[Defend the Dojo: Vampires defeated 7/15]
<…and another one gone...>
[Defend the Dojo: Vampires defeated 8/15]
<…and another one gone…> Voice sang, not to me.
[Defend the Dojo: Vampires defeated 9/15]
<…and another one TURNS TO DUST! Hey! I’m gonna get you too! Another one…>
[Defend the Dojo: Vampires defeated 10/15]
For all their numbers, it still bothered me that the black robed vampires were uncoordinated in their attacks. Only a couple ever rushed forward at any one time, the others only seeming to come fully awake as their companions died.
[Defend the Dojo: Vampires defeated 11/15]
[Defend the Dojo: Vampires defeated 12/15]
“No,” I grumbled, “I’m not happy. Voice, what’s wrong with these vamps?”
Voice broke off the singing and turned ironic instead.
[Defend the Dojo: Vampires defeated 13/15]
“But these aren’t ninjas. This isn’t some kind of rival school… what do they want?”
And then I wished I hadn’t asked, because as I did the voice of the female vamp from earlier rang out through the dojo.
“Halt!” she cried, her dirty black claws gripping the throat of the Nano Ninja who had been testing when this whole thing went down. “Hand over the little imp, or this one gets a promotion…” she smiled down at the child, not nicely, “…to red belt. Immediately.”
Possibly because he had run out of vamps to kick to death, Master Brandon did halt, and the rest of the school with him. From the crowd huddled behind Jayleen, I heard someone cry out in fear for the little boy held hostage. The vamp Adalaide was about to dust took the opportunity to jump back out through one of the broken windows and flee.
“Let the boy go!” boomed Master Brandon, as Adalaide started to circle slowly around behind her. “If you release him unharmed, you have my word we will resolve this conflict peacefully.”
“I am not here for peace,” she spat out, contemptuously, “I’m here for the golden haired halfling.”
Most of the gathered spectators did a great job of not turning and looking at me. But I don’t want any XP if it’s the experience of watching a little kid bleed to death. I wove my way through the forest of legs and almost stepped on a crumpled up piece of paper, now unfolded, with a crude, mass-reproduced picture of my face on it, underneath the words “Wanted” and “Reward”. The paper Darkfistz was holding. The half-dwarf was nowhere in sight, though. I pushed forward until I was within view of the vampire.
“Fine.” I told her. “I’m here. What do you want?”
She held the pause just a little too long, he face doing that slightly blank thing, before her smile turned to a sneer and she said “I want you to surrender.”
Yeah, but for what?
<…or she’s lagging.> Voice no longer sounded any kind of confident.
Master Brandon made a low, deep rumble at this demand, and I had the nasty feeling this little truce was nearing its expiration date in a hurry.
“Ok!” I said, raising my hands above my head and dropping the stake, trying to think. As soon as she has me, she rips the kid’s throat out. As soon as whatever she’s stalling for happens, she rips his throat out. I need to make her throw away her shield. I need for the kid to be a liability to her, and a dead kid to be even more of one. I looked over at Master Brandon. Well, he can take care of THAT part. “I’m unarmed!” I began edging away from Gritsmith, trying to clear the field. “Now, your turn.”
<…no one can run so many clients at once, the system requirements would be way beyond any normal person’s setup…>
Her brittle smile turned, for a second, genuinely amused. “Very well.” she stated. “I have no weapons, either.” And on the wall behind her, a black doorway began drawing itself; one rising vertical line, a hard right corner, a horizontal top post…
I took a deep breath (the first thing we do in this life is breathe…)
…and charged. I ran right at the vampire, screaming like a maniac, and this time the blank look on her face had nothing to do with her attention being elsewhere. Master Brandon, only the barest second behind me, came at her from her right. Sizing up the situation, she turned and hurled her hostage at him, leaving a bleeding (but importantly, non-lethal) gash in his skin. Master Brandon caught the kid out of the air and slid to a halt while the vampire opened her clawed hands wide to receive me. The smoking black line on the wood behind her reached the top left corner of its would-be doorway and began tracing downwards.
I gathered my ki around me for the third and final time of the day, and just outside of the vamp’s reach, turned my charge into an upwards leap and somersault, over the surprised vampire, and landed a perfect Flying Tiger kick on the wall just beneath the descending line of the Dimension Door. The wooden planking shattered.
The black line seemed to pour into the empty space around my foot (which was, rather to my amazement, on the other side of the wall) squiggle around lost for a moment, and then fade, the smoking doorway uncompleted.
Holding the moment, I slowly pivoted around on my grounded foot and came into Wind Stance facing the room, and then, before anyone react, put my thumb on my nose and made a rude gesture at the vampire.
“So long, sucker!”
I turned and bolted through my new-made opening. She followed, and I wished for my Talarian Sandals as I sprinted through the misty streets, the vampire hard on my heels.
“That reward poster.” I panted. “I guess it worked better than the plan of hiding till my insurance ran out. Only a week left, too.”
“A what?” I was managing to stay ahead of the vamp behind me, but I was running out of breath.
“Oh, yeah.” I agreed. There’s no way Keen works for anybody. “But these other vamps must work for him.”
<1st level junk toons.> Voice scoffed.
I ran past up past the amphitheater, along Outside Street, and past the Market District guards, who recognized me and waved me past. Hooray for Hellena! I thought, mentally blessing my contact in the City Guard. She must have given them my description.
At the sight of the pursuing vampire, however, the guards brandished their spears, and she glowered at me as I disappeared around the corner, but did not challenge them.
As soon as I was out of sight, I found the drain pipe Ramsey had showed me on our first visit here, and shimmied my way up to the low rooftop forming one of the boundaries of the district. I wasted no time, sprinted across the eves, and there, on the other side, was the vampire
, climbing up from the back alleyway that formed the other half of this illicit entrance. What Keen knows, she knows.
I waited until she was about halfway up, then pried loose one of the heavy clay shingles, and jumped. She was completely taken by surprise as I hit her like a rogue rock fall, and we both crashed to earth together, all my weight on the shingle I had pressed against her throat. The tile shattered as it sliced through her neck, and her body turned to dust before it could break my fall.
[Defend the Dojo: Vampires defeated 14/15]
[-7 Hit Points, Falling (Bludgeoning) damage]
[Hit Points: 13/20]
I spun around to the sound of applause behind me, but it was only a shopkeeper from the Market District, outside on her lunch break.
“Nice one!” she called. “Bloody vampires oughtn’t to be allowed in our city, that’s what I say. Don’t worry, girl.” She nodded at me. “I won’t tell.”
The body of the vamp had turned to a fine ash, but her hooded cloak remained intact. That’s funny, why would the rest of her clothes be consumed with her?
I picked it up, waved the shopkeep a vague salute in farewell, and limped away.
“Yeah.” I agreed. “Me too.”
Chapter Eight
I swaddled myself in the vampire’s black cloak, which was much too big for me, but did a more than adequate job of hiding my features. I was thrilled to discover the cloak also contained a couple of inside pockets containing several gold pieces, maybe enough to pay for the damage to the Black Belt Factory’s wall.
I can’t go back to the dojo. I glumly realized, fingering the coins. Not yet.
“If it’s illegal, can’t we do something about it? Turn him in?”
I needed a place to lie low. I could probably wander the streets all day, but the later it got, fewer people would be out and about, and the more conspicuous I would be. I turned my steps towards the lower part of the city, where hooded figures who don’t look as cool as they think they do were less cause for comment, and did my best to blend in with the mysterious thugs and shady bravos.
Here in the less affluent neighborhoods, the effects of the rabies plague were more pronounced and devastating. People who had no homes to turn to, or who had been shunned from them for fear of contagion, shivered and sweated on the streets, in doorways, beneath overhangs and in the corners of alleyways. I tried to approach one such huddled victim, afraid he was dead, but he came awake with a cry of rage, spittle flying as he ranted at me incoherently. I scrambled away from him, trying not to get bit.
Rabies. It’s not supposed to be carried by rats, but some evil magic had modified this plague to be spread by Triport’s most common scavenger, and even those who were able to afford the divine magic that was the disease’s only cure couldn’t keep the rats from overrunning the sewers and alleyways.
On some streets were chalked lines around piles of ash where they burned the bodies of the rats they could catch, but in others, the rodents feasted freely on the corpses of unburied victims. Everywhere, businesses were closed and quarantine marks decorated the doorways of infected homes. From some of them I heard people crying, but they wouldn’t open the door when I knocked to ask if I could help. Others stayed dark and silent.
I walked on.
At one point I attached myself to a loosely knit group whose high collars and low brimmed hats fell just short of actual disguises and followed them to a line of people whose general demeanor was one of fiercely guarded privacy. The two people in front of me were wearing actual cloaks with deep hoods, though one of them looked less mysterious than drunk.
“...what I’m saying is, you see, what I’m saying, is, good riddance to the bastard. It ain’t Triport’s business if some misbegot—, some mish—, some halfbreed prince gets himself kidnapped!”
“It’s our business if Leon thinks we had anything to do with it.” his companion replied, without heat. I got the impression this was a well worn rant.
“Yeah, well, everyone knows, EVERYONE knows: it was the elves.” This was delivered in the triumphant tone of one who had just now solved a great mystery. “The Great Forest has hated Leon’s guts for mill—, millen—, forever. Then some silly queen of theirs goes and falls in love with Leon’s Patriarch, and just like that, JUST like that, it’s all peace and happiness and sing songs on the northern continent. And they’re all building an armadad—, an arma—, a bunch of ships.”
“Not anymore they’re not.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. EXACTLY! No heir, no ships. No ships, no bloody ‘shpansionist—, expanin—, no bloody Leon empire all over again. No heir,” he repeated, “no problem. Only now, NOW the bitch is trying again!”
“Then it’s a good thing elves don’t conceive more than once a century. The Patriarch will be long dead by then...”
The line disappeared into a stairwell leading below street level, underneath a faceless stone building of indeterminate function. A bouncer at the top of the stairs collected a cover charge, but did not ask anyone to remove their hoods. Perfect! Just what I’m after!
I shuffled forward with everyone else, and when it was my turn, handed my gold piece up to the bouncer, who turned out to be much better dressed than I would have expected.
“Uh uh, nope.” He flicked my coin back at me, which I snatched out of the air. “Adults only, kid. Get out of here.”
“Who’re you calling ‘kid’?” I growled back, but the last thing I wanted to do was cause a scene. Subtlety. I thought. What would Ramsey do?
Instead, I pulled another gold piece from my cloak and flicked both of them neatly back at the bouncer, who caught them as deftly as I had. He looked at the coins instead of me, then shrugged and pocketed them.
“Well I guess that ain’t no kid’s allowance.” he rationalized, and then handed me a tin cup full of liquid. “Drink up.”
“What’s this?” I sniffed it suspiciously, but it smelled clean.
“Water. Proves you’re not infected.”
Hydrophobia, I recalled, was one of the symptoms of rabies. Along with an inability to swallow.
I emptied the cup in one long draught, and he opened the gate and let me in.
The stairwell was wrought iron and spiraled down, eventually landing at large foyer leading underneath the building. Carved wooden double doors stood open beneath a peaked doorway, over which hung a painted sign illuminated by a red lantern: The Hourglass.
Beyond the doors, the interior of the Hourglass opened up into a surprisingly large space; the multi-tiered floor created clusters of small tables arranged amongst cleverly placed privacy screens and pots of cultured Lucerna Nanorum. These glowing mushrooms were groomed for coordinated colors and long, slender stems, reminding me of the greenery arrangements in La Baleine. What light was not provided by the mushrooms came instead from little red lanterns placed carefully in the middle of each table. The lanterns were indeed in the shape of hourglasses, with a candle flickering in the bottom bulb.
I made my way to an unoccupied table with a good view of the stage and set my back to a large pot overflowing with cascades of tiny yellow mushroom caps, each one just beginning to open and letting out a mischievous little glow.
A waiter smoothly appeared out o
f the darkness. “May I take your order?”
“Err,” I thought fast. I was hungry, but anything filling was going to make me sleepy. “Just some tea, for now.”
He nodded at me and winked. “Of course, miss. I understand.” he said, and whisked off before I could ask him what he was talking about.
There was some activity on the stage, and I turned my attention to an androgynous figure who had appeared there and, without having to say a word, slowly commanded the attention of the room. A few cheers rang out from the lower tables.
“Welcome, welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to our fine establishment this evening!” More cheers as the figure pulled out some notes from their pocket. “I am pleased to announce our first performer of the night, new to the Hourglass only this week! A rare, exotic treat, just in the from high peaks of the Stormshades, it is my pleasure to present...” the figure glanced down at the notes, and a small flicker of uncertainty crossed their face, “...err, Panties, that, err, Clank! Let’s all give it up for Miss Clank!”
The indiscriminate lower tables hooted and cheered, but before I had to decide if I was supposed to cheer too, a woman strutted out onto the stage, and my jaw dropped about halfway down my chest.
It was the security guard from Velceron’s magic shop, the big chested half-ork with the painted nails and the short skirt Voice had been so dismissive of. Oh. It’s her uniform for BOTH jobs...
Music started from the band pit, and Panties began to dance. She was actually quite good, in an extremely athletic sort of way, doing flexible stunts on and around the floor-to-ceiling poles which were interspersed around the stage, although I had to admit that her wardrobe was wholly inadequate to the task. Sarah would SO disapprove. I thought as a particularly exuberant whip around the pole dislodged her chainmail bust piece and sent it into the band pit. There was a clank and some cussing from below, and hoots and laughter from the tables.
Two tall figures interrupted my very educational view by sitting down at the table directly in front of me. I scowled at them, but they were completely unaware of my presence.
For A Few Minutes More Page 12