Infiltration

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fearecia
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Infiltration

Post by fearecia »

There had been some amusement when they’d handed her a tabard; it was clearly much too small and besides, it was not like she could wear it anyway. Still, in a place where the face of the oppressor changed often, recognizing one another was essential, so she was bid keep it. She would need to show it whenever she wandered into the protected areas. She settled for hanging it off the straps of her weapon’s harness on her left shoulder, wearing the thing more like a pauldron.

Fearecia sighed internally as she followed one of her new allies around the barracks, getting the introductions and a guided tour. It had been ridiculously easy to win the trust of the Sergeant, though she’d hated the methods. She honestly believed the poor shopkeeper had paid his “taxes” previously; the gold had probably been pocketed by one of her now fellow guardsmen. Still, once she’d passed their little test, they’d been happy to have her. An ex-Oligarian that was a dragon and unafraid to get her hands dirty? They were all too eager to see how high they could hike the “taxes” with her around to bare her teeth at folks. The Captain himself even encouraged her to do a little of her own extorting to earn some extra coin.

Bunch of bloody thieves, the lot of them, but with far less honor.

Within, she was seething, but outside she smiled amicably (as amicably as a predator with teeth the size of most people’s hands could), keeping up the façade of being happy to join the ranks of this riff raff. She’d come here for a reason, and that was to get some answers. When she’d found vast parts of the town closed off to her because she wasn’t a member of the guard, she’d immediately sought out how to join up.

Her guide finally finished with his lackluster performance of introductions and showing her around. She’d be put to work doing patrols and looking intimidating tomorrow; for now she should wander and familiarize herself with the town. So wander she did, putting on the mildly arrogant, aloof air of uncaring that had served her well in the past. She found a town in a state of horrible disrepair, with filth and suffering everywhere. Port Guard were a regular sight, hovering over the townsfolk and throwing their weight around. It was a town where those in power grew fat on taxes, while the rest struggled to make a living. The disparity sickened her, making her want to level the playing field and put those responsible in their place personally. Still, that would have to wait until she had answers.

She’d heard rumors that Jaimie was suspected to be in cahoots with the Corsair Duke that ran this place. While Jaimie was certainly an old rascal, he hardly ever caused much trouble that she knew of. Course, there was this thing with Lord Croft that had apparently happened… was he involved here in Gallowhaven somehow too? She didn’t know, but she wanted answers. Then there were the raids on the shipping lanes that had happened, something that had never been a problem in the past. Also, just how had these people kept this place hidden all these years? It was not like it had been built recently; everything was rusted, worn out, and ill kept.

She’d never been one to wait around and let answers present themselves. So, here she was, deep in enemy territory, searching for truth on the wrong side of the line once again.

Staring out across the waters at the giant war galleon, she couldn’t help but chuckle to herself, thinking about how things tended to repeat themselves over time. Once again she was going to be doing something she would rather not in order to get to a goal. This time, though, she was going to try to make the impact on innocents a little less.

The next morning, a poor shopkeeper found a pouch of gold mysteriously left on his counter, more than replacing his losses from the day before.
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fearecia
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Re: Infiltration

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“It was only 50 gold to dock last week!”

“Duke’s orders. The new fee is now 100 gold.” The guard grinned, baring yellowed teeth in a superior smirk.

The sailor scowled, folding his arms over his chest. He knew this Port Guard and their game; the fellow was just trying to line his own pockets. “60 gold.”

The guard ran his fingers over his dirty, scraggly beard a moment, considering. “90.”

“70. Final offer.”

The guard pouted a bit at the sailor. “Are you sure?”

The sailor ground his teeth. “Quite.”

“I think he’s being stingy. What do you think, Fear?”

Fear had been standing idly on all fours just to the right of the guard, watching the crowd. There was a horribly flamboyant pirate bouncing around the docks, talking up a storm and generally making a fool of himself. She was sure she recognized the face, but was having trouble placing it just this moment. She turned her attention back to the topic at hand, considering the sailor. He blanched when she turned her cold emerald gaze on him. “I think ships burn really well, Kraeth. I also think you two should hurry this up. Lunch gave me a bit of indigestion.” She turned her head to the side and “belched” a bit of flame for emphasis, causing a few dock workers to duck for cover. The poor sailor turned white as a sail cloth.

“Alright, alright! 75! That’s the best I can do!”

Kraeth smirked and held out his hand, the poor terrified sailor quickly dropping a pouch of gold into it. The guard pocketed the pouch and smiled. “Pleasure doing business with you. Hope the trading goes well!”

The grumbling of the sailor was audible as she and the guard turned away, headed to handle the next incoming ship. Fear was only half paying attention to the conversations; her attention drawn back to the ships in the cove. There was an independent ship that dealt with the Duke, but wasn’t governed by him. It was the Saucy Sea Wench, captained by Elyssar. Fear was pretty sure Elyssar and Jaimie were old buddies. She was going to have to ask him about it when she saw the pirate next. There was the galleon, the Shadow Flame, and the Orca, a whaling ship. There was the Golden Promise, the ship from the Merchant’s guild, and the Marlin, a fishing vessel. She’d heard talk of a ship that was captured from Devardec, even seen some of the plunder, but she had yet to come across the ship itself in her travels. Word was that the crew was probably still in the city’s prison, though.

One of the biggest ships, anchored off in the waters, was the Leviathan, the Duke’s personal galleon. Apparently, one could only board the ship with an invitation. So how did she get an invitation? Probably by distinguishing herself somehow. She’d have to figure out how in time. For now, it was the day to day grind of extorting the merchants and citizenry, and secretly leaving gifts to help offset the damage her presence was doing. Thankfully, if the rumor mill about her nightly exploits had started, it hadn’t reached the guards’ ears yet. The populace was probably intelligent enough to keep their small gifts to themselves.

She needed to make a trip back to Devardec soon. The Captain of the Guard had mentioned he could use information on shipping lanes to sell to the pirates. She needed to snoop around and see what she could find out.
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fearecia
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Re: Infiltration

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The dragonkin was frustrated.

Fearecia had managed to wedge herself into a dark corner of the bar, snagging a table and pulling it towards herself with her tail. It was a larger table, either made for a group or a half-orc, allowing the dragonkin to rest at least on forearm on the surface. She glowered over the barely touched drink, the irritation in her emerald eyes encouraging everyone to give her a wide berth. There hadn’t been a need to really flex her muscles in this town yet, but generally speaking, her fellow guardsmen didn’t want to test her.

She’d finally managed to snag a few days off to see what trouble she could dig up in Devardec. She hadn’t managed to find anything on the shipping manifestos, but there’d been plenty of other news that had left her scales hackled. First, there were the attacks on the Temple of Light, along with those in Stone Keep. The protector in her wanted to dash off, forget this whole Gallowhaven nonsense and start hunting down perpetrators. Sense prevailed; she couldn’t be two places at once, and there were others to hunt down murderers. While she’d seen other familiar faces passing through town, waving their tabards, they hadn’t gone to work with the guard like she had. Few could, truth be told. They didn’t have her reputation.

Then she’d heard the news on Jaimie. Licks of flame started to dance on the surface of the alcohol as the anger flared up. She’d managed to catch up with the old rascal and get his side of the story, and frankly she didn’t agree with Anais’ findings one bit. Then again, Fear was well aware she was biased, but like hell she was going to just stand on the sidelines for this one. Jaimie was a friend, a good one, and she would do anything she could to aid him. She’d have to keep an eye out and see if any of Croft’s ships wandered in Gallowhaven. There might be a bit more gouging than normal where they were concerned.

She took a deep breath, forcing the flames to calm and vanish. A goodly portion of alcohol had been consumed by the flames, but she didn’t care. The drink was just for cover anyway. Something about being a fire breathing creature didn’t bode well for consuming vast quantities of alcohol.

Then there were the other things. She had yet to find a way to get the Duke’s attention. She’d run over several options, but none seemed terribly likely just yet. There was also this thing with the plague town up north. While the Duke had clearly ordered the place quarantined, she hadn’t seen any healers coming or going on the roads. Plus, she’d run across several rats stinking of plague in the sewers. Wasn’t this Corsair Duke going to do something to keep his city running smoothly?

Lastly, there was the vampire problem, and bloody hell was it a problem. There were only a handful in Gallowhaven proper, thankfully, and they seemed to be content to hide in their hole until adventurers came calling. The fortress up north, however, was completely infested. How had vampirism become so rampant up here? Is that what had killed all the dwarves off who’d built this place? Did it have anything to do with the plague? She wondered if Satyana knew anything about the infestation. Fear made a mental note to send the vampiress a bird sometime later to ask her about it.

Kraeth’s face intruded on her thoughts, jerking her back to the present. “New ship coming in. We’d best go meet it,” he said with a mischievous grin.

The ebony kin huffed her irritation and pushed the table away as she got to her feet. Much as she wanted to be tearing some flesh apart, she had a job to do, and a cover to keep. For now, anyway. Flicking the bartender a few pieces of gold with her tail, she followed her partner out through the stinking crowd to go gouge another merchant.
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Re: Infiltration

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Excitement was ripping through the air even as thunderheads echoed across the ocean. There was a powerful storm whipping in the distance, but it was only a few smattering of raindrops that were hitting the warf. The guard were busy clearing people from the docks in preparation for the incoming ships. Fear snapped at a fleeing beggar, chasing him out of the immediate area with a savage snarl.

A cheer went up from the gathered guard as the ships sailed into the cove. The raid had been successful! The dragonkin looked up, her heart sinking as the recognized the pair of vessels sailing in. Devardec ships. Two big ones, too. The Leviathan followed in behind, cruising to its customary place in the bay.

One of the guards elbowed her in the shoulder, grinning like an absolute idiot. “Stole ‘em righ’ outta Dev’s port! Quite sumthin’, eh?”

Fear forced a grin on her face, baring her teeth at the fellow guardsman. “Indeed. Once again, the Corsair Duke sails successfully home.”

“Aye, missy! Come on. We’d bes’ ‘elp ‘em unload.” The guard darted off towards the first ship, grabbing a trailing line to help pull it up against the docks. Gangplanks were lowered, guard swarming up to start helping haul off and take inventory of the booty. The dragonkin eyed the mass of guard moving along the narrow plank for a moment, then settled for simply leaping up onto the prow of the ship, a few flaps of her wings bringing her high enough to land on the deck. No sense in fighting the swarm of bodies if she didn’t have to. Plus, it was unlikely she was going to fit below decks anyway, so she’d best see about helping out where she could above decks.

She scowled as she took in the sight. Some of the crew had been unlucky enough to be on board the ship when it was captured. Some of the guard were busy looting their pockets, though it was unlikely the raiders hadn’t already done so. The smell of blood hit her nose with a gust of wind; clearly, there had been something of a fight over the ship. Giving a bit of a snort, she prowled down towards the captured sailors, positively glowering at anyone who dared get in her way. The few pilfering guard quickly bolted off to easier pickings as she approached.

“Let me help you get them unloaded, Jharezia,” the dragonkin rumbled, reaching over to slice one of the ropes tying the prisoners to the mast with a claw.

The human woman nodded. “Thanks. The boys are all tae busy trying te line their pockets while the Duke’s nay lookin.” Her voice was gruff, weathered like an old sailing rope. She was a bit older, but still tough as nails; you had to be in the Guard.

“Really? The Duke lets them get away with that?” The dragonkin shifted smoothly to finally stand upright, towering over the captured sailors. “Up, you lot. Try anything, and I’ll have you for dinner.”

The sailors blanched, though some looked confused. “But… aren’t you Fearecia? Of the Monk’s Guild? Why are you helping them?”

The ebony kin positively snarled, darting forward to smack the unfortunate sailor hard across the cheek, the movement uncharacteristically quick for a creature her size. His head whipped to the side, cracking into the skull of the fellow next to him, the sound echoing across the deck. “Perhaps,” she growled, going down to one knee to stare him in the face, her teeth mere inches from his head, “I should have added that you should be SILENT about it.” Emerald eyes glanced to his cheek; he’d have a bruise, but it was unlikely she’d broken anything. Much as she needed to assert her position in front of the other guard, she didn’t want to truly hurt the poor sailor.

Jhar chuckled as she pulled a cutlass from her hip. “The Duke doan much care so long as they doan take anythin’ tae valuable. He doan miss a few trinkets.” She turned her attention to the captive sailors. “A’right you lot. Off ye go. An’ ye bes’ listen te the dragon ‘ere. She tells me ye lot taste great roasted o’er hot coals and slathered with smashed tomatoes.”

Heads bowed in defeat, the crew got to their feet, shuffling off down the momentarily empty gangplank. Thoroughly cowed, they loaded up into the prisoner’s wagon waiting below. The woman threw home the bolt on the cage door as the last entered, securing it with an old, but sturdy, lock. “Thanks for the help, Fear. I usually have te beat a few black an’ blue afore they load up so nicely.”

The dragonkin nodded, dropping back down to all fours. “I’ll follow the wagon over to the Gaol; make sure nothing goes awry. I won’t be much use in the holds anyway.”

Jharezia nodded. “Fair ‘nuff. I’ll catch up te ye for drinks later.”

Fear echoed the nod, walking up to the front of the wagon. “Lead on, boys. Everything’s secure in back.”

The grizzled old dwarf grinned through his dirty beard at her. “Oy, Fear! Why don’t ya help us by pulling the wagon? The horses surely are a bit tired!” He sniggered and elbowed his copilot, the other dwarf spluttering into a mug of whiskey he was enjoying.

Fear offered him a sarcastic grin, fully familiar with people teasing her about being a mount of some kind. She turned as if to head back towards the back of the wagon, but continued in a circle instead, her tail whipping around to thwak solidly into the dwarf’s ribs. There was the wet crunch of a few bones breaking, the previously jolly dwarf suddenly doubling over in pain. Fear completed her circle, putting her great maw right next to the dwarf, letting a little bit of flame curl his hair. “Make that joke again, and I’ll make sure they never find your body. Understand?”

The dwarf coughed painfully and nodded, struggling to catch his breath. Fear echoed the nod. “Good. Now hand the reigns to your friend there and let’s get this wagon moving.”

The fellow dwarf quickly grabbed the reigns, his skin pale against his bright red beard. A quick flick and the wagon lurched into motion, the draft horses clopping along the docks. Fear fell into step behind the wagon, keeping an eye on the prisoners. Several were positively glowering at her, the whispered word “traitor” occasionally reaching her ears. Fear ignored them. It wasn’t the first time she’d been called that, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

They reached the Gaol without further incident, making a very brief stop to drop off the injured dwarf at a healer’s along the way. The guardsmen at the prison grinned wickedly at the sailors as they unlocked the gate, blades flashing warningly. “Let’s go.”

“Need any help with them? They gave us some fuss up on the docks,” Fear asked one of the guards who was standing back supervising the unloading process.

The guard shook his head. “Nah. We can handle this lot. Asides, you can’t come in here anyway unless you’re approved. Duke’s orders.”

The dragonkin nodded, hiding her frustration behind a nonchalant exterior. The bloody Duke controlled everything around here with an iron fist. She’d been hoping to verify that the crews of the previously captured ships were in the Gaol, but once again, she was foiled. This whole thing was getting to be mildly infuriating. At this rate, she was going to have to start breaking into places to get answers. Moving off, she leapt into the sky, winging her way over the wall and back towards the docks.

She backwinged to land on one of the crossbeams of the mainsails, the wood creaking a bit under her weight. The holds of both ships were already mostly unloaded, trusted older guard taking inventory nearby and sending merchandise off to their various locations. Devardec had taken a huge blow today. They needed to find a way to fight back, and quickly. She turned her gaze to the Leviathan, the great galleon anchored quietly in the cove. Maybe it was time to do a bit more.
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Re: Infiltration

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The storm finally rolled in.

Thunder boomed across the cove, lightning chasing itself from cloud to cloud. Sails were carefully furled against the wind, the ships rocking on the waves against their moorings. Rain was coming down in sheets, drenching anyone fool enough to venture out into the storm.

Crouched on the beach outside the town, water sluicing off her scales as she shoved rocks into her otherwise empty pack, Fearecia was clearly a fool. Then again, that was hardly a new accusation.

She finished stuffing the pack full of rocks and slung it back onto her back, fishing the straps through the pierced holes in her wing membranes to buckle it. She nodded, feeling the load settle squarely across her shoulders. Good. Picking up a stone hammer and a bag of waxed nails, she quickly cast a gills spell and waded into the choppy waters.

Silt filled the waters, making it difficult to see as the waves tugged on her. The dragonkin grumbled to herself; for all that she was an apex predator capable of spotting a rabbit from the sky, murky water was proving to be mildly problematic. Spreading her wings, she slowly beat them, swimming somewhat clumsily through the rough current, a black shadow in dark waters. Her pack of stones did its job, keeping her from quickly floating to the surface. Moving deeper into the cove waters, she dodged various flotsam stirred up by the storm, including a body or two. She shuddered, not surprised, but still disgusted as the bloated bodies floated past.

Finally, the hull of the galleon loomed into her sight, the dark wood momentarily silhouetted by lightning flashing overhead. Feeling the thunder boom through the water, Fear idly hoped that the lightning stayed in the clouds; she’d be toasted dragonkin otherwise. A few more strokes of her wings and she was near the rudder, the massive piece of wood bigger than she was. Twisting, she sunk her hind claws into the hull, giving herself the necessary leverage for this next part. Fishing several nails out of the bag, she set about hammering them into the hull, hoping anyone inside the ship would mistake the noise for flotsam smacking the hull.

The nails were short, stubby things, thoroughly coated in wax. They were long enough to stick in the hull, but not nearly long enough to cause a leak. The smith had looked at her askance when she’d asked for waxed nails weeks before. What point was there in that? Because she’d wanted them; that was the point. As usual, a bit of extra gold got the desired results, and she’d avoided having to fully explain herself. It wasn’t like she wanted anyone knowing she planned to hammer nails into the Duke Corsair’s personal galleon. That would likely earn her a place next to others hanging from the Corsair’s Gate.

A few minutes later and a dozen or so nails were scattered around the hull near the rudder. Hopefully, between the wax and everything else, no one would notice a few nails when they checked the rudder for flotsam after the storm. Of course, dark nails against a dark hull were hardly noticeable in the first place, but this would all be for naught if they happen to get spotted and pulled out before the big event. Releasing her grip on the hull, Fear righted herself in the water and headed towards the docks, stalking the Shadow Flame next.

Several minutes and another dozen nails later, the Shadow Flame was sporting its own interpretation of the latest fashion around the rudder. Swimming a few docks over, Fear stashed the hammer and nails at the base of one of the pylons, secured with a bit of rope to keep them from getting washed away; it wouldn’t do to get caught with those on her. Next came the rocks, discarded into the sand in front of the hammer and nails, obscuring them from casual view. A moment later and she was climbing up onto the dock, pointlessly trying to shake some of the extra water off her scales. Muttering, she headed back into the city. The tavern would be warm and dry, with plenty of soldiers hanging out to avoid the rain. Everyone would simply assume she’d come in off patrol for a drink and not think twice about her being completely drenched.

A bit of a smile crossed her face as she prowled the streets. Stage one complete.
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fearecia
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Re: Infiltration

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“We’re out of tabards, Captain.”

“AGAIN?!” Dathyus Harker scowled and leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the desk as he considered. “You’re sure?”

The ebon dragonkin nodded, waiting patiently. Being the rookie, she’d be assigned to take inventory of the various stock in the barracks: weapons, foodstuffs, and of course, the tabards. With all the adventurers joining the ranks just so they could go play with the vampires up north, well, the guard was running low on tabards rather consistently. “Counted them twice, Captain. We’ve only got three left,” she said.

The Captain grumbled and snatched an order form out of drawer of his desk, quickly filling it out. “Run this down to the cloth merchant. He’ll send out the orders to get us more tabards made.” He paused a moment, looking up at the mildly hulking dragonkin who was waiting patiently and, for once, standing upright. “And see if you can snarl a discount out of him. Word is you’ve been rather effective at collecting taxes. We’ve been sending him enough business lately that he owes us.”

Fear chuckled as she took the requisition order from the Captain, letting a bit of smoke trail from her jaws. “Happily, Sir. Anything else?”

“Give him this for the deposit. He won’t work on filling the order until we’ve paid him some upfront,” the Captain grumbled, tossing Fear a small pouch of gold. Deftly she caught the pouch in her left hand, giving an idle salute to the man with the scroll in her right. “I’ll take care of it Sir.”

Dathyus grunted and waved her off, returning to his other work. Ducking under the doorframe, the dragonkin wandered out of the office, headed back downstairs to run her errand, trying very hard to hide the smirk threatening to creep across her face.
Once outside the barracks, she ducked into an alley, the townsfolk completely ignoring her as she stepped into the shadows. A whispered spell and the invisibility descended around her, ensuring that no one would see what she was about to do.

It was a small thing, really. The requisition order called for 50 tabards. A couple strokes of a quill turned it into 80. A full thirty to spare for her purposes. Grinning, she tucked the quill away and dropped the invisibility spell, stepping out of the shadows and back into the milling crowd.

The guards waved her through the gate as she headed into Upper Gallowhaven. She almost didn’t need the tabard anymore; how many black dragonkin could there be? Still, for all that the Port Guard were generally a bunch of scum, they were downright anal scum when it came to the Duke’s orders. Then again, a few heads had probably rolled the first time someone was caught cutting corners. So, she wore the fool thing on her shoulder, the rough cloth getting a bit more frayed everyday as it caught on her scales. She was going to need a new one herself soon.

She ambled up to Weaver’s Street, wandering into the warehouse where Stefan Pierce oversaw operations. He was a balding, well dressed man. A bit of a penny pincher, but well, who wouldn’t be with the Guard wandering around extorting people? He promptly glowered as he saw her stroll up.

“I already paid this month. That fool Kraeth collected just a few days ago,” he growled, crossing his arms over his large chest.

The dragonkin waved a dismissive hand as she strolled over to the much shorter gentleman. “I’m not here for that. We need more tabards.” She handed him the requisition order.

He hmphed and took the scroll, unrolling it and peering through his glasses at the paperwork. He raised an eyebrow at the dragonkin after a moment. “Eighty, eh? Bit more than usual.”

“We’ve been going through them quickly.” She shrugged, pretending to be completely unconcerned about the amount.

“Dathyus gave you the deposit?”

“Indeed,” she said, handing him the pouch of gold. He hefted the bag a moment, considering, and then nodded. Fear had added some of her gold to the pouch to make up for the extra order. Apparently she’d judged right. “However, there is something I would like to discuss with you?”

“Oh?” Stefan asked, tucking away both the scroll and the gold.

Fear nodded with a crafty smile. “Well, the Captain wants you to give him a discount since we’ve been ordering so much from you lately.”

The cloth merchant positively scowled. “Discount, eh? That why he sent you? You can tell him I pay him too much in taxes for any cursed discount.”

Fear chuckled. “You’re going to give him the discount.”

“You don’t scare me, dragon.”

Fear shook her head, holding up another pouch of gold, nearly triple what she’d given him as the deposit. “This is why you are going to give it to him. This is also why you’ll expedite the order. I want it done as fast as you possibly can. This is also why you’ll call me, and only me, to come pick up the order.”

That caught him off guard, but Fear could see the greed rising in his eyes as he considered the large pouch of gold. He licked his lips a moment. “Why?” he asked, suspicious.

“I’m angling for a promotion. I’m a little tired of heckling you lot for taxes. I’d like a cushy job. Perhaps working the prison or manning the gates.” It was true enough, for the most part. She really did hate trying to rob everyone blind.

Stefan could understand self interest. He himself wanted to move up in the world. This little bribe could certainly help with that. “How much of a discount?”

The monk considered a moment. “Ten percent? Should be enough to appease him without hurting your bottom line.”

A broad smile crawled over the cloth merchant’s face. He was beginning to like this dragonkin. “Deal. I’ll have the order in two weeks. Come back then to pick it up.”

Fear smiled and dropped the back of gold into his greedy hands. It disappeared quicker than the first had. “Pleasure doing business with you, Stefan.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he said, reaching to shake her hand, then thinking better of it. He’d be lucky if he could hang onto two fingers. Instead, he gave her a small bow, smiling all the while. Throwing him a wink, Fear gave him an idle salute and wandered off, certain the merchant wouldn’t mention the deal to anyone. He had his interests to protect in this deal too. After all, if word got around he came into a sudden windfall, well, his taxes would definitely increase.

Fear chuckled. Everyone in this town had a price. She’d happily pay it from her own pocket if it got her the results she needed.
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Re: Infiltration

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The wagon was meant for a pony. In Fear’s hands it looked more like a wheelbarrow. Of course, the fact that she was rolling the thing around precisely like it was a wheelbarrow didn’t help in the least. Regardless, the crowds parted for the towering dragonkin, the guards giving her a friendly wave as she passed through the Toll Gate. She returned the wave with a nod, heading over to the Street of Weavers to pick up the order.

Stefan looked up from some papers when he heard the wagon roll up, a smile splitting his face as he spotted the conspicuous kin. “Fearecia! You made it! And right on time, too!”

She chuckled, setting the wagon back down on all four wheels. “I did tell you I was angling for a promotion. Timeliness definitely gets noticed, especially when so many people join the Guard just to wander off.”

The merchant nodded. “Yes, yes. It’s been hard to keep up with all the new faces around here. Come on back. The order is in the warehouse.”

Fearecia followed the balding man into the busy warehouse, making sure to keep her tail and wings tucked in close. The warehouse was a bustle of activity, with workers darting to and fro, filling orders. The last thing she wanted to do was trip some poor lad just trying to make a living. Stefan led her back and over to the right, where four wooden crates were stacked up.

“Here they are,” he said, setting a hand on one of the crates. “Less the deposit you gave me, that’ll be 2000 gold.”

Fear nodded, handing him a pouch. There was 2500 in there; she’d overestimated the costs. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to give the man a small tip. “Twenty to a box?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He nodded, the pouch deftly disappearing after a careful estimation of the weight. “We usually do twenty-five to a crate with some room to spare, but with the increased order, it just made more sense to break it up this way. Make sure you let Dathyus know that we did that. Last thing I want is him heckling me because he thinks he got the wrong amount of tabards.”

Fear chuckled and waved a dismissive hand. “I’ll make sure he knows. Thanks for getting this order handled quickly for me, Stefan. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”

His eyes positively gleamed with glee. “Pleasure was all mine, M’lady.” He swept a small bow and wandered off, leaving the dragonkin to move her order as she saw fit.

She snorted a bit, grumbling at the salutation and the bow. On the list of things she hated was titles, and that included “M’lady” or other such nonsense. And bowing! It exposed one’s neck to attacks. Utterly foolish practice. Still, if Stefan was happy, he’d keep his mouth shut, which worked to her benefit.

Reaching over, she tried the lid on one of the crates. Good; they weren’t nailed down. In mere moments, she was reorganizing the crates. Thirty tabards ended up in one crate, with the other fifty being split between two crates. The last thing she wanted was to raise the suspicion of anyone by having the crates packed differently. The thirty just barely fit in the one crate, but the ebon dragonkin wasn’t terribly concerned about it. As long as they arrived in one piece, no one would care. Putting the lids back on, she started hauling the crates back to the wagon. She left the spare crate where it was; Stefan wouldn’t care if he ended up with an extra crate.

It was a quick enough trip back to the barracks, her fellow guardsmen waving hello as she passed. No one even gave her a second look for the extra crate in the wagon; most knew she had been sent to get the tabards earlier. Just before she made it to the barracks, she whispered an invisibility spell, targeting the 30-tabard crate. It slowly faded from view, hiding her deception. Back at the barracks, she dropped off the fifty tabards the Captain had originally ordered before heading off to return the wagon she’d “borrowed” from the nearby tavern. The proprietor was extremely happy to have his wagon back in one piece, so much so that he paid no attention to the fact that Fear appeared to be holding something in her off hand.

Another invisibility and recall spell later and she was wandering Devardec, headed up to Ambassador’s office with no one the wiser. Lamaenor was out, but no matter. She set the crate down under his desk, certain he’d find it when he returned. The spell on the crate should wear off in a few minutes. Of course, knowing Lamaenor, he’d find the crate with his shins when he sat down at his desk next. Absentminded was definitely the word for that boy at times.

Chuckling to herself, Fear wandered out of the offices, teleporting back to her duties in the Port. It was all almost too easy.
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fearecia
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Re: Infiltration

Post by fearecia »

"Resigning?!"

"For the time being, Sir. As you may have heard, other things are happening in the world. I'm sure things can be handled without my presence."

The Captain of the Port Guard leaned back in his chair, considering the black dragonkin before him. She'd certainly been useful in increasing profits and making sure taxes had gotten collected, but like all the guard, she wasn't indispensible. Just mildly more useful than most of those rotating through the ranks these days. Shrugging, Dathyus leaned forward again, looking down at his paperwork. "Any idea when you plan to return?"

"At the moment, no. It depends a lot on how long current events continue as they are. I'll check in from time to time; there are still those vampires up north to be kept in check, after all."

The Captain grunted. Didn't he know it. "Very well then. Off with you. Check back with me when you are ready to resume your duties. I'll let you know if there is still a job for you then."

Fearecia dipped her head in respectful acknowledgement. "Thank you, Captain. I appreciate your understanding."

He huffed and waved her away. He didn't need to waste any more time on yet another probable deserter. People came and people went; it hardly mattered to him so long as the Duke's taxes were paid. Carefully, she backed out of the smallish door, making sure not to knock anything over in the (comparatively) narrow hallway. There were times being the size of a Knight's Charger had its bonuses, and other times it was just bloody obnoxious. Exchanging a few waves with some of the guard, she left the barracks, headed out of town.

It was true; there was too much going on in the wide world for her to stay here in GallowHaven. It was a bit frustrating though, that all her hard work may go to naught. She was rather annoyed that Devardec had been unable to get its act together to make use of what she'd given them, but she guessed that was how it went sometimes. The preparations would probably remain where she'd put them, ready for someone else to pick up the reigns. For now, though, her skills were needed elsewhere, and there was no way she was going to stay and rot in this awful port town.

Reaching the trail leading towards the mountains, she spread her wings, launching into the sky. Time to move on, towards the next adventure.
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