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bergond · 7 years

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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

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