#bergond | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bergond · 7 years

Text

Chapter 5

This is Battle Tap.

Umrar and Alodel agreed to safeguard the Torad household, while Citrine jumped figuratively and literally at the chance to join the fray down below. The Misery crew meanwhile busied themselves with outfits and a brief introductory lesson to battle dance choreography. Soon the night would be alive with danger and the sound of aggressive jazz tap.

As they left they saw Malco had already been put to work in the kitchens and he smiled graciously when they made eye contact. The Cerberus patrons hooted, hollered, and clapped excitedly as the crew left in their new digs. Big Stan said nothing, but merely gave Chipper a low-key fist bump as they passed.

Citrine tapped the butt of his spear twice on the manhole cover that Malco had spoken of. "This is the one. Who wants in first?"

Nix grabs Ric and steps confidently towards the manhole. She looks to him and smiles wide "Ric, we haven't gotten to talk much, huh? I'm Nix, in case you forgot my name. A pleasure," and with a show, bows, before standing upright again and grinning even wider. "From one Flutter to another, let's show 'em how it's done," she croaked, grabbing the hem of her cloak and with a flurry flaps it into the air, it wrapping around her body most fashionably before falling back into place.

Misery watches Ric, Nix, and the horniest knight leap down into the depths of Bergond’s sewer system. “Have fun storming the manhole!” she calls down.

“All right, let’s go beat up some teens.”

[The Drumbeats of Impending battle]

The city lights shone dull orange in Excallio Block, and the blue witch-fire of hexed all-night signs cast blue halos on the souls who passed along its stone sidewalks.

And just... there- in the distance, growing louder- a sound. snap, snap, snap

Louder now, many fingers, snapping in unison- Snap! Snap! Snap!

And there, down the street you see them- dressed extravagantly, with bandanas and face paint and leather. The gang. And in front, holding over her head a thin wooden sign of a lithe rodent contorted into an £ shape, is a short, curvaceous woman in the shortest shorts imaginable, red stilletto heels, a flaming red wig, and a top assembled from a red leather jacket and apparently a handkerchief.

Misery calls out, “COOO-BRUHHHHS!!! COME OUT TO PLAAAA-AAAAAY!”, and the rest of the Moo£ah Mongooses come into view. Like a magic trick Chipper’s hammers slide out of his sleeves and into his hands and he starts banging them together in a rhythmic chink chink chink.

Leif follows the group along near the back. The only items that remain of his original gear are his shield and warhammer, since his armour has been replaced by the most impractical leather he has ever worn: a black jacket with an obscene amount of zippers and buckles, short patent boots, and uncomfortably tight pants that emphasize his skinny legs. His only consolation is that his hair maintains its usual braid, after adamantly refusing any styling on it. That said, he was not able to avoid Desmond adding an absurd amount of glitter to it. “I wish I’d known this was part of the job description...” he sighs and mutters under his breath.

Stepping in time with the others, Desmond snaps his fingers in rhythm. Each snap sends bright green sparks into the damp foggy air, alighting his face from below dramatically as he puffs smoke out from an elongated cigarette. He wears a black leather jacket with an assortment of bright green spikes along the shoulders. Collar popped, his jacket is open revealing his bare torso, a bright green bandana tied around one of his biceps. A multitude of differing length gold chains hang loosely around his neck, framing his actual chest tattoo, amongst other painted-on tattoos. Dark jeggings bear ‘randomly’ placed tears down his long legs, with large black boots on his feet that look like they are prepared to punt some delinquent posterior. Chipper stamps on a sewer grate in the street. “Come on up you guttersnipes, time to rumble, the mongooses are ‘ere to smash ya face and steal ya girl an’ we’re gonna look good doin’ it ta boot!”

The two Fluttercapes lead the way into the sewers, their eager dive indicative of that noble spirit - ever into danger heedless of what might face them. Many might have thought that Bergond could go no lower. It was already a city of ill repute, with lives stacked atop lives in the hazardous fashion. But there beneath the streets it was so much worse. The fetid smell that assaulted Ric and Nix's senses nose was terrible to endure; it was like a minotaur afflicted with dysentery had died in an outhouse then left out in the midday sun.

The sewers up ahead branched off into three different avenues: the main line following the sludge, to the right following a well-lit service corridor, and a path to the left which hummed with a low hiss-iss-iss rhythm but was nearly pitch black.

In the streets above, the call was answered.

"Oh we'll come and play, we will."

Figures came from the darkness, slithered down rain gutters, leaned out from rooftops. All around there were Cobruhs ready to strike, jeering and cursing and laughing at the approaching party.

There were two prominent members who stood in their path. One a Half-elk greaser with a missing antler and what appeared to be a bulbous pelvic area due to bandaging. The other was a male gnoll, his body hunched forward, with mustard yellow fur and black stripes. He wore not one but three collared shirts in garish hues of sky blue, fuschia, and neon teal - all three collars were popped, and the color combination was so blinding it must have been visible to even the gods in their high realms. His grin was all teeth, his ears perked at every little noise, and his eyes were hidden behind alabaster shutter shades.

The gnoll made a thnick noise with his tongue and front two teeth, then began a laugh which grow in its intensity with each utterance. "nya-gha-gha-ghA-gHA-GHA-GHA-GHA! What kind of thnick little whelps do we have here? Don't tell me you went out and thnick bought new digs just so we could jack your threads for making too much noise on our block?" He slapped Visk on the shoulder and they both laughed, though the action clearly caused the half-elk great discomfort down below.

Chipper pulls out a copy of “Whispering Dave’s Pocket Bestiary” and consults it. “Gonna ‘ave to stop you there chum whilst I work out what the fuck you are, judging by you’re smell I’d say your da’s some sort of shit-daemon and looking at your face...” Chipper closes the book and looks up at the dog-like gangster “... I’d say your mum’s a fucking bitch.”

“And you,” he turns to Visk “don’t know what your giggling about sunshine? We split the party and you still got your arse ‘anded to you by Bibi here.”

From his other pocket Chipper pulls out ”Hofesh’s Encyclopedia Dancebattilia”. “Ok fuckfaces, lets get this party started, cause you’re up against Bergond’s fuckin’ best, the goat with the moa(s)t, the three eyed cyclone! So you better bring your A game, I give yooooooo…THE TIGHT-TROUSERED TYPHOON! THE DANCING DYNAMO! STAB-BLADES!!!!”

Desmond sneers as Chipper slings insults at the two Cobruhs. With his chin down he carries on snap snap snapping rhythmically to back and bolster his beat-brother. Glowing in the darkness, his three eyes bore intensely into the shutter shades of the Gnoll.

Chipper's encyclopedic dance history knowledge serves him well, and his perception is no slouch either; he can tell even at this distance in the low-light that the gnoll has the thighs of a Freestyle Cranewalker, probably good enough to go pro.

Desmond gestures to the two with his jaw, and with his best effort at changing his vocabulary and mimicking the intonations of the patrons of the Sleeping Cerberus he spits out, “Operatin’ outta the shit pipes? These knuckle heads look like they smell - no wonder they want our..." <dramatic pause> "Toothsome togs.” he says as he flicks his collar up with one thumb, posturing a leg out and dragging his hand down the length of his body to display his outfit to them. He keeps snapping with his other hand. He bends his outstretched knee lightly with the rhythm of his snapping, thrusting his hips as he does so.

“‘Ey Chip - I’m thinkin’ we oughtta check ‘em for Rune-Tags, An git these- shit hounds”

He spins in a circle on a heel, snapping with both hands he finishes in a strong pose pointing at the gnoll and half-elk with finger guns.

“back to their master… what was it? Tassletits?”

As he says ‘tassletits’ he leans forward, holding his coat open he gyrates his shoulders alternatingly lewdly keeping to the rhythm.

Misery bounces past, waving the sign. "You say TITS, because y'all ain't Co-BRAS so much as Trainin'-BRAS. Only THESE BOYS RIGHT HERE got what it takes to support a REAL WOMAN."

Maintaining eye contact with the Gnoll the entire time, the tiefling thrusts his hips forward, letting go of the sides of his coat with a flick of his wrists so it exposes his midriff. Crossing his forearms infront of himself, he reaches towards two dagger tattoos on either hip. His eyes flash bright and he slowly draws his hands upwards, the dagger tattoos glowing green as he draws out actual daggers - the tattoos disappear. Clasping a green bladed dagger in each hand he raises them, keeping an X shape with his forearms crossed infront of his chest. His metal-plated boot heel tapping in rhythm as he nods his head with the beat. "I'm ready to slice 'em outta their necks, Chip. They're in a gnoll lotta trouble."

Misery spins around and slides underneath Desmond's body, wrapping around his leg like the cover of a pulp magazine.

"Oh Stabby, cut these little babies into cubes already. I wanna go party with all that money we have. You know, the money that lets us not live in the sewers and have nice clothes and keeps people from laughing at us behind our backs," she says.

"Hey Boss," Misery shouts to Chipper, "How much was our cut this month? It had so many zeroes my little brain just couldn't keep track of it all!"

“I’ve got so much platinum,” Chipper shouts back, “I’ve had to put my bags of holding in another bag of holding.”

Bibi squeaks onto the scene dressed from head to toe in leather with big spikes all over their jacket. Their shield bedazzled in rhinestones, sending light in all directions from their light spell, mimicking a disco ball. Their mouth covered in a skull bandana at Desmond's request to cover up Bibi's big smile. They point their pickaxe, which has a bird skull on the end, at Visk while rotating their rump and shout: "YOU are a cowardly deer!!!"

Visk's faced turned beet red and steam nearly shot out of his antlers. "Let me skin 'em, Irryc, I swear I'll have 'em squealin' from here t-" he began before the gnoll slammed a meaty arm across his chest.

"Nah Visk, thnick," the gnoll said, patting the half-elk once then twice before lowering his arm. "You know how it goes thnick in these streets." He cleared his throat.

"Listen up Mongeesies, we heard what you've been puttin' out there about the Ca$h Cobruhs, but that don't play. thnick Step to Cobruhs and we step back." Hiss-laughs came from behind him. "So it's time we settle this. Beat Street rules, ones or threes it's your call - we don't care how you lose."

Leif moves forward with his shield up, flicks a tuft of glittery hair off his face and studies the Cobruhs in front of him: weapons, stance, general surroundings. He wants to know what he has to work with before any potential battle begins. His keen senses tell him that Octavia is nowhere to be found. However, he spots weapons, on hips and across backs, for all of the Cobruhs standing across from them in the street.

And while Misery may have been on full display as it were, she was as perceptive as ever: her big pair of orbs spotted the glint of metal at the periphery of her vision on the rooftops on either side of them. No doubt Cobruhs watching from perches, licking their blades in anticipation if the dance fight went the other way.

Desmond stood, all presence, with Misery wrapped around his leg and smoke gathering at his feet as though produced by some nearby fog machine. A flickering candle in a nearby streetlight sent rave-like pulses of orange and red and yellow through the smoke, framing him like a Demon of the Dance upon the brink of enacting a sacrilegious samba.

Meanwhile, in the sewers, Nix hears the distant hssssssss coming from her left, and turns to Ric, everything greys in their darkvision, and grins lowly, "Time to hop along! Watcha say fellow Flutter, to the hissing we go?"

"Y-Yeah, yeah!" Ric skitters toward the sewer wall, clinging to the disgusting, crusted stone. "D'you think w-we sh....ould cause a distraction from down here? Or—or stay quiet an' catch 'em by surprise...." Ric scuttles along the edge, slightly ferret-like, and with slightly rude haste. He often has a hard time containing his anticipation for something as exciting as this plan.

His eyes glint huge and hollow in the shadows as he points eagerly to the darkest tunnel leading toward the left. "Ooooh, c-c-can we go this way N.....Nix? Please?"

Nix loved the nervous excitement of her friend and nodded enthusiastically "Ya Ric, let's go this way! But we gotta wait real quiet and catch 'em by surprise, like you said! Then we'll mess 'em up real good!!"

While Ric and Nix were a bit delayed, they were not found out by the Cobruhs patrolling beneath the sewers. They quickly found that they had two options they could pursue without being spotted - an absurdly large street gutter that opened just at the feet of the Cobruhs near Visk, or a pair of manhole covers that were beneath the center area that the inevitable dance fight would take place. Any further and they risked detection or becoming lost.

Misery swung around Desmond like a pole and stood, lithely stepping to Chipper. “These idiot kittens brought their claws with. Some on the roofs, too,” she whispered. “I can’t tell if Gobblewonk or Octavia are here for sure, either. Whatever stupid thing that hyena wants to do, make it quick. I have a bad feeling we’re wasting our time...” Then she gave a little hop and kissed Chipper on- well, the chin, more than anything else. “I’m so glad you’re so brave, boss, and not one of those pussy leaders that takes all the rep his hardworking goons earn while he screws his hot new girlfriend up the ass in bed”, she called over her shoulder, loud enough that the Cobruhs definitely hear her. “I sure wouldn’t want to get my rep tarnished or my jaw driven into my skull by repeated hammer blows for a craven shitheel like that, right boss?”

“Damn straight! Let get this party started!” With a flick of his wrist, Chipper’s hammers slide back up his sleeves and are gone. He reaches for something in his back pocket and a silence falls over the crowd before he pulls out... a pair of spoons. “Beat Street Rules! Three bouts of one-on-one, if we win you take us to Thenflonk and don’t get in our way, if you win... we’ll disband the Mongooses and you never here of us again, Guild Row will be yours for the takin’, how ‘bout it?”.

Desmond stands as still as a statue, other than his boot heel tapping to the rhythm and his head nodding along with it. His eyes intent and never leaving the gnoll. Ready to leap to the beat the moment he is called upon.

Leif inches closer to Desmond and speaks to him discreetly from behind his shield, but loud enough for Misery to hear as well. "The girl we're looking is not here, Lord Cagliari. Do we still engage?" The teen asks more as a subordinate seeking clear instructions rather than someone second-guessing the mission -- or at least if he is, it's not entirely obvious. He absentmindedly pulls on his too-tight pants -- hoping in vain that doing so will make them feel less constricting -- and scratches the top of his head for the upteenth time, causing a seemingly endless rain of glitter to cascade from his scalp.

As Leif addresses him, Desmonds' tail flicks in the tiniest amount of acknowledgement. He carries on as he has but speaks lightly after a pause, head tilted down so his mouth isn’t as visible. He speaks in limited words, clearly trying to not break his Bad Boy vibe.

“Cannot back down. Follow Chipper.”

In his peripheral he notices the movement of Leif pulling on his tights and scratching his head, Desmond fights the urge to roll his eyes as a shower of glitter cascades down. “Cease fidgeting. Losing dazzle.” literally and figuratively.

Misery turns back to Leif and pulls a flask out of her cleavage. She takes a swig and grins. "Besides, young man, proper bitches don't front."

She spins around and faces the Cobras. "YO, LESS GABBIN' MORE DABBIN'. C'MON! BRING IT!!"

Chipper busts out his sickest spooncore. “Ok, battling for the Moo£ah Moongooses...” Miz slips him a sheaf of notepaper “...The fairest of the gruffs, the William amongst Billys, the Ungulate who makes you ungulate, Ram-Bam-Thank-You-Ma’am, motherfuckin’ STAB-BLADES!”

Bibi shines their disco shield on Des to create a sparkly rainbow spotlight for his turn.

The gnoll laughed through his teeth, then spun in place shouting to his comrades all around. "BEAT STREET! THREE ONE ON ONES! CAN YOU DIG IIIIIIT?"

The Cobruhs cackled with glee in imitation of their leader.

"WHO’S FIRST?!" he asked.

"ALSHA!" they answered.

From those across the street a half elf woman emerged. She was tall, almost Umrar's height, and wore a red jacket with more zippers than the stockroom at a trouser factory. Her wrists and ankles sported assortments of metal rings in different sizes and shapes which ringa ding dinged as she walked forward. Streaks of emerald ran through her auburn hair, and her eyebrows dazzled with gold dust.

Alsha's face was pure competitor.

"All right all right all right - you pick, you kick little gooses," she said, sticking her hands in her jacket pockets and tilting her head as though the smirk she sported were a touch too heavy for her neck to support.

Desmond had never danced in front of anyone other than Galen before. Besides ballroom events, but that dancing was different. That dancing was stiff and calculated, every part had specific moves to be followed precisely and accurately. The dancing he did with Galen was energetic and emotional and, well, vulgar. Perfectly suitable.

Miz put a hand on Desmond's shoulder as he walked past. "Desmond..." He takes a step and stops as Misery addresses him, looking at her with a brow raised in question silently.

"Your ass looks great. Fuck her up."

Desmond smirked at Misery and winked."I know."

Alsha extended a hand, but the shake was weak from lack of interest in her opponent. Desmond walked forward purposefully, boot heels clinking on the hard ground like the spurs of a cowboy at high noon. As he walked he uncrossed his arms in front of his hips gracefully, a flash of green light and his gloved hands were empty - the dagger tattoos back on his abdomen. Standing in front of the half-elf he bowed deeply, holding his cigarette in one hand he held his other hand out to her, waiting for her to offer hers in return.

He took her reluctantly offered hand and while maintaining eye contact with, he turned her hand and kissed the back of it. He lingered there a moment - two, slow, hot, breaths on her skin in silence... then turned his head to the side and spat at the ground, releasing her hand suddenly and stepping back away from her with a wry smile.

She's tall. I hope she breaks her neck, Misery thinks, as the two exchange a tepid handshake.

Taking one last long draw of his cigarette, Desmond flicked it to the side, then started snapping his fingers in time as the music queued up. He slowly exhaled the smoke through his nostrils and parted lips, his eyes glowing brightly in the darkness, amplified by the smoke and rising fog.

Then all of a sudden he was moving. Popping from one strongly silhouetted pose to the next along with the music. He threw in some slower transitions to some poses when the music allowed, usually the more sintilating ones involving slow hip movements. His last pose is a sort of bow, indicating her to take her turn. He stays stock still, only his chest rising and falling quickly and his chains around his neck still swinging from the movement.

Ric nods back at Nix and yanks a small torch made of sticks from his pack, twirling it for flair. He swipes a thumb over the squirrel skull on his necklace, pulls a pinch of old ashes from some pocked inside his sleeve, and tosses it at the head of the torch, which lights with an oddly gray flame. He holds it forward in an attempt to illuminate the narrow, dark tunnel toward their left.

"C'mon!" Ric grins, wheezing slightly with excitement at the sounds of the dance battle above them. He leaps forward in a rush, then turns around to grab Nix by the hand sheepishly and whispers loudly, "W-we gotta r......run, but like, s-s-sneaky fast! S...s...stealth." He makes a show of winking knowingly that he is operating According To Plan.

Surging forward, Ric scampers down the dank, dark corridor with Nix in tow.

"Yeah, sneaky and stealth!" Nix grinned, returning the wink, and hopped into the darkness after Ric.

As they arrive beneath the stomping grounds, Ric holds his torch to the side to gaze upward at the glitz and lights managing to filter down threw the sewer grates and manholes in the street above them. Ric can hear faint music and a lot of beating hooves and feet, and the muddled rhythms on the concrete stir his tiny spirit.

Slorp, slorp, slooorp comes a sound from the sewer sludge between his boots as he is unable to contain his from joining in the dancing.

Alsha smirked derisively at Desmond's flourish, and ran the still-warm back of her hand along her left cheek before letting herself go to the rhythm. She practically leaped from where she stood to krck-ack on the cobblestones and open with an aggressive stomp routine. She was all confidence and aggression, but she started too strong. Alsha should have eased in, and instead she looked too stiff, too mechanical. By the time she passed it back to Des she was baring teeth; she was an angry at herself as her opponent for his obvious skill.

Chipper’s spoon playing gets more intense as the battle continues. “One point to the Mongooses! Right-o, your turn to start, that was a great warm up but why don’t you send out an actual challenger this time?”

Desmond watches Alsha from the side with his arms crossed, wide stance, judging silently. She was too riled up, too in her head. Galen always told him to dance from his heart, not his brain - to really feel the music throughout his body. After years of stuffy ballroom dancing she drilled it out of him, and he had learned to follow his raw emotion and turn off his thoughts for the moment.

He smirks as Alsha indicates his turn. He strides to the center of the street confidently, as he does so he rolls his shoulders to the music, sliding his coat down to his wrists. Snapping his fingers once all fire in the vicinity turns bright green. Then he turns to Alsha and with a wink he flings his coat off towards the Mongeese. Turning and sprinting past the crowd, towards the far side of the street with an arm hooked he spins around a lamppost. Moving himself around the post in various ways, he utilizes his tail and legs effortlessly.

He leaps off the lamppost in pirouette and lands for a beat, chest swelling as he inhales, then swings a leg with great force in fouetté, spinning again but this time down to the ground and ending in a controlled slide. His movements are lithe and fluid - too lost in his body to recoil at the thought of touching the filthy ground, he snakes his torso and hips looking like an incubus.

He manages to remain graceful as he moves from classical dance, looking like the perfect image of a proper cavalier, to the lewd moves of a sensual dancer. It is a fusion of delicate grace and raw indecency - almost as if two different bodies were performing, though transitioning together so seamlessly one only had to keep their eyes on him to see them both.

He ends his round with a slide on his knees towards Alsha. Bare chest and stomach heaving and glistening despite his flocked fur, arms held outwards - he looks at her and grins in a ‘beat that’ manner.

Chipper turns his head to look for any archers on the rooftops and is instantly knocked over by a flung leather jacket to the face.

Alsha watches impassively, breathing out slowly as she gets into the zone and gets her mind focused. When Desmond finally finishes, she leans over and stares into his eyes, chests barely apart, with a gaze that answers ‘With pleasure’.

Kicking off her back heel she takes to the center area and begins anew. Alsha's style is a complete 180 from her erratic start, and now she flows like water. She slides across the cobblestones with impossible grace, and her arms curve around her shifting body movements. The sound washes over her like a waterfall, and her smooth movements make her seem more liquid than solid. She dives into the deep end of the music and loses herself in it - but the current is too strong. She can tell by the end that though she had given it her all, Desmond had emerged victorious.

Alsha blows her hair out of her eyes and storms off behind her own lines in a huff. The gnoll leader thnick thnick thnicks as someone else might use tsk. "Pathetic, Alsha! You couldn't be a thnicking spoiled brat like that!" he fumes.

"Shove it, Dirukk before I cram those horizontal shades in you vertically," she retorts. He flinches from her and adjusts his three collars with a nervous claw.

"Fine, fine." Dirukk and Visk talk amongst themselves for a moment then he calls out, "Grasdalt, you're up!"

From the crowd comes a Mind flayer, his entire body glimmering from an oily sheen on his skin and flecks of glitter. Each fingernail is a different color, and his v-neck jumpsuit is brilliant orange with black stripes, as if he were a hungry tiger on the prowl.

“O fuck.” Says Chipper under his breath on sight of the mindflayer before gathering himself. “’Ey laughing boy, you seem to ‘ave brought a cephalopod to reptile fight! Hope you’ve got a ring of cold resistance there squidface because you’re about to feel the ice cool blasting blizzard of the lizard wizard.”

“Here comes... BOUNCEMASTER!!! And...They’re pogona fuck you up.”

“OH LOOK, A DANCER WHOSE MOST DEFINING FEATURE IS HOW MUCH HE SUCKS.” Misery calls. “Turn him into calamari, darling!”

She continued: “How could you eat that many brains and still think dressing like that was a good idea?” “They say there’s a sucker born every minute and I see your face accounts for about twenty of them!” “You think you can step up to the Bouncemaster or are you just jelly-fish?” “Funny, with a squid head, you sure seem to be floundering the most.” “You think you can beat us, or are you an octopussy?” “I bet the most tentacle you ever got in bed came out of a comic book” “Oh, I think you just squirted a little ink, you poor frightened baby!” “Oh, did that one make you mad? You seem to be getting il-livid!” “It’s funny, you look like a Great Old One, but you’re really just- just a shitty little one!” and then Misery barely squeaked out “Y-you cephaloposer!” and started laughing too hard at her own dumb jokes to continue.

Desmond rolls his three eyes at Misery’s insults.

Bibi nods at the others in thanks for their trust, their pudgy smiling lizard face hidden behind their skull bandana. They slide forward on one knee, slipping an arm under Desmond's thighs and hoisting him up like an angel on a holiday tree, before dipping him down in both arms.

Bibi whispers to Desmond, "Your dancing was spectacular!!!"

They lift Desmond back up and put him on his feet before giving him a twirl off the dancefloor back to their friends.

Bibi looks into the eyes of their dance partner and strikes a strong pose, head toward the ground, their shield facing the sky. Rainbow lighting up above them. Then they fall into a b-boi routine. Feet never touching the ground. Spikes sparkling. Before sliding into their last pose and pointing a finger gun at Grasdalt. "Pew pew!"

Desmond blows a kiss to Alsha as she stomps off, then with perfect timing he is literally and figuratively swept off his feet by Bibi. Desmonds' cheeks darken as Bibi whispers to him, smiling giddily up at the bearded dragon like a teenage girl. He follows Bibis’ lead and spins, stopping himself in a controlled pose back with his crew, situating himself behind them. Still panting, he attempts to dust himself off, then picks up his coat and after a brief shake he slips it back on. He holds it closed at the front, abashed at what he just did in front of all these people.

Misery cheers. "HEY COBRUHS, HOPE YOU LIKE SQUID SUSHI, CUZ YA BOY JUST GOT SERVED RAW"

As Bibi starts their routine Desmond glances around to make sure all eyes are on the incredible Bouncemaster. He covers his mouth as if just resting his chin in his palm and points downwards towards a sewer grate with his other hand, targeting Nix with the Message spell. He whispers the plan to her, and a brief note on the number of sewer grates near the opposing team and their own.

Down in the sewers, Nix hears a familiar voice in her head and smiles. "Des, the sludge is great, nice and warm! We're having a blast, but we're getting itchy - can we join the rumble? We're ready!!" Looking over at Ric and steeling herself for a bit of well-deserved fun.

Grasdalt aggressively countered with a b boy routine of his own. His style was gravity-defying, nearly flawless - like an angry top at a dark back alley game between edgy grade schoolers. But just before he finished his set a loose cobblestone caught a lip tentacle and he stumbled, nearly wiping out.

"Oh dear, looks like your boy is kraken up," Misery sadly notes.

Bibi runs up to Grasdalt worriedly. "Oh no! Are you okay?" Bibi lends out their hand for Grasdalt to help him up. "Cobblestone isn't the best for this, is it?? I find it's good to keep your hands on the center of them like this," Bibi does another routine, lights flying everywhere.

"When I slip," Bibi says while spinning, "I use my feet to kick back in the opposite direction!" Landing upright, Bibi strikes a pose, "Tada! Just like that!"

"Now you mock the Grind Flayer, in the Square Dance Circle?!?!?" Grasdalt scoffed, refusing Bibi's earnestly offered assistance.

Misery has suffered many things in her life, but never once a fool. The grin wiped off her face, and in several brisk steps she was eye to eye with the sitting squid.

“You listen to me, you lowtide scum, I’m the one that mocks you, I’m the one that grinds your name into chum, I’m the fucking sperm whale that’s going to swallow you whole in the deep-“

"Oh, I didn't mean, uh" Bibi stands there smiling but sweating, "I should have realized you knew already! Of course!! We all make mistakes sometimes. Maybe you'll do better this time??" Robotically retracting their hand and standing back to let him stand up.

"-I'll put your head on my fireplace and I'll yell insults at it when I'm pissed at night and when I diss you I'll diss your dismantled mantle on my mantle you-"

Chipper runs over and picks Miz up in a fireman’s lift and runs her to the back of crowd.

"-suck my brains out and then you'll know what I really think of you hey wait no I'm not done put me down that was just fucking calamari appetizer hey no- "

“Apologies sirs! As you where!”

Chipper plonks Misery down. “Coach keep your shit together, Des and Bibi nearly ‘ave this on the bag and we can’t have you starting fights with that huge cocktopus over there an’ ruining all their good work.” He takes a brief pause. “At least not for about two minutes”. Misery sniffs and takes a swig from her flask. She mumbles something about Grasdalt going back to flipping burgers, but doesn't protest.

“Thas the spirit,” says Chipper, “now let’s go watch Bibi send this guy scurryin’ back to the underdark.”

Misery grins."Yes, sir!"

Chipper pulls a pack of Critical Strike cigarettes out of his pocket and offers it to Miz with a raised eyebrow. Misery takes one and it lights as she brings it to her lips. She offers the flask to Chip and speaks in a low tone. "So, when Bibi wins, shall we peacefully resolve, or kick their asses? There's a basket full to be sure, but they're really lame, and I'm rather put off they wasted our time like this."

Chipper pulls out another and the magic sparks for a second before fizzling out with puff of damp smoke. He pulls out a small glass vial containing a very angry fire imp about the size of his thumb and opens the lid just enough for the imp to get an arm out. It claws furiously trying to get at chippers hands as he lights the cigarette and tucks the bottle back in his pocket. “Gond’s truth Coach, it’s been a whole day of dressing up and la-de-da and we haven’t even got any training in and I’d love nothin’ more then a good melee, but best bet’s to hope these guys are good to their word and take us straight to the two lovebirds. I grab the princess, you kick Flonky in the nuts and bish-bash-bosh: Quest Closed.”

"Yeah, good plan. You're not half bad at the gang life, Chip." Misery takes a drag on her cigarette. "Oh! I forgot to tell you, I've got a couple fights lined up next week for you. One's a goliath with a spike sticking out of his head, the other's a dwarf with a pirate gimmick. Same night, so it's your choice which one. Maybe we can grab a pint and go over the cards when we get back home?"

“Hmm how well lodged is the spike? Maybe I could rig up some sort of magnet thing?”

"I mean, I thought you could hit it in with, y'know, a hammer," Misery says, and offers Chip her flask. She peers over her shoulder at the dance competition, which was just starting to pick back up as that stupid octopus calmed down, "-but you wouldn't be Chip without going that extra mile, would you?" She smiles at him, and it's warm.

“Well ‘onestly it’s a Goliath so I’m probably gonna lose anyhow, might as well fit some tinkerin’ in while I’m at it.” Chipper stands on his tip toes and looks out over the crowd “Looks like Bibi’s about to get going, hope Nix is alright”

During Misery and Chipper’s discourse, Desmond has been whispering away to Nix, telling her of all the goings on as they come up. Definitely including the drama of Misery leaping at the 'tentacle-faced fellow' and Chipper carrying her back. “If all goes well for The Bouncemaster this round, we may be wrapping up sooner than expected - they have done splendidly and I do not think this Ground Flopper can keep up. Mind you, I would be dreadfully curious to see what Misery would dredge up for this.”

Desmond chuckles and glances at her as she takes a swig from her flask, then nods to Chipper, “They are prepared and in position, Mister Chipper.”

Grasdalt put his all into it - electric slides, call-outs to the crowd, pelvic thrusts that would snap a lesser creature's vertebrae.

But it was to no avail.

Bibi's light show was too dazzling, their diminutive size allowing for incredibly feats of acrobatics that the mind flayer - with its facial tentacles providing such wind resistance - could not match.

The deed was done. The Mongooses had won.

Dirukk thnicked three times in disappointment. "Fine, fine, a deal's a deal. Even we don't back out on Beat Street rules." The gnoll clapped three times in rapid succession, and made a thatta way motion with his thumb over his shoulder. The Ca$h Cobruhs began to file along after him.

"This way to Thenflonk..." he muttered to the Mongooses.

Ric has trod a tiny circular whirlpool's current in the sewage while spinning in time to the muffled music and lights above. He hears the crescendo, the finale, and all the whoops and insults of triumph from Misery. He adds a few of his own under his breath for good measure.

While the whole dance-off was taking place, Leif paced back and forth at the back -- shield and warhammer up -- in case they would be ambushed by the Cobruh$ keeping watch in the periphery. He also assumed his turn to dance would come sooner or later, so at times he'd roll on the ball of his feet, back and forth, and try to remember steps from family dances he'd do when he was younger. He was pretty certain 'Ring Around the Rosy' and the 'Happy Lamb Dance' wouldn't do, but it's all he could think of. Bibi's bedazzling performance did nothing to steady his nerves about his situation, as he hid his face behind his shield from the sheer brightness “Too bad I can’t cast Light or Prestidigitation…” he thought, “maybe that would distract them from what my feet are doing? No use now…”. But now that the combat is over, he is visibly relieved at not having to step into the spotlight at all. "So..." he scratches and shakes his scalp vigorously, releasing another mini-avalanche of glitter. "Back to business, then?"

Desmond grins at the win for their team, proud of the good job he and Bibi did, he stands a little taller. Looking to Leif, "This has been business the whole time, sir. And you still need to play the part." he watches with slight disappointment as the glitter falls to the floor in waste.

Leif's face and ears turn red with Desmond's comment. He clears his throat and replies "I'm sorry sir..." he flicks excess glitter off his shoulder pads. "If I'm honest, this sort of battle style is very, uh...unusual." He smiles awkwardly and shrugs. "Though I guess it's better than bruises and broken bones...?"

Desmond smiles at Leif, "You will find we very often do not do things the usual way at The Misery Loves Company."

Afterwards the Tiefling clears his throat and whispers to Nix "Well, it seems Mx Bibi and I have swept the floor with their behinds, as they say." He looks down and with a flick of his wrist the manhole cover next to him pops up and off for Nix, Ric and Citrine to join the rest of the group. He peers down into the sewer tentatively with a look of horror, still holding his coat closed at the front - though now more concerned about protecting himself from the contents below than being modest.

Desmond quickly takes off to seek out Bibi before the Danger Cuties appear in their sludge-covered selves.

When the manhole cover pops off and light and cool air flood the tunnel, Ric hops upright, scurrying beneath the opening. With a baton-like twirl he spins the torch, dowsing its magical grey flame and stowing it.

"C'mon, Nix! We w-w-won!!" He scampers up the rungs on the wall, reaching out to help his companion with a boost. When Ric leaps out up onto the street into the fresh breeze, he somersaults in midair and lands, a bit too hard, onto the cobblestones, spraying bits of muck from his boots onto the others around him. He blinks grins innocently at Desmond, wishing he wouldn't notice too much. Ric remains hopelessly oblivious to the massive stink now radiating from his sewage-soaked self.

"W.....We did it!! We b-beat those p.......p.........punks! You—you guys were SO cool. We couldn't see m-much, but I could tell."

Chipper kneels down next to the manhole and sticks his arm down to help haul Nix and Ric up into the street.

Bibi looks around confused, "Oh no, is the dancing over??" They slump, "I was really excited to see everyone else's routines." They let out a big sigh,"Ahhh well, maybe when we're back at headquarters. I suppose we didn't really come here just to dance did we?" they laugh.

Smiling warmly to Bibi, Desmond bows to them with a flourish, "You did wonderfully Mx Bibi! I would be thrilled to dance with you any day, should you wish it."

Bibi lights up, a wide smile stretching from one ear to the other, "Oh, I'd love that!! I love dancing very much. I was really impressed by your moves and would love to learn some."

"Thank you kindly, and likewise." the Tiefling smiles at Bibi as he stands from his bow. "Yes, we have done so well we won unanimously." he leans in closer to them, "Though with any luck we may need to light up Thenflonk's feet with some spells! Perhaps he will dance for us." he wiggles his fingers in anticipation of casting spells.

"Oh, I love magic!!!" Bibi claps, "This is such a great day."

“As do I” replies Desmond. “It would seem we have a great deal in common Mx Bibi.”

Leif raises an eyebrow and sighs -- in part relieved not to have upset his employer -- but also in resignation, as it becomes more and more apparent that expecting the unexpected with the Misery Loves Co. was never meant as a cute joke or an overstatement. He looks down to tug at his tight pants yet again, but this time he resists the urge. Just give them a chance, he thought to himself. In a few more minutes you won't even notice them there...yes. Onward.

Desmond pats Leif lightly on the shoulder, a little stiffly as if he hasn’t consoled many people before, “Enjoy yourself, dear boy!”

The Tiefling had been glancing nervously at the open sewer while talking to Bibi and Leif. As he was talking he'd take a step forward and to the side, so Bibi would have to turn to continue speaking to him; eventually resulting in the end goal of having Bibi between himself and the sewer opening.

When he sees Ric shoot out of the sewer in a flurry of reeking sewage from over Bibi's head, he ducks down immediately, managing to cover himself from the resulting spray of filth. Wincing, though not wanting to break politeness, he addresses Bibi while staring at Ric in horror over Bibi's shoulder, still crouched in front of the bearded dragon who was almost half his height. "Mx Bibi.... wh-where did you learn to dance?"

"I uhh..." Bibi's smile fades for a bit, "Well. You know," Bibi pauses but then starts up again with the same enthusiasm as before, "Everyone at magician school is taught how to dance. A school I definitely attended and graduated from with flying colours. Dancing is part of the performance!"

"Magician School?" Desmond's attention is brought back to Bibi properly, "What sort of magic was it you learnt there? I would love to see how one uses magic with dance some time... that sounds absolutely wonderful. Do you cast the spells through the dance? Or is it normal spellcasting, just as you dance?" He looks genuinely interested to hear more about this.

"You can do it in any order!!” the lizard replied cheerfully. “I like to activate my spells with the dance moves because I think it has the best effect," Bibi pulls their bandana over their mouth bashfully.

Desmond nods in agreement, obviously that makes the most sense."Fantastical! I imagine that would take a great deal of skill as such, hopping and spinning about as you were I'm sure any mishap could be rather disasterous!" he chuckles, "Absolutely splendid. I should love to see you perform such a feat!"

"Yes!! Us magic users have to be very responsible with our magic, so it's not something I cast all the time, but it's important to always keep your dancing feet in shape for when the time comes," Bibi does some fancy footwork to punctuate it.

"Hm, very wise indeed, it clearly came in good use this evening thus far. It is always a clever choice to stay sharp." Desmond agrees, watching the largest-of-the-smalls hop about surprisingly deftly.

Misery walks over to whatshisname with the tentacles and puts a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, darling, I'm sure you're just terrible at loads of other things too. No hard feelings."

Grasdalt hung his head. "sniff I know."

Nix leaps from the sewers, tearing into the light with a battle-croak that would hurt anyone's ears, rapier brandished, purple arcane energy crackling and emanating from her stubby hand. Her cloak whips into the air with her jump, and as it settles, she sees punks on the ground, her compatriots commiserating, and a whole lot less fighting going on than she anticipated. Immediately she drops the eldritch blast itching at her fingers, and the tip of her rapier scrapes as it hits the ground as her arms go limp with disappointment. "Did... did we miss the rumble?"

Stay Tuned for Chapter 6 - The Belly of the Wurmpf!

#Dungeons and Dragons #dnd #campaign #story #dance off #chapter 5 #bergond

0 notes

bergond · 7 years

Text

Chapter 4

Under Pressure

The Sleeping Cerberus Inn was somewhat less rambunctious than when the party set out. The street urchins had largely played the winos for chumps and had emptied out what remained of their pockets. The heaviest drinkers were still inside, but their songs had faded away as the drinks kept coming, and now all they emitted were bubbling murmurs as they slept on the odorous hardwood surfaces of tables and bar-tops.

The party reconvened in their hideout, five of the original seven with stories to tell. Ric and Bibi had arrived first, but not so long ago - their breath was still a bit short and their pulse heightened from their encounter.

Ric finishes dragging their unconscious hostage up the steps, trying not to show how much effort it was taking. He yanks his cape out of the way before the limp, quite smelly body can fall on it and pin him down. Breath heaving slightly, Ric hops up to sit on a table and squeaks, "Guys! W-w-we brought a live one!"

Snickering to himself, Ric scratches at the slight crust of blood from the bump on his head that he had taken in the attack. He sniffs and spits down onto the back of the gangster's slumped head. "He'd b-better talk, or M-Misery's gonna make him s.......squeal like a S.....Skittersqueak!"

As the ganger squirmed on the floor the door swung open to reveal Leif, Desmond, and the three Knights Errant. The eyes of the captured Cobruh became as large as saucer plates and his skin went pale with fear.

Desmond opened the door and stepped through first. Normally he would let guests enter initially, but in his time with the Misery Loves Co. he had learned that any number of sights may await behind this door and it was best to enter first, if anything just to prepare himself mentally.

He was not disappointed.

The Teifling stepped in and looked at the room with wide eyes, as Leif and the Knights Errant entered a moment behind him. Leif introduced himself and Desmond finally cleared his throat with a flick of his ear, introducing the human again after he has already done so himself.

Seeing Leif and three knights of Gond in his actual house Chipper runs up the stairs and starts tidying his workshop.

Misery emerges from her office, refreshed and unbound, with a glass of dark red wine in one gloved hand and the folder from the Meister’s office in the other.

“All right, Loves, I’ve been looking through this dossier, and—“

She sees the knights. She sees the limp hostage. She sees Ric, crusted with blood.

Bibi is dressing the gangster's wounds and wipes the spit off when Ric isn't looking.

Misery stops in her tracks, and takes a very long drink.

“Let’s do a little show and tell. We enrolled Nix in a school for children and Chipper got hit on by a corpse. And how did you spend your summer vacation?” she says, and squats down to examine the bruised body on the floor. She pokes his cheek with a gloved finger, then wipes the drool and blood off on the floor.

“Bibi, I’m sorry dear, but I don’t think this rug quite goes with the decor.”

She stands up. “Dezzy, introduce your new friends. Would they like a... drink? Do Gondian Knights drink? Perhaps a small glass filled with cogs and bolts instead? A glass of juice for the kid?”

From the attic everyone can hear the sounds of frantic clattering as tools, and maybe some more esoteric projects, are tidied away into boxes.

Dust falls down from the rafters. Misery sets down her glass of wine and extends her hand to Desmond’s group, clearing her throat. “Misery Montblanc. Welcome.”

“Uh...I’m Leif. Leif Egner. Cleric of Gond.” He extends a soot-stained hand to Misery and shakes hers.

“This is ...Leif Egner, Cleric of Gond, and his Knights Errant. Sir Alodel, Sir Citrine and Sir Umrar.” Desmond bows to the room, sweeping his arm out grandiosely. “They are here to assist us as skilled extra sets of eyes, ears, and... “ He looks to the delinquent being seen to by Bibi with a smirk, “...fists, should it be required.”

He turns to the impressive disciples of Gond and smiles as he proudly introduces the gang, “And this, is the Misery Loves Company.”

Nix bursts through the door of the Sleeping Cerberus, nearly tripping over the chiffon trim, and leaps across the room, up the stairs, and into her and Chipper's room where she rips off her dress, throws her diadem to the ground, dunks into her aquarium her for a moment to let her skin breathe, then changes into her armour, robes, and fastens her cloak and rapier to her person.

Feeling utterly herself once more, she thinks briefly of Tillian before shaking her head and descending the stairs with barely-push-ing-two-feet dignity, and returns to the main floor surrounded by her mates and hears Desmond introduce the new large Knights. She steps up to stand by Misery, Chip, and Bibi, her large eyes scanning these new faces with intent. "and this, is the Misery Loves Company" She says nothing, but bows slightly, the gears in her mind turning away.

As Chipper tries to tidy their room, Nix starts running around manically, getting water from her pool everywhere and throwing clothes and armour out of various trunks and wardrobes faster then he can put stuff away.

"A pleasure to meet you. Forged in steel," Umrar said with deference, bowing slowly and holding it while their companions did the same. The last three words were often intoned with meeting outsiders beyond temple grounds, a prayer of hope that new bonds would be crafted by Gond himself to be strong and resolute. As they rose in unison, Citrine smirked and looked the place over. "I have to admit, I was not expecting this above an Inn. Real nice place you have here, Miss Misery... and Company," he remembered to add.

On the floor the captive attempted to squirm his way every so slowly towards the exit, trying not to make too much noise on the creaky floorboards. "We are ready to meet the threat of these gangers, as sure as our steel is sharp," Alodel said, her voice measured, every third syllable ringing as though accompanied by faint music.

“I appreciate your... enthusiasm, but I have sharp weapons of my own.” Misery says, with a small nod. Then she squats down, next to the goon, elbows on her knees like a gangster.

She reaches down and lifts the goons chin up.

“Eyes up here, darling. There you go.”

She grins at him the way a cat grins at a mouse after its bitten off one of its legs.

“In this room there are ten people. Three are Knights of Gond with sharp steel. Two are the people powerful enough to command those Knights. Two more are the people who beat you unconscious. The remaining members are the most brilliant wizard I know and a very, very strong man with so very, very many hammers. Do you know why, of all those threatening people, I am the one you should fear the most?” she says. And she lifts his head up a little higher, and shifts down to one knee so she can lean in as close as possible.

“Because I am Misery Montblanc, and that name means that unlike these others, I do not make threats- I make promises.”

Then Misery drops his face to the floor and stands up, adjusting her shirt.

“Here’s my promise to you, Rug. Each of us will ask you one question. You will answer each with absolute honesty. After we are finished, you will be released, with a shiny silver coin in your pocket and a warm meal in your belly.”

“If you lie, you will be released as well, but I will make sure your arms and legs are so shattered you will not be able to run or fight when the Squeaks find you in the street, still hobbling on your broken stumps towards home in the dead of night.”

Then Misery’s mood snapped back to congeniality, like a plucked bow returning to ready. “So! Let’s start with my question: What would you like to drink?”

Chipper comes down the stairs from the attic tucking his shirt in, his hair has been hastily combed flat.

“Forgefather, I didn’t ‘ere you arrive, what a pleasure to ‘ave you here, and oh look, you’ve brought Lady Alodel, Sir Citrine and Lix Umrar too. In my ‘ouse. ‘Ow lovely.” He bows to the knights before walking over to the sink and starts filling the kettle. The lid can be heard rattling as he holds the teapot with shaking hands.

Leif watches Chipper and gives him a good-natured smile. “Chip, just ‘Leif’ is fine...” He sets his shield and warhammer down carefully on the floor. “Need a hand in there?”

“I’m good Forgefather” Says Chipper, taking a tin off the shelf and getting out some stale sponge cake.

Whilst the rest of the room had eyes on the brigand that Bibi and Ric has captured, Chipper kept his eyes on the three knights.

Desmond smiled at Citrine then looked around the room, “Yes it is quite quaint, is it not? We have all added our own touches to it - a culmination of care. Mind you, our Mister Chipper has outdone himself on the more intricate devices and inventions.” He gestured to Chipper as he said his name.

The gang member tried to worm his way towards the exit, which he, Leif and three Knights Errant in full garb were blocking, Desmond looked at him with disgust and curiosity. His disgust turned into a smirk as Misery approached him and did her thing. As she finished up he looked to the three knights, “Well. Make yourselves comfortable, as you please. Hot tea is underway and it seems best that you all hear what this… puwtryilz spits out before we discuss further action.”

Bibi finishes wrapping up the gangster's bum bandages and gives it a light pap pap. Knowing full well that the gangster was trying to inch away, but also knew that their friends wouldn't let him get too far. "There! You're all patched up! For now I guess. It really depends on how much Misery likes your answers!" Bibi giggles at the irony of patching him up only for him to need more help again. "I feel bad that your friends left you though. Hopefully we can be friends here! I think the most important question I can think of is: what do you know about Octavia Torad and Thenflonk Tossleblast?"

The Knights Errant watched as Leif took a cup from Chipper. "Forgefather," Umrar said without inflection, considering Chipper's deference to Leif with a detached tone. Their large and finely manicured fingers rapped with steady tip tap tip tap as they read the room.

Leif honestly thought Desmond's unexpected compliment was the only sort of thing he'd hear today that would catch him off guard -- boy was he wrong. As flustering as it is already, at least he is used to Chipper calling him 'Forgefather'. But suddenly hearing the same word from an impressive figure such as Umrar, it definitely triggers another level of agitation. Whereas Leif resorted to coughing when faced with the noble tiefling's praises back at the Gruuma’s Guild, this time his mouth is engaged mid sip into his tea, which promptly explodes into a rapid succession of sputters. The boy turns his face away as quickly as he can manage, the tips of his ears already visibly red. This is turning into a day more awkward than usual.

"I would only call it quaint at your behest, lord Desmond," replied Citrine with a wry smile.

The ganger gulped audibly. Cannonballs dropped on porcelain made less noise. His eyebrows danced a nervous, frenetic dance then he answered Misery faintly, "...Scotch." As he waited he flinched once then again at Bibi's pap paps. He locked eyes with them and Bibi could see, deep in the fearful dark of his pupils, that he understood what the paps heralded if his answers were unsatisfactory.

"Octavia... well, easier to explain Thenflonk I guess, and that's sayin' somethin'." He chuckled.

He should have read the room. With a loud cough he continued.

"Thenflonk's the boss. Bossleblast is what he likes us to call 'im, but it's a mouthful, right? Try yelling it when you're swingin' across rooftops and... eh, no flow." He realized again that he was getting a bit too inside-Bergball and adjusted once more.

"Thenflonk wants to strike it big time. He tried to make it with the Stonespeakers, but he used too much hair product. Tried to get in with the Watch, but he wasn't good at planting evidence. Same song and dance everywhere really." He let out a long sigh, wondering if he was saying too much, then the frog in his periphery brought a recent memory back.

Pap

Pap.

The ganger continued.

"Now he's trying to make it on his own, start his own gang, call the shots and make it big. Problem is he doesn't always know... he doesn't... I mean sometimes you need a light touch, right? Like it can't all be flashy bashy."

"But he likes to cause a ruckus and make us do the ruckusing and so we do it, but we're kind of spinning our wheels the past few months."

"Anyways, so Octavia, she's a good kid right? Two parents, three squares a day plus nibbles, no leprosy - the whole nine yards. But she ain't lived much, likes 'bad' boys, so she's globbed onto Thenflonk here lately."

"She tries to act dumber than she is, tries to act tough, but she's a good girl. I think that's why she chose Thenflonk in the first place - he seems real bad, but he's not really a ganger to the core. Just likes to play at it. So I think they're both playing at it, her thinkin' she's living a little, him thinkin' he's got an in on some big scheme to rob her parents."

The ganger shrugged. "Far as I can tell he wants to do a heist on her pops' place, but he doesn't plan jobs as much as he announces them, right? But I figure he'll make his move soon."

Misery returns from her office with a dusty bottle, two tumblers, and a straw. She pours a couple fingers in each, clinks them together, and sets one with a straw on the ground next to the gangster. “ To the secret strength and the everlasting universe,” she toasts.

Malco scooted over to the drink in a manner not unlike a slug that has to pee, stomach slapping the boards and recently-singed bottom bobbing comically up and down. He nodded and said, "Thanks, I need this." His joy was blunted when he realized the straw was not a bendy one, and craned his neck to reach it. Malco's mouth chased the elusive straw while he awaited their response.

“See? Things are already looking up, Rug. I take back what I said earlier- drink like that, you’re already starting to fit into this place.” Misery hopped up onto a table and took a stiff drink of the whisky- Craigmorrow, which was, of the whiskies brewed by Scotchammer Dwarves, if not a passable variety, then definitely the kind preferred by the drunkest dwarves, and that counted for something.

“Bossleblast. Yeah, Chip, we gotta hit that kid hard in the head.”

Desmond chuckles at Citrine’s comment, “Oh? At my behest, hm?” He returns the wry smile, “Please, indulge me with what words a fine Knight such as yourself might use to describe this establishment?”

As the Cobruh describes Octavia's relationship, the tiefling’s attention is drawn from the water genasi and he looks at Misery, studying her face. "Sounds very familiar..." he mutters under his breath. He sighs and looks down to the battered human on the floor pathetically struggling to sip his beverage. He speaks a word and with a hand gesture a bright green spectral floating hand appears and begins untying the hand restraints. “What is your name, boy?”

"Malco, sir," Malco replied to Desmond, eyeing the magic hand with the fear that usually accompanies seeing a spectral hand. Malco's very limited intelligence allows him the freedom to think silly thoughts like maybe I oughta try... but Nix and Ric's eagerness and proximity kept him from acting on such idiocy.

Ric listens quietly to the conversations, save for some light snuffling and fidgeting in place. He is a bit slower to track with all the information being given anyway, always a sentence and a half behind when it comes to fitting them all together in his brain. It never bothers Ric much, though. Short legs, short attention span... But he always catches up to everyone in the end. He gnaws absently on his knuckles, hopelessly chipping off bits of the remaining black polish on his claws. He has been eagerly thoughtful of his one question for this nasty ganger, and he wanted his to be the MOST clever question possible. That way he can trick him into answering maybe TWO or even THREE questions in one.

It sounded like Octavia joined them because she likes bad boys. Ric nods and chuckles wheezingly to himself. It's understandable, Ric admittedly likes them, too. He also likes seeming like them a little bit—just enough to be cool like them. But only the GOOD bad ones. This one doesn't sound like one of those. Bosselblast sounds dastardly.

Nix stays ever silent, watching the game play out before her, bulbous eyes slowly darting between each of the many tall individuals in their abode, taking in the snippets of information they glean from Rug. As she sees the restraints being untied, she stays guarded, one hand hovering discreetly over the handle of her rapier, her other hand at her side, beginning to coalesce a purple stream of magic, taking a step forward towards their hostage and staring at him, unblinkingly.

Misery slides off of the table and walks around the group, heading towards Chipper. She stops behind Nix and brushes a knuckle behind Nix's shoulder blades. In a low voice, she says, "He has a drink, darling." then continues to Chipper, and plucks out a piece of cake.

Chipper takes a tray of tea over to the knights who glare at him unspeaking. “Your tea, m’lord, m’lady, m’Lix” he’s says, awkwardly putting it on the table next to them before retreating to lean on the sink.

The Three Knights Errant voiced their thanks to Chipper in rigid formality, then sipped their tea with gauntlet-covered hands.

With Misery's tap and low whisper, Nix immediately relaxes, the dark purple smoke dissipating, her rapier tucked back beneath her cloak, relaxed. She plops across the floor, closing the distance between the armoured crowd, bowing slightly. "An honour, good Knights. Nix, at your service," then hopping onto a chair to reach the table and help herself to a some tea.

"An honor, Nix," Umrar replied and bowed, the others echoing their recognition.

Chipper hands Nix a slice of cake and a fist bump.

Continuing her route, Misery sidles up next to Leif, as the two watch Desmond ask his question.

" My apologies for curtness earlier; in social situations I find addressing the bound captives first makes the flow of conversation smoother. So, you're Chipper's friend, hm? "

Leif had barely recovered from his sputtering episode when he’s suddenly face to face with Miss Misery herself. Desmond had given him a few heedful words about her before they arrived at headquarters, but even if he hadn��t, Leif would have most likely reacted the same way. He shakes traces of tea from his vest and rubs the back of his neck as he looks down at Misery. “Well...we’ve bumped into each other at the Temple a few times through the year...” He smiles bashfully. “A few times at the pub downstairs too.”

Misery coughs, then looks up at Leif, then over to Chipper, then back to Leif. " Oh! Oh. Oh…”

"I never would have figured Chipper was... huh. Hm.. I see. A few times?" To herself: "A few times..." In the pub.

Leif blinks a few times and gives her a genuinely puzzled look, trying to understand what she might be thinking.

Just then Chipper shouts, “MIZ WHAT ARE WE DOIN’ THIS RUFFIAN?”

Doin' this ruffian, Miz thinks, my god have the clues been in front of me this whole time? Oh this is terribly disappointing.

"We're waiting for him to answer some questions, my dear- maybe you could bellicosely shout some at him yourself! It's terrifically fun, I heartily endorse questioning a prisoner when you have the chance, love.", she says back.”

"So," turning back to Leif, "I have to-- I have to know, how is he. How... how good is Chip? Because, those arms…” Misery trails off. “Have you seen his.... tool? You know, his... hammer? Is it..." She holds her hands a generous distance apart. "No?" She holds them a little further apart. "Really?" Her hands continue to separate in the air.

“Uh...we’ve never worked together, so...” Leif’s eyes shift to the side, looking at Desmond, hoping he can help clarify things for him.

"Well, I wouldn't really call it work anyway, dear," Misery says with a grin. "Not if you enjoy what you're doing."

“I thought he worked here...?” Leif scratches his head.

"Oh, I wish."

Leif turns to Chipper. “Chip? Didn’t you tell me you work here?”

"Let me tell you, I've invited him to bang around this office plenty of times but he's never taken me up on the offer.” Misery continues. “It's always 'No ma'am' and 'That's roight impr'pr!' and 'Oi feel strange ab't this ma'am may I go'. Men, am I right?"

Leif stammers unintelligibly, utterly confused.

In the meantime, Chipper goes and sits down by the Rug.

“Righto sunshine, I need to get this tied up sharpish before my boss either fucks my vicar or gets all my secrets out of ‘im, and you’re gonna ‘elp.”

“Look we both wanna get the fuck outta this room right? So I’m gonna need to know where I can find that little twat Thosselfuck right now. And I warn you, we’re both leaving this room in two minutes and unless you convince me otherwise you’re going out the fucking window pal”. Malco leaned away from Chipper's intensity. He could tell the tenor of the room was getting bawdy, and it would be better if he cooperated before it got rowdy. "Look, sir, if I tell you, do you swear to keep it to yourselves that I was the one who snitched? Gooning's hard enough when you don't have resumes to speak of, it's all references right?"

Chipper leans in to Malco’s face “You ‘ave my word but next time I see you you better ‘ope you’re lawful neutral or we are gonna ruckus. Now where can we find the little oik?”

Desmond rolls his eyes at Misery, then looks at Leif and says plainly, “She thinks you and Chipper are ...having sex.”

".... Thinks?" Misery practically shrieks. "Desmond, not a minute ago this nice young man told me they've not only kept the Sleeping Cerberus up all night with their bumping, they've even done it several times in the temple itself. You need to listen carefully to the conversations or you'll miss something." Misery looks at Leif and studies every facet of his face.

Leif takes a step back from her as his eyes widen, finally understanding. “OH.”

Misery takes a step back, stunned. "Flaming bitches, you're a v-"

Desmond can’t help but laugh out loud - Misery’s outright brashness, Leif’s utter cluelessness, meanwhile the... t-the KNIGHTS! Oh gods the Knights are here watching this!!!

He sees Leif and Misery take a step away from each other and seizes the moment, taking an awkwardly large step, he places himself between them both -facing Misery with his back to Leif.

Misery steadies herself.

Desmond looks down at her and places his hands squarely on her shoulders. Quietly and calmly, he speaks to her in a low, level voice. “Misery, my dear, perhaps we should leave the intense sexual questioning of a young religious boy for a more... private time.” He quirks a brow and looks up to the Knights standing behind them, then back down to her.

Lowly, back, "Des, I thought if they had been doing it in the Temple, whatever Knights they brought with probably weren't the shiniest bolts in the Great Machine, y'know? Remember when that Cleric let us into the Temple? Two silver and he looked the other way. I just figured, y'know, and... bumped into each other in the bar, who talks like that even?"

“Uh...ma’am…” Leif stammers, “I...erm, most definitely NOT with Chip...” he clears his throat as his face turns beet red.

"NO NO NO!" Misery says, lifting her hands. "I assure you whatever you think I may have said- and I have a reputation, I know- I only spoke with the purest intentions. Chipper's been telling me about a special hammer for advanced mechanica but hasn't shown it to me for weeks, I assure you, I thought perhaps as a Cleric of Gond he may have consulted with you, that's all, ha ha, would you like some Craigmorrow I'm going to just get some more for me," and then suddenly Misery is across the room, "RUGGY, WOULD YOU LIKE A TOPPER?"

Leif clears his throat once more, and his voice sounds like a squeak. “I could use a drink, actually...”

"KNIGHTS, WOULD YOU LIKE ANYTHING, YOU'RE LOOKING... STOIC JUST NOW." Misery continues. "NO? WELL YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY, HERE TODAY, GOND TOMORROW HA HA HA."

The Tiefling stifles another laugh as his cheeks flush at the memory Misery mentions. He clears his throat, trying his hardest to look a proper gentleman and professional in front of their impressive company.

Alodel leaned over to Umrar and she whispered something, prompting the goliath to chuckle twice. Then the goliath whispered something in return and Alodel gave them a look of amusement and shock. They returned to their stoic poses and muffled their laughter with sips of tea.

Misery is suddenly next to Leif again, with two very, very full glasses. "To new beginnings and not talking about this again." she says, and drinks deeeeeeply.

“T-thanks,” Leif says, as he knocks his own drink back in a long, single gulp.

Desmond pats Leif’s back lightly and leans a little closer to him, “Welcome to The Misery Loves Company, Leif.”

Leif jolts slightly and coughs, still on edge, with Desmond’s pat. “Umm...yah...thanks...?” He eyes his already empty glass.

During the whole altercation, Nix -- like a kitten following a flickering flame -- looks from one party to the other and back again, her golden eyes wide, bulbous, and blinking as one misunderstanding piles on to the next in ways only their rag-tag Company can manage. As the chaos ensues, she pours herself another cup of tea, piles in three sugars, takes a platinum flask from her hip and pours in an unhealthy amount of scotch, stirring a few times before bringing it to her mouth and sipping deeply, utterly amused. "Welcome to Misery Loves Company indeed. Cheers," she croaks airily, a wide, shit-eating grin on her face.

The water genasi knight finally replies to Desmond’s earlier comment. "I'm a fine knight, Lord Cagliari, but not much for fine words," Citrine hrmphed at his own remark and gave the room a once over without moving his neck. "I'd say it's got a lot of charm. I like places like this. Temple of Gond is all precision, clear delineation, no mistakes no blemishes. Not like this place. It's got heart, it's not so uptight. A bit looser on the edges, a few rings from tea stains - I like that. Back at the temple it's all a template, but I can tell you like to try new things here, take big risks and see what sticks."

“Well, I assure you, it is definitely looser on the edges here.” Desmond chuckles at Citrine. He pauses and observes the knight silently a moment. “A flawless cut diamond may sparkle brightly, but it is clear and one can see right through it. The hidden mystery and raw potential in a rough cut diamond is profound …even still, the most humble of diamonds are forged with intense pressure and ...heat.” As he speaks his voice gets deeper, almost as if his own vocal chords were under the same pressure and heat of his words.

Chipper goes over and opens the window and leans out. “OI STAN!” He shouts at the Sleeping Cerberus’s orc bouncer. “Can you take a step to the left mate? Might ‘ave to chuck a guy out this window inna bit, cheers bruv”.

"CHIPPER." Misery shouts. "I poured the man a drink. Upon my honor as a Montblanc this guest of our company will not be harmed so long as he lays upon the floor I own or under the ceiling I let you stay in. Is that understood?"

"If he lies, you can pull his arms out of his sockets, but not until then, " she adds, conciliatory.

“It’s ok boss,” Chipper replies, “he won’t be ‘armed till ‘e ‘its the street; I opened the window”

Misery sighs. "I'm so sorry about this, Ruggy, Chipper's had to wear very restrictive pants all day, and I fear he's hot for bruising. I'd speak quickly if I still wanted that silver."

“Sorry Des,” Chipper turns to the tiefling, “they’re lovely but they do chafe something proper.”

"If you moisturize and stay hydrated, it does help the chafing." Desmond smirks then looks Chipper up & down. "I was going to offer for you to keep them, if you like. They suit you better than they ever did me."

"Actually, fun fact, Chipper, that rash it leaves is actually called 'the proper chafe' in noble circles. You wouldn't believe the liniments the society men of Bergond go through in even a month." Misery winks at the Knights. "These proper gentlemen know what I'm talking about."

Chipper continues. “I like the jacket chum but think I’ll give the trousers a miss, can’t even put my ‘ands in the bloody pockets.”

Desmond bows his head lightly, "As you wish."

“All right rug,” Chipper turns back to the ganger. “You got about 40 seconds left time to spill yer guts before we spill ‘em for ya.”

“39”

“38”

“37”

“FINE FINE FINE! I’ll squawk right?” A panicked Malco shrieks. “Look, Thenflonk and most of the gang like to hang in the sewers in Excallio block. They’re a labyrinth, lots of nooks and crannies to hide in, or ambush from. They use the sewers to strike out further than the block itself, popping up out of sewer grates and gutters or near water flows along the Wurmpf.”

Chipper leans out the window again “OI STAN! We’re good pal, ‘e’s gonna talk, cheers.” “Best bet us to use the entrance near the Dandy Gander on 172.7th street, big orange manhole cover.” Malco continues. “All the entrances are used randomly, but Thenflonk hates that one because you’re hip-deep in the sewage flow over there, rather than the respectable ankle-deep in the ritzy sewers. Be on your guard though - the Cobruhs are mostly punk kids but they’re eager to prove that they’ve got it, right?”

Chipper closes the window. Malco unclenches his sphincter.

Misery starts laughing. She tries to stifle it, then spits out “T-throw Rug!” and breaks into a hearty guffaw.

“Righto boss!” says Chipper, opening the window again.

Bibi hugs Rug, "No, don't throw him out! He's been really helpful!" Letting Rug go again, Bibi ponders, "Though... the high sewage will be hard to wade through. I think we need to find ourselves some waders. Like these!" Bibi pulls out some blue highwaisted waterproof trousers held up by suspenders. They're adorned with little stars.

Chipper looks at the ceiling. “Only second floor Bibi nuffin to get worked up about.” Bibi puffs their throat up.

“Just a sec Bibs” Chipper adds, “I only opened a window you bloody smacked ‘up upside down to start with!”

"Oh, that was an accident!" Bibi stammered, "I tried to tell them, but they wouldn't stop jumping at us and shooting arrows," Bibi stares blankly into space remembering the horrible events. Not even a magic trick in sight. They shook their head, "Had to get them to stop somehow!"

Desmond bristles visibly and turns a lighter shade of his usual dark grey as the goon mentions going into sewers... waist-deep sewers. WAIST-DEEP SEWAGE.

The fear is real.

"P-Perhaps there is ...another way in? Is Miss Octavia even down there? We are looking for her, not for Thenflonk! I highly doubt she would be in the sewers, of all places! Preposterous! A-ha ha ha!" He laughs nervously, barely seeing Bibi offering a solution. The best solution would be for him to stay here while the others investigate. Yes. Definitely.

Nix hops onto Desmond's head with a graceful flurry and pats his head soothingly. "Don't worry Dezzy, it's only the bottom half you gotta go through, not like you gotta drink it in or anything or stuck you head under! I've swum through worse!" She explained, knowing no matter what she said it wouldn't be enough to calm her poor tiefling friend's elitist sensibilities. "Think of how good it'll feel to nab this son of a bitch after all that filth! And then a nice hot shower when we return - successful as always!!" She cheered, holding his horns and swaying with excitement, moving his head from side to side as she rocked.

Desmond frowns at Nix as she hops on his head. He doesn't try to stop her but he sighs, defeated. “Please Miss Nix, not…” he glances at Citrine and the other Knights then back to her and whispers, “not when we are in the presence of sophisticated company..."

Despite his embarrassment, Desmond can’t help but smile at her as she lists all the good things that will come of facing his fear; the chains on his horns clinking as she makes his head sway. Deep down he loved it when she climbed up on his head, it always made him feel special. He’d be hard-pressed to admit - even when he was in the company of those he was trying to impress. Ric sighs and pouts a bit once the ganger has blurted out everything they needed to know all at once. No one really stood a chance in the face—or chest—of Lady Misery, did they? His torn up ears perk at the mention of sewers, causing his earring trinkets to jingle. Crawling, crevices, tunnels—he is good at those. His mood brightens significantly, and all of the side-talk of innuendo goes completely and predictably sailing over his head.

Ric grins upward at the company mates twice his height. "Aw, c'mon, Des.....Des.....Desmond, it'll be f-fun! A little s......sewage won't hurt ya, just don't m-munch on any of it an' you'll be f-fine." Ric swings his tiny, dangling legs gleefully.

Desmond smiles politely at Ric, if not a little patronizingly. He appreciates the sentiment, however the mere thought of ‘munching’ on sewage turns his stomach in ways he never knew possible.

"Oh, flaming bitches this fucking day," Misery says, wiping tears out of her eyes. "Let's close our windows and start to plan, Loves. Rug, just a moment, let me get you that silver."

Leif — eyebrows raised — leans over to Desmond and speaks quietly. “Uh...are things always like this in here?”

Desmond nods slowly, "Yes. Sir. It is ...colourful, is it not?" he smiles wanly.

Misery reaches into her purse and pulls out a shining coin. "Take this and get out of here before Nix starts threatening to turn you into a sheep, given how this seems to be going. Go downstairs and give my name to Oggles the barkeep, he'll put your food on the tab. Ask for the beef stew, it's excellent for recovering lost blood. If you'd like to lay low a bit, I know he's been looking for a hand in the kitchen, seeing as he only has the eyestalks. Tell him I said you know your drinks- that endorsement will get you hired at any tavern in Bergond. And if anybody asks why you're not with the gang, tell them Bossleblubbs or whatever isn't paying full cuts to his crew. In fact, let anybody know that. Then we'll be even."

Malco knew better than to question Misery at this point. "Right then, better sheepish than a sheep, my mom always used to say." He scurried out as quickly as possible, leaving everyone to ponder why anyone's mother would have such an expression.

Leif releases a deep sigh, then straightens his posture as someone who means to get to business. “Well, the Knights and myself have a mission ahead of us...should we go patrol this river then...what’s the plan here?” He makes a decent effort to sound like a leader despite his inexperience.

"Sewers...we've waded through worse," Umrar mused, searching through their memories with subtle shifts in their eyebrows.

"Ah, you must be thinking of The Meatomancer's Pits of Butchery," Alodel replied.

Umrar scratched their chin with a finger the size of a cigar. "I had forgotten about that, actually. My first thought was the hexes of Nilmia the Gutter Goddess."

A chill ran over Alodel. "It took weeks to get the smell out..."

"I don't mind getting stuck in, making a mess is my specialty," Citrine mused, bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement.

Misery turned at looked from Citrine to Desmond. “He means he wants to have sex with you.” she said with a we’re even grin. All the previously missing colour from the tieflings’ face returns, but for some reason he seems a darker hue than usual. Then she cleared her throat. “Alright, Loves, that was, as far as our regular meetings go, by far the most focused and productive- good job, all! Now, we have all collected intelligence, scoped out the scenes- it is time to draw up the battle-plan.” She began to pace about the room like a general. “The life of a teenage girl hangs in the balance, and we face the threat of gang violence and reprisals, should we fail. Our plan must be cunning. Our plan must be swift. Our plan must be sober, level headed, and above all, mature.”

She turned on her heel and slapped her hands on a table, knocking over a half-eaten sandwich and a pile of dime novels.

“Let’s get ready to rumble, Loves.”

A well-read mouse peeked out of its hole in the corner of the room. It eyed the fallen sandwich and reading materials, then pushed its miniature glasses up until they flared like many an anime villain. A single mousey word ran through its mind - jackpot.

After everyone’s attention is back on Misery and Nix has departed from his noggin, Desmond takes out his notebook and begins writing. He tears out the parchment and walks over to Citrine confidently. Leaning in close to the genasi, he whispers in his ear, as he does he slowly drags the piece of parchment down Citrine's chest, finally slipping the paper into the split between his belt and codpiece - then walks away.

As Desmond was leaving he felt one of Citrine's shoulder capes brush across his ankle, subtly enough that it could have been intentional or an errant gust of wind from the open door, and if he looked back he might have caught a wink and a flash of fang.

The plan is laid out in dramatic fashion, with impassioned diagrams, improvised dioramas, re-enactments, and props. By the end, Misery is breathless.

The plan is thus: - Two of the Knights will leave immediately to guard the Torad compound, in case the Cobruhs move earlier than expected. - The Loves will pose as a rival street gang, and spread the word that they want to rumble with the Ca$h Cobruhs in the street tonight. - The remaining Knight will be sent into the sewers, to seal off the retreat route of the Cobruhs once the rumble begins.

Misery suggests calling their gang the Top Heavies, but this is shot down quickly. She opens up the floor for suggestions for names and any adjustments to the plan.

Sitting at his desk, Desmond retrieves his pipe and lights it with his green magic flame and leans back in his chair. His ears literally perk up when Misery mentions posing as a rival street gang, immediately opening one of his sketchbooks from a desk drawer, he begins scrawling. Outfits, they will all require some degree of outfits. He looks up at Ric from his sketching then tilts his head imperceptibly, “Mister Ricfvin. Perhaps you would have ideas for our garb? Come, sit with me.” he pats a seat next to him.

Ric bounced eagerly and hopped up on to the table beside Desmond, seizing a charcoal stick and doodling away at outfit ideas with him. Desmond had to stop Ric from putting extra bat wings and netting on everything. For some reason though, Ric did insist on everyone wearing dance tights and metal plates on the heels of their footwear. Something about it looking more "snappy".

After Misery finished spewing forth her plan he looks up at her, “Gangs and skirmishes in the streets? This will not… hm.” He glances around the room and speaks in a lower tone, “This will not result in incarceration again, will it, dear?”

As the others changed, Misery slipped down to the Sleeping Cerberus. She grinned as she already saw a bewildered... what was his name? Carpet?... already zipping between tables, frantic and overwhelmed. Nothing like a push off the deep end, she thought.

Misery made her way to Ruby’s station on the opposite side of the bar. Ruby Jade was an athletic, confoundingly blue Dragonborn and Misery’s preferred bartender, though she rarely drank in the Sleeping Cerberus anymore. Never get black out drunk in the business you lease your office from was one of the lessons she had learned the hard way. She caught Jade’s eye as she approached, and once her current customers had been served, she made her way down to where Misery stood.

“My dear Jade! Love the new piercing. I have a quick favor to ask: I need some gossip gossipped to the gossipiest gossips you know, pronto. I’m setting up a little prank, and I want to make sure the mark takes the bait.”

Jade raised an eyebrow, silver and gold rings rippling with the motion.

“Tell them that there’s a new gang in town: the Moo£ah Mongooses, and they think... oh what was it they said to me?” Misery tapped her lips with a finger. “Ah, yes, the Mongeese say that the Cash Cobruhs aren’t so much snakes as long-ass turds floating in the sewers who couldn’t even win a match of pee-wee Bergball, let alone a real rumble, and that their shrimp-dicked ponce of a leader Tossleblast is too cheap to pay his men full cuts, too cowardly to show up for a real fight, and too fucking ugly to show his face above ground for more than 15 minutes at a time.”

Misery hopped up on a barstool and leaned over the bar in a confidential manner, which caused a small ruckus a few stools down. “I know, I thought it was pretty brazen too. Some of it surely isn’t true, either- how could Tossleblart have a shrimp dick when I know I’ve heard rumors he has at least 5, maybe 6 girls on the side? Very peculiar.”

Misery then changed the topic to a couple points of small talk- have you heard the latest Lix?- before buying a shot and hurrying back upstairs to finish changing.

After designing outfits with Desmond, Ric finds himself ready to infiltrate the sewers with Nix. His eyes almost literally sparkle with glee at her skilled cape flourish. He returns the salute with equal enthusiasm, unable to stop himself from adding a full twirl on one toe point.

"F-Flip, Flourish, Flutter, Fly!" Ric recites proudly, bowing in return. "It's an hon....honor to work with ya, N.......N.....Nix!" He does a quick flip to demonstrate the two essential Fluttercape qualities for scouting: Agility and Capability.

"L-Lead the way!"

Chapter 5 - This is Battle Tap.

#bergond #D&D #dnd #Dungeons and Dragons #misery loves company #chapter 4 #umrar #citrine #Alodel #rug #malco #jade

0 notes