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Day 1-Criminal
Cold salt laden air chafes exposed flesh; turning it numb and inert like metal. The beginnings of a fine mist fall from the sky, adding yet another gray hue to the near monochromatic landscape. Dull and lifeless. Much like the unfortunate state of the young arms dealer mind as of late; an entire fortnight and a half spent ensuring the infernal weapons manufacturing went seamlessly; every prototype blade, bow, and shield put through rigorous testing. Each distributor hand selected to ensure discretion and loyalty. Countless hours scrapped then started again over the tiniest of flaws. Yet, not a single iota of this will matter if he cannot secure this contract. It was maddening and so gods damned exhausting.
How Enver wished he was more machine than man; no longer needing to eat or sleep, the purest form of efficiency. His work would be flawless and completed with ease; no longer would he suffer the burdens of the flesh instead live the life of an immortal.
To walk among gods, to finally be free.
Such lofty ambitions will only make you enemies not friends. Words his mentors used to say during his time with the Heapside Reavers. They never understood him, no one did back then. Those old dogs underestimated the scrawny snot nosed lad with his dirty hair and clothes, who clawed their way through the hells by way of spite and sheer force of will. Swallowing pride’s fat prick, crying bitter tears as he begged for mercy. Becoming their whipping boy. Instead he took each lash as a lesson, a brand, a memory, and soared up through the ranks to finally touch nirvana. Becoming what they feared most; powerful. The Kingpins of the Guild took note of his achievements branding him as a wild-card. Those old gangsters mocked him for it. Now they are all dead.
Turning his attention to the tavern ahead of him; the shanty build held together by rotted timber, rusted nails, and a prayer. Sun and salt bleached double wide doors riddled with holes so large one could see through the other side. Though given the raucous and the the thud of a large body being thrown. It did not take much to draw conclusions; a tavern brawl ensued.
Bloody idiots…
It did not surprise him when the doors exploded off their hinges and he had to take a few paces back. Even the most careful of plans can have their…mishaps, it would be his responsibility to adapt accordingly, after all he is nothing if not resourceful and the solution already presented itself, or rather herself, tearing after the downed man with the fury of the nine hells.
“You cheating asshole! Those dice were loaded and you know it!”
“Stupid bitch I won because your luck ran dry. The dice don’t lie and your pirate met an unfortunate end.” The downed man struggled to rise to his feet, and the woman did not hold back earning him another red splotch upon his ruddy face from the harsh snap of her palm.
“Only because you weighted them! I saw your friend slip a different set into play when the dealer had their back turned!”
Rubbing at the smarting wound with a tight grimace. “Sorry sweetheart but I am taking your gold home with me tonight…unless you have something else I can take with me instead” The brute rakes over her figure; undressing her with his eyes and licking his lips.
Compose yourself before she rips your throat out you fool.
“You can’t be serious. I would rather choke on Balduran’s mummified dick before I slept with the likes of you.”
She certainly did not need assistance in crushing a man’s pride.
“Fucking harlot.” The man lunges at her though the movements were jilted and of poor coordination—lumbering and lurching as he tripped over the soles of his muddy boots, unable to hold his liquor.
Watching her long spaded tail flick in agitation. Observing, waiting, about to pounce with a playful gleam in her eyes that contradicted with her hellish heritage and demonstrating an agility that should not be possible from someone so lush and full. Weaving herself away from his lunging fists and ducking under the swings. Twirling around them with a satisfied grin. Someone is enjoying themselves.
“Hey dipshit, behind you.”
“Wha-.” Whirling around and falling for the trap. Capturing only thin air. She dances away but returns to claim the first strike. Grabbing his fleshy arm and yanking forward, she uses his bulk to make him falter. Pivoting behind to pin the arm behind their back and wrapping the lithe length of tail around the other pulling it into the same position. Slamming a knee into him, she knocks the brute straight into the mud. Not at all bothered by the filth caking her simple blouse and leather breeches. While straddling him, she speaks a few words in broken infernal—they grow still as the dead.
Sweeping a hand through now soaking bangs with a frustrated sigh. The mess obscuring his vision. He has long given up trying to tame the shoulder length black strands into some semblance of order. Besides, they serve a purpose in the image he meticulously created for himself; one of ruthlessness and guile. To which he intended to call upon as he approaches this woman coated in mud and blood. Crouched over her prey much like a cat toying with the mouse, a look of hunger wrought against her features tail flicking to and fro in anticipation as she draws the body closer to her lips, draining their life away with each pull of breath. Then he freezes, not out of fear but of fascination as one does when observing the savage nature of the beast.
A Half-succubus…
A Cambion…
The answer…
An all-too-familiar sensation crawls through his skin that made the hairs on his arms raise and skin prickle; much like the beginnings of a lightening bolt in the height of a storm. Magic, born of the hells, born of sin, born to control him. The kiss of a succubus. A favorite punishment doled out by his old master. Another quality that made Enver resent Raphael more and more every day, the devil had rather enjoyed making him submit to his every whim; having Harleep bind his mind while his body was stolen, obliterated, healed then torn asunder again. Pleasure through pain. The only escape he had in those years. The comfort he seeks to this day.
She rose from her crouch with a flourish; bouncing back onto her heels and attempts to wrest her auburn waves into a mess of a braid; pieces framing soft features that accentuate the kohl-lined emerald eyes. If she had been a different creature he might have fancied her, but he was no fool. That woman wielded chaos like a weapon. She notices him and a slow smile turns her plush lips upwards, exposing the delicate tips of her fangs. “Well aren’t you a handsome fellow.”
Enver scoffs, refusing to respond to her lure.
The woman’s eyes flash a bit of fiery temper and says “Ah so you are the broody, leave-me-alone type. Got it.”
The man at her feet gives a pitiful groan clenching his stomach and back. Hells, he did not envy the bastard. She takes a few steps away from the tavern.
“Wait.” Enver says shooting an arm out, grabbing her soft arm. Smoke and mist, she would blend in so easily with the scenery perfect for subterfuge and surveillance “Don’t leave just yet.”
She looks at where his hand touched her, blinks, then it was if a switched were flipped and her entire personality shape-shifts. For the first time in ages Enver was caught off guard.
“Well damn if you insist, I would like to be treated to dinner first.”
“For fucks sake woman, that is not what I am going to proposition.”
“So…what is my allowance then?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Allowance….you know monthly amount to keep me on retainer if you.-“ she has the audacity to look at his crouch then back at him. “Need my services.”
“Gods above and fiends below where are your standards woman?”
“In the compost bin behind the Blushing Mermaid.”
Enver pinches the bridge of his nose, and yet she continues to spout her nonsense,
“Hey a girl has got to eat and pay her dues. I applied to work at Sharess Caress but they said I was too exotic or some shit for their clientèle, and sent me on my way.”
Of course they would! She is a gods damned liability.
“So anyways, what was it you wanted to ask me?” She asks, tucking an errant strand of hair behind a pointed ear. The soaking strand dripping water down her smudged neck.
“I am in need of a personal bodyguard, and you seem capable of holding your own and posses a unique skill set that would be rather beneficial to me.”
“Define skill-set?”
“Get your mind out of the sewers you contemptible rake.”
“Fine, if I must.” She says with a pout “Boring old codger…”
“I am not old nor boring. I am trying to stay on task, something you seem to be rather poor at.” Enver looks pointedly at her. “How much gold did you end up losing to that man?”
She perks up, picking up on the reminder. “Oh, I almost forgot, thank you for that.” She makes a show of bending over; presenting her shapely ass making him roll his eyes and massage his temples, starting to regret extending this offer but if he wants an edge in climbing his way through society having someone who can manipulate minds is necessary.
She rummages through the downed man’s pockets claiming what is hers and then with a darting look swipes the rest of his valuables.
“If you are going to steal his belongings at least try to make it seem accidental…”
“Well he won’t remember why he was here so a missing coin purse only helps reinforce how he passed out drunk in front of a tavern.”
“Is that the little mind game you fed him?”
“Excuse me?” Her smoky skin paled to near translucent, evidently his knowledge of what she is concerns her. Good. Makes it easier to keep her from doing something stupid later on.
“You really thought I wouldn’t notice what you did to put him in that state, we are going to have to work on that perception my dear.”
“I have a name you know and it isn’t dear.” She snaps. “How about I call you dickhead or asshole. It has the same effect yeah?”
Between the gods forsaken weather and the chit of woman before him, his temper was unraveling and about to snap into two pieces. Patience was supposed to be one of his virtues. Yet it was being pushed to the brink, for the sake of his sanity and securing this arms deal, he tries again.
“How about we start over then?”
“I suppose.” she holds out her hand. “I am Lucid by the way; bard by day, handsome devil by night.”
He does not return the handshake pushing it away with a scowl, she has not earned that level of respect. A strange look crosses her features, not of cowardice but of disappointment . What was she expecting out of this? Friendship?
Lucid is lucky he did not dispose of her then and there as most do with the devils they know. By offering her a chance to work for him she would have something far more valuable; her life.
“I do not shake hands with subordinates, now the terms of you working for me-.”
“How about we discuss it over drinks?” she interrupts already making her way to the tavern. “I am about to expire from hunger and thirst, and you wouldn’t want the death of an innocent maiden on your hands would you?”
The audacity of this woman.
“Don’t be so dramatic, fine that can be arranged, I have business to attend to inside anyways.”
The Blushing Mermaid, while the exterior was as rough and decrepit as the rest of this district the interior was relatively clean and tidy. Though the pungent aroma of stale beer, sweat, and tobacco smoke was so thick his eyes felt gummy and lungs gritty.
He quite liked the tavern keeper, with his tawny hair and eyes and a keen taste for expensive spirits; not once had Enver been led astray when selecting a vintage nor keeping discretion. Even now as they approach, he greets them both with an infectious smile.
“Well met Gortash, it is always a pleasure to see you my friend. Come in, come in and have a seat.
He puts down the polishing rag and tankard and points to an available oak bench near the back in a secluded section, away from prying eyes. Precisely as arranged per their agreement. “The usual my good saer?”
“You know me too well.” Returning the same cordial smile “and water for my friend here.”
“Hang on, you are Gortash?”
Now it was his turn to be obtuse, “well yes last time I checked.”
She furrows her brows, creating a little divot between them that seemed to suit her. She mutters more to herself than him. “I see, well that certainly complicates things.”
Before he could have her clarify her thoughts she speaks directly to the tavern keeper, “Excuse me but if you bring me a bit of that spiced swill you have. The one with spices and cinnamon that makes your tail curl and insides sizzle?”
The keeper chuckles and returns to polishing, “you mean Chultan Fireswill? I think you might be the only person in the Gate you drinks the bloody stuff.”
She replies with the snap of her finger “Yes! That’s the one-.”
“Absolutely not.” Enver interrupts her with an admonishing squeeze on her shoulder, making her wince. “I need you clear headed not acting like a drunken Kobold.”
“I like kobolds.”
“Of course you would…I suppose you enjoy collecting trash as they do?”
“Sometimes.”
“That was rhetorical Lucid…stop embarrassing yourself.”
“Jokes on you, I have no shame remember?”
Enver drops his face into a hand, gritting his teeth and muttering a few choice words about her character. Perhaps involving himself with this woman was not the best of ideas. Yet another mistake to be disposed of and written into his ledger of red. Regardless he already committed and will ensure to make the most of it.
Motioning for her to follow him in the direction of the aforementioned table speaking in hushed tones to each-other, “I am to meet with a very important client of mine in a few moments so I will make this brief.” He pauses watching as she tears at the napkin in-front of her looking distant. “Are you even listening to me?”
She returns to him “Yes, sorry just a lot on my mind is all.”
He steeples his hands, scowling, not convinced with her response “I know what you are Lucid, and I know that you
have the ability to get me what I want.”
“Does your client love bardic lullabies and have trouble sleeping?” She was evading him now.
“Pretending to be oblivious won’t work on me.” He says dryly.
She does not respond continuing to have a staring contest with the table, avoiding him. He continues nonetheless this time lowering his tone to ensure no eavesdropping.
“What happens when the Gate finds out what you are?”
More silence, but he could see the mask crack; in the slight turn of her mouth and the stitching of brows.
“How long do you think you have before the wrong person unearths one of your corpses and asks too many questions?”
She shifts; crossing shapely legs and angling her body and head away from him, but continues to remain steadfast in her silence.
“Do you know what they do to your kind, what they do to monsters? Rotting away in Wyrms Rock is a mercy compared to the brutality of a self-righteous citizen convinced their sons or daughters soul’s are damned.” He pauses “You can spend an eternity running and hiding but sooner or later someone less merciful than myself discover you are a Cambion, and kill you.”
She glances back at him, tries to say something, evidently thought better of it, and returns to the pensive state of mind. At least he has her full attention now.
“I swear that by working with me your identity will be kept safe and locked away, while I am confident I can build my venture alone. I would be a fool to not employ an asset when I see one.”
A soft exhale of breath leaves her along with the lowering of her guard she finally speaks, “How can I be sure you mean what you say, that you will keep your word.”
Anticipating the question he reaches out his hand making her quirk a brow at him, understandable given what he said earlier, but sometimes a simple act of kindness—even if it’s calculated—can be a powerful motivator.
“We will shake on it and after this meeting we can discuss the minutia details of your written contract if you wish.”
“I can negotiate the terms?” she asks
“Of course.” He lies fully intending to strike through any of the overzealous things, kindness is still a vulnerability in the end.
She stares at his outreached hand for a moment pursing her lips and fiddling with the end of her braid then for the first time since they met, hesitated, in the way she reaches out to shake his. A deal with a devil. Maybe he never left the hells after all.