Unbound

The low passage was uncomfortable, but it didn’t last long. After twenty or so strides they came to a set of stairs, and the ceiling there was far taller, allowing Felix to unbend his considerable height. The steps themselves were odd, built for shorter feet, but that just meant Felix skipped three at a time. A good thing, as the eyepatched bartender hustled up them faster than he expected.

Soon they came to another door, but this one wasn’t hidden behind wards and magical mechanisms. It was made of simple iron-strapped wood. It looked new-built—it lacked the dirt and wear of a thousand hands like the tavern’s front entrance—and when the Dwarf pushed on it the door swung open without a sound. Strangely enough, the room beyond was just as quiet, which threw Felix at first.

Men and women of many Races mingled and caroused across a cramped series of rooms carved from the dark stone walls. Fine tiles had been laid, pillars sculpted with sharp angles, and more than one bas-relief sculpture dominated the walls. Well-polished if mismatched furniture divided the rooms up into smaller congregations; here a card game, there a number of masked individuals arguing over several reams of paper, and closer still were scarred Dwarves and Goblins throwing back shots of something that bubbled viciously.

“C’mon boy. Don’t got all day,” the bartender said, before stepping into the room.

Felix followed and the moment his foot crossed the threshold, the sound reinstated itself like a bubble popping inside his ears. He glanced down and back, noting the deftly hidden strip of sigaldry just inside the doorframe. Sound ward. Highly advanced too. These people are loud.

Shouts buffeted him from powerful lungs as he wound through the eclectic collection of tables. Briefly, Felix glimpsed a rough iron cage that featured a number of burly figures tussling with a large Golem. The cheers escalated when one of the Dwarves was pinned by an enormous wood and steel hand, so much that the ground itself shook.

As if the secret doors and hidden wards weren’t enough evidence, one look at these folks and Felix was certain he’d come to the right place.

Eyepatch led him on, through a well-constructed archway and into a wide room almost totally filled by a long stone table carved so it appeared to have long serpentine dragons flying around the edges. Atop it were the remains of a mighty feast. Little was left except platters of bones and gristle, save for the platter before a very wide Dwarf.

Felix flared his Perception and Affinity even before they entered, sorting through the countless impressions all around him. The room was mostly empty, but he could hear the steady breathing of at least three people hidden behind two separate secret doors. Guards, he assumed, their Spirits vibrating in a choppy sort of irritation. They were bored.

They crossed the archway and the noise of the hidden bar was muted to a dull, distant roar. The breathing in the walls great more pronounced.

More sigils. Despite his Adept Body, passing through that was a balm to his ears. He sighed in relief.

“Loud bastards, ain’t they?” said the man behind the table. He was busy sucking the meat off of some sort of fowl, uncaring how the grease and juices spilled over his wide, plaited beard.

“Uh, yeah,” Felix said.

“This one is looking for work with the crews, Thrumm,” Eyepatch said. “Said he’s a strongarm, and his stats look solid.”

The wide Dwarf eyed him, and Felix felt that tell-tale shiver across his Spirit. “Name’s Mervin? You don’t look like a Mervin, kid. Too tall.”

“Take it up with my parents,” Felix said, before snapping his lips closed. Thrumm, however, just laughed.

“Aye, that’s the way, innit? In my experience, though, men such as us have a way of earnin’ our names. Might be you work for me, and if that happens, we’ll see about findin’ you a name what suits you better, eh?”

Felix forced a smile. “I’d like that.”

“Take a seat, I’m tired of lookin’ up at ya.” The rat lord—for that is what he must have been—looked Felix over. “Strongarm. I can see that. Done any protection gigs, Mervin?”

“Some. Kept friends alive more than once.”

Thrumm grunted. “Friends. Rare to be runnin’ jobs with folks like that. Can’t guarantee you’ll be workin’ with those you like. Might be those ya hate, if the job calls for it. Can you handle that?”

Felix shrugged. “I need money. I can’t afford to be picky…but I knew someone that said they were coming out here to work. If he works for you, maybe I might not be so bad off.”

The rat lord frowned. “Got a name?”

“Archibald.”

One of those heartbeats sped up.

“Never heard of ‘im,” the rat lord said. His Spirit tightened, like the head of a drum, as a tattoo of rapid anxiety beat out loud.

Liar. The quickening heartbeat was to the right, hidden neatly by a faux wine rack. Strangely, he couldn’t sense anything about their Spirit.

“Really?” Felix sighed. “Well, if you see him, tell him his old friend from Earth is looking for him.”

“From earth, eh? Strange way to put it. You don’t look like a Dwarf.”

Felix smiled. “He’ll understand.”

“I’m afraid I don’t,” Thrumm said, his anxiety turning sour. “Why don’t you explain it to me?”

“Not sure I have the time for that.”

“Make the time.”

Felix laughed. He was surprised at how tired he was of pretending already. “No.”

Thrumm regarded him levelly, and the rhythm within him sped up all the more. It had turned ugly, too fast, too chaotic. “Who are you?”

Smooth as silk, hidden panels opened and two Dwarves and a Hobgoblin surrounded Felix. They held black knives low at their waists, but stayed out of his reach. Voracious Eye swept among them all, stopping curiously on their enchanted blades.

“I told you. A friend.” Felix stood up calmly. Their knives tracked him. “I’d appreciate it if you could pass along my message.”

Felix made to walk out, but Thrumm’s deep voice stopped him. “I don’t care who you are, Mervin. No one orders me around. Not here.”

The rat lord whistled, and the killers lunged for Felix, their blades suddenly sparking with brilliant green vapor. They were fast, silent, and committed to killing him.

Every single one of their weapons stopped a foot from Felix’s flesh.

Idly, he plucked one of the knives from the assassin’s grip. The acid vapor around the blade bent to his Will and Hand of Calamity, with a little touch of Ferric Shaping. They were High Steel weapons, but iron was in there somewhere. “Cool knives.”

He kept walking. The assassins, letting go of their stuck-fast weapons, looked worriedly between him and their boss, but Felix paid them little mind. His attention was taken up by the figure hidden behind the wine rack. They were as still as a statue, and only their hammering heart and rough breathing gave Felix any indication they were even alive.

“Remember,” he called back without turning. He headed for the exit. “Friend. Earth. Want to talk.”

No one tried to stop him again.

That might’ve been a little hasty, he admitted later, kicking his feet over the edge of a third story roof.

Shortly after Felix had left the Cask, the rat lord’s men had boiled into the street, hunting for him. His display with the acid-enchanted knives hadn’t been enough to scare them forever, just enough to make Thrumm consider his options.

He’d been smart about it, though, immediately dropping his Glamulet’s illusion and activating his Abyssal Skein. Once he’d relocated to a high vantage point, Felix had watched as the rat lord’s men searched ineffectually for signs of his passage. It had been a close thing at first, but not because of speed or ability. Instead, Felix had to find a slower route to the rooftops, as anything faster was either blatantly obvious or would leave shattered cobblestones in his wake. Dense as his Body was, it did not make it easy to sneak around, and he no longer had Cloudstep to cushion his weight. Storm Shaping might have lifted him—Felix hadn’t tried that yet—but its level was still too low and thus his control was lacking too.

At least the Dwarves build things sturdy, he mused, not for the first time. I only cracked two roof tiles.

Felix wasn’t exactly thrilled to have angered a whole thieves guild or whatever, but it was a calculated decision. Now, shrouded by his Void Skill, Felix watched as the last of the rat lord’s men gave up searching the local alleyways. The streets around him were as quiet as cities got, with only the ambient noise of folks living their lives as evening turned to true night.

Any minute now.

An hour passed. Two hours. Felix sat, shrouded and bored out of his Mind while snow fell steadily. He’d just about stared a hole through the Cask and the dark wall it leaned against. Had he made a mistake? Or did he miss something? The Casks’ secret rooms extended into the warded walls themselves, so maybe there was another exit. If he—

Abyssal Skein is level 83!

Felix perked up. Someone was searching for him. Someone with very good Perception to press his Abyssal Skein up another level. He scanned the streets below, flaring his own Perception and Affinity to their limits.

A short figure crept from behind the Cask, peering cautiously down the maze of back alleys before walking out into the snowfall.

Felix stifled his excitement and got moving.

Archie clung to the shadows as best he could, but there was limp in his step and a fire burning in his brain. Thrumm had torn into him for the past few hours, demanding to know everything he could about this mysterious bruiser that had shown up at the Cask. Archie hadn’t known anything and admitted as much…but the rat lords didn’t get their power by being kind.

Status Condition: Sprained Ankle

Status Condition: Bruised Ribs (x2)

Thrumm had roughed him up after that tall strange left, asking for everything Archie knew about the guy. Which was nothing, of course.

Asshole. He knew coming back to Birchstone was stupid, but it was the only real option he’d had. He’d bought some time with all those Trolls, but they wouldn’t keep his own personal monster at bay forever. Archie had thought working with Thrumm and his crew would save him time—but all he’d done is lay low while the rat lord “read the lay of the land.”

He’d realized that night that Thrumm wasn’t going to help. No one was.

And now I have this Mervin guy saying crazy things. Hunting for me. Fuck.

“Archibald.”

Archie pinpointed the source of the words in a half-second, his Perception flaring even as he braced his feet to run. He looked to his left, where another narrow alley met up with his own…but couldn’t see anyone. It wasn’t even his tinted goggles at fault, either. His Blindsense found nothing at all. “Who’s asking?”

“A friend.”

The voice echoed around him now, somehow sourceless. Archie did a little half-spin, hunting for the guy. “Ain’t got many of those.” He spat, if only to cover up his fear. “You Mervin?”

The voice laughed. It was…kind, and even sounded a little embarrassed. “No. That was a fake name. First one I could think of, actually.”

“Who are you, then?”

Something…shifted. Archie’s Perception screamed at him and he danced back, putting a dozen feet between him and a huge guy standing in the middle of the alley. He was similar in size to the blond man in the Cask, but his hair was black, his face different, and his eyes… Archie’s heart hammered and sweat sprang up across his back despite the cold. “What the fuck? How’d you do that? I’ve seen Stealth. That wasn’t Stealth.”

The guy waggled his fingers. They were covered in some sort of dark gloves. “Magic.”

“God, I’m so sick of magic,” Archie muttered. He sidled closer to the stone wall, his core spinning. “Well, Not-Mervin. What the fuck do you want?”

The guy blinked and lowered his hands. “I wasn’t lying before. Well, I was. We’re not friends, but I’d like that to change.”

“You said that in the Cask. Not a fan of friends,” Archie admitted. “Doesn’t end well.”

“You seemed pretty chummy with all those folks back at the Cask.”

“They owe me favors. Or I owe them.” Archie ran his hands across the wall, and the stone helped him calm down. He could run…but he was curious. “What’s your angle?”

“My name is Felix. I’m from Florida.”

“You—wait. What?”

“And I’m Unbound too.”

Archie swallowed, forcing breaths through his nose. His core spun wildly, but his Skills felt unstable, unready. Just like me. Like her. I—I can’t fight two of them.

“Hey, calm down,” the guy—Felix—said. “I’m not here to fight you or capture you or kill you.”

The guy smiled, and his teeth were bright white and perfectly aligned.

“I’m here to save you.”

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