Belmung: Second Shadow - Poor Scoundrel

Midday in Anther’s notorious Poor Scoundrel differed little from its brutal nights. The inn’s occupants were a loose collection of weather beaten beggars, sailors and bandits, all searching for an escape from the chaos of their lives. Feinn had little time to spare for these low lives. He did not have much going for himself but at least he had a goal. Current circumstances had conspired to bring him to one of Sawra’s most infamous towns, Anthir, the dark home of the Band of the Black Wolves. This small duchy and its cruel spawn had once brought the world to the brink of ruin. However, Feinn did not plan to remain here for long. As soon as he found what he was looking for he would be out of this place forever.

Feinn looked over to his unlikely partner in crime who sat across from him, sipping warm ale from an old beaten tankard. Kurt shared Feinn’s unfortunate fate as he also bore the curse of half-breed. Though Feinn’s elven bloodline hid beneath a rugged, unshaven façade and long bushy brown hair, he still felt an alien among the humans. Kurt on the other hand did not shy away from what he was. He seemed to advertise his linage with reckless abandon.

Feinn cussed and spat on the floor after he sipped from the tankard containing his warm ale. With a grimace, he said, “Taste like a cup of warm piss…”

“If you are looking for a classy joint you are looking in the wrong place mate,” replied Kurt, brushing his short blond hair back, tucking it behind his elongated ears and closing his glimmering blue eyes as he leaned back in his chair.

Kurt opened his eyes and looked around the bar. On the table next to them, an old drunkard had passed out in a puddle of his own vomit and the stench was causing Kurt to pull up his sharp nose. Even after living in Anthir with these miscreants for over a year, he still had not come to terms with the horrid smells of this place.

“Pleasant isn’t it,” said Feinn.

“These people have no self respect,” replied Kurt.

The door winced as a young man dressed in rags pushed it aside and entered the tavern. Feinn looked back over his shoulder to see what had caught Kurt’s eyes. He sighed as realisation dawned on him. Despite the young man’s obviously fake limp and beaten crutch, he took every step with unspoken authority. The stench of nobility radiated off him the same as the puked up ale radiated from the table next to them. Feinn noted slight indentations accentuated with a lighter skin tone, drawing a band around the young man’s fingers indicating he was wearing large golden rings less than an hour before.

Kurt stood up and Feinn dropped his head with a cringe. Both the new addition to the inn and Kurt were now walking towards the gambling table across the room. Feinn could swear he would be able to smell trouble if there was not so many other terrible smells in the air, and at that thought he looked over to the passed out drunkard, there was now an additional smell emanating from the grisly scene. Feinn furrowed his brow into a scowl, pickup his ale and moved to another open table farther away.

The undercover noble placed his crutch against the wall and moved around the knucklebone table to the opposite side to sit down. He placed a gold piece next to a set of five dice to indicate to the other two players to include him in the next round. The two gamblers looked at each other and the larger one of the two dirty ruffians smiled. Kurt came to sit down at the table, positioning himself opposite the young stranger.

“You need to place your bet and your dice on the table to play elf,” said the large man.

“I just want to observe if that is fine with you,” replied Kurt.

The gambler glared at Kurt for a moment then looked over to his other opponents, “The bet is one gold piece. Start the roll.” 

Each of the gamblers placed their five dice in a cup and began to swirl it around. After three churns of the wrist, they all slammed their cups down. Each of the players looked at their dice from behind cover and the larger man said, “I raise two gold.”

“I see you,” said the second gambler.

“I see your two and raise five gold,” said the stranger as he placed another seven gold pieces on the rugged surface of the shoddy table.

The other two men looked at each other and then back down to their dice. Kurt wondered what the young man’s plan might be. If he was trying to hide his wealth, he was certainly not doing a very good job of it. There was a sudden rush of horseshoes outside which shook the entire inn. Most of the eyes inside turned to the door for a fleeting moment, as if they would be able to see the source of the commotion through the wall. Kurt did not flinch at the noise, but instead he was the only one to notice the stranger reaching to alter his dice. A cheater? wondered Kurt, was the man trying to get himself killed?

“Wha…” the large gambler seemed almost at a loss as he tried to regain his bearings on the game. When he had finally gathered himself, he said, “Fine, I’m in,” and he placed another five gold pieces on the table.

“I am out,” said the other gambler and closed his dice cup.

“Well, show us what you got,” said the larger gambler.

The strange young noble slowly raised his cup to reveal three twos. A smile spread across the large man’s face as he raised his cup with vindictive pleasure to reveal four threes. The young noble sighed as the large man scrapped the gold coins towards himself.

Kurt’s eyes narrowed as he tried to understand what the young man was trying to achieve. Was it a hustle or just a cheat not taken far enough?

“Ten gold blind,” said the young man with determination.

“Ten gold blind!” repeated the other two, “Are you serious?”

Placing ten coins on the grimy table he said, “All or nothing right.”

“Fine,” said the larger one who placed his ten coins on the table before looking over at the other gambler as if to tell him to get in.

Reluctantly the last man placed his gold on the table and took up his dice cup. The three began to swirl and again slammed their cups down on the table. Each peered underneath to see what they had gotten and the large man smiled cruelly.

Kurt finely eyed the young man and if he had not been watching him so closely he would have missed the slight tension in the man’s leg as he subtly pushed down on a loose floorboard, causing his strategically placed crutch to fall over with a loud crash. The sound served to divert attention away from the young noble’s dice cup and Kurt again observed him interfering with his dice while the others were distracted.

The man’s actions were clearly methodical and well planned out. This youngster was no stranger to this inn and he was too quick with his hands to be a normal noble.

“I raise ten more,” announced the young man.

“Well, we two are already in for half that we might as well see where this leads,” replied the large gambler and both placed their last coins on the table, “Now, show us your bones.”

The young noble raised his cup to reveal five sixes. A gasp rustled through the curious onlookers who had gather to see what the big numbers were about, ten gold pieces were nearly a month’s wages for most.

The momentary disbelief in the two gamblers faces quickly turned to anger and the large man jumped to his feet, revealing his full bulking girth and exclaimed, “Cheater!”

Kurt moved forward with near super speed and placed his hand on the large man’s shoulder, “Calm yourself,” he said quietly, “Allow me to have a talk to the young man.”

The old gambler knew when he was dealing with a Stalker. The thieves’ guild was sort of the unofficial watch in the poor quarter of Anthir. Not that they would protect you when treated unjustly, but you could be sure anyone who dared cheat or robbed as a freebooter would likely come to an abrupt and painful end.

Kurt raised the young noble from his chair and walked him back a few paces. In hushed tones he said, “You know cheating around here without Stalker consent can get you killed.”

“I was not cheating,” replied the young man.

“You can cut the act nobleman, I saw you alter your dice, twice,” said Kurt, “Now the question is, what is to keep me from hauling your rear to the daywatchmen so they can drop you in the Frostbite Sea?”

“How about I give you ten percent of my winnings and give a well paying capper?” said the nobleman with a skew smile.

“Try half your winnings and what is this capper about?” said Kurt.

“Deal, if you want the capper be at the Rich man’s bluffs at first light tomorrow and give the guards at the gate this ring. If you meet me at plot five I will give you the details,” replied the youngster and for the first time he revealed the strength in his voice. He reached into his shirt and placed a silver ring baring a symbol of two crossed swords in Kurt’s hand.

Kurt had to summon up all his self-control as he suppressed the overwhelming need to dispute the young man’s presumption. At least he was getting paid fifteen gold pieces for telling off a few ruffians. Kurt turned towards the old gamblers and instantly noticed the large man had armed himself with an empty wine bottle. He looked up and scanned the room to find Feinn already standing in position with a medium sized piece of lumber, which he had liberated from the unlit hearth.

Onlookers began to retreat with anticipation and Kurt sighed as he said, “You two fellows lost fair and square. Perhaps it would be better if you went home.”

“What did he offer you elf?” asked the larger man, “I hope a couple of gold pieces will sooth the walloping I am about to give you.”

“Now look…” began Kurt when he saw the man aggressively moving towards him.

With a fluent motion, Kurt skipped forward and kicked up the chair in front of him. He grasped the backrest with both hands and with a wide looping overhead arch, he smashed the chair into the large man holding the bottle. The chair shattered on impact, sending the burly man sprawling across the floor.

A big fist smashed into the side of Kurt’s face, temporarily knocking his senses into a freefalling spin. Another thundering shot landed on his cheek and he attempted to raise his hands in defence but failed to block another powerful fist slamming into his ribs.

Feinn winced at his partners beating, clearly the other man was a superior boxer. Feinn slowly walked over to the larger man attempting to raise himself up off the floor and with a sharp kick to the face, he knocked the man out.

Feinn looked up to Kurt and said, “You planning to play with him all day?”

“You… ooof… could… aaaah… help, you know,” replied Kurt as he continued to take hammering blows to the body.

“Fine,” replied Feinn.

He looked down at the makeshift club in his hand and then at his opponent. With a sigh of effort, he raised the log and heavily bashed down on the unaware opponent who was rocking Kurt. The log made a muffled thud as it struck the boxer in the neck and he dropped to the floor as the strength in his legs disappeared. Kurt stepped forward and finished the fallen man with an elaborate hook punch, knocking the man out completely.

Feinn casually walked to the tipped over gambling table and picked up two coins from the winnings. Slowly he moved over to the bar counter and placed the coins on the deck.

“Sorry for the mess Ullof,” said Feinn, “This should help with some of the repairs.”

Ullof the barkeep looked up over the counter and sighed when he saw the wreckage revealed. The young nobleman responsible for all the destruction had already collected his winnings and winked at Feinn and Kurt before exiting the inn. His limp instantly forgotten as the fight ended.

“Mind telling me what that was about?”asked Feinn.

“Seems we have a job at the Rich man’s bluffs tomorrow my friend,” replied Kurt.

“You know that is on the other side of the city right?” asked Feinn.

“I do,” replied Kurt.

“As in we would have to travel through the black wolves’ territory to get there?”

“Stop being so lazy,” demanded Kurt, “We can just walk around.”

“Fine, but it better be worth the trouble.”