gold.
“Well, what about references? What kind of people am I renting to? More like Jorin and Bort and you lot?”
“No, they aren’t. And you will not need references. They are my guests and that is all the reference that they will require. You will be civil to them.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes…”
The minotaur stands up so suddenly that his chair flies back and hits the wall. His neck muscles are taut and straining, a low growl is reverberating in his throat, and both fists are clenched.
“Oh,” Hawke says feebly.
“Any further questions?”
“No, sir.”
“A wise answer.”
The minotaur sits back down in another chair, somewhat disappointed.
Shaddar turns to Jorin and Bort. “Report!” The two men jump a bit at this and tell about their activities as fast as they are able.
“Yes, Boss!”
“Right away, sir! We told everyone that we knew and they could hardly believe it –”
“But when we showed them the blood –“
“Yeah, the blood,” Bort nods with a smile.
Jorin smiles as well as he continues, “Yeah, that was very convincing. Our descriptions of the scene of horror practically turned their hair white! The news will spread like wildfire about the shocking behavior of the Guild of Villains and our new Guild that will soon replace them.”
“Yes, the Swashbuckling Rogues will soon be in charge of the slums, we said,” Bort adds.
“The Swashbuckling Rogues will return the city to its even keel and return to the old ways, we told them. Folks were really excited,” Jorin finishes with a gasp. Both men look at Shaddar hopefully, a bit nervous that he will not be pleased with their report. Their fear is powerful, but Shaddar decides to use the carrot to cement their proper behavior. This time.
“You have done well. Four and a half of percent.”
Hooray! The men celebrate their windfall with each other and begin looking over the loot. It is clear from their thoughts that they never dreamed that their place in the New Guild would be so lucrative.
“Hawke! Give us a bottle of the ‘good stuff’!”
“Pay yer tab and I will.” This takes but a moment, and then the wine begins to flow!
“How did you get all this?” Bort asks Shaddar, counting coins and sorting jewels.
“If you must know, my minions performed daring acts of Swashbuckling Roguery as I instructed them to.”
“Wow! Do you think you could teach us how to do that someday, Boss?”
“Stay in my good graces and all things are possible…”
Chapter 1 < Chapter 10 Chapter 12 >
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