Posted for Rygos

A pair of boots land silently upon the mock-velvet carpets of the sixth floor, followed by another pair — and another pair. By this time of night, the top floors are seldom active. At the Blackened Horn the suites are reserved for the powerful; wealthy merchants, potential business partners, politicians. The trio crept down the left side of the crimson hallway, halting before each bedroom door to guarantee nobody might interfere. They reached the end of the hallway and paused before the staircase that leads to the seventh floor. The halfling removed the bag from his shoulders and took the bust that sat upon the pedestal beside the stairs.

        He motioned for the others to wait and began to crawl on all fours up the staircase. Using all of his limbs, carefully he climbed up the aging wooden stairs. He slithered onto the landing, then motioned for the others to follow and they did the same. Finally, they reached the eighth floor; a foyer with a single door on the other side. The door was plain, with no intricate carvings or desirable craftsmanship, but Geminias could feel the world slow around him as he laid his eyes upon it. A nudge to his shoulder snapped him out of the trance.

“C’mon man, don’t get cold feet. Peep the door,” the halfling spoke in a hushed rasp.

        Without reaction or further hesitation, Geminias slid up to the side of the door. He felt for the knife at his hip for reassurance and glanced at his boot strap. Another knife handle always was left protruding at an angle towards his back. He drew in a deep breath and popped the lock on the door, pushing it open with haste.

        No longer making any attempt to hide himself, he strode in — as emerald eyes met garnet eyes. A black-skinned tiefling sat on the front of an impressive ebony desk across the room. Geminias heard the boots enter the room behind him followed by the slamming of a door. It was a setup, just as he expected. Krowel was never a risk taker.

“Oh, come now. You had to anticipate that I would not be alone. You had to anticipate that I of all people would know. I always know,” the tiefling scolded.  

        Geminias said nothing. Just like in his youth, he felt paralyzed from guilt, shame, and those awful garnet eyes.

        With the sound of steel scraping steel, Geminias spun only to see a Ranger of Ozimodus with blades drawn behind him and his comrades. The halfling motioned for a blade on is hip, but the Ranger lunged, cutting him down in a single, fluid motion. The human stood motionless, color drained from his face.

        Krowel was scared. Geminias never knew him to be scared, but if he was desperate enough to call the law into play, it was because the Rangers were his last option for maintaining an advantage.

        Krowel stood up straight and took a step towards Geminias. The black tiefling towered over Geminias but keeps his distance. Geminias took another glance back. The Ranger now had his blades at the human’s throat.  

“Have you still nothing to say? After five years of playing vagabond?” Krowel turned and began to walk towards the large window behind the desk, “Corquaen is a disgusting city. I tried to raise you above it all, above… this.”

        He was genuine, but the sarcasm and power in his voice made Geminias shudder out of a sickening nostalgia.

“You kept me in the basement like a slave. Raise me? Your women were better parents than you could have ever…” Geminias’s voice softened into silence. The tiefling known throughout the gang as vibrant and brash now found himself shaking at the sight of this man. For the first time in over five years, he was once again at a loss for words.

        Krowel was furious, but he expertly wore a facade of calm — mild irritation at worst. He began back towards Geminias, who was obviously intimidated by the confrontation.

“I gave you opportunity. What more is a parent to do?” said Krowel, his voice still a wave of calm. He was holding back. After five years, he had plenty to say to the rat who had spit in his face, but he maintained his composure. He was unsure of what exactly Geminias was after, so he kept his guard up. If money was his only motivation, then he had become a bigger fool, and perhaps more desperate, than originally anticipated.

        Geminias drew the dagger from his belt and in a single movement pounced towards Krowel. The Ranger sliced the human without hesitation and Geminias heard the plop as the body landed upon the floor. Krowel snatched Geminias’s striking arm with ease and placed his other hand around the boy’s throat.

“Your nerves make you weak and predictable. Nothing has changed. All of this, just for a failed attempt to kill me? Was it worth what was sacrificed here?” He squeezed the knife from Geminias’s grasp. Slowly, Geminias’s tail (which he kept coiled around his leg that held the spare knife) began to take hold of the knife handle.

        Krowel said nothing. There the tieflings stood. Krowel savored this dominating presence that he held currently. For him, this would be enough for now, and a more severe penalty would come later.

        The tail pulled the knife slowly from the boot, and just as patiently, began to aim it from the low angle, so as to not tip off Krowel or the Ranger, who still stood behind him.

        In that moment, the world began to slow, just as it did when he encountered the door. His heart beat out of his chest and he drew in a deep breath. His eyes were still locked with Krowel’s nausea-inducing gaze.

        Then Krowel’s grasp began to weaken. The small metal pommel ejecting from his neck, Krowel wheezed, taking a step back and quickly reaching for his own throat.

        With his left hand, Geminias quickly conjured a thick Darkness, enveloping the entirety of the room, and dropping to the floor. He could hear the Ranger’s movements around him and began to crawl forward, under the desk and towards the window. He felt upwards until his hand caught the clasp, opening the glass door of the window and pulling himself onto the balcony. The Darkness followed, trickling outside but not past the outward-swinging door. Geminias felt along the balcony until he regained his sight out of the Darkness’s range.

        He mounted the balcony and began to sidle along the other side, along the outer walls of the building. He turned the outer corner and leapt to the adjacent building, only a couple feet below.

        By the time he returned to the Lower Western District, it was swarming with Rangers. Their presence has everyone looking the other way, whether they were affiliates or otherwise. He approached the small storefront and brushed aside the worn curtain that served as a door, pausing as he took a step inside. For a moment he considered turning around and finding shelter elsewhere, even if it meant a gutter.

        He walked through the back of the shop and down into the basement. He passed several of his fellow thieves, but none stopped him to question him about the two who had left with him, or of the Ranger presence.

        Geminias lay on his bed. He reflected on the events of the evening and for perhaps the first time in his life, considered his being. How easily Krowel had been slain, how disposable the lives of his comrades were, the normality of the Rangers’ presence, despite the danger it brought to himself and all those he considered “friends.”

        He woke up.

        Sweat had gathered on his forehead. The knock that awoke him sounded once again on his door. He opened it, and in the doorway was the halfling.

        “Ready up, we’re going to the Horn t’night, ‘member?” The halfling finally looked up at Geminias as the last words left his lips and a concerned expression crossed his face. ” ‘Ey, you don’t look too good.”

        “I’ll meet you outside,” Geminias spoke in a dry, hollow tone, and closed the door. Slowly, he made his way across the room to a dresser. He pulled open the top drawer and found both of his knives. He made sure to slide one into his boot and left.