Poisonous Fox

My traveling companions protested strongly as I alerted them to my intentions.

After leaving Emboru with an escort of infested mucary, I traveled south towards the last area where Emboru’s sibling had been scented: Southbridge. I found it ironic how all my paths seemed to lead me back there, but now, I was finally going to go there. That is, after this one last errand.

We were hidden along a bluff looking down on a familiar bandit encampment, the very one I had visited prior. Their small ramshackle settlement had changed little. A water condenser and barrel, a workshop, and a latrine. Of course, now I knew that most of the camp remained garrisoned inside the cavern abutting the cliff.

My companions, or honor guard, that had been assigned to ensure Emboru’s investment arrived safely at Southbridge, consisted of three human soldiers, numerous vultures, and several gnoll-like hundeor. The infested humans remained by my side, while the vultures and hundeor scouted.

Thinking back on the encampment below us, I struggled to remember her name. I thought she went by a pretentious title, but so much had happened between then, and now. After a moment, I snapped my fingers quietly as I recalled it. The Red Bandit Queen, or something of that nature. Certainly pretentious enough to qualify for my purposes.

Night had long since fallen, and I was prepared to infiltrate.

I pointed at the infested carrying my supplies. “Hand me it,” I said.

I could sense their disagreement. They would rather I not risk myself unnecessarily. But I needed to do this. Or, I would need to find another, perhaps less deserving, target. I already felt uncomfortable enough about my own intentions, that I did not need to be silently browbeated by Emboru’s thralls.

They could not even communicate with Emboru at this distance. So truly, however much mind the infested had, it was not enough to really count. I had no compulsion to remain polite.

“Now.”

The infested growled as its limbs clicked and it thrust out a satchel. I let it hold it while I rifled through it, until I found the grimoire, or, more importantly, the crystal knife embedded on its cover.

“B-ba-a-ddd d-d-ea,” the infested human said, smelling strongly of protestations and disapproval.

True, there were risks. But I needed to do this, if I wanted to succeed long term. It was the least risky solution.

“Alright then, a compromise. If I’m not back by dawn, then come get me, or make a distraction.”

The infested paused in that eerie manner of theirs, until finally, they consented. By scent.

I doubted they would be necessary, but backup plans were always desirable. However, if they did force their way in, I was uncertain if they would survive, or what state the bandits would be left in. It might lead to more attention than I wanted, if anyone ever followed my trail back from the city. It was unlikely, but risks were risks, and I had little to no idea of the capabilities of the inquisition.

In the best case, my venture this night would lead to only a single fatality. Even that was too much. I was no assassin.

But… I had to do this, at least, I did if I wanted to infiltrate Southbridge with a respectable position and not as a lilac-furred kunbeorn. Just the thought of their dehumanizing practices left me ill. Truly, I needed to do this.

I pulled the crystal knife from the grimoire’s front cover. The blade was made of a hard blue, almost obsidian like material. It was sharp, double sided, and four inches long. There was no guard, and the hilt was made of the same material as the blade. It felt slick, eager to slip and cut the hand that wielded it.

The grimoire itself was an odd thing. It was a leather tome that came with that crystal knife embedded into the front cover. The grimoire itself was empty. The pages, blank. Though even I could tell that the paper had been crafted with quality.

Apparently, the grimoire would grant a spell, which despite what I had thought based on my own experiences, were incredibly rare, and highly prized. Which was one reason I had to use it now, instead of risking taking it into human society.

The other oddity about grimoires in general, was that the spell they granted depended on the user. And on the conditions surrounding its use. In this case, the blade affected the resulting spell, or so I had been assured.

Personally, I knew nothing of the magics that governed this world.

The crystal knife was composed of a ‘living stone,’ and it was specially attuned to heartblood. If I wanted a spell to transform myself into a human, then I would need a human’s heartblood. The crystal did more than that though. It also absorbed the victim’s Spirit. Which… sounded bad. But the stronger the victim, the greater the resulting spell. The gender and aesthetics of the person affected the spell too, or so we assumed.

All of this was secondhand, as not even Emboru had verified this grimoire. They were, after all, single use. I still could not fathom how Emboru had found the grimoire. They sounded like national treasures.

But regardless of how they got it, it was mine now, and all this resulted in me seeking out the Red Bandit Queen. Or, Red, as I was now thinking of her. Someone strong, someone beautiful (arguably), and someone deserving of death for slaving.

Thus, when night fell, I snuck down into the bandits’ den.

It felt somewhat nostalgic.

Under the cover of my Illusions, I quickly scurried across their camp, avoiding the ramshackle buildings, and headed straight for the entrance. I paused there and listened, awaiting a chance to enter.

Breathing was barely audible. Knowing the security measures that the camp used, I was more worried of a ‘discussion,’ occurring in the sentry room than anything else. And in that case, only because discussion would keep the sentry awake longer.

An hour passed, and finally the breathing evened out, into a lull, with occasional snorts.

I slipped a solid Illusion past the seam, an Illusory knife, and lifted the lockbar.

Soon, I slipped into the cavern, locking the door behind me. If the infested needed to fight their way in, I doubted that the door would stop them.

I snuck down the carved tunnel and came out in the larger natural cavern. Already knowing the layout did much for me, and I climbed the walls straight up to where Red’s quarters were.

While I was unsure if she was home or not, I thought the chances were good that she was. And if not, then I could wait until Southbridge to find a more suitable target.

Climbing I (2/9) (+1)

Sticking to the shadows, avoiding the sparse lamps, I finally arrive at Red’s quarters.

The door is closed, which was new. I did not remember there being a door there before. Even more odd, the door had a lock and key.

This caused me to pause. Was this change a result of my last visit, or something else? Or, did I simply misremember the details?

Fortunately, I could pick a lock.

With my ears peeled for any incoming roustabouts, and for any movement on the other side of the thick door, I plied my trade and picked the lock.

Forty seconds. Recent events had apparently left me rusty.

Putting my favorite lockpicks away and slipping them back inside my jacket’s inner pocket, I stepped inside and mostly shut the door behind me.

It was dark, pitch black, except for the thin light coming through the door.

This bode poorly.

But even if Red was absent, there ought to have been valuables present, so I would not be coming away empty handed.

I was in a bit of a rush. While I had insisted that the infested remain behind, I had no delusions that they would wait patiently. Which left me somewhat exposed. A good thief never rushes their craft.

After listening for a moment though, I verified I heard no sounds of breathing or of a hidden Red.

And I was in a hurry.

“Illusion,” I mouthed

A flickering flame, no brighter than a weak candle, sprung to life above my head, illuminating the room.

The familiar ‘office’ of a criminal lord. A heavy and stained desk, littered with papers, a ledger, a map, and an overturned cup. A locked chest, too heavy to move, but perhaps something I could now penetrate. And then a bed. Or rather, a hammock, nailed into the stone walls.

All of this, absent Red.

Overlooking the disappointment that things would not be so easy, I focused on what I could gain here and now, in this situation.

I got to looting.

First I went through the drawers of the desk, sounding them out for hidden panels, checking the underside for any mechanism. But the desk appeared plain. I found an artificed crossbow, or this world's version of a single shot firearm. It would require a Charger for each shot fired. They were illegal, and very useful. I pocketed it. I found letters, which I stashed in my bag, not taking the time to read who they were addressed to. Potential blackmail material. I found an expensive paperweight, made of metal veined with crystals. That was stolen. A nice knife. I took that too.

Soon, the desk was empty of anything of more value than weight, and I turned my attention to the chest.

This one, might pose something of a challenge.

Made of iron reinforced wood, between the bands and hinges and actual locking mechanism, I had trouble deciding if it was mostly metal or wood. Either way, I doubted I could simply carve my way through to whatever treasures it hid.

That was the thing about safes. They were not a permanent protection, but rather a cost. A thief would much rather steal something unguarded. A safe meant a delay, which meant a higher likelihood of getting caught.

But no protection was infallible.

This one took a key to unlock. A cursory probe proved that it was a different mechanism than the door. That the key was more complicated. Much more.

I applied the torque to the lock and began teasing out the pins.

They were to the bottom, the top, and even the sides. And as each pin clicked into place, they grew more difficult to keep depressed.

The lock was a surprisingly high quality, considering where it was.

The pins fit so smoothly that friction of the torque only barely held them, and I had to jig several pins more than once.

A minute passed, and then another.

I was getting close.

This lock was a challenge. It was good. I could only imagine what treasures it hid. Perhaps another grimoire.

My Illusion expired, without me noticing.

I finished one side of the lock, moving to another.

Another minute.

The door swept open, spilling lamplight over me.

I froze. I had left the door ajar. Unlocked.

“Boys,” Red’s almost familiar voice shouted out. Cloth and leather rustled, my target stepped away from the doorway, back out into the hallway. She had drawn a firearm, and was holding it angled downwards, but facing the pitchblack doorway. “Get yer asses over here!”

Internally, I swore.

Blessings: Rank (1/9)

Body: 65

Mind: 75

Spirit: 49

Talents:

Athleticism (3/9):

Climbing I (2/9) (+1)

Featherlight (7/9)

Stealth I (5/9)

Trackless Tracks I (3/9)

Area Coverage (2/9)

Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)

Eschiver (3/9)

Evasion (6/9)

Spells:

Illusion I (5/9)

Touch (6/9)

Closed

Closed

Gifts:

Obsession (3/9)

Closed (0/9)

Closed (0/9)