The Cost Of Independence

[*Midnight]

The door creaks open and Sil can peer out. Her eyes are drawn to a looming half orc who occupies the door way. He has a large flail in hand and appears to be involved in some kind of stand off with Allesha. It gets worse Sil knows him. His name is Grazhag. He is a Fated collector and one with a reputation for being ruthless and less than ethical.

"I told you before we don't make any profit here so we don't pay tax!"

Allesha stands staring back at the menacing collector. Despite her spirit he is twice her size she seems out matched.

"And I told you, I'm not buying it, no one would do this for free. I'm leaving here with blood or money. You chose which."

[*Rainbow Prism]

Grazhag... What are the odds?



Well, there goes a calm cycle...



A fraction of seconds was enough to revise the options in the Factotum's arsenal.

Fighting was out of question (at least, not in main room), the brute having little regard for collateral damage. And this would not go well with her record in tower.

Perhaps she could negotiate? Nah... Too risky.

She could also wait to see what happens next.

But what fun is there in that?


First, orc must be lured out of the building. Slapping on her pouch of Holding, drow decided on her course of actions. Putting knife away and getting one tomato with green moss from the table, she let her hair loose from bun and activated magic in ring of invisibility with double tap from both sides. Getting herself invisible, Sillxhistraja carefully exited outside, attempting to pass by the orc to get out into position...

[*Midnight]

The rotten tomato is somewhat of an urban myth. The one she picks up is ripe though, almost busting from the skin. It would certainly splatter against anything it hit. Grazhag has his fair share of magical gear most of it illgotten and extorted from some poor berk or another. He has nothing that allows him to see her, or at least nothing active right now. She slips outside.

[*Rainbow Prism]

Taking some distance outside, drow took careful aim with the vegetable. After some deliberation, girl thrown it at the bruiser in the doorway, crying out.

"Welcome! Can I interest you in third choice?"

[*Midnight]

To say Grazhag is stupid would be untrue. Stupid people do not survive in a cut throat Faction like The Fated much less prosper in it as the orc does. He is however driven by rage and bravado, and being pelted with fruit like this does not flatter either. He whirls around and whatever he shouts at Sil is lost in a bestial snarl as he runs at her flail swinging. She manages to duck a blow at her head but the hole it leaves in the door frame leaves her in no doubt his intent was to kill her.

[*Rainbow Prism]

"Ah, sca-ary!"

There was tense expression on dark face if drow, but it was not of fear or hesitation. Whole short body was tingling with urge for action. Teeth were bared in ferocious smile.

In the end there was nothing that could even compare with joy of good fight.

Already gloved hand took little surprise for her assailant. Just as planned.

In spinning turn frail silhouette flailed with release of palm, discarding smoke bomb. It was followed by diving somersault away, tumbling out of the smoke.

"What's wrong? Can't take a joke?"

Now, he should be angry enough to run after her. It was time for flight to more suitable place for fight.

[*Midnight]

Sil as promised is put to work in the kitchen, washing up and sometimes preparing meat and vegetables for the endless stews that are served there. It is a long day, beginning five hours before peak and ending seven hours after it. The staff in the kitchen change regularly. Many of the are the same bubbers and quippers who come for meals, volunteering for a shift entitles them to a bed in one of the rooms upstairs for a night. The only permanent fixture is Allesha who does most of the cooking. Once in the heat of the kitchen she removes the worn head scarf she wears to reveal a completely bald scalp.

Three very hard days work pass, Sil and Allesha are the only ones there all day. The latter seems never to tire her attitude remains up beat. It seems to rub off on the hivers and even the most desolate dregs find themselves full, hopeful and sometimes even breaking into song.

Other than that the first three days pass quietly. On the fourth as Sil is trying to scrape some particularly congealed stew from the inside of a saucepan with the flat part or a dagger she hears a shout and splintering wood from the canteen outside.

[*Midnight]

//Can I get a tumble roll please?

[*Rainbow Prism]

\\Raw dexterity, modifier = 5, result = 19

[*Midnight]

Sil takes a step back she is too quick to leave an opening for the half orc to exploit, but not quick enough to avoid the smoke. The two of them are left coughing and wheezing as the cloud forms around them. Sil sees her opponent's bulky frame move and he swings the flail wildly. There is a crunch and a shout and Sil gets the impression he has hit someone, she should probably be thankful it is not her.