People flee from before the approach of Shaddar and his blood-splattered thrall. It is not so much their hideous appearance, but the rumors and reports of slaughter that seem to move before them much faster than humans could normally run. Shaddar is amazed at the efficiency of their grapevine.
Doors slams shut and shutter click together as they draw near to each building and the crowds of people are quickly thinning. Those humans who see them, invariably turn around and run in the opposite direction.
Toothsnatcher is enjoying himself immensely. “Best day ever!” he thinks, quite pleased that Shaddar is pushing deeper into the slums and seems intent on causing more trouble.
“It is useful to have happy thralls – they seem to work more efficiently when they find their orders agreeable,” Shaddar thinks.
A drunk man staggers close to them and shakes his head in disgust. “Can’t ye illusionsist’s do yer magic somewhere else? That’s disgustin’! Who wants ta drink after seein’ that?”
Shaddar laughs and waves the fellow away.
The sentiment of the drunkard becomes more common, the further they travel from the scene of the massacre – as people who have not heard the most recent rumors simply assume that Shaddar and Toothsnatcher are merely some form of macabre entertainment. Some people actually flip Shaddar a coin in payment for the bloody display.
In every case Shaddar snatches the coin from the air and nods his thanks with bemused waves of his tentacles. What fools these cattle are!
Shaddar spots a scarred brawler hawking a fisticuffs match on one corner and saunters over to him.
“Are you familiar with all of the fighting establishments in the slums, my good man?’ he asks the human.
“Aye. Which one are you lookin’ for?”
“Can I get directions to Goggo’s Fisticuff Pit?” Shaddar asks. This is the location he pulled from the mind of Vicacili when he interrogated him where members of the Guild of Villians get together for meetings.
“Time for a break from work, eh?” the brawler laughs knowingly. He proceeds to give them directions to the enterprise – it is not far away.
Within a few minutes, Shaddar and his thrall enter the round building that is emblazoned with a garish sign over the door that reads: “Goggo’s”.
It is a large pub with a circular bar running around three-quarters of the outside wall. In the center is a pit filled with sand, surrounded by cheering spectators. A large chalkboard is covered with names of contestants, statistics of wins and loses, and the current odds for gambling purposes.
A bookie near the door steps smoothly beside them as they enter.
“Come to see how real violence works to improve your illusions, eh? I know all about it – a good idea and sound tactic, too,” the ferret-like man oozes, “Now what you’ll want to test your knowledge and lock in what you learn is to place a wager on every match. That’s the way to remember every little detail, take it from me! Now why don't we start –”
Toothsnatcher shoves the human away and he stumbles to the floor. When he rises to his feet he does not return to bother Shaddar again.
Shaddar expands his mental senses – searching for minds in the building that could be a threat. It’s possible that the drow sorcerers are located in such a secret meeting place as this and it would do to be surprised by unseen foes.
Nothing stands out among the throng of minds within range of his detection and most thoughts are focused on the current bout happening in the pit. Shaddar steps forward to observe the match.
Unlike most of the other entertainments he has seen in Big City, the wrestling match is real. Both of the men are quite skilled at unarmed combat and are actively trying to best one another.
“True sport? Actual competition? Amazing,” Shaddar thinks. The thoughts of the combatants and those watching them all know that this is so and they are proud of their ‘reality’.
Shaddar waits until the bout finishes and as the pit is surged by viewers he walks over to the now-barren bar.
“Would my man here be allowed to take part in a match?” he asks of the barkeep that approaches him. “What kind of odds will you give me?” Shaddar motions to the board of gambling data overhead.
“We do allow spectator versus celebrity matches. His illusion is terrifying,” the barkeep says, looking Toothsnatcher up and down. “Not that how he looks will help min much in the arena – and no weapons are allowed either.”
“He doesn’t need weapons to win. And if the… ah… tomato sauce he’s covered with is disallowed, I’m sure we can wash it off beforehand. Odds?”
“A brand-new contender? Hmm…” The barkeep rubs one hand on his chin thoughtfully and then asks the minotaur, “Where are you from, stranger?”
“Port City,” Shaddar says smoothly.
“Really?”
“Yes,” Shaddar continues as Toothsnatcher nods in agreement. “We are spice traders who unfortunately have fallen upon hard times. All these strange happenings in town have caused the spice trade to dry up a bit.”
“Ah.”
“I won’t trouble you with our burdens – I’m sure you get quite enough of that as it is. We are in need of some temporary employment and were wondering if fighting in the pit might offer it.”
The barkeep purses his lips in thought. Thoughts which Shaddar can read easily: “They must be desperate indeed to come in here looking for coin. And small wonder! They can’t be doing very well as entertainers with those awful disguises… Better sweeten my offer so as to make it worth their while, otherwise they’ll bolt for sure.”
“Five to one,” the barkeep offers bluntly.
“Five to one!” Shaddar laughs. It is obvious the barkeep thinks that Shaddar intends to haggle the odds in his favor, so he is stunned when instead Shaddar slaps the bartop with a: “Done!” He leans in close and whispers, “You have high hopes for your own lad, don’t you?”
The barkeep just shakes his head, thinking that Shaddar’s confidence is hopelessly misplaced. “If you say so, sir. Don’t forget to put your money where your mouth is then! The name?”
“Toothsnatcher,” grunts Shaddar’s thrall.
The barkeep writes the name and the odds up on the board and Shaddar turns to find a bookie so as to place a bet. He keeps the amount small – just for convention’s sake. Twenty pieces of gold doesn’t seem to raise too many eyebrows.
The barkeep talks to a woman who appears to be the owner and she sets about arranging the match. She introduces herself as Wendy. Toothsnatcher is pulled aside by her and taken to the preparation rooms where he will be briefed on the match rules and searched for weapons. Shaddar wonders for a moment what they will do about his horns. Not his problem.
Shaddar turns his attention to the match board that lists Toothsnatcher and his total lack of fighting statistics. This generates much excitement as the men who frequent this place seem to think that the poor sod who has signed up to fight will be beaten badly. The man selected to fight this unknown has won 15 of the last 23 matches and the men seem to think this will be an easy victory for the up-and-comer.
The owner, Wendy, is a large woman with a fine set of lungs. She bellows out the nature of the match from the center of the pit and the tension in the room grows tighter as she speaks.
“Crusher! A name you all know well! The man that grew up from one of Goggo’s own serving lads into a fine and fierce fighter! He will introduce our next contestant to the gentle arts of pit fighting!” Much course laughter at this. “The standard rules will apply to this bout, and betting will be allowed throughout – so watch those shifting odds and stay close to your preferred bookie, lads! And now – give Crusher your feet!”
Crusher enters the pit and raises both hands to welcome the beery cheers of the crowd and their eager foot-stomping applause. He is a huge man with large arms and tufts of hair covering his wide chest.
Wendy now points to the other doorway as she says, “Crusher will be fighting a newcomer not only to our sport, but to Big City as well! A merchant hailing from Port City! He refused to drop his quite excellent illusions (that magic must’ve cost a fair coin – just wait until you see him). Please welcome: Toothsnatcher!”
The proud figure of the minotaur ducks under an opening and enters the ring. His blood splattered Swashbuckling Rogue outfit looks quite out of place and some of the contestants begin to mock him for his appearance.
“Doesn’t want anyone to know who is is, eh?”
“Nah, he’s wearing that illusion because he’s got a lot to compensate for – know what I mean? Eh?”
“You’ll limp back to Port City after this, you seafish!”
“Well thought out, lad! Save yourself some honor after you get thrashed!”
“How strong you look counts for nothing here, ya fool!”
“Crusher is going to make you eat sand!”
“Where’s my bookie? Double my bet! Double it, I say!”
Toothsnatcher’s rage builds at the insults and jeers, but he stands steady – focused on performing as his master has ordered.
“No holds barred. To the count of 12, men,” Wendy states with a nod to each of them.
Wendy leaves the arena and hits a metal triangle with an iron rod. With this signal and a roar from the audience the bout begins.
Crusher charges over to Toothsnatcher without further ado and throws a vicious punch at the minotaur’s midsection. But the blow never lands. Toothsnatcher simply backs up a half-step and avoids it completely. Shaddar can see from his mind that the rules seem silly to the thrall and he is trying to get a feel for this unusual form of combat.
Toothsnatcher steps back into range of Crusher’s fists and motions for the human to repeat his attack.
“You like to try again?” he grates. “Don’t go easy on me this time.”
Crusher is infuriated by this taunt, since he obviously threw his best punch. There are hoots of delight at this by-play from the crowd.
A series of rapid jabs land with thick-sounding slaps. Crusher is left shaking his fists from the unexpected solidness of his target. Toothsnatcher grunts a bit.
“Pretty strong… for a puny man,” Toothsnatcher snorts. He grabs for the human with grasping hands, but the experienced wrestler ducks under the move and dances away.
“Let me show you how to properly do that,” Crusher yells as he attempts to pin the minotaur’s arms. Toothsnatcher may not know wrestling moves, but he is skilled enough to avoid the maneuver deftly.
Crusher frowns. Shaddar can see from the wrestler’s thoughts that the mishmash of skills he sees in his opponent is confusing to him. Lacking a great intellect, the fellow can’t figure out that he faces a real warrior – not a sportsman.
Toothsnatcher proves it with his next move. He spins around, catching Crusher’s legs in a foot sweep and snagging the falling human with his hands. With a mighty bellow, the minotaur lifts the human straight up over his head, jumps, and throws the man to the ground while in midair.
The crowd loves it.
Crusher is less pleased – groaning and wheezing as he tries to get his wind back from the powerful impact.
The human rolls away and stands once he thinks he is out of Toothsnatcher’s range. He miscalculates – having never fought a long-limbed minotaur before, but manages to duck under the fist that swings at his face.
Crusher steps back inside the fight and throws a couple of punches. Toothsnatcher blocks one with his forearm, but the other lands in his kidney.
Shaddar can sense from the minds of the spectators that they still expect their local fellow to win. He is the only one landing punches, after all. Shaddar’s tentacles writhe in anticipation of their inevitable comeuppance.
Toothsnatcher again tries to grab the human, but he proves to slippery and squirms loose. He really doesn’t relish being body-slammed again and is obviously on his guard.
More lightning jabs land home and the minotaur tries clumsily to block them. He lacks unarmed fighting skills and so his efforts are ineffectual. The crowd is cheering for their local lad and placing more bets as the odds slowly go up.
Toothsnatcher grabs Crusher’s arm as he punches next and spins the man in a circle, lifting him off his feet and then throws him straight across the arena, where he slams into the wall with a horrible-sounding thud.
The unconventional move surprises the crowd and the bookies and the odds suddenly get revised downward as everyone reassess the challenger’s chances.
Crusher takes his time getting to his feet, using the wall to prop himself up. Wendy calls out a count and reaches 4 before he gets to his feet.
“Just as strong as you look,” he mutters from split lips.
Toothsnatcher releases a bovine bellow, dashes towards the man, and leaps into the air. He twists his upper body to curls back one huge fist and slams it home in a powerful haymaker – perfectly delivered.
The blow sends Crusher flying into the ground and he doesn’t get up. The noises of the crowd grow suddenly quiet as Toothsnatcher steps away from the still form of his opponent. Crusher is still breathing, but Shaddar doubts he will wake up anytime soon.
Even though the men who watch the pit fighting are accustomed to violence, this is something new to them – the raw fury and power of a minotaur that has his blood up.
“Watch and learn, gentlemen,” Shaddar says jovially, turning to his bookie with an outstretched hand. “I thought perhaps the fighting in Big City would prove more interesting than that of the docks, but alas!”
“How long will you be in town,” whispers the bookie as a pouch of coins is passed over.
“Trying to shoo me away already?” Shaddar says with mock horror. He pushes the pouch of coins back. “Oh, no! We’re just getting started. Let it ride.”
“Let it… ride?”
“Yes,” Shaddar says confidently, “My man is still fresh from this light warm-up. He is ready for the next contestant!”
Toothsnatcher bellows in victory, spraying foam up into the stunned crowd. He beats his pectorals with one fist; the other fist upraised defiantly to those who mocked him earlier.
“Surely you have another sportsman here that can offer Toothsnatcher a challenge?” Shaddar shouts.
The men all look away uncomfortably, even those who have the look of common fighters in the pit. Wendy is in the ring, checking the vital signs of the downed Crusher with worry on her face.
Shaddar puts one arm around the neck of the bookie and speaks softly, “I tell you what. Instead of another fight, why don’t you give me a bit of information instead?”
“What do you need?” the bookie says nervously.
“I need to get in touch with Flame. Yes, that Flame. I have a spice deal for him. Spice... If you know what I mean?” Shaddar says meaningfully, arching one eyebrow.
A look of total confusion passes over the bookie’s features and Shaddar sighs deeply.
“Never mind. Just write this down: Flame: I’m sorry that our previously agreed upon spice deal has gone south. The bottom is quickly falling out of the market and I will be unable to complete our arrangement. I wish to refund his money and give him my own personal apology. Tell him that I will wait for him here until nightfall.”
“I think I can do that.”
“Then why are you still here, man?” Shaddar says, shoving the human towards the door.
Shaddar leans down to look at his strutting thrall. “Just not a people-person, are you, Toothsnatcher?” he broadcasts. The thrall glances at him and snorts derisively in answer.
“Me likes ‘em fine – I just like hurting ‘em more,” Toothsnatcher says in reply.
Chapter 1 < Chapter 53 Chapter 55 >
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