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A Night at the Pirates' Den

McIan

Journeyman
Scar had been through very many close shaves during his lifetime as both dark soul and light bearer, now caught somewhere in-between, but this most recent episode stood out. He and his wife Deminatza went to visit a tavern, by invitation, that they had never been to before… a pirate’s drinking den. The place appeared innocuous enough; the barkeep was friendly and accommodating; the atmosphere pleasant; the furnishings and décor, elegant yet simple. The patrons who came also seemed typical, until in walked this tall, huge, hulking blue beast that talked, and a talking cat. While such sights certainly raised eyebrows, they brought him no real concern, for by that time, after having indulged himself in one or two glasses of a rich, dark, bourbon, he could not be sure what his eyes revealed… until she appeared directly behind him.

“She” being the deranged pirate queen, Suka.

Their previous encounter in Delucia had been a muddled affair; she had been hired to take him out by his foe, Torak. What she didn’t know, and what saved Scar, was his lycanthropy. She sliced him up neatly but he left a long scar on her before he bounded away.

She offered him another bottle and he took it, looking back and up to thank her. When realization hit him, but not her blade, he yelled for Deminatza to flee, which she did… something they had practiced together. He was supposed to follow her… but he hesitated.

Suka had not attacked him. She had cause and opportunity to bushwhack him, but didn’t. Even though the hulking creature shambled closer, he decided this might be an only chance.

Not to pick a fight with her. He was outnumbered besides being ill-armed, expecting a friendly night on the town. No, he had been looking for her for a long time. He believed she had kidnapped a family of a friend, Korbin, from Papua some time back. If she held them in custody, and he started a fight, she might kill them or worse. He never drew his dagger at all.

They had talked. In his view, she feigned ignorance of the family in question. He explained in detail: the names of all of them, one by one, and the children’s ages. She proposed to help look for them for a fee. She scribbled a figure on a piece of paper and tossed it at him.

Eight hundred million in gold… a stiff fee by any measure. He agreed to it. She said she would keep in touch with him, but that he had better not… fool… with her. She held all the cards; she likely had the family, and his friend by extortion… what could he do but comply?

She allowed him to leave but invited his wife and he to return, which he thought he might, but when he got home, he had caused her to panic when he did not follow immediately behind as they had practiced. She had sent word out to seek assistance. She had even pounded on the doors of his father’s estate begging him to help. When he arrived and found her, she was inconsolable, hurt, and angry; he had broken the plan. He tried to explain why but it was of no use.

Later that evening, after receiving a summons from her, Lord Chanticleer appeared at Sanctuary and spoke with him, chiding him kindly for his choice of tavern selection. They talked for a bit, then spoke of other plans and things to come.

Scar went to bed alone, but slept fitfully. He could not put the image of Deminatza’s raven-black hair streak with white when she vented her anger. This was a sign Torak had told him was a danger signal. They would have to talk again soon of it.

Before he drifted off to sleep, he promised himself to be considerably more discriminating about what tavern to attend… but then… that bourbon was the best he had ever had… Dante’s …what was the name of it again?
 
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