Half way through my 7th goblet of sour, stale wine, it suddenly hits me. I’m broke, or at least will be soon if I continue drinking and whoring like I have since arriving in the great festering city of Ought. There is only so much drowning oneself in cheap sex and bad booze before a man starts feeling a bit suicidal. I arrived in the city 10 nights ago through the beggars gate. The cheapest entrance into the city, most who wander through it are robbed blind inside an hour. Either I was lucky or I wear my long sword convincingly enough to look dangerous. The city is not kind to the poor. A life of pox, shit and mud and that’s on the good days. Money is the only true royalty here in Ought. If you have it, you live in the merchant haven of Greenilian or Ash Risen, or if you’re really a player you might have a villa on in the Rise, on the very footsteps of the Octo-spire. The home of the Ocotocracy, the eight mysterious leaders of Ought. Looking at my money I’ve got a collection of gold and wedges equaling about 9 whole gold or Eights. For that, I might be able to smell a fart of someone in Greenilian, maybe even the rise…but probably not.
Young men with long swords and limited funds tend to find themselves if less classy districts like the Blemish Quarter, or like me, in the Rose, which doesn’t sound so bad, but I have yet to find a rose of any color here, unless its some sort of code word for whore. Those it has, best in the city if you believe them. My quarters are in the dimly lit dive bar/ bordello cleverly named “whores galore” The atmosphere is dark, brooding, and thick. Men come here for two things only, a stiff drink followed by a stiff….well.. It’s clean at least by Ought standards, I even get a cot in a room which I share. Shared rooms must be part of “the hurry up and finish your business model”, set up by the proprietor, a one Ore Mann. Ore can be described in three words, bald, fat, and mustache. Not a bad man from what I’ve seen. He runs a fair business with fair prices and he’s not too bad on his girls.
I’m staring worriedly into my cracked wooden cup, wondering what I’m going to do in the next day or 3 when I run out of coin, when Ore is suddenly there staring down at me with a clay beaker of purple swill, ready to refill my cup. I nod and pass my cup which he refills generously enough. I numbly toss a pie wedged piece of gilt on the counter, maybe it’s a 1/16th maybe only a 1/32nd its hard to tell sometimes. Setting down his beaker, he pushes the coin back at me with one large dry index finger. I know that now I have to at least pretend to listen to what he’s saying, its only polite for the free drink. Ore Catches my eye before starting in his sotto but strong voice.
“ Been watch’n you the last few nights, been enjoy’n yerself grand. That’s good. But ya seem somewhat idle of late and it gets me thinking that yer running low on coin. Perhaps ya need a job to revive yar thirst and awaken ya lust? No young man should be look’n so serious while so down in his cups. I’a been told that that a mage in the Annex be looking for a young able body to help with some task. If yer interested take this and see”
The note that he passes me is almost an insult to call it paper, but it will last long enough to find the location in the Arcane Annex. I down my cup and get up to go. Long sword on my hip, 8 cups is a lot for someone like me and it’s going to be a long interesting walk to the AA.
Thankfully I don’t slip in any mud or twist my ankle or get harassed by any thugs, most thugs will leave you alone if they see you have a bigger sword than they do, especially if you’re drunk. Drunk people with swords is just a combination most of us would soon avoid, that’s not to say that they won’t try to get the drop on you.
Mages are a different matter all together, most of the time they will avoid a straight fight even if you’re sober, I’m just the bully type to them I guess, little pricks will light you on fire though, drunk, bladed and on fire, not a pretty sight.
The Arcane Annex is dark and claustrophobic, the buildings loom 5 stories above your head and seem to lean into the street as they go up, maybe I’m just that drunk though. The air always feels heavy here, kind of like the moment before a fight starts, there also is a tension that you feel whenever magic is being worked on any scale, kind of a stiffness in your neck that crawls up and eats at your vision. I hate magic.
In any case I wade through the tension and my inebriation with equal difficulty, but I still manage to find the door to the basement of my mystery employer. It’s in the down a small flight of stairs that leads into the basement and sub-basements of the block.
The Door is old, heavy and Oaken, only barely visible from the light of the distant street-lamp. I knock once on the heavy door. To my surprise, my had smashes through the door like cheap balsa wood, looking again I can see the illusion fading around my stuck arm, I suppose most aren’t willing to try and beat down a heavy oak door assuming that’s what it is. Mages! Feeling stupid, I pull my arm out and open the door for myself. Inside there is a long and dark passage, at the very end I can see a faint light.
“um, hello, I kind of broke your door, you might want to illusion that up a bit now, sorry….hic”
I get nothing but silence. Mages are good at two things, being creepy and being cryptic, this guy has the first in spades. I start to move down the corridor, trying not to bump over skulls with candle wax, or disturb the fire belching lizards or the fairy who can play a kazoo with her butt. About 50feet into my tiptoed clutter dance I hear the voice. Like sandpaper on metal.
“Come in my son, we’ve been waiting, We would talk and make a bargain.”
I go down the rest of the hallway and into a small room, inside is lit dimly by a handful of candles there are books and bottles and other wizard crap spread all over the place. In the center of the small and cluttered room is a small round table with a black velvet cover, behind the table sits my host. My host sits hunched in their chair head hidden and covered in a deep cowl, only their hands are visible, which are old gnarled and covered in mystic rings that make my head hurt to look at them for too long.
“um yeah, Hi, Ore said that we could talk Eight’s” I say as cautiously as I can making sure all my syllables are understandable and sober sounding.
“Indeed we can talk” My host rasps. “But first, I would know what kind of man you are”
Then producing a deck of stained card,s my host spreads them out to me.
“take a card young son”
I take a card and turn it over.
“ah, the tower, this card is your present, very good, lets look into your past.”
I take another card
“The boar, interesting, now for your future”
I take card farthest from me. I’m not encouraged by what I see.
“HA! The Great Wastes, very interesting, Yes my young son, we can deal”
Confused, I sit there thinking ‘Ok, so are you going to tell me what that was all about’, but before I can collect my tongue. My host produces a whole gold coin and places it on the table before me and my three cards. Silence truly is golden.
I sit as quietly and politely as possible, trying not to get distracted by the rings on my host’s hands.
“ I will start by saying simply this. I’m dying. I won’t get phillosphical with you, I’ll only say that this displeases me and that I would like to avoid death for as long as possible, I have searched for years for a cure for my condition, but money, power, magic, faith and everything else have come to naught. I have one last chance before I am consumed. If you can complete for me a single task I will award you a very generous sum especially to one such as your self. Say. 1000 gold?”
My jaw drops
“The task will not be easy for you and it is impossible for me in my crippled condition. My time and stamina are short so I will give you only the facts.
Have you heard of the Blue Onix?”
“Ah, is that some new pub?”
My host coughs and rasps in what I guess to be laughter
“Here in Ought there is a wealthy merchant named Barabaxx. He has a most remarkable talisman that he has refused to sell, barter, or trade, and which he squanders on lechery I might add. I need this amulet, this Blue Onix. It has the power to restore and regenerate ones health and stamina. You can no doubt guess what this letch uses it for. You must get it from him. When he is entertaining he keeps the gem about himself as a sort of pendant, When he’s not, the gods only know. Your methods are your own. I care not how it is acquired, only results matter. Can you take a risk for rewards? Can we deal?
Stunned but also intrigued I simply say “yes we can deal”
My host once again produces from their hand 5 more whole-gold coins, and places them next to their cousin.
“For expenses and preparations, Now we drink to our deal”
Two gold plated cups are produced and a thick sweet smelling wine is poured, I make sure my host drinks before I do the same, the wine is warm and strong and I feel it slide all the way down. It’s not a very manly drink compared with sour wine and paint thinner, but in a pinch it would do.
Our deal made I collect my coins and leave without a word.
Continued-
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