Shaddar, Kug, and Loolipo retreat back into the border zone, but not too far. Shaddar stops around the corner so that he can listen to how the dead body and the attached note will be received by the human authorities. He is unconcerned with being caught, since his ability to detect the minds of any would-be pursuers will allow him to evade them with ease.
Men arrive at the scene much faster than he anticipated, they are barely in the shadows when men run up from three different directions, including the now-reinforced group that Shaddar stopped.
“Horrible!”
“Is he… dead?”
“Look at his head! I’m going to be sick…”
Sounds of someone heaving echo down the alley.
“Don’t touch anything! Leave it for Chief Constable Snook – he’s the expert on Murder-Most-Foul.”
“Is it Murder-Most-Foul? Looks like some kind of animal attack.”
“Demon attack, you mean! Look at the note!”
“Keep your dress on, Nancy… Don’t let a little note un-man you!”
“This makes six murders in two days! What’s happening to our fair city?”
“Six? I’ve heard rumors that the number is higher than that – more bodies were found this very evening in the border zone – two dozen more constables, butchered like sheep!”
“Two dozen? I heard it was thirty!”
The thoughts of the men are actually more fearful than what they are verbalizing. Most of them are worried that their leaders will ask them to chase after the evil which has obviously fled back into the border zone. Some of them have resolved to never enter the border zones again – some have decided that it’s time to find a new career entirely.
The men’s muted conversations die down as the heroes arrive. The hero that Shaddar slowed up has brought a superior officer with him who is quite annoyed with the lack of courage the junior man showed in waiting for more men before approaching the scene of the crime.
The younger hero sees the grim display and says, “Appalling! It is just as dreadful as we were told, sir! The Mist Demons are among us!”
“Told? Told by whom?” the senior hero asks with acid in his voice. He is turning to anger to offset his fear – a typical lesser-creature response, Shaddar notes.
“A citizen witnessed the attack and warned us of the dread nature of our foe. He said that it was Mist Demons and it must be so!”
“A citizen? Which citizen,” the senior hero growls, “I want to interview this witness myself. Where are they?”
“I sent them home to safety, sir…”
“And where would that be? What was their name? Occupation? What did they look like?” the senior man rattles off with venom.
The younger man gapes and makes a few inarticulate sounds.
“You idiot! Our only witness? Fool! You’re relieved! Begone!” A pause and then: “Samdon?”
“Sir?”
“Go question those palehairs, perhaps they saw something… And why are you still here? You’ve been relieved, coward!”
The younger hero finds his voice at last. “I’m not a coward! I needed to survive in order to report what the citizen had told me!”
“Could’ve had the citizen do that directly, by just asking them to wait and tell me when I came! Instead you have dishonored the name of Hero! Now get out of my sight!”
The senior hero sends a constable off to report to the city palace. “The knights must be alerted that another incident has occurred.” Shaddar can see from his thoughts that there is a concerted effort being made to track where these events are happening at and how often. The knights are clearly in charge of the investigation.
Shaddar is pleased at the rumors that have already spread and those that will inevitably come from this fresh atrocity. He is not concerned with the palehairs, since they are clearly not in the habit of being forthcoming with the humans when questioned. He can tell that soon the hero in charge will order a sweep of the border zone, so he motions to his minions and they stealthily move away from the scene of the crime.
As they move through the alleyways Shaddar is thinking about the people here. They seem so foolish and yet they are not stupid (for the most part), they are just innocent and have a shocking lack of experience in dealing with adversity and change. Some of the older constables and certainly the knight have what Shaddar would consider to be a normal level of world-wisdom, as they have fought undead and dealt with the kinds of trouble that most of the populace have been shielded from their whole lives. But even they are incapable (or at least unprepared) to deal with an enemy that openly taunts them with wickedness. Their quest to live in a utopia has reduced their civilization’s foundation to one made of compressed hay. It has made their whole culture weak and decadent – ripe for overthrow!
He stops thinking of this as soon as they near the meadhall. Shaddar can sense that there are guests waiting for him within – 10 hobgoblins from their thoughts. A bit unnerved, but eager.
“An opportunity that I shall not waste,” Shaddar thinks.
He enters the inn with a bustle of energy. Best to show the new hobgoblins who is in charge at once.
“Welcome, my friends! Kug! Take our brave new recruits into the yard and instruct them on the ways of our army. When the yard is ready for the exercises of tomorrow, show them to an empty room or two upstairs!”
“Right away, Master!” Kug barks happily, “Let’s go you hobgoblins!” They all troop out the back door and into the yard. Kug begins regaling them with tales of his own experiences and they seem to drink it up. Good. Soon he will not need to personally greet every new creature that enters his service.
Shaddar turns to face a sputtering Hawke who has at long last been slapped with the realities of what some of The Boss’ guests are. “Oh, no! Hobgoblins? And that stench…”
“Lumpys? In my meadhall! Is this true?” he snarls with disgust.
“No less than 15, Hawke,” Shaddar says with pride, “Why, they practically have filled the rooms on the third floor already!”
“What?!”
“With more to come! I know you must be pleased!”
“I –“ Hawke snaps his jaws shut with an audible click. His thoughts are troubled, but he has realized that he was about to antagonize… The Boss. His features are rigid with distaste, but he nods jerkily and leaves the room without another word.
Shaddar sees that his thoughts are focused on obtaining the bottle of hard liquor he left in his room and finishing it off at once. His powerlessness in the face of even this injustice is more than he can bear just now. Shaddar’s tentacles writhe with pleasure at his frustration and turmoil.
He goes upstairs with Loolipo in tow, to talk with his other minions feeling very pleased indeed.
First he stops in Cutt’s room to find the gnome snoring, his bandaged feet resting on elevated pillows.
“What are you doing?” he demands, waking the thrall with his mental summons.
“Blargh? My feet, master,” he whimpers, “I was so hurt and tired…”
“Don’t talk to me of feet! What about these goods still not unpacked? Get to work!”
“Yes, master,” Cutt murmurs wearily.
Shaddar checks his room to find that the repairs have been completed and very nicely, too. Good.
Toothsnatcher snorts in greeting and indicates that none have even tried to enter the room where the three remaining men lie bound – awaiting their doom. Fine.
He climbs the stairs to visit with the humans.
He opens the door to their rooms without preamble and makes his first demand.
“Bort! I require ten more uniforms!”
“What? But Boss, I need more cloth!” the human responds.
“Loolipo?”
“Noted, master. Tomorrow?”
Shaddar nods towards Bort. “Very well. Tomorrow, I will need ten more uniforms! You can take their measurements before you leave for the days work.”
“And what did you think of our friends, Boss?” Jorin asks.
Shaddar looks at them blankly for a moment, prompting Bort to add, “You know? Five of our friends came in this evening to try out for the guild. How did they do?”
Shaddar suddenly acts with understanding. “Ah, yes! Your friends!”
Jorin beams and brags, “I must tell you, Boss: Most of those lads are protégés of mine.”
Bort adds, “It’s true. Only one of my friends, Helmnald, came over.”
Jorin nods knowingly, “So? Are they in?”
“Some of them are,” Shaddar says happily, then changes his tone to one of chagrin, “but some of them were… rejected. Only Helmnald made the cut – and just barely I might add.”
“Oh. That’s disappointing,” Jorin’s face falls as he replies.
“Yes, I’m afraid that not all of them were quite up to your own high caliber. That goes without saying, I suppose, but we must have very high standards for guild membership!”
Jorin’s features puff up with pride. “Too bad. I hope you weren’t too hard on them? Just because they weren’t as good as us?”
“Hopefully some of your other acquaintances will have better luck. Leave no stone unturned in your search for talent for our guild, men!”
Jorin nods, “Right you are, Boss. I’ll have to go ‘round to the lads that didn’t make the cut and buy them a drink and commiserate with them – maybe encourage them to try harder and improve themselves so they might have a better shot next time, eh?”
“What a sporting idea!” Shaddar says while thinking, “If you can find them…”
Chapter 1 < Chapter 25 Chapter 27 >
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