Wanted Dead

It wasn't for a few blocks that I managed to coax the harpy, who had been fluttering along in the panic, into a shadowed area behind another manor.

She was a little shorter than me, with blond short hair that looped up around her cheeks in a curl. At least, it was a sort of hair, it was enough like hair that I can call it that. Framing her chest were two large wings rather than arms, with pearly white feathers. The same was said of everything from the thigh downwards.

Harpies were notoriously nudist. I mean, satyrs don't wear pants since you can't really see much through the fur, but harpies absolutely had something to hide. Two somethings, specifically. It was hard to keep my eyes off of them as I spoke, "Are you alri-"

"Of course I'm not alright!" The dove-like harpy squawked in my face, flapping her wings.

"Shh!" Jill put her finger to her lips.

"I am cold, I am nude, I was kidnapped and manhandled and nearly sacrificed, I'm the furthest from alright I've ever been!"

It was this exclamation that ended with her suddenly pulling her wings around and covering her breasts. I was finally able to concentrate. By the saints it was like watching someone carry around two bowling balls, what do they feed harpies these days?

But then she did something odd. She brought a few feathers of her wing to her face, feeling at it. With a panicked expression, she covered that too.

Jill and I met glances, then we both looked at the harpy.

"Thank you for saving me." She said, a stick suddenly shoved firmly up her ass, "I am very grateful."

"Uh. Don't mention it." I said.

"Yeah, I mean, it's not like ya got cash, right?" Jill asked, under her regular delusion that anything, up to and including gratitude, could be transformed into money..

"My name is-" She gave a short cooing sound, which threw in a bit of whistling, then said, "Adequate Climates Upon The Arrival Of Serene Seasons."

"Alright Serene-"

"Adequate Climates Upon The Arrival Of Serene Seasons." She said, a slight sternness in her tone making it clear that no part of her name was optional.

"Okay, Adequate Climates Upon The Arrival Of Serene Seasons, I'm Callum."

Jill gawped at me.

I blinked. I just said my name.

Now, this may not seem like a big deal to you, dear reader, but as an asset reallocator, privacy is quite important to me! I still don't know why I told her my name straight out, I think it must've been a mix of the panic, the necklace still burning my neck, and the fact that she had flustered me with her Harpy name. Regardless...

"I am going to the police." She said, muffled only slightly by her wings.

"No!" Both me and Jill shouted.

"What do you mean no!?" Serene exclaimed, poking her head out.

"I mean-" My immediate hesitation at police intervention seemed to set off suspicion. Her eyes peeled slightly.

"What do you mean... No?" She spoke slowly. Then she started to squat down, as if preparing a lunge, or to take flight.

"Hey, we don't need to get police involved with this!" She'd seen our faces. She knows our voices. I gave her my damn name. Someone's going to be asking questions, and... to be frank, there were probably a few old case files from Orlain and Amalen and Whitehorne and, hell, just about every city on this coast as well, that saving some harpy from a cultist wouldn't be able to wash away. "I'm sure they're already swarming that mansion! Why don't we just- uh-"

Suddenly, she fell from her squat forward, landing face down in the grass.

I looked from her on the ground, to Jill. She lazily tossed the rock off to the side

"Jill." I said.

"Callum." She responded, enunciating my name to remind me of my slip of the tongue.

I knelt down and checked the harpy's pulse. She, thankfully, wasn't dead. I picked her unconscious body up and hoisted it over my shoulders. Her chest really was like a pair of watermelons. I nearly fell over trying to carry her, and had to pull more than half of her body forward over my stomach to get any semblance of balance. The feathers certainly were not helping.

"Okay." I started, "We'll... go dump her in front of the temple. She'll be fine. And, uh, then, we drop off the necklace, and-" As I was saying this, I was pulling at the necklace. And pulling. And pulling. And stopped speaking.

Every pull seemed to yank at my skin, as though I were pulling at my own flesh. This pain was severe when I tried to pull at the jewel that was rested on my chest under my poorly fitted stolen clothes. It wasn't as though I had spilled superglue on my neck and left a tacky ruby there, it was somehow even worse.

Jill was staring at me. Her eyes darted down and then back up to my face. "Take it off."

"I can't." I said.

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I mean I can't take it off!" I said. I put the harpy down and demonstrated, grabbing at the necklace and yanking on it. "Fuck!" I shouted, pulling my hand away and shaking it free of the burning ruby's infliction of pain. The necklace didn't shift or clank or move in any way, every bead stuck in place, on the edge of uncomfortably hot. I could swear there was a bit of steam coming from my shirt...

Throughout this show, Jill was getting more and more nervous, now looking at me with something approaching genuine fear, though still trying to save face. She didn't say anything. She would be the first to declare she wasn't good at improvisation that didn't involve throwing things at people.

"Okay. New plan." I said, raising a finger, "We're going to see the witch that hired us. She wanted this necklace, she'll know how to get it off of me."

"And da chick?" Jill motioned to the still unconscious figure on the floor.

"She'll tag along, and we'll let her go while we're on the fastest horse out of here." I said, pointing with my thumb generally setwards. "She might not even remember any of this!" I shrugged, smiling. Inside, I'll admit, I was panicking. In hindsight, it probably would've been a better idea to get the harpy to the temple, would've saved me a lot of trouble with the guards at least. But to say I was eager to get this stupid necklace off was a vast understatement.

"If we're beyond lucky, which ain't been da rule tonight." Jill said, nudging Serene with her foot. She opened up the bag that she had surprisingly still been holding, and started wrapping the girl in my jacket and some other old clothing, enough to cover her... or at least keep her hidden. "So how do we get to the witch's place?"

"You remember the address, right? It's in the Craft Ward."

"I mean how do we get out of this neighborhood?"

"Well, we can tie a rope around her ankles and chest, and then I'll pull-"

Jill cleared her throat and showed me the satchel. Looking inside I only saw a couple of smoke bombs, a glass cutting tool, and some other 'just in case' type items. What I certainly didn't see was a rope. And that's because it was still tied to some broken chunk of wood, pooled up in the middle of a cultist's sacrificial circle.

"And, after we've pulled 'er up with our nonexistent rope." Jill explained, "We'll carry her across da entire town. An unconscious girl, totally nekkid, slung over ya shoulder. Right?"

I turned. The night was casting dull light, but that was overpowered by the lamps that adorned the finely paved streets of the King's Ward. The houses were fine up and down the road, most of them had more than one story, and all of them had some kind of front lawn.

You could almost tell the kind of people who lived in any given house. There was the well adorned naturist beauty of a rich alfr in front of one house, and the cropped grassy lawn in front of what was likely a human's manor. But it was all Burrowsmouth, whichever way you took it. Classic colonial, built long before the old Dragon Empire fell to shit and Melodia became its own country.

These musings were only to bide my brain some time to come up with a new angle as I looked back to the street. Luckily, I found that new angle. Unluckily, it required some squeezing to get into.

"Are ya serious?" Jill asked.

"Yes."

Sewers aren't as bad as you think, especially in the King's Ward. Sewers are generally built to redirect water from rain, which was incredibly common in the warmer months of nyxwards Melodia. This kept the streets from flooding.

That doesn't mean it was pleasant, not by any means, and it was only going to get worse.

Moist stonework surrounded us, and I had to slouch as I walked along the walkway that hugged where water would normally flow. There wasn't much, of course. It hadn't rained for a few days, and water would head downhill, where we were going.

The dried sewer bed stank of fungus and rat, with street refuse (what little there was, this was the King's Ward after all) piled in amongst it. The air was musty and humid. As we walked, my boots regularly trekked over mud, or what I hoped was mud. Sweat poured down my forehead and over my eyes. Raising my hand to wipe it stressed the cut on the shoulder I wasn't using to carry Serene.

The worst part, really the worst part, was that we didn't even have a lantern. As a thief, a lantern isn't something you ever want to bring with you on a normal job. I didn't expect to go into a sewer, so I didn't expect to need one. All a lantern does for a thief is blow the night vision you attain from a good amount of time in darkness, turning even slightly dim light into a total blackout.

But, at the moment, it was nothing but blackout. I had to take it on principle that somehow, in some way, dull moonlight was getting in through enough gutters and sewer plates that Jill was able to see by.

She led the way, and occasionally directed me down a ladder. The slippery metal was harsh on my fingers, and I almost slipped on one of them, which happened to be a near ten foot fall. What was not making it easier was the warmth that burst across my chest when a twinge of pain hit, as well heavy harpy slung over my back.

The water began to pool up as we entered into sewers under the Central Ward, I heard it rushing past us from time to time. In addition, it got filthier and smellier too! Around these parts, a lot more got onto the street and washed away with the rain. Corpses of animals were common enough, but as were the things eating those corpses.

It is said that monsters tend to hide in city sewers, but my keen hearing kept us from anything that sounded a bit TOO slathering. There were no giant spider webs, no boggart hives. Jill said she saw a sewer gator at one point, but I think she was just trying to scare me. There was just the smell, the water, and the certainty that we were heading in as straight a line as possible away from the King's Ward, which meant we'd be going towards the Craft's Ward no matter what.

However, we did actually run into a troll.

I hoisted the harpy over my shoulder as the thing stood up, rising out of the corner. It turned from a perfectly normal boulder you'd find in any sewer into a 7 foot tall rock monster with an under bite and over brow you could balance plates on. It had to slouch somewhat, under the sewer ceiling.

I could only see the guy by the moonlight that was particularly heavy through some thoroughfare's drainage grate, shining directly down over him. Even then, it was a strain, his glinting diamond teeth helped.

It blocked a short stonework bridge across a river of babbling old muddy water.

"Fee Fi Fo Fum..."

"That's giants." I said, "Hill Giants say that."

"Oh." The troll said. He put his digit to where his ear might've been and stuck it inside an orifice of rock, pulling out a pebble and flicking it away, "What do trolls say, den?"

"Who goes Tip Tap over my bridge...?" Jill offered, not quite sure herself.

"But you ain't on my bridge yet." The Troll said, clearly a philosopher, "So's I can't say that."

"You can say it once we're on your bridge, if you'd like." I responded.

"Whatchu got over ya shoulder?" He asked, pointing at Serene.

"Nonya bidniss." Jill snapped.

"It is my bidniss!" The Troll said, "I'm a watchm’n f'r The Coin."

"Ugh." I groaned.

The Coin, or The Jester's Coin, or whatever you wanted to call it, was a local gang. Some people might use the word 'thieves guild', but I always thought that was a pretty stupid way to look at it. You didn't become a wayfarer thief, and it certainly wasn't an official guild like the Hooker's Guild or the Street Sweeper's Guild.

It was a band of miscreants led by some Punchinello asshat that ran a lot of the smuggling in town, and tried to keep its finger on the pulse of local crime, and usually did a better job of it than the watch.

I didn't bother with them, I hadn't gotten in trouble with them since I've never been in Burrowsmouth long enough to do so. As you, my keen audience, might have put together... I was not looking to change this deal.

If this Troll was saying he was with the Coin, I had no reason to think he was lying. Trolls were rarely creative, even down here where their silicon brains would be far better in the chill and the humid. This one in particular seemed to be a few knives short of a drawer.

That would be useful.

"What's your name, friend?"

"Name's Gravel." He pointed at himself with his thumb.

"Gravel. We are... members of the Street Sweepers! We're down here taking away some of the trash that ended up in the sewers! That's what's over my shoulder!" I patted Serene firmly on the plumage covered ass.

"Is' some kinda bird." He pointed.

"Yep! And you know birds! They hate being underground, so we've got to make sure it gets back into the air right away."

"Uhh..." Gravel started, scratching his stomach. He was basically nude aside from some purple paint slathered onto his arm. There wasn't anything to cover, and what was covered was serviced by a loin cloth. What a troll could possibly have under a loin cloth was anyone's guess, but certainly not mine. "No... only dem... Kobolds work down 'ere. Lil' lizards!"

"Well, there you are! This is my kobold associate!" I motioned to Jill.

Jill glared at me.

"Das a goblin." The perceptive Gravel said, "Got ears on."

"I think you'll find she's a kobold!" I said, "See the sharp teeth? The height?"

"Da tail." He said, pointing at Jill, "Where's 'er tail?"

"She lost it in a tragic street sweeping accident."

Jill turned fully to glare at me at that one, I pretended I didn't notice.

"What, did da street jump up and bite it off?" Said the suddenly sarcastic troll, "Pull da udder one. Hur hur hur."

"Well, Gravel, obviously you're no fool. You're right, we're not street sweepers." I looked apologetic.

Jill stared at me, my smile was plastered to my face and I only gave her a glance and a wink.

"Really Gravel, good work figuring us out." I patted the Troll with my free hand, walking subtly forward. He moved with me, smiling.

"Heh, yeah, you ain't so tricky. I knows what I sees." He pointed at his eye as he walked with me to the little bridge. Jill was close behind.

I stopped with him at the corner, "It was great meeting you, Gravel. Good work figuring us out, really, I'm not usually so outdone! But you nailed it!"

"No problem buddy! Dontchu try to pull a fast one on me again, hur hur!" The troll responded as I crossed the bridge, Jill in toe.

I broke into a run once I was at the other side, the harpy bouncing on my shoulder. Jill kept up with me, goblins being quite good at strategic retreats. It was about thirty seconds before there was a roar of anger and scraping of stone far behind us as the troll finally figured out what had happened.

"Do you think we're near the witch?" Jill shouted at me.

"I don't think that matters right now!" I said. My eyes were locked forward.

"Manhole right here!" Jill pointed and ran ahead of me. There was stomping approaching now, at high speeds. I could hear the thump of the troll’s fists each time he plodded forward, and the heavy snorting he was making as a full battle rage overtook him.

There was light back there, the troll made sure of that. Where his fist scraped against the brickwork, there were fountains of sparks that barely lit up the side of his face. When there wasn't a spark, there was a loose brick being knocked out of his way. Those unlucky bricks shattered across his face, the speed picking up as he charged forward.

Jill had stopped suddenly, and I was able to see her just well enough to note where the ladder was. She headed up first, and grunted with effort as she tried to push the manhole cover out of the way.

I stepped up after her, pushing my foot on the ladder and hopping rather than bothering with foot over foot motion. Climbing with one hand was bad enough, but doing it in a hurry was even worse. The clammy metal bars gave me a hard fought escape, even as the pounding steps of the troll got closer and closer.

Jill burst forth into the light of the moon, the cold air overtaking me below. I blinked a few times as fresh crisp air hit my face.

Then there was the troll.

I barely yanked my foot out of the way, throwing myself upwards again. The harpy was flung forward, landing with a thump on the street. A nude unconscious woman flung into the open. Perfectly casual.

Compared to a rampaging troll, the interest of any midnight bystanders or cops did not cross my mind.

The troll's stony boulder fist almost got my foot, but only managed to yank the ill fitting shoe from my new wardrobe off. It fell backwards, breaking a few bars on the yard height it fell. There was a splash as it landed in the muddy water off the path.

We stared down into the manhole for a few moments more before Jill squatted down and shoved the cover back over it.

The street we were on was dark. I reached into the jacket that was covering the harpy laying on the ground and took out the brochure. After a short look at the map in moonlight, I managed to guess where we were.

After that, it just took a bit of lifting and a lot of running to get ourselves to the witch's cottage.