In my new role as a member of the soulbound of the stronghold, I had to give up on a lot of old undesirable habits of mine. I could not just bribe my way out of paying an undesirable tax or to avoid my way out of unwanted atention, nor could I just run away to a new city, pretending all the mistaskes and illegalities I did on the last one to be non-existent. Now I was fixed on the stronghold. Which means that anything hunting me down, would eventually find me.
But a habit of mine that never died would be that I always meet my suppliers personally. At this point it was more of a tradition than anything else really. Since I joined the stronghold, I have mostly been receiving the aether-gold for my inventions from a nearby city. A small place that is mostly just used as a merchant’s outpost. Mostly from a fellow Kharadron called Jarag, the natiest and most umpleasent duardin I have ever met, but he is the only one to do business with people like me, and beggars can’t be picks.
One night a week I go to that same old inn, to absorb the same old smell of alcohol, the same old smoke from the cigars and pipes, and the same old disgusting stench of urine and toxins from the old drukards that frequent that place for the damned, the undesired and the shady. All that without telling anyone on the stronghold but Alvora. It is not like I’m trying to keep this a secret, but I’m not exactly being showy with it either.
And this night, this shitty place stays the same as it was about 4 weeks ago. Got to respect tradition right?
And to stay faithful to a tradition, you got to follow all the old rituals. When you’re running out of the damn inn, you need to take a deep breath and count to a hundred. If you don’t puke out all the ale and food you ate you should be good to go home alone, if not, you better start preparing someone else to take you back. This time however, I was at 64 before I was interrupted by an annoying cackle.
“Look who it is! I must say, you look better up close than you do from a distance Grumbril.”
There is nothing more impolite and disrespectful than to approach a drunk on that old alley, but just for the sound of the mocking voice I think I had a good idea of who it was. When I lifted my head and look at the direction of the one interrupting my “recovery session”, I instantly recognized him. The colors of Barak-Mhornar, the goddamn smell of expensive fruit cologne, the sassy strut, the mocking pose and mainly, that god forsaken mask with the big perverse smile. That is how everyone in Barak-Mhornar described the young Malkaan Vargas, the rising star in the port-cities criminal underworld.
He appeared out of nowhere and with his clan he broke and exploited every single old rule from both the criminal underworld and the Kharadron Code. If there was any hole, breach or badly written line in the code, the Vargas would drain and exploit every single drop they could out of that opportunity. He killed those who could not be killed, traded with those who should not be traded, robbed those who could not be robbed. In a single week he became one of the 30 wealthiest individuals in Barak-Mhornar, in a month, he became the 3rd richest, only below my disgrace of a father. He’s been called everything, from a jester, to a madman, to a genius. But Vargas is just not common. If he was like any other Kharadron, he would be out of the game by now. Something about him is different. He is just masking it over with his air of arrogance. The old sky-port is still deciding what to do with him, and while they are busy deciding what to do with him, he is burning the sky-port down, rebuilding it to whatever he wishes.
Honestly? People should have know this guy was trouble as soon as he decided that his ancestor mask would ressemble Skavor the Betrayer. The evil grin in his mask combine with the piercing black lenses gives him an appeareance exactly like how I would imagine the ancestor god that according to old legends, made the foul rat man.
I was very shaky. I did not bring my hammer to this, since most of the time the negotiations with Jarag are usually pretty peaceful and the god’s eye is usually enough of a threat to force most drunkards to mind their own bussiness. Now? I was into too vunerable of a position to try my luck with the laser eye. I don’t know if he had any weapons hidden on him, but at least it didn’t seem like it. Than again, he is from Barak-Mhornar and we are known for keeping our “cards” hidden. And at the moment he had all the cards, and I had none.
“Not the best time to talk Varga.”
“Ah, you know my name. I’m flattered that one of the ‘All Mighty’ members of the Rune Carver Clan knows me, although, I’m not exactly surprised. Sorry if i’m lacking the manners department Blue Beard. I know that the people from your precious stronghold usually expect better manners from their partners.”
“I see you already know quite a lot about the stronghold. Curi-“
“Well, I love to learn. And one thing I learned is that friends should keep each other in contact.”
He approached me with a pen on his hands. He than started writing some directions on my arm.
“Draw on a map of Ghur in these directions, starting at your beloved ‘home’. This is the place where me and my partners are currently doing our trade. You see Grumbril, Barak-Mhornar is getting more and more exciting! I feel like I’m hooked on skiffer’s salve all over again. You wake up full of ideas one day and on the next one you are with your hands at the throat of your trade partner.”
He then released my arm and put away his pen.
“So don’t wait too long to call me okay? I don’t give a shit if you appear drunk. I will probably be stoned on whatever the fuck is the piece of realmstone I can put my hands on. Heck, I’m a little stoned right now! It is the only way to take the shit that life throws at you this days.”
He started going away, but before he disappeared he told me one last thing.
“I love our city Grumbril. And I’m here to stay.”
If it weren’t for the directions in my arm, I would have thought that it was just some crazy ass dream. But, even tho I wish it was, I would get further confirmation that this nightmare was pretty much happening really soon.