Mad World

[Dissinger]

Closed.

Everything was finally according to plan. It had taken him far longer than he cared to admit, but at least now he knew his daughter was safe. It was a complex plot, as intricate as the Lavinian was deadly, but he had worked his way through to most of the major continents. He wasn’t afraid of the things she would end up doing.

The truth was, he knew all too well the dangers this world possessed. In fact, he was considered one of the larger ones. While he certainly was no threat to his daughter, he was concerned for her well being, and so he had begun to spring up a network of allies and safe houses. Places his daughter could go to be safe from the dangers of the world. The truth was, he didn’t want her to be forced down his path.

So, when he had originally planned on traveling to Radasanth, he had attempted to do so alone, and hopefully meet the Mystic and be done with it in a week’s time. When he had found out it was his daughter’s Sixteenth birthday, he had begun to worry. He couldn’t just leave her alone for another birthday, especially not her sixteenth.

The sixteenth birthday of a Lavinian was when they chose their path. They would either be a thief, a guard, or a merchant in the small trade town of Lavinya. Of course, Seth knew his daughter’s choice. She had more in common with dear old dad, and while Seth hated the fact, he refused to stifle her ability to choose.

Besides, he felt it was a child’s natural duty to give their parent’s heart attacks on a yearly basis.

The end product of all this was, Seth was walking home late at night. At a far later time than the Lavinian had planned and to avoid commotion with the guards, The Lavinian Demon walked into the Radasanth Underground. Straight through the back alleys and into the seedier spots of Radasanth, he entered what was known as Whore’s Alley.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out how it came to be called that either.

The Guards stayed away on duty, so as to not be tempted by the sultry vixens that populated the various brothels in the small alleyway, but Seth had often used the alleyway during daylight hours to avoid them. There was no need for anyone like the Lavinian Demon to go through there, other than to avoid underground and legal elements best left unaware of his presence in the city.

Besides, he had a wife and kid now, he didn’t need what the girls offered. If anything, he was ashamed of the barely concealed slavery these girls were forced into. Had he the desire to, he would have burned all the brothels to the ground after setting the girl free, but knew better than to assume that the girls would thank him for the heroics. Further, he was more than certain that a few of them had chosen and relished their life, and he would never remove the shackles of gold they willingly took upon themselves.

He merely continued down the red lighted streets avoiding the larger piles of refuse. He heard a few laughs, quite a few sounds of gold changing hands, and the sound of alcoholic drink, either for liquid courage, or to not remember the atrocities that would be preformed that night. Seth may have been an ancient race of human designed to protect the world from the corrupting influence of Sintyre, but even he had the question a world that would allow such perverse corruption as this to thrive and flourish.

It always put him in a sour mood when he was forced to agree with the Grand Dream.

[Slavegirl]

Deep in the red light district of Radasanth was a small but deceptively opulent brothel tucked away near the end of a narrow alley. The entrance was wide; the interior of the location separated from the refuse outside only by sheer silk curtains through which the sultry glow of candles and the intoxicating smell of incense and opium crept into the street. Although the actual “work” took place in relative privacy upstairs, downstairs the girls lounged lazily against pillows and partook of every vice allowed to them. Their eyes were glazed with the hazy euphoria granted by opium and alcohol, their skin laid bare for potential clients to marvel at and consider purchasing, only the smallest bits of silk or leather covering the most delectable parts of their anatomy.

Nearest the door was Natalya, raven hair curled and pinned so that some twisted away from her face while the rest grazed her shoulders and down her back. Her skin was pale as alabaster, the candles and braziers casting a golden sheen across her so she shone like a harvest moon. Sheer blue silk was draped carefully over her overripe curves, showing a dangerous hint of what it covered. At her throat a dark tattoo traced itself in the form of a collar and, to those who knew, marked the woman as a Berevan slave – perhaps a runaway or perhaps just sold from a master in the frozen north to one in the more temperate Corone. In her hand she clutched a long pipe from which a tendril of smoke crept that smelled strongly of opium and which she frequently lifted to her lips and inhaled.

From her position by the entrance the blue eyed beauty could see all who passed outside. It had been a frustratingly dull evening; not many customers had visited, and fewer potential clients had passed by than normal – even fewer even acknowledging the enticing words Natalya called in their direction. Footsteps caught the slave’s attention and she took another drag from her pipe, eyes closing for a moment in bliss before she lay the pipe aside and not only called out to the man who walked by but stood and stepped into the alley in front of him (a particularly frowned upon marketing scheme).

“Surely, sir, you wouldn’t dream of walking by without sampling our goods,” Natalya purred, her accent thick as she laid one hand on his chest, the other creeping lower and grazing over his crotch suggestively before hooking one finger in his belt loop and pulling gently toward the entrance, “Why don’t you just come inside for a moment?”

[Dissinger]

The first instinct Seth had was to draw steel and push the offending woman against the wall. His hand went to a knife before something told him to stop. The fact it had responded faster than his instincts cause him to pause, even as he was dragged bodily into the Brothel. He registered the voice, all at once familiar yet alien. This wasn’t a tone he had heard often, but he definitely recognized the voice.

It was a voice that he hadn’t heard in a long time.

Gears turned furiously as he took in her features, the exotic look was played to the hilt. The silks and nearly translucent clothing gave him little to imagine. However, his eye was not that of the hungry dog, it was that of the assessing wolf. He drank in more details, a tattoo now could be seen in the dim lighting of the place before he gestured to it and said softly, “You’re from…”

His eyes snapped open immediately as he felt his voice catch in his throat. The hair was the right color, though obviously trussed up to play to her natural beauty. A natural beauty he had fallen for at one time. Her curves and features had been angry, they had raged at him. It was hard to forget that face though, or the night that had followed, so emotional the two of them were.

The name slowly filtered across his mind as he spoke softly, only for her, “Gods be damned Natalya, what did they do to you?”

The brothel seemed a whole world away. He couldn’t hear the music that a few of the girls played, obviously to set a mood. He couldn’t smell the opiates nor the smoke of other drugs. He couldn’t even perceive the warmer climate, meant to make it easier to shed clothing, and become more amiable to an intimate encounter. His body had shut off that part of him as he realized with growing terror, that the woman who had been one of his last peers, had become a rather brazen whore.

A bead of sweat trailed past his forehead, as he stood there in shock of what he had seen. His eyes searching hers for an answer.

[Slavegirl]

Even had she known she was in danger of his blade, Natalya would not have cared. Her thoughts were muddled, her mind a swirling kaleidoscope of pretty colors and fascinating sounds and delicious emotions stolen from those around her lost in the throes of passion. The intoxicating combination of opium and empathy left her reeling like an oracle in divine ecstasy. Her ability to experience the emotions of those around her was drug enough to make her euphoric, but the opium added a level of bliss she’d never thought possible until she tried it. How many days or weeks or perhaps even years she’d been slave to her own hedonism, Natalya could never answer.

Two men, towering over the scantily clad women, stepped toward Natalya and her intended prey. They were obviously guards meant to discourage gawkers who never meant to pay from sticking around longer than they were welcome. She glanced at them and shook her head slowly as if to warn them away, at least for long enough to let her try to convince the man he should partake in what she had to offer. When the man said her name it took her nearly a full minute to even realize that it was she that he had named.

With great effort she focused on his face, her pale blue eyes searching his features as though trying without success to remember who he was. He was certainly familiar, but the haze within her mind was performing just the duty it was meant to and she couldn’t grasp the memories long enough to place him. Smiling languidly, she leaned closer to him, her mouth against his ear as she whispered.

“They’ve made a lovely deal with me,” her words weren’t slurred, just thick with the accent she had always tried to hide in more sober times, “I work here just a little and they feed me and clothe me… oh yes and they also let me smoke and drink as much as I like. I think I might be getting the better end of this bargain, no?”

The guards obviously did not like the way the conversation was turning, or perhaps it was the expression the potential customer’s face, but whatever it was they decided to ignore Natalya’s dismissal of their services and took another step toward the pair.

“Sir,” one said, taking the man by the arm in a strong grip, “I think you have business elsewhere to attend to, don’t you?”

Natalya stepped back and looked from one guard to the other, her full lips pouty and her eyes wide and seductive, her gaze finally returning to the familiar face of the man she’d pulled in from the alley.

“Don’t make him leave so soon, Draco,” she begged playfully, “We were only just beginning to get to know each other more closely. We do want him to feel welcome, don’t we?”

[Dissinger]

“You’re right, I do have business elsewhere to attend to. I should get right on it…” Seth replied coolly. His eyes studied the two guards. Knives were present, but then again knives were always present. Theirs were probably a shoddy iron, and if they knew how to use it, that would certainly be a welcome surprise. He immediately identified them, tagging them in his mind as mouth and rat. Mouth moved forward and gestured to the door.

“Well, that hole in the wall there is the door, I’m not sure if you know how to use it, but you walk right out-“ Mouth started before a hand was held up, cutting of his words almost immediately as he looked curiously at the newcomer. The hand gently went up to his hat before he bowed lowly, removing the garment and letting his untamed locks of brown hair hover in front of his eyes. The hat fell to his stomach, even as his finger touched one of the rings of a lung popper.

Rat moved into a flanking position, sensing the shift in Seth’s behavior as the Lavinian Demon spoke courteously, “I apologize for the blood…” He then straightened himself placing the hat on his head. Rat didn’t get a chance to move in following the words before a lung popper sunk to the hilt in his throat, a wet gurgle escaping his lips. The movement so fast, that Mouth hardly had time to react before blade was drawn.

Screams shattered the tranquil silence of the air, as Rat slowly fell to his knees clutching at the blade lodged in his voice box.

Rat was the observer, he had detected Seth’s true intentions from the get go. Mouth however, was merely the more proud of the two, and so when Seth’s attack had gone off unhinged, he wasn’t expecting the thief to place his boot firmly on the guard’s chest before with a grunt, he sent the guard tumbling back and falling to the floor. Even as Mouth had the wherewithal to roll with the kick he still hadn’t drawn iron.

Mouth was on his feet, and only then was the sound of iron on steel heard through the room, causing a few of the girls to immediately go running for the back. Seth looked with disdain upon the man as he charged forward. The Lavinian Demon moved fluidly, and in gripping the man’s wrist he twirled under the man’s arm, and quickly flipped Mouth onto his back. Before he could even grunt in pain a foot slamming into his ribcage and a jerk heard a soft pop filter into the air.

The scream of the man was short lived in the passing seconds as his restricted chest caused a wracking cough to rattle his frail frame. He looked up helplessly as Seth casually let go of his hand and gave him a dismissive gesture. He then turned to see his target still standing there looking at him. A soft sigh left his lips before he moved to Rat and removed his lung popper from the recently deceased man.

“You broke my arm you bastard!” He heard mouth wailing as he panicked seeing his dead friend on the ground. Seth snorted in derision as he moved to Natalya.

“Ghuan would have called you a fool for this. We both know a shadowling deserves better than this shit hole…” Seth replied, finally answering her statement of her current state. He then moved and roughly picked her up, hoisting her on a shoulder as he began to walk out. He stopped at the door before he growled to the passing out man, “And for the love of the gods you mewling baby, I only dislocated your shoulder. Consider yourself lucky I held back that much…”

[Slavegirl]

It came as no surprise to Natalya that the two thugs decided to make a scene. They always sought out violence when possible, stirring up fights for fun of it. If the owner of the establishment had been a bit smarter, he would have fired the two for scaring off potential customers – who wants to risk a fight with two large men who could easily dismember you? Something in the back of the whore’s mind reminded her to step out of the way, and be ready with her own blade just in case. Whatever part of her remembered Seth, it also remembered how deadly he could be and what a mess he could cause.

Natalya stepped backwards, placing a smoking brazier between herself and the quickly escalating brawl, one hand on the blade strapped to her thigh. Even as intoxicated as she was, her reaction time was faster than most. There’d been more times than she could count that a customer had been a little too pushy and she’d had to threaten to slit his belly open if he didn’t pay up and make his way to the door. Only once had she actually had to follow through on her threat.

Never before though had she had a potential customer actually engage Draco and Vahl. The two hulked over most men, but not so with the man who was quickly making a mockery of them. The slave girl closed her eyes, a hand fluttering to the tattoo at her throat as the emotions of the two men flowed over her like waves before a storm. The intoxicating mix of fear and excitement were quickly replaced with pain, and all of it was a heady concoction for one who could soak up feelings as she could. The screams seemed distant, muffled as though heard through layers of wool, and Natalya stepped back another step as Draco fell to the floor at her feet, his arm held at an odd angle to his body.

She looked at Seth with a perplexed stare, her eyes focusing on his face ever so slowly. He spoke of a woman she’d purposefully forgotten, and she frowned as he berated her on Ghaun’s behalf. Before Natalya could react further, the almost-familiar man had grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder. Much to her surprise, it didn’t matter how much she struggled, he didn’t have any trouble restraining her.

“I do not think Ghaun would care much what I did,” Natalya spoke slowly, ever so quietly, not sure if Seth could hear her or if she even intended for him to hear her (and not entirely sure she spoke allowed, or just thought the words in his general direction), “Shithole or not. And she’s gone, so it does not truly matter.”

The way he carried her, she couldn’t reach her blade, and the combination of opium, alcohol, and blood rushing to her head left her at first dizzy, and eventually she succumbed to the effects of all three and let herself fade into sleep.

[Dissinger]

“What did you do Seth?”

It hadn’t taken him long after leaving to escape from the red light district. Carrying the woman had proven to host its own slew of problems, each as weighty as the woman who now rested on the bed. The Lavinian Demon was against the nearby wall, arms crossed as he looked upon the exotically clad woman, though it was obvious no desire was upon his features. Seth Dahlios had long since gotten over his need for that sin.

Across from him, on the other side of the bed was a rather plainly dressed woman. She wasn’t by any means a buxom beauty, nor did she have the exotic curves the unconscious woman did. Her features were rather plain, despite her Berevarian heritage. Her brown hair was pulled back and away from the eyes by a simple headband, and she was inspecting the woman for any signs of injury, and finding not one.

“I fulfilled my promise to a dead friend, long ago,” Seth replied plainly. The woman looked up at him, an eyebrow raised as she left the question unspoken. Seth pushed off the wall, before he carefully undid his gauntlet and let the leather clad armor fall to the ground. Holding up his hand a tattoo of an eye displayed on the back of his hand before he spoke, “I got involved with the Brotherhood awhile back. It’s a well documented fact, ask around and you’ll find that I’ve been in and out of that particular group several times. However, the one constant was that I had chosen to remain truer to my roots than the other so called bandits who comprised the rank and files of the once grand Bandit Brotherhood. The group was split into four divisions, the Sword, the Tower, the Shield, and the Shadow.”

“You mentioned that was the original birth place of Sarah Dahlios,” Liliana said offhandedly.

“Yeah, it was, much to both our chagrin,” Seth said before he waved his unprotected hand dismissively, “I chose the Shadow because they were the most thief like of the organizations created in the wake of the rapidly deflating Bandit Brotherhood. Our leader was a Drow woman named Ghuantyr’stra Do’afin. We all called her Ghuan, and frankly she was like a mother to us. The Shadow was a family, and each of us was her shadowlings. I learned more about stealth and terror tactics from her, than I care to admit I remember. However, we were always told that while the world was full of people wanting to kill us, that we could, would, and should always rely on each other. I don’t know what drek the Alerian Soldiers are teaching nowadays, but even the weakest shadowling could have torn a squad of troopers apart. We were a close-knit family and gods forbid should someone get between those bonds.”

“You mentioned Ghaun once before, didn’t you?” The woman asked. Seth looked across at her before he shrugged, and sat upon the bed, carefully removing the second gauntlet. It joined its partner on the floor with a sigh of resignation. When he did speak, his voice was tired, defeated, almost like the man Seth had been, just before he had resigned himself to death at the hands of the enigmatic monk Kycoo.

“Usually when I do something stupid, that woman beat most of the stupid out of me, and I’m more than certain the rest would have been if she were still alive today,” Seth replied. While physically the body was only twenty seven years old, he felt the full weight of the years he had spent dead. He could feel her comforting hand on his back before he looked at the downed of the woman. He then carefully got up before he said firmly, “I’m taking her back to Lavinya, from there, I don’t know what she’ll do, but I’ll be damned if I don’t sober her up before she makes that decision…”