Pink Petal Games
Game Discussion => General Discussion & Download => Topic started by: hewhocumsbynight on April 14, 2013, 02:16:43 AM
-
Now, more fanfiction about Crossgate and Mundiga! This is a narrative, instead of a history paper, but I doubt it turned out any better!
CHAPTER 1:
The last day of my father’s life was tumultuous, and filled with remarkable events, but my clearest memory of that day will probably be the wisdom he imparted over breakfast, before I left to visit the Slave Market over in the Ninth Ward, to inspect the new meat. As I stood up on the table, he reached across the table, and gripped my arm. He looked up me, with his horribly mismatched eyes, and spoke through lips that were so shredded that they were more scar tissue than anything else. “My son, my heir… Soon, you will be my successor, and will be entrusted with all that I’ve built. You must never let this go to your head; there’s no faster way to get to the bottom of the shit heap than overconfidence. Demand loyalty, and reward it when you get it. Always be willing to do whatever you must do; the ends most certainly justify the means. And, whatever you do, always be sure that you never show weakness.” As he said these words, I respectfully nodded, and proudly declared my ability and willingness to follow in his footsteps. We spent a moment more locked into that stance, before he nodded, and released my arm, indicating that the audience was over, and I should get about my work. I never saw him again.
I don’t know why this is the one memory that I chose to represent such an eventful day; after all, the old man didn’t give me any kind of context for his out-of-the-blue words of wisdom, and was almost certainly shrouded over when he spoke them. I doubt he even remembered what he’d said after I left the building; he rarely did, when he’d been smoking the shroud mushroom.
Regardless, I left the brothel that served as my father’s headquarters, and wandered through the filth-choked streets of Crossgate, nodding and waving to allies and friends as I meandered my way towards the Slave Market. It was a clear day, with no filthy water coursing down the roads, nor burning rays cooking the refuse into a righteous stink; the weather was perfect, I didn’t see any rival-aligned gangs, and I had a very nice lunch at a street café. I arrived at the Market about an hour after noon, and went over to Anthony’s patch; the girls he sold tended to be clean of disease and drugs, and less likely to psychotically attack customers or staff, and thus my family usually bought from him. I greeted the man, and asked to look over today’s offerings, before walking out around back to the pen where he held them for inspection. I eyed the women with a buyer’s eye – elfin, human, bestial, alien, fae, and construct – and concluded that none were particularly special, but one or two might be worthwhile purchases. I wrote down my observations, and got their specific information from Anthony, before bowing my goodbyes. In a similar way, I paid visits to several of the other slavers, before returning home with my reports, to make my recommendations to my father.
As I approached the Sixth Ward, where the brothel was located, I saw a line of smoke thread itself into the sky. Noticing the placement of the smoke pillar, I broke into a run, and hoped that the obvious had not happened. Sadly, not only had the brothel been set on fire, but it seemed to be completely abandoned. I ran in, and as I ran through the building, I noted that someone had thoroughly looted everything that could be carried and resold, and wrecked the rest. I ran up the stairs, to my father’s second-floor office, and stepped around the wreckage of the door. What lay stretched across the splintered desk in no way resembled a man, but its moans betrayed its nature. I slowly walked over, and ended my father’s life.
I left the brothel, and wandered out into the street. The fire was already dying down – whoever attacked should have actually hired, or at least consulted, a genuine arsonist. None of the servants or slaves was present, though I could see several slumped bodies that looked like the guards. All in less than a single day, the empire my father had constructed had evaporated like water in a pan. However, now was not the time to mourn; I couldn’t afford a single hint of weakness. I was weak and friendless, with only a few hundred gold to my name, and no retainers. In other words, easy meat to the denizens of Crossgate.
As I reentered the brothel, I swore that I would rebuild, and I would bring pain to my enemies.
I began the hunt for anything that might be salvageable. It looked like nobody had bothered to search my room, so most of the stuff there was intact. Most of the rooms where the slaves and servants lived and worked were intact – of the thirty-one that the structure held, twenty were intact. Again praising my enemy’s carelessness, I noted that the currently empty stable was perfectly intact, as was the small pub across the road. Really, the facilities were near-miraculously untouched by the enemy; it was almost embarrassing. As far as I could tell, they hadn’t even found the dungeon, which was really inexcusable. Sadly, I still hadn’t found any of the slaves or servants, which probably meant that they were all either dead or spirited away. I would need to replace them.
I descended into the dungeon, and thanked the gods that apparently had granted me a small portion of golden thread today: The hoard of four thousand gold pieces, along with a list of allied gang heads, that my father had buried in the dungeon was intact. Hastily reburying most of the gold, I went out and hired a group of laborers to drag all of the burnt timber and smashed furniture to a local junk-dealer, where I could recoup at least some of the losses. After the worst of the wreckage was hauled away, I rehired the laborers to repair the roof, walls, and floor enough that the building would be habitable. Several hundred gold and several hours later, the workers went home for the night, and I hung a “Closed” sign over the door, which the workers had repaired before leaving.
As I sat at the shoddily repaired kitchen table to eat a solitary dinner, I reflected on the speed with which the world had changed. Thirteen hours earlier, I had sat down to breakfast with my father at this same table – now, I sat in a darkened room at the same table, alone now. After eating, I went upstairs and slept, gathering my strength for tomorrow.
-
Sweet! Another CBY fanfic! 8)
-
Sweet! Another CBY fanfic! 8)
Yay! I'm glad that I have my own trademark name now! By the by, R565, if you're interested, I'd love to have a proofreader/beta reader... Would you be interested?
-
Sure I love to help out a fellow forum member! :D
-
Cool, once I have more, I'll send it to you for some scorn!
-
In another words, easy meat to the denizens of Crossgate.
"In other words, easy meat to the denizens of Crossgate."
Sadly, I still hadn’t found any of the slaves or servants, which probably met that they were all either dead or spirited away.
"..., which probably meant that they were all either..."
You could try to begin fewer of your sentences with "I ..." and "As I ...", but otherwise very nice.
I am interested in what you have in store for the character and makes me wish to revisit some of the stuff I wrote.
-
Thanks Gondra for catching those mistakes!
-
Oh, I was going to look at the story for mistakes. :'( I'll still keep looking though!
-
Please do! Also, what do you guys think our Protagonist should be named? And the brothel?
-
CHAPTER 2
Waking early the next morning, I ate a hasty breakfast before walking back to the Slave Market. I needed to buy at least three, maybe four, slaves that morning: Two to work on their backs, generating some badly needed income, and to restart the business; one to act as a cleaner, and as a general helper, and the fourth to act as security. I’d probably purchase the first two from the Consortium, a kind of slaver’s alliance, which usually sold moderate quality flesh for reasonable prices, the third from Domestics, the main retailer for domestic slaves. I’d probably get the forth from the Legio’s kiosk, where prisoners of the state and of war were sold to whoever wanted them.
I headed to the Legio’s location first, in the interest of self-preservation. I spoke briefly to the Tesserarius on duty, working out any tips or sales he might be running, as well as figuring out how much of a bribe he wanted to undersell the quality merchandise. After we came to an agreement, I wandered around to the slave pen inside the building behind the kiosk where the Tesserarius was stationed. Within the pen was a large collection of men and women, wearing remnants of armor or uniforms, most with defeated or beaten looks on their faces, all with rough hemp bindings on their wrists.
A few didn’t have the same defeated expressions as the rest of the chattel: A man wearing tattered Styrene officer’s uniform glared at me from across the enclosure, while a woman garbed in matted furs and battered armor that looked like it came from a northern barbarian tribe stood tall in the middle of the yard, still unbowed despite the new slave brand on her shoulder. These would probably be the most useful to me, as their will to fight, to resist wasn’t broken; in this, however, stemmed the massive problem of actually getting the slave to acquiesce to my will without breaking them.
While I considered the pros and cons of purchasing willful property, the Styrene and barbarian woman looked at each other, before turning back to me. I briefly wondered whether they were plotting, before dismissing that possibility as more or less irrelevant. I decided that the strength of an unbroken slave with fighting experience would probably help me more with my continued quest for self-preservation than a doormat would. “But, do I really want to stop at self-preservation?” I thought, reflecting on yesterday’s events. “The enemy is out there, and has attacked me – I need to get revenge!”
I looked back over to the pair of slaves standing in the middle of the pen, who were still glaring right back at me. “Hey, you two! Get over here!” They looked at each other, and then started walking over to the fence. “What d’ya want, prick?” The barbarian spat at me through a barely understandable northern accent. The Styrene just stared at me, with a peculiar blankness in his eyes which was quite unnerving. “I am not interested in being your friend, nor your enemy. However, I need strong arms with a degree of loyalty to me. If I buy you, and agree to free you in exchange for your continued support, you will serve me. What do you think about that?” The barbarian gave me a look that suggested that she thought I was just trying to bullshit her. The Styrene looked mildly interested. “Look, if I buy you, you’re mine. However, I want your loyalty. And, honestly, why would I even be talking to you two or proposing this deal if I wasn’t sincere?” The Styrene gave a slow nod, while the barbarian continued to look puzzled. “Fair enough. If you free me, I will serve you to the best of my ability, until I feel my debt to you is repaid.” This from the Styrene. The barbarian looked mildly frustrated, before following the ex-soldier’s lead. “Understood.” I reached through the bars of the fence, and shook the Styrene’s hand, and gave a short bow to the barbarian woman. Then, I turned to the Tesserarius, and, after getting his attention, communicated my interest. I bought the pair of them for 1100 gold, before bidding the officer good day, and leaving with my new purchases.
The Styrene officer, Franz de’Peschi, and the barbarian woman, Riga, regained their freedom as soon as I had turned the corner and removed myself from the Legio post’s sightline. The freeing of slaves, while not outlawed, is fairly taboo, as it indicates some sort of deep-seated weakness, or abolitionist tendencies, which the government has a vested interest in suppressing. I took the contracts that bound their slave marks to my signature, and, after nicking my finger with my dagger, wrote “Null” across the paper with my blood, breaking the magical seal. de’Peschi had a look of undisguised relief that underlined his mistrust of me, and his doubt that I’d stick to the deal we’d made. Riga simply looked amazed as the brand marks were covered by smooth new skin, until nothing of the slave mark remained. With my end of the deal held up, I looked at the two of them, and waited for their reactions. I hoped that freeing them in such a way would earn their freely given loyalty, but I couldn’t be sure. Fortunately, I needn’t have worried. Riga clapped me on the back hard enough to stagger me, and, with a laugh, gave her approval. “For a weak city-dweller, you aren’t too bad, little man!” I thought this was unfair, as I came up to her rather impressive chest, but I was too relieved to remark on the comment. Franz caught my eye, and nodded, indicating that he wouldn’t leave yet either.
“Hey, Riga, Franz, what weapons do you know how to use? Also, do you need any other gear to be effective?” Warriors are not of much use unarmed. Franz paused briefly. “Firearms, short swords, and daggers.” Riga voiced a familiarity with an astounding array of weaponry, including axes, swords, bows, and spears. Followed by my two new strong-arms, I entered the adjacent market where possessions taken from slaves and prisoners are resold. I looked at Franz’s filthy and worn uniform and Riga’s disgusting furs and battered armor, and decided that after acquiring weapons for the two, new clothing was a necessity.
One of the merchants called out my name, and I wandered over. It was an old acquaintance of mine, Flavius the Horse, who had been apprenticed to a merchant almost ten years ago. Since then, his master had provided my father and I with many miscellaneous goods, sold with a slight discount. As such, I was a common customer at the stall Flavius manned when his master was busy. “Hey Flav, how’s business?” “Not too good” Flavius sighed heavily. “The usual customers continue to come, but we get less and less new custom. Hey, is it true what I heard about your father?” This brought me up short, and made me wary. “That he’s dead? Sadly, this is true.” I wasn’t sure how I felt about revealing this sensitive information. While I counted Flavius as a friend, I couldn’t be sure what he’d do with this information. I couldn’t deny it either though, not without alienating Flavius. I suddenly realized that Flavius might be the least of my problems, though, as this newly revealed vulnerability might provoke my warriors to leave. I glanced quickly back at them, and was surprised to see a look of sympathy on Riga’s face. I was much less surprised to see a measuring tilt of eye from the Styrene, though. I turned back to Flavius, and put a business-like face on. “Yes, but right now, I need to look at your stock. You got anything good for me today?” Flavius almost seemed to change into a completely different person, and adopted the smile that used goods salesmen inevitably wear. “Sure thing! Take a look!”
I looked over Flavius’ stock, and saw that most of it was either of poor quality, or of no use to me. Cheap tawdry trinkets, threadbare cloaks, and armor nearly as damaged as Riga’s lay on his table, with a few items of higher quality here and there. I picked up a dagger that, while ugly, looked quite serviceable. I handed it to Franz, and asked for his opinion, much to Flavius’ surprise. Franz seemed to fondle the hilt for a second, before running a finger up the flat of the blade, before nodding approval. Turning back to Flavius, I asked how much the dagger and a sheath would run me. A brief period of dickering followed, after which I ponied up 20 gold for the dagger and a sheath, with belt. I also bought the most serviceable set of trousers and a jacket for a further 8 gold, and a near-good pair of boots for 10 gold. These I gave to Franz, who went behind the stall to change. He sold the remnants of his uniform to Flavius for 3 gold, tactfully ignoring Flavius’ disgust at the dried blood, sweat, and mud that was caked all over the garments. I said goodbye to Flavius, and walked over to a stall that specialized in materials taken off female slaves to acquire some gear for Riga.
Looking over the tall barbarian, I noticed a rugged beauty, where the attractive femininity of her long dirty blonde hair and large breasts perfectly complemented the scars that crossed her body and the obvious life-long muscles of a warrior that her form consisted of. However, I doubted that suggested enhancement of her feminine features would be much welcomed at this stage. I greeted the stall owner, who I’d not met before, and looked over the assorted dresses, shifts, skirts, trousers, and blouses that covered about a half of the table, the undergarments and stockings that covered a further quarter, and the armor that rested on the last quarter. “Riga, you know best what you need – look over the clothing and armor, and select an outfit, and some armor. Keep in mind that we’re on a budget.” She grinned and nodded, proving that even savage barbarian women still love shopping. Going through the pile of assorted clothing, Riga selected a shirt and some pants, which she asked permission to test the fit of. The stall owner, a fairly greasy middle-aged man, nodded. “Sure, go right ahead! Though, if you want to make a bit of money, and earn a slight discount, you’ll do it in front of the stall. You’ll get money, and I’ll get more customers!” She gave me a questioning, slightly panicked look. I shrugged at her, not wanting to risk offending the mighty barbarian. She thought for a moment, before coming to a decision. “Sure, why not? I don’t care if these weak city-dwellers see my tits, and I get all the money! Don’t I?” She asked me, a slight threat in her voice. I hastily nodded, and she grinned, before dramatically throwing off the fur capelet that had covered her otherwise bare shoulders. Next, the torn and poorly mended leather chest-piece, studded with iron rivets, was torn off her body, letting her rather large breasts swing free in the open air, attracting the attention of many passersby, who were drawn like moths to a light by her lovely rack, and by the charismatic and free presence that Riga had. Finally, the armored skirt and attached leggings were pulled off, giving the audience a lovely view of her anus and buttocks, and then of her labia and pubic patch as she swung around, completely naked but for a massive and proud grin, and struck a pose that spurred the appreciative and adoring laughter of all present, myself included. Then, with an attendant reluctant sigh from the eager viewers, Riga pulled on the pair of fairly tight, but nearly new, pants and the shirt, which left her forearms and midsection uncovered.
As most of the former audience wandered off, a few stuck around, and the stall owner approached Riga, and gave her a small sack of 15 gold, which she took with a slight smile. As Riga went back to perusing the armor, he approached me, a rather disgusting smile on his face. He slapped my shoulder as if he was some buddy of mine, and smirked at Franz, who was looking more irate by the moment and kept fiddling with his dagger. “Hey, she’s really something, isn’t she! That’s one fine piece of ass you have there! How much do you want for her?” I considered letting Franz destroy the man, but I didn’t want to pay the money to bribe the Guard to ignore us afterwards. I gave him a thin smile instead, not wanting any more trouble at this point. “Sorry, friend, but she’s neither mine nor for sale. But, please tell me how much you want for the shirt and trousers she’s wearing.” With a disappointed scowl, he released my shoulder, before sighing. “Meh, I’ll take 12 gold for the lot. It’d be 15, but she looked far too damn good stripping earlier to renege on my discount. I thanked him, and handed over 15 gold anyway; I didn’t like the man, but I didn’t want to piss off a reliable seller of fairly priced goods. Plus, it’s always good to be on the good side of a merchant, no matter how small his operation. A short while later, Riga selected a 25 gold scale-mail shirt, that covered her upper arms and her legs down to the knee. I paid the man, and we left the market, picking up a 35 gold short sword built for hacking and slashing for Riga on the way out.
We returned to the slave market. I had about 2500 gold left from my father’s hoard, but the investment of 1300 gold in the powerbase of the two warriors behind me had been wise, a wisdom verified by the utter destruction of a gang of four muggers who tried to jump Riga, Franz and I on the way to the slave market. Why they chose to attack three armed people instead of the more lightly armed pedestrians, I don’t know – perhaps they thought that we must have more money, or maybe someone had pointed them my way.
For whatever reason, as we were walking along one of the feeder streets that leads to the slave market, a man dressed in poor quality leather armor stepped out of an alleyway, a spiked cudgel in one hand. Without even asking for our surrender, he rushed right at us, swinging his club as he went. I began to react instantly, even as I heard the clash of metal from behind me, as Franz and Riga engaged the other three muggers. I had a dagger at my side, but the thug was close enough and moving fast enough that I didn’t have time to unsheathe the blade; instead, I charged him, and as we collided, I slammed a knee up toward his crotch. I missed, and hit his thigh instead, but I had enough momentum to knock him off balance, and to send both of us crashing to the ground. His club rolled away as we traded punches in the gutter, grappling and clawing for each other’s eyes as we did so. I got a lucky punch to his ear in, which stunned him for a second, enough for me to pull my knife, and put it under his neck. He instantly froze, and we held position for a few seconds, before I slowly pulled myself up and away from him. Once I was a few steps away, I turned and looked behind me, where I’d last seen Riga and Franz.
Both were still standing, though Franz had a fairly deep wound on his left forearm. One of the thugs lay at Riga’s feet, bleeding out on the cobbles. Another was unconscious, and the last had run. Apparently, Franz had held off two thugs during most of my skirmish with some impressive knife fighting, keeping the two at bay, though he took a hatchet wound to the arm. Riga had been in a similar position as I of lacking the time to draw steel, and had instead put her adversary into a bear-hug, before head-butting him into unconsciousness. After her foe was disabled, she turned and stabbed one of the two thugs Franz was holding off in the side, which caused the last thug to run away.
After listening to Riga’s report, I was nearly bursting with pride and happiness. “You guys are great! Franz, it sounds like you’re absolutely exquisite with a knife; I don’t know many who could’ve held off two men with longer reach, especially not for as long as you did! And Riga, I am so happy to have acquired your services, for you truly are an amazing fighter!” Riga blushed slightly, before blustering out a thank you, and complemented me on my own takedown of an enemy. Franz simply remarked that his arm hurt quite badly, and he very much wanted to go to the clinic. And so we set off for the clinic, with the beginnings of a friendship forming as the last of the lifeblood of the unlucky mugger ran out onto the cold, uncaring pavement of Crossgate’s streets.
-
Man this is why I want to draw! Your story gets more and more awesome every time I look at the chapters! I can even see Riga in my mind. :D Keep it up man! Oh and I think his name should be something fitting since Crossgate is a mix of Modern and Medieval times. Raniz, Jaren, ect. (In case you don't know i'm pretty bad with names).
-
“Hey, you two! Get over here!” They looked at each other, than started walking over to the fence.
They looked at each other, then started walking over to the fence.
If I buy you, and agree to free you in exchange for your continued support, you will serve me. What do you think about that?”
If I buy you, and agree to free you in exchange for your continued support, will you serve me?
(Not sure about this one, but it seems formulated awkwardly.)
..., I entered the adjacent market where possessions taken from slaves and prisoners are resold.
..., I entered the adjacent market where possessions taken from slaves and prisoners were sold.
Since then, his master had provided my father and I with many miscellaneous goods, sold with a slight discount.
Since then, his master had provided my father and me with many miscellaneous goods, sold with a slight discount.
Didn't check further than this, since my headache is coming back right now (hasn't anything to do with your story it simply came back from this morning.).
While I am at it: Take my corrections with a pinch of salt, English isn't my primary language and I haven't studied it extensively, I just enjoy reading and writing in the English language.
The story is progressing nicely though. I am a bit interested in the reasoning from the main character not to kill his opponent though. Also my videogame trained brain questions the main characters decision to not make a quick search through the fallen guys pockets for money or eventual evidence that they were sent after him.
-
LOL that's rich but yeah I wonder why he didn't kill the guy? Oh and sorry bout the headache Gondra...
-
I'm glad you guys like what I've got so far! And, GonDra, thanks for picking up these mistakes! I'm rather appalled at having missed them - this shows my overdependance on spellcheck! And, I confess, I really had that same impulse, to have him just kill the guy, but I'm trying to create a pragmatic, but still moral protagonist who isn't a superman. Also, he isn't an amoral, barely human sociopath like his father; I just cannot write an amoral character, no matter how hard I try.
-
Well that's good! I don't like killing people anyway. I let them and if they try again.... 8) But it depends on the situation too.
-
CHAPTER 3
A short while later, I arrived at the clinic along with Riga and Franz, kicking myself about not trying to force any answers out of the mugger that Riga had knocked unconscious. Still, stopping to interrogate the bastard probably wouldn’t have endeared me to Franz, who had begun to bleed heavily from the puncture in his arm. While we were still half a mile from the nearest clinic, Franz had begun to lean on Riga as he grew steadily weaker – a few blocks later, the barbarian woman was carrying him, with a look of mild amusement on her face. Northerners! Anyway, as soon as we had arrived at the clinic, the doctors had taken Franz away, leaving Riga and I to cool our heels in a bar a short distance from the clinic. After we’d each had a couple drinks, I decided to start working on the problem of finding a cleaner for the brothel, who’d hopefully double as a receptionist. With a slightly tipsy Riga following, I wandered the surrounding streets, looking at the groups of people clustered on street corners, where out-of-towners searching for jobs often congregated. Finally, I found a likely target: A young woman with the last traces of baby-fat clinging to her face, her light brown hair back in a ponytail, wearing a homespun dress that gave her an innocent prettiness. I pointed her out to Riga who responded with a slight laugh, and questioned my tastes. “How could you want such a skinny, weak girl? C’mon, puny city-dweller, tell me how, especially with a real woman standing right beside you!” She then wrapped me in a hug that, no matter how I struggled, I couldn’t escape. As I struggled, she laughed deeply before releasing me, and tousling my hair. “You’re supposed to be my bodyguard, not my big sister, Riga!” This only made her laugh harder, and I walked off in mock disgust to talk to the potential employee, her chortling still ringing loudly from across the street.
The young woman I had decided to approach gave me a look of mixed suspicion and hope as I walked across the street in as dignified a manner as I could without getting knocked over by traffic. As I grew closer, I put on a friendly smile, and tried to look as nonhostile as possible. This approach seemed to work, as she didn’t flee. “Hello! How are you doing this fine day?” She looked surprised to be greeted in such a jovial manner, and seemed to lose her composure for a moment. “Er… I’m fine?” She asked with a questioning tone in her voice. “Look, I can promise you that I’m not trying to scare you or anything. In fact, that’s the opposite of what I want – I’m the owner of a new business, and am looking for staff. Would you be interested in a job?” I spoke to her with a slow, calm, pleasant voice, using the same voice that calms disturbed horses and children, while maintaining my friendly smile. She calmed down slightly, and put on a slight, if still off-balanced, smile. “Well, I’m an out of towner; I just got to the city a few hours ago, and haven’t found a place to stay yet…” She gulped slightly, and seemed to be quashing her growing anxiety. “I mean, I’d love a job, but I don’t have anywhere to stay, and, and…” She lapsed into silence, possibly from lack of words, possibly from nervousness as Riga suddenly loomed up behind me like a blonde iceberg. “Don’t worry, this is Riga, a friend and employee of mine. Hey, I didn’t get your name; would you mind telling it to me?” She tore her eyes away from the thick ropey scar on Riga’s left forearm, and turned back to me, a worried expression on her face. “M-my name is Kristin. Kristin Sottasdottir. I can cook, and clean, and know how to care for animals…” She lapsed back into a nervous silence, and looked down at her feet. She flinched back slightly as I held my hand out to her. “Well, Kristin, my name is Aliusha Vasa. And, it so happens that I am looking for a maid to clean my building, and someone to greet the customers. Would you like to go and get a meal –my treat! – and discuss this further?” Her face fills with relief, and she eagerly nods, before abruptly paling again as Riga claps a hand on her shoulder, her face suddenly harsh. “Wait. Before you go anywhere with Aliusha, I’m going to have to check you for weapons. We’ve already been ambushed once – I am not going to risk a knife to the back again!” I was impressed by her vehemence, and gave a Kristin a regretful confirmation. “I am sorry Kristin, but Riga is right; someone tried to kill us only a few hours ago, and injured one of our friends. Don’t worry: if you agree to a quick weapon-search from Riga, we can be on our way, and you’ll almost certainly have a job by the end of the day.” Kristin blushed a lovely deep red and bit her lip, before almost spastically nodding her head. I moved to the side as Riga slowly walked around behind Kristin, utterly dwarfing her. The contrast was amusing enough that I was hard pressed to keep from laughing.
Considering the massive damage that Riga was clearly capable of, the gentle pat-down that ensued was almost touching in the gentleness displayed by the massive warrior. It was an experience not unlike watching a large dog pick up a kitten in its mouth, carry it across a room, and set it down without a scratch. All throughout, Kristin seemed about to explode into a plume of fright or embarrassment, her face so red that I could have sworn that she’d ruptured a blood vessel. After the longest two minutes in Kristin’s life, Riga declared her safe, and we all returned to the pub where Riga and I had been drinking earlier. Riga had a stupid smile on her face the whole way back, which led me to believe that she’d enjoyed “searching” Kristin far too much, a belief further strengthened when she winked at me.
After about an hour of sitting in the pub consuming a mildly edible meal helped down by multiple cheap beers, I finally managed to secure Kristin’s employment as a maid, receptionist, and cook. Before I let Riga get Kristin any drunker than she already was, I insisted that we all go see if the doctors were done bandaging up Franz yet.
When we arrived at the clinic, Franz was sitting on a stool just inside the door, looking as morose as ever, with bandages poking through the new hole in his sleeve. “Hey Franz, how ya feeling?” I cheerfully asked the injured Styrene. He slowly looked up at me, held my gaze for a second, before grunting and looking back down. “I’ll live. Got some stitches holding my skin together, and a poultice keeping the filth out.” “Good, sounds good! Did the doctors say how much they wanted?” Franz grunted again. “They want 30 gold.” I jokingly shook my head and clicked my tongue. “Franz, you’re forcing me out of house and home with all of these expenses!” The sloshed Riga found this amusing, and let out a giggle – an actual giggle from a six and a half foot tall woman is a scary thing! – attracting the ire of Franz, allowing me to slip past him and pay the nurse off. She was rather attractive, but seemed far too in love with her job for me to actually offer her a job. So, I smiled as I paid, and made small talk as Franz and Riga squabbled in the background, with Kristin leaning against a wall and looking shocked at the insults the two were exchanging. Having paid the debt, I returned to my rather childish followers. “Alright, come on you lot! We’re heading back to market, and then heading home!” Still squabbling, the two warriors followed Kristin and I out the door, and back into the street.
-
Heh, I wonder how such a meek person will fare in greeting the horny customers, or what she thinks about the establishment she was hired for.
-
Yep, poor Kristin is going to have a great deal of problems! I'm sure that Riga would be happy to help, though! Or, at least, happy to make them much worse! And by the time she figures out what she's been hired for, it'll be just a wee bit too late!
-
Once he gets up to the top.... 8) , then :P , also :D ;D , then >:( :( rivals....keep the ball rolling man! But I do say if you don't play your cards right, it's pretty lonely at the top.
-
R565, I have no idea what the hell you just said, but it sounded absolutely awesome!
-
CHAPTER 4
We returned to the slave market without incident, except for some rather stunned looks directed at Riga. Franz took a dim view to the oglers, and had begun to stroke his dagger while staring at their necks, which led to the rapid exodus of the unfortunates from our area, much to Riga’s amusement and Franz’s disgust. Kristin took to huddling as close to me as possible, as she seemed to have decided that Riga was insane and Franz terrifying. Despite my little pack of misfit children, I entered the market without incident; almost halfway through, I realized that the slave pens were probably not the best place for the rather delicate Kristin – and at this point, there was no point in traumatizing her. I turned around to face the rest of my group, and pointed at Kristin and Franz. “Kristin, take this money and go buy whatever supplies you need for the week, including food for ten people for a week. Franz, go with her.” I handed Kristin 100 gold, which she hastily put in a pocket before anyone else saw the money. I nodded to Franz, and he turned to Kristin, who looked nervous about the attention she was receiving. “R-right! Cleaning and cooking supplies, and food for ten for a week! I’ll do that!” She turned around, and started walking back the way we’d come, with Franz following her like an especially grim shadow. I turned back to Riga, and saw her staring at a nude male slave on a crude stage. I lightly punched her in the bicep. “Hey, quit gawping, we’ve got work to do!” Riga gave me a filthy look, but followed me with a reluctant sigh.
I walked over to one of the larger, if still somewhat rundown, slave pens, where the Consortium has its main supply area. As I got closer, a plump balding man with two thugs behind him walked towards us. “You there! With the barbarian! Are you here to buy, or just looking?” I turned to face the man, making a motion to Riga telling her to be ready, just in case. “I’m here to buy, honorable sir. Who do I have the honor to be addressing?” I respectfully responded, tilting my head in a slight nod towards him. An unctuous, yet proud, smile spread across his face, like oil across water. “You have the honor to be addressing Ambrose Ngaiou, Representative of the Consortium. And I am always happy to see a paying customer! Come, follow me; what kind of flesh are you looking for, and what’s your budget?” Somewhat surprised by the pompous fat man’s change in attitude, I followed in his wake, to his side and slightly back, while Riga walked between the two thugs, her hand never leaving the pommel of her sword. “We have them all! Male and female, human, elfin, monstrous, demonic, and mechanical! And for a wide variety of completely reasonable prices, fit for any sized wallet!” The Representative continued his spiel as we walked up to the pens. Instead of a wide open corral-like structure, like the Legio stockade, the Consortium pens were subdivided into different categories, separated by gender, price, and type, with the particularly rebellious put in a separate pen entirely.
“What would you recommend for me? I have a bit over 2000 gold, and am looking for at least two girls, for use as prostitutes.” Ambrose gave me a wide smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Ah, a newcomer to the field of… facilitation! How wonderful! Well, if you would be so kind and follow me…” He waddled off to a different section of the pen complex, followed by his pet thugs. Riga and I exchanged looks, before walking after them. Ambrose pulled a key from his belt, and opened up a gate, and went through, the rest of us accompanying. “This is where we keep the new girls that’ve just been brought in on the caravans, taken from the jails, or scoured from the streets. In another words, this is the mixed bag. I’d recommend you take a look here for your soiled doves.” Ambrose smirked at me, as he and his thugs walked back out of the outdoor prison, and closed the door behind them. “Yell when you want out!”
I approached the closest of the cells. Inside the cell, eight women stood or sat, all looking at me and Riga. I looked at the women, and they stared back at Riga and I. Most of the slaves were at least slightly attractive, and most were human. The exceptions were a woman with massive facial scars, and an elf-woman with short cropped blond hair. All seemed to be fairly physically fit – the sick and crippled had been weeded out by Consortium employees before the lot were put on public display. Three of the women looked like they’d had some sort of combat experience, including the scarred slave sitting in the corner glaring at me. The human women seemed to fall between the ages of twenty and forty years old – the elf was impossible to assess the age of, due to her kind’s agelessness. I looked at the woman seated closest to the bars of the cell. She looked to be about thirty, with straight black hair pulled back in a ponytail and fairly large breasts, a ragged tan dress barely covering her body, and a slave mark on her left shoulder. “You, slave, what is your name?” She pointed at herself. “Me? My name is Desiree.” “How old are you, slave?” “34 years old, sir.” “What’s your story, and what are your skills?” “I am - I mean, I was a housewife, married to Lacile the Weaver in the Third Ward. Lacile’s store went under, and he sold me to pay his debts. I know how to cook a meal, clean a house…” “Slave, if I buy you, I’ll be pimping you out to the general population. Will you try to resist?” She looked shocked, both by my suddenly harsh tone, and by my plan for her body. I looked out the corner of my eye, and saw a feral grin on Riga’s face. I supposed that a life of inflicting misery on the battlefield makes you rather callous, but it was a rather startling contrast when compared with her earlier sympathy towards me. “I… I don’t want to be a whore!” The slave-woman stammered out, though whatever backbone she’d found disappeared as Riga stepped forward, and looked down at her. “He wasn’t asking you if you wanted to be whored, slut! He asked you if you’d resist – please, for my sake, say you will, so that I'll have the fun of breaking you!” My, Riga is a powerful ally, isn’t she? Best not show her my back, though – she’d probably turn on me faster than I could think! The slave woman cowered back against the wall of the pen. “No, no, I won’t make any trouble! Not at all! Please don’t hurt me!” Riga turned to me, and tilted her head to the side. I smiled at her and nodded my approval, earning a bright smile from my lovely strong-arm.
“Very well,” I said, “I’ll take her. And one other…” I looked back over the other caged women, before my eyes settled on the elf, who returned my stare briefly before looking down towards the ground. I evaluated her body: She had a very exotic and interesting appeal, with her long pointed ears, her canted green eyes, and the bristles of gold that stabbed out from her scalp. She was slim and tall, with averagely sized breasts that matched her proportions perfectly. She wore leggings and boots, and a fetching white singlet, a contrast to the rest of the slaves, who wore dun, heavily worn clothing. “Elf-slave, what’re you called?” She looks back up, and meets my eyes again. “I am named Caitriona of the Inue Clan, human. And, to answer your next three questions, my clan on the Philidelphian Archipelago was devastated by Trolloc raiders, but I escaped to the seas, where a Romansh ship picked me up, and brought me here. When we docked, the crew turned on me, and handed me over to slavers. I can fight, I have combat experience from purging Trollocs, and…” Caitriona’s voice turned slightly husky “I know how to please a man. And, no, I won’t cause trouble for you, so long as you don’t try to hurt me more than what’s necessary.”
While I was surprised by her candor, I approved of her frank answer. “You’ll do, elf, you’ll do. Riga, take out your sword – if any of these pieces of meat try anything, hurt them badly.” Riga nodded, and drew her short sword. I opened the door of the cell, and then stepped back quickly, in case any of the inmates felt feisty. “Alright, Desiree and Caitriona, come out to me!” I yelled at the slaves, causing Desiree to cringe back, while Caitriona merely stared at me for a second, before gracefully rising to her feet, tapping Desiree on the shoulder as she passed, encouraging her to stand. As the two slaves walked out of the cage, one standing tall and proud, the other with lowered head and shoulders, I called out to Ambrose. “Representative! I’ve found the slaves I intend to purchase – kindly unlock the gate!”
The gate to the slave pen creaked open, and I closed the cell behind my two soon-to-be purchases. I bade Caitriona and Desiree to go first, with Riga and I following behind, ready to attack at the first sign of resistance. As we passed through the gate, one of the thugs wolf-whistled at the slaves, and smacked Desiree on the ass, making her jump, shriek slightly, and hunch over even further, taking on the appearance of a recently beaten child. The guards laughed coarsely, and Caitriona’s eyes promised violence, until the tip of Riga’s sword touched the back of her neck. Caitriona froze, and I took the opportunity to walk over to Ambrose, who had watched the entire incident with every sign of enjoyment, savoring Desiree’s humiliation and Caitriona’s helplessness. “How much do you want for each slave, Representative?” I asked politely, getting ready to haggle over the price. “Oh, not much, only 500 gold for the housewife, and 950 gold for the elf.” Surprisingly, the man hadn’t lied: For these slaves, that was a very good price, especially for the elf. I wondered if there was something he wasn’t telling me about them, before dismissing the thought as irrelevant. “Deal!” I reached out, and shook Ambrose’s hand. He retreated to his office, and returned with the slaves’ contracts. I signed the contracts, and handed over the 1450 gold for the slaves, plus a 50 gold tip for the Representative, which he took with a smile. It must have pleased him, because he threw in two pair of shackles gratis, which would make it much easier to bring Desiree and Caitriona to their new home.
I left the Consortium’s compound followed by my two shackled slaves, with Riga guarding the rear. Franz and Kristin were waiting for us, each with a large sack hanging from their shoulders. Franz seemed completely unsurprised to see my two new purchases, while Kristin’s eyes flew open, and she covered her mouth with her hands. ‘Poor country girl – she’s probably never seen a slave before!’ I thought with amusement. I patted her on the head, prompting Riga to laugh quietly, before coughing something that sounded suspiciously like “Find a real woman!” So, now with enough help to begin the long slow climb back up to the heights from which I’d fallen, I led my crew home to my father’s brothel, and finally felt confident about the days to come.
-
Interesting, he'll be kind when it's needed and be strong when he wants something. Smart, very smart...I can see his father coming out through him. End result: Badass Rank. 8)
But the story thickens now that got a crew going on and two girls for the brothel. I don't see any glaring errors but then again i'm sleepy. Hopefully he'll do the right thing when it comes to business...
-
Indeed. Hey, would you mind doing a bit of pre-reading, R565?
-
Oh sure man.
-
Cool. Expect one within the week.
-
With incredibly good editing by R565, I give you...
CHAPTER 5
Roughly an hour and a half later, we finally arrived at the brothel. I could have sworn that the last turn on the Fifth Ward main route was a left but… I digress. As I walked towards the door, holding the key, I noticed Franz, Riga, and Caitriona staring at the hastily repaired portions of the brothel’s edifice, while Kristin and Desiree simply looked intimidated by the looming structure with its gaudy and lurid signage.
I opened the door, and walked into the foyer, and sighed as I gazed at its unpainted walls and new boards. Upon the reconstructed corpse of my father’s enterprise, I renewed my vow that someone would pay, and pay dearly, for this outrage. I turned back from my ruminations, and addressed my underwhelmed band of followers. “Alright, if you go up the stairs to your right, you’ll find a hallway lined with doors. Go ahead and pick a room, and dump your gear. Franz and Kristin, go through the door behind me and drop off the food first.” As Franz and Kristin moved off, I unchained Desiree and Caitriona, and dumped the shackles by the door. As soon as she was unbound, Desiree flinched away from me, and walked towards the stairs as fast as she could. Caitriona did not move, and rubbed at her wrists as I carried the shackles over to the door, watching me the whole time. Riga had not gone upstairs; instead, she leaned against the far wall, and stared at Caitriona. After a few awkward moments had past, Franz emerged, now unburdened, from the door leading to the kitchen. He hooked his thumb back over his shoulder. “She’s starting on dinner; it will probably take an hour or so.” He trudged up the stairs, with a tired and worn look. Caitriona followed him, after a last searching look. I took the elf’s departure as an opportunity to close my eyes, and ponder what else had to be done before I could collapse for the day. When I opened my eyes a minute later, I practically flew backwards with a yelp as Riga appeared before me, her chest filling most of my field of vision. I looked up, and saw her grinning face; apparently, my attempt to jump through a wall was gut-numbing hilarious, as was my subsequent exasperation. “Oh, is the poor little Aliusha afraid of the scary woman?” Franz, having just descended back down the stairs, had an uncharacteristic expression of delight as he watched Riga pat my head, despite my attempts to dodge her heavy-handed mock affection. Finally freeing myself from Riga’s arms, I stomped up the stairs past Franz, muttering deprecation about uppity freed slaves, and pushy barbarians, which somehow failed to intimidate either warrior. In fact, Riga looked fit to collapse!
I retreated to my sanctum, and collapsed on the bed, and reflected on my day. Over less than sixteen hours, I had acquired two slaves, a servant, and a pair of warriors, whose loyalty was dependent primarily on their own sense of honor and attachment. Tonight, I was going to have to put at least one of the slaves to work, out on the streets, to begin recouping my money. I had to start somewhere, and this seemed about as likely as any other way to begin. Besides, this would serve the secondary purpose of advertising the rebirth of the Vasa’s family brothel.
After an hour of planning my grand return, I wandered back down stairs, and into the dining room, where the rest of the inhabitants of the brothel were already eating, or, in Kristin’s case, serving, a meal of beans and rice. I collapsed in one of the chairs that surrounded the large wooden table, and the damn chair nearly collapsed itself. True to form, Franz gave me a dirty look, Caitriona gave me a superior look, Desiree flinched, Kristin coughed and looked away, and Riga near fell out of her chair. It’s become disturbing, the resemblance my life has to a poorly written comedy has at times. Kristin hastily brought me a bowl of beans and rice, and I began eating, staring directly at my food to avoid making eye contact with my fellow diners. After cleaning my plate, I encouraged our server to join us. “Thank you for preparing dinner, Kristin. Go ahead, serve yourself!” Turning to the others, I rapped my knuckles against the wooden surface, attracting their attention away from their food, or, in Riga’s case, prodding a disgruntled Franz with her spoon. “Alright everybody, over the course of a few days, I have spent about 3500 gold on acquiring your services, providing your gear, and rebuilding this bloody building. We have had no cash income during that time, and that changes now.” I paused to briefly check the mood of my audience. Desiree and Kristin looked nervous, Franz and Caitriona had begun imitating statues, and Riga was uncharacteristically serious and silent. “Now, you are aware of why I recruited each of you, so what I have to say won’t be a big surprise. Tonight, Desiree, you will be out on the street, looking for customers; Franz, I want you to be near her, but stay unobtrusive. If she looks like she’s in danger, or looks ready to run, dissuade her.” In the thunderous silence that fell afterwards, I tensed – hopefully, nobody would get restive. Franz nodded his acceptance, as expected, and Caitriona looked both disapproving and relieved, but Desiree looked absolutely crushed. For a brief moment, as disbelief and horror crossed her face, the silence was maintained, only to shatter as her composure shattered, and she began to weep quietly, cradling her face in her hands. “Desiree. Desiree!” She looked up, at me, and for a brief moment a short-lived hope danced through her eyes. “You have no choice; you are not going to have a better option. Cry if you must, but know this – if, in an hour, you are not standing in the lobby with your face and hair fixed, wearing what I will provide for you, I will hurt you, badly. I don’t want to – I spent hundreds of gold to buy you, but if you disobey me, I’ll make you regret it.” Her eyes began to fill with tears again, and as her eyes filled, my patience waned. “Get out of my sight – go to your room, and prepare yourself.” With a sob, she left the table, and stumbled her way out. I turned to Caitriona, who instantly went back to her poker face. “Caitriona, tomorrow, it’ll be your turn. But tonight, you have off, as soon as you help Kristin with the clean-up.” I nodded to the pair, and the country-woman and the elf left the dining room, taking the dishes with them, except for Riga’s bowl, which still held half of her third serving. Franz stood and stretched. “I’ll go and make sure that she's not about to hang herself – or run.” Like a shadow moving under its own power, his black-clad form smoothly slid off his chair, and slowly walked out the same door as the distraught Desiree had.
After the rest of my employees had left, I let out a breath that I’d been holding, and looked over at the barbarian, who was still eating, though at a slower rate than before. I noticed that she had not looked back down at her food, and was still staring at me. “Well, that could have gone better, I guess. Do you have any commentary, Riga?” Still unsmiling, Riga replied with a somber voice. “No, no, I can’t say that I do. Just be careful you know this might break her?” I nodded. “I can’t say that I’m all too proud about it, but I know that this is an efficient way to rebuild capital. And I can say that, in complete honesty, I tried to be as gentle as I could – my father would have slapped her once she started crying, and probably would have beaten her if she had not stopped, before tossing her out onto the streets completely naked.” Riga’s eyes hardened and I was suddenly reminded about why Northern tribal warriors were still feared in this day and age – the rage howling in her orbs made something deep in my soul want to cower and hide. Then, like a summer thunderstorm, the rage disappeared, leaving an unsettling humorous cast to her eyes. “Well, it’s a good idea you did not try that!” She said with a smile. “Otherwise, I’d hate to have to take my employer down a peg!” I exchanged a smile, and stood up. “Well, I’m going to go and get some stuff for Desiree to wear. Mind tagging along?” She shrugged, but stood and followed.
We left the brothel, and walked down one of the many filthy avenues that had been my childhood playground for a short time, stopping in front of a building that seemed to crouch against the pavement, as if the very bricks and mortar were ashamed to be there. Riga looked at me, questions dancing across her face. “It’s a clothing store – no need to give me snide looks.” “Hey, no need to get all pissy with me; I don’t know shit about this town, recall? I arrived at the soldier’s slave pen less than a week ago!” Deciding that I could only force my foot further down my mouth, I abandoned the conversation, and entered the clothier, followed by Riga. After a short conversation with a shop clerk, I bought an inexpensive pair of panties and matching bra for 75 gold. I was pretty sure that I’d been overcharged, but the clerk’s smirk could have been directed at a distinctly unimpressed Riga rather than my foolishness in agreeing to such a price.
As I walked back towards my home, Riga excused herself, and disappeared down a nearby alleyway. While disconcerted at the sudden disappearance of my bodyguard, I resumed traveling, only to stop when a loud, shrill, but nevertheless masculine cry of pain resounded from the side-street Riga had disappeared down. I quickly drew my dagger and recited a cantrip I’d been taught by a street-mage a couple years back, and rushed down the suddenly ominous alley after my errant bodyguard. I almost ran into Riga: She stood in the center of the alley, holding her dripping short sword, looming over a crumpled man who seemed to be trying to crawl away from her. As he crawled, she advanced, and rapidly overtook the bleeding man. He whimpered out a desperate plea for mercy, and held out a hand, trying to ward away his attacker. As I watched disbelievingly, Riga laughed, and swatted his hand away, hard enough that I could hear a distinctive pop as his elbow collapsed. With catlike motion, Riga slowly walked to the man’s side, next to his ruined arm, and squatted down beside his head. I heard a dull murmur, but no distinct words as I stood silent, my dagger forgotten in my hand. Riga stopped talking, paused briefly, and laughed harshly. She stood, and brought her boot down hard on the hand that had presented such a feeble defense, and ground her heel on his fingers. A new shriek of agony pierced the night, which ended in a pain-filled gurgle as Riga almost casually swung her sword in a low arc, tearing through her victim’s throat. Her slash was followed by a stab to the chest, presumably to ensure the kill. She pulled the blade out, and without so much as stopping to check his pockets, walked back towards me, licking her sword with ever sign of enjoyment on her already bloody face. Without a word, I nodded to her, and walked back with her towards the mouth of the alley, trying desperately to stop my treacherous hands from shaking. Without any sort of sign or motive, Riga had brutally hacked apart a beggar for her apparent enjoyment, and was licking her sword clean of his life-blood with every sign of enjoyment. I was well within the reach of her blade – what was to prevent her from deciding that I might be better dead? I knew I could never hold a candle to her fighting abilities, so I resolved to maintain her loyalty for as long as possible – if that meant turning a blind eye to her brutal murder of hundreds of beggars, that was a far better alternative than dying under her blade.
Without exchanging a word, we returned to the brothel. By the time we’d returned, Riga had cleaned her sword, hands, and face of all blood, and had her usual grin stretched across her face. This was even more unnerving than her previous expression of blood-lust and rage, further exacerbated by the lengthening shadows as the sun dipped below the horizon. I entered the brothel, and walked up the stairs, and knocked on the door that Desiree’s name-tag hung from. I opened the door enough to pass the bundle of undergarments through, before closing it with a reminder of “Five minutes!” Returning to the lobby to wait, I made small-talk at Franz, who responded with a variety of monosyllabic words, short sentences, and grunts. Eventually, Desiree hesitantly descended, hands in front of her breasts and groin, trying to further obscure what the lingerie barely covered. I knocked her hands away, and examined her with a critical eye: Her hair flowed down her back, save for a small, central braid that hung down the center of her back; her eyes had a classy touch of mascara, her face as decorated with blush and her lips looked swollen and tasty, outlined in red lipstick. The basic bra and panty set was not the sexiest of all possible outfits, but its bluntness would make her intent unmistakable. I handed her a pair of high-heeled shoes that had not been looted during the ass-backwards attack yesterday afternoon, and gave her a few words of encouragement. “Look, it might hurt, but it won’t be anything that can't be fixed. I know you don’t want to do this, and I’m sorry, but it will get better after this. Trust me or not, it’ll get better.” With a pat on the back, and a nod to Franz, Desiree headed out into the night: The once-respectable tradesman’s wife had been converted into a soiled dove, and, though she did not know it yet, she had yet to truly hit rock bottom.
-
Yes, even though he feel for her, he has to make money somehow. In the land of Crossgate, you have to choose when to be stern and when to be good to others. Especially if you are a brothel owner. Be too much of a jerk and everyone will want to kill you. Be too nice, and people will take advantage of you. There has to be a line for people to cross. For our protagonist though, he already has a deadly target on his head and things will get even tougher from here on out. This story follows a Crossgate that shows how much he will go to avenge his father and to be on top of Crossgate as one of the biggest brothel masters.
This.....is the Beginning Saga.
(Sounded epic am I right? But you have your own ideas for this story....[size=78%])[/size] :D
-
It sounds epic indeed! I like your idea, I like it. I think it's all about survival, and revenge, while trying not to become as evil as his father.
-
Ok some things that were a bit irritating to me: I would have assumed that he at least knew the way to and from the slave market, since the beginning of the story indicates that he walks there quite often - it wouldn't be good for his standing with his new employees to essentially get lost on his own turf, would it?
Then the thing with Desiree: Yes sexy is good but only underwear in a probably chilly night? A cheap skimpy dress would still make the intent pretty clear and keep everything accessible, also he didn't talk at all with her how much she should take for which type of service - she is completely new to this type of job and has no idea how this is supposed to work.
Also I am not sure if you have got a consistent idea of your characters, the MC keeping completely quiet about that murder seems just odd, I would have expected him to at least tell her to keep it quiet when she has to torture her victims, which seems uncharacteristic for her anyway.
Sorry if this seems ranty - It is not my intention to tell you how your characters act, especially with only the little bit of knowledge the reader has at this stage, but the MC just seems jaded and ruthless enough to not be that shocked about a dead stranger. (or maybe I am picturing him much cooler than he actually is in my sleepdeprived state.)
-
Ok some things that were a bit irritating to me: I would have assumed that he at least knew the way to and from the slave market, since the beginning of the story indicates that he walks there quite often - it wouldn't be good for his standing with his new employees to essentially get lost on his own turf, would it?
Then the thing with Desiree: Yes sexy is good but only underwear in a probably chilly night? A cheap skimpy dress would still make the intent pretty clear and keep everything accessible, also he didn't talk at all with her how much she should take for which type of service - she is completely new to this type of job and has no idea how this is supposed to work.
Also I am not sure if you have got a consistent idea of your characters, the MC keeping completely quiet about that murder seems just odd, I would have expected him to at least tell her to keep it quiet when she has to torture her victims, which seems uncharacteristic for her anyway.
Sorry if this seems ranty - It is not my intention to tell you how your characters act, especially with only the little bit of knowledge the reader has at this stage, but the MC just seems jaded and ruthless enough to not be that shocked about a dead stranger. (or maybe I am picturing him much cooler than he actually is in my sleepdeprived state.)
Not to worry! I apologize, that was sloppy characterization, but it reflects my own ability to get lost walking in a straight line. I understand that assigning the character author traits isn't exactly the best of ideas, but I got lazy.
In regards to the choice of cheap lingerie, I was trying to tie it to the items that occur in game. As far as I know, the cheapest garment is the cheap lingerie. I'm trying to tie this story to the game as much as possible, while worldbuilding at the same time.
I agree that Aliusha is jaded to the point of shrugging off random murder, but I was trying to emphasize how tenuous his grip over his employees is. In my characterization, Franz is honor bound by his own ethical code, a holdover from his army days; in contrast, Riga is a creature of impulse and emotion. The fact that Aliusha freed her gives him an emotional tie to her loyalty; however, she's also a barbarian from a region that, even though they still use melee weapons after the widespread use of firearms (Franz mentions firearm proficiency), they're still feared - Our Hero is cuddling a wolf to his busom, and his second greatest concern is Riga slipping her leash.
Also, keep in mind that Aliusha is brand new to this - previously, he'd been one of his father's subordinates, but had never really been involved in the hands-on part of the organization. His father had planned for him to inherit the whole enterprise, not a shell, and he didn't assume that the figurative CEO would also be required to play the part of low-level manager. He'll learn, I can promise that.
Thanks for the critique, though; I appreciate it, and will work your points in to the next chapter.
-
Not to worry! I apologize, that was sloppy characterization, but it reflects my own ability to get lost walking in a straight line. I understand that assigning the character author traits isn't exactly the best of ideas, but I got lazy.
I find that it helps me If I have a character sheet for each of the major characters in my stories, although i don't look at them that often it at least helps me keeping a relative firm idea of them.
On the subject of Aliusha being new to it, I would argue that he would still have collected some knowledge in it passing by the low level managers while working, but I will be happy to see where you take us.
-
I find that it helps me If I have a character sheet for each of the major characters in my stories, although i don't look at them that often it at least helps me keeping a relative firm idea of them.
On the subject of Aliusha being new to it, I would argue that he would still have collected some knowledge in it passing by the low level managers while working, but I will be happy to see where you take us.
That's... Actually a really good idea. Why didn't I think of that? I'll start drawing those up soon. Also, I'll go ahead and make trait lists for the characters too, and post those.
-
Okay, I've created a .girlsx file for each character, including the males. So, adapted as well as I can for the task, I present:
Aliusha:
<Girl
Name="Aliusha Vasa"
Desc="Heir to the Vasa family criminal enerprise, Aliusha lost his inheritance and his father in a sudden attack by a group of rival organizations. Since that day, Aliusha has endeavored to rebuild his father's organization, and to take revenge on his father's murderers. Aliusha is a fairly charismatic individual, who attempts to control his followers with loyalty, instead of fear. He is the survivor of numerous gang wars, and know how to handle himself in a fight. Despite these atributes, he has yet to fully come into his own as a leader of men, and a master of women."
Charisma="70"
Happiness="100"
Libido="60"
Constitution="65"
Intelligence="75"
Confidence="85"
Mana="10"
Agility="60"
Fame="5"
Level="1"
AskPrice="0"
House="60"
Exp="20"
Age="22"
Obedience="45"
Spirit="100"
Beauty="35"
Tiredness="0"
Health="100"
PCFear="0"
PCLove="0"
PCHate="0"
Anal="0"
Magic="5"
BDSM="5"
NormalSex="5"
Beastiality="0"
Group="0"
Lesbian="0"
Service="10"
Strip="0"
Combat="15"
Gold="4000"
Status="Normal">
<Trait
Name="Small Scars" />
<Trait
Name="Quick Learner" />
<Trait
Name="Strong" />
<Trait
Name="Pessimist" />
<Trait
Name="Tough" />
</Girl>
-
Franz:
<Girl
Name="Franz"
Desc="Once an officer in the Republic of Styria, Franz was captured in the aftermath of a skirmish with a Romansh Legio. Brought to Crossgate, he was bought and freed by Aliusha. Franz swore to serve Aliusha until he felt upon his honor that the debt had been repaid. Franz knows how to inspire and command people, how not to be seen, and how to fight. He serves as Aliusha's enforcer and bodyguard."
Charisma="70"
Happiness="100"
Libido="25"
Constitution="75"
Intelligence="65"
Confidence="80"
Mana="10"
Agility="60"
Fame="0"
Level="5"
AskPrice="0"
House="60"
Exp="156"
Age="27"
Obedience="85"
Spirit="80"
Beauty="40"
Tiredness="0"
Health="100"
PCFear="0"
PCLove="5"
PCHate="0"
Anal="0"
Magic="15"
BDSM="0"
NormalSex="10"
Beastiality="0"
Group="0"
Lesbian="0"
Service="5"
Strip="0"
Combat="30"
Gold="0"
Status="Normal">
<Trait
Name="Cool Scars" />
<Trait
Name="Cool Person" />
<Trait
Name="Strong" />
<Trait
Name="Assassin" />
<Trait
Name="Manly" />
<Trait
Name="Merciless" />
<Trait
Name="Fleet of Foot" />
</Girl>
-
Riga:
<Girl
Name="Riga"
Desc="A tribal warrior from the Northern reaches of Mundiga, Riga is a feared warrior, who Aliusha bought as a slave, before granting her freedom. Has few sexual inhibitions, but hates being caged or restricted. Has a murderous temper, and should be treated with caution. Treats Aliusha like a younger sibling for the most part. Riga is bisexual, with a preference for men, though easily dominated women are attractive too."
Charisma="55"
Happiness="100"
Libido="40"
Constitution="95"
Intelligence="40"
Confidence="90"
Mana="0"
Agility="45"
Fame="5"
Level="3"
AskPrice="0"
House="60"
Exp="230"
Age="23"
Obedience="25"
Spirit="100"
Beauty="50"
Tiredness="0"
Health="100"
PCFear="0"
PCLove="15"
PCHate="0"
Anal="5"
Magic="0"
BDSM="0"
NormalSex="20"
OralSex="25"
TittySex="0"
Beastiality="5"
Group="15"
Lesbian="10"
Service="0"
Strip="25"
Combat="45"
Gold="25"
Status="Normal">
<Trait
Name="Big Boobs" />
<Trait
Name="Cool Scars" />
<Trait
Name="Cool Person" />
<Trait
Name="Strong" />
<Trait
Name="Aggressive" />
<Trait
Name="Adventurer" />
<Trait
Name="Great Figure" />
<Trait
Name="Merciless" />
<Trait
Name="Fearless" />
<Trait
Name="Iron Will" />
<Trait
Name="Twisted" />
<Trait
Name="Tough" />
</Girl>
-
Kristin:
<Girl
Name="Kristin"
Desc="A girl from a rural family located outside of Crossgate, Kristin came to the city looking for work. Aliusha and Riga recruited Kristin after getting her drunk as a maid, cook, and receptionist. Kristin is straight-laced and meek, but kind and somewhat motherly, despite her young age. She's a good cook, too!"
Charisma="45"
Happiness="100"
Libido="10"
Constitution="40"
Intelligence="55"
Confidence="30"
Mana="0"
Agility="50"
Fame="0"
Level="0"
AskPrice="0"
House="60"
Exp="0"
Age="17"
Obedience="60"
Spirit="40"
Beauty="45"
Tiredness="0"
Health="100"
PCFear="0"
PCLove="5"
PCHate="0"
Anal="0"
OralSex="0"
TittySex="0"
Magic="0"
BDSM="0"
NormalSex="0"
Beastiality="0"
Group="0"
Lesbian="0"
Service="45"
Strip="0"
Combat="0"
Gold="0"
Status="Normal">
<Trait
Name="Cute" />
<Trait
Name="Nervous" />
<Trait
Name="Small Boobs" />
<Trait
Name="Meek" />
<Trait
Name="Optimist" />
<Trait
Name="Dependant" />
<Trait
Name="Virgin" />
</Girl>
-
Desiree:
<Girl
Name="Desiree"
Desc="The wife of a tradesman, Desiree was until quite recently very respectable. When her husband made some bad business decisions, he used her as collateral. When he wasn't able to pay up, he sold her into slavery. She's still shocked by her sudden fall in status, and absolutely appalled by what her new job is. She is afraid of Aliusha, and terrified of Riga."
Charisma="55"
Happiness="100"
Libido="15"
Constitution="40"
Intelligence="35"
Confidence="20"
Mana="0"
Agility="45"
Fame="0"
Level="0"
AskPrice="0"
House="60"
Exp="43"
Age="27"
Obedience="55"
Spirit="30"
Beauty="50"
Tiredness="0"
Health="100"
PCFear="30"
PCLove="0"
PCHate="10"
Anal="0"
OralSex="5"
TittySex="0"
Magic="0"
BDSM="0"
NormalSex="10"
Beastiality="0"
Group="0"
Lesbian="0"
Service="35"
Strip="0"
Combat="0"
Gold="0"
Status="Slave">
<Trait
Name="Big Boobs" />
<Trait
Name="Clumsy" />
<Trait
Name="Broken Will" />
<Trait
Name="Meek" />
<Trait
Name="Dependant" />
<Trait
Name="Puffy Nipples" />
<Trait
Name="MILF" />
</Girl>
-
Caitriona:
<Girl
Name="Caitriona"
Desc="An elf-maid of the Inue Clan, Caitriona escaped her clan's destruction at the hands of Trolloc raiders in the Philidelphian Archipeligo, only to be kidnapped and sold by Romansh sailors in Crosssgate. Caitriona is always composed, yet is not overly pridefull. She has not fully submitted to Aliusha's authority, and remains unbroken. "
Charisma="50"
Happiness="100"
Libido="25"
Constitution="35"
Intelligence="85"
Confidence="70"
Mana="40"
Agility="80"
Fame="0"
Level="0"
AskPrice="0"
House="60"
Exp="0"
Age="19"
Obedience="30"
Spirit="50"
Beauty="75"
Tiredness="0"
Health="100"
PCFear="10"
PCLove="0"
PCHate="5"
Anal="0"
OralSex="0"
TittySex="0"
Magic="10"
BDSM="0"
NormalSex="0"
Beastiality="0"
Group="0"
Lesbian="0"
Service="10"
Strip="5"
Combat="0"
Gold="0"
Status="Slave">
<Trait
Name="Quick Learner" />
<Trait
Name="Strong Magic" />
<Trait
Name="Not Human" />
<Trait
Name="Elegant" />
<Trait
Name="Iron Will" />
<Trait
Name="Fleet of Foot" />
<Trait
Name="Tough" />
<Trait
Name="Long Legs" />
<Trait
Name="Virgin" />
</Girl>
-
Wow, If there was pics of them I would absolutely put them in the game! Infact if this was an actual game and the final prize was getting the girls in WM that would be awesome. But all in all, these are pretty good for sheets. 8)
Also for Aliusha, he probably didn't really care for the business that much like his dad but always wanted to have that connection with him. But at the same time he didn't want to make people do what he wants by fear, but by respecting him and the reason that he won't hurt anyone unless they give him reason to.
-
Wow, If there was pics of them I would absolutely put them in the game! Infact if this was an actual game and the final prize was getting the girls in WM that would be awesome. But all in all, these are pretty good for sheets. 8)
Also for Aliusha, he probably didn't really care for the business that much like his dad but always wanted to have that connection with him. But at the same time he didn't want to make people do what he wants by fear, but by respecting him and the reason that he won't hurt anyone unless they give him reason to.
Thanks, and yeah, I got that vibe off Aliusha too. I'll probably edit these at some point later on.
In regards to images, when I write these characters, I view Franz as a short, slender man with short cropped dark hair, Aliusha as a guy with average height, a somewhat beaten face (has a nose that was broken at some earlier point), and longish brown hair. For Riga, I see a woman that looks a lot like Listy (Queen's Blade) and Amazon (from Dragon Quest), only wearing real armor. For Kristin, I see a girl who resembles Rena Ryuugu. For Caitriona, I found a picture a year or so ago on Deviant Art of a low fantasy elfin soldier, who look similar to any RL female soldier, save for the long ears and the catlike eyes. For Desiree, I mostly see Lurker's Housewife random girl as the face.
-
For Desiree, I mostly see Lurker's Housewife random girl as the face.
Why was I thinking that too.....weird.... ???
-
Why was I thinking that too.....weird.... ???
Great minds, R565, great minds.
-
Here's chapter six, pre-read by R565!
CHAPTER 6
As I watched Desiree walk out into the suddenly inhospitable night, I felt a weariness fill me. It had been a long, long day. I turned to Riga, and asked her to lock up for the night. She nodded, before giving me a coy smile. “Are you sure that my duties for tonight are over, eh?” She loomed over me, none too subtly forcing her breasts towards my face. A wave of desire passed over me, and I was on the cusp of accepting her desirable favors before an image of a grinning Riga grinding her boot onto the shattered hand of a writhing man danced through my mind. Like a startled deer, my libido fled from me, leaving only a sudden emptiness in my gut. “No, thanks Riga for your generous offer, but tonight’s not good. Perhaps maybe we can try tomorrow?” She slapped my shoulder in parting as she went out to close the gate. Hopefully this meant that she was not taking my lack of interest personally.
I went upstairs, and knocked on Caitriona’s door. The elf opened the door, giving me both a wary look, and a lovely opportunity to assess her merchandise. Tearing my eyes away from her lovely legs that were uncovered by her singlet, I flinched mildly in shame as I met her cold gaze, before I managed to remember why I’d come. “Caitriona, do you know any healing magic?” This was clearly not a question she’d been expecting, and she paused briefly before nodding. “Good. When Desiree comes back tomorrow, I want you to use it on her before you go out. I know that’s not quite fair to you, but I don’t want to make this any harder on her than it needs to be.” As I spoke, I held her gaze, trying to convey earnest concern. I needed loyalty from my subordinates, especially ones with elfin strength. This approach worked, and Caitriona relaxed slightly. “Yes, no need for the poor woman to be miserable.” She agreed, her light voice contrasting with her shorn hair and inhuman face. “I’ll do what I can for her.” “Thank you.” We stood on opposite sides of the room’s threshold for a few moments, before she nodded once more, and bade me goodnight. I left Caitriona, and heard her door close as I walked away, towards my own room.
I entered the last room on the right, the only room with a lock on the door. Closing and locking the door behind me, I dropped my clothes in a heap on the chair before dropping myself onto the bed. After the long day of recruitment and negotiation, I desperately needed sleep, and yet restfulness did not come. Instead, as I reflected on Caitriona’s helpless wrath before the laughing slavers, Desiree’s fearful trembling as I sent her out into the night, and Riga’s cruel laughter as she mutilated a random passerby, I could only feel a deep isolation, and a sense of emotional fatigue.
As I lay in my dark room for longer, Riga’s laughter and Franz’s blood spilling on the street left my mind, and I recalled my father’s first lessons to his son and heir. Not unlike other fathers showing their sons their trades, he began with a demonstration of the tools he used.
I remember my father, face already horridly scarred with burn tissue, taking me down into the dungeons, and showing me the single-tail, the cat o’nine tail, and the vurms. I remember how at first I toyed with the shackles and ropes, laughing and giggling, and how my father smiled as I wrapped myself in strands of hemp, his smile a rare event that I would have treasured, if it did not scare me so. I remember how, after introducing me to the tools of torture, he bade me watch a small demonstration. As I sat in the corner on top of a disused cage, a weeping girl of no more than fourteen was half dragged, half carried into the room by two of my father’s goons. The men ignored her pleas and sobs as they chained her to a wall, nearly dislocating her shoulders in the process, and continued to ignore her cries as they ripped the stained and ragged dress from her thin body. My father brought me close, and I remember innocently staring up at her skinny chest, as it heaved and struggled for breath, and how her tears turned grey as they trickled down her filthy face. My father reached out and cupped his hand around her jaw, before forcing her mouth closed with enough force to produce an audible click. “This piece of meat was freshly caught only hours ago, my son. She was found on the streets by my men, and brought here with offers of food and clothing. Let that be a lesson to you – never take charity, for it will always be poisoned!” He looked down at me to emphasize this point, before turning back to the girl.
“As is, she is now mine, a slave, and is no longer any more human than that table or the wall she hangs from.” The girl frantically shook her head, her desperation lending her the strength to temporarily overcome my father’s grasp. “No! No, that's not true! I’m human! My name is –“she was abruptly silenced by a hard backhand from my father, whose face had not moved or reacted to her outburst in any visible way. “As I was saying, she's not human anymore, and in fact belongs to me. As such, I am going to use her to demonstrate a few of these tools to you.” He waved his hand in a way to indicate the branding irons, the whips, the cudgels, and the thugs still standing near the door. “Now, the first step in the process is the branding.” With a nod from their master, the thugs brought the enchanted irons close to his hands. My father gazed down on me, with as much of an expression of paternal approval as his face was capable of making. “Hand me that square shaped brand, will you, Aliusha? Mutely, I handed him the enchanted iron. As it touched his hand, the iron instantly glowed red, as the enchantment drew its strength from his energy. Releasing her head, he held the iron in both hands. As she wept and begged, he rammed the iron into the chained girl’s outer right thigh, and ground it in as she screamed. After an eternity, he pulled the iron away from her flesh. In a moment that will always haunt me, a long string of melted skin came away with it, briefly connecting the iron to the girl’s flesh. The string detached from her thigh, and the iron’s glow faded away as my father replaced it on the table. Before my wondering eyes, the horrible scars on the newly minted slave’s thigh bubbled, before seeming to sink below her skin. Her thigh returned to its smooth state, leaving a sigil that resembled a birthmark shaped like the family name, traced across her skin. She hung limply from the chains and wept from the pain and the humiliation.
I reopened my eyes, and gazed around the bedroom. At some point during my reminiscence, I had drifted off to sleep. I stared up at the ceiling, and pondered the slave’s fate. After my father had branded her, he had demonstrated the proper way to use various whips, flails, animals, and canes on a slave. As he had done so, I had gradually adopted my father’s point of view – I stopped seeing her as a human, and saw her as a slave, to be used and broken. It was the only way my young mind could process the suffering before my eyes; by rationalizing that she was not really a human like my father and I, my life could continue without any need for examination. After my father finished his demonstration, he had locked the girl away in one of the cells. He told me that she would be my teaching tool, and that every day for the next week, he would accompany me down to the dungeon to demonstrate and teach. For me, this was a princely gift, this time my father spent with me. Usually, one of the many female servants in his employ looked after me, or one of his guards. After that first week, he handed the figurative and literal reigns over to me, as a gift on my ninth birthday. He encouraged me to continue my practices, and to improve my form. I used the girl, who had once been called Alisa, again and again – not as a sex toy, for nine-year old boys have a distinct inability to desire such actions, but as a way to spend more time with my father. I enlisted the help of several of the thugs who hung around the place, and who helped hold her down as I learned. I did not hurt her out of a sense of cruelty, but only out of a desire to make my father proud. Eventually, he decided that my skills were adequate in the area of torture, and moved me into the organization, where I’d follow employees of all types around, and learn what they did, what they required, and what levers Father used to control them.
I never did get the chance to apologize to Alisa. I only realized at what my father had done seven years later, when I first formed a meaningful connection with a slave. His name was Eric, and he was the only male slave of my age in the compound, and thus my only playmate. He was the son of one of the whores, and had been sold to meet her debts. My father, as a favor to one of his employees, bought him, and trained him as a bartender and waiter. As I talked with Eric, and occasionally fought with him, I realized that he was just as human as I am. This realization broke the programming my father had installed, and made me realize how universal the desire to live and to survive is.
This was the reason why I lay awake. Not this new-found fear Riga brings or my sympathy with Caitriona, but my self-hate in regards to Desiree. Despite this angst, I knew that I had acted right. To avenge my father, and rebuild the Vasa family, anything was allowed.
-
Now this is an interesting story. It'll be interesting to see how Aliusha deals with characters from different shows when they start getting introduced, as so many of the ones worth buying are rather fiery. Since you already brought up EVA by having Rei in the poll, seeing Asuka get broke over the course of a chapter or two could be fun... Same with Misaka Mikoto or Shirai Kuroko from raildex. Really I just cant wait for more of this story though, heh.
-
Now this is an interesting story. It'll be interesting to see how Aliusha deals with characters from different shows when they start getting introduced, as so many of the ones worth buying are rather fiery. Since you already brought up EVA by having Rei in the poll, seeing Asuka get broke over the course of a chapter or two could be fun... Same with Misaka Mikoto or Shirai Kuroko from raildex. Really I just cant wait for more of this story though, heh.
Thanks! Yeah, I'm really hoping that the introduction of uniques will go well; I too would love to see/write the Breaking of Asuka. My only concern is not being able to capture the characters, and not being able to make them convincing. So, I will only write characters that I have seen/read the source material for, unless someone else wants to collaboratively write a part for their special favorites, which I'll than fold into the greater story.
Anyway, I'm already writing the next chapter, which will see the appearance of the first unique girl!
-
Wow I guess people want to see the wonder angels in this story. :D
That would be interesting to see.
-
Wow I guess people want to see the wonder angels in this story. :D
That would be interesting to see.
Yep. Trying to figure out how this whole next chapter is going to work. I'm having difficulty getting into the voices of uniques. But it shall be done!
-
Well i must state, that after reading this story. I'm impressed so far with how it is developing
Best of luck with your work, Looking forward to seeing how Aliusha fairs in rebuilding an empire ;D
-
Speaking of which....HEY! CBH did you get into a slump?
-
Sorry, R565, I kind of have. I've been working on a Fallout: New Vegas/Highschool of the Dead crossover fic, getting a new job, and volunteering at a local food bank lately, so I have been really busy. I haven't forgotten this fic, though, and once I head back to school in a few weeks, I'll have more time to write!
-
I understand man RL gets in the way. The same happened to me, Trying to get a new job, getting my stuff together, and not to mention getting out of this hump slump.
-
I awoke the next morning to Kristin’s knocking. Sliding out from between my sheets, I stumbled across to floor to my heap of clothing. Pulling my boots on, I unlocked the door and stumbled out into the hallway.
I caught up with Kristin as she replaced a broom in a closet. “Good morning Kristin; have Desiree and Franz returned yet?”
She turned back to me, closing the closet door. “Yes, they’re downstairs with Caitriona, eating breakfast. Riga is still asleep. I knocked on her door, but she’s still snoring away.”
I chuckled, amused at the comatose barbarian, before walking downstairs, tailed by Kristin. I wandered through the lobby, nodding in appreciation to Kristin – she’s already swept the room clean, and polished the hastily repaired counter. In the kitchen, I found Franz ladling porridge into a bowl, showing no signs of his late night. At the table in the center of the room, a much disheveled Desiree is sitting rather tenderly, despite looking exhausted enough to drop dead at any moment. Caitriona sits beside her, and seems to be waving a hand around certain parts of her body – presumably the healing she had promised last night. Desiree no longer appears to be wearing the cheap lingerie I’d provided her with last night, though it’s difficult to tell underneath the blanket she has wrapped around herself.
Caitriona looked up as I entered the room, and stopped moving her hand. “She has minor cuts and bruises all over, and had some vaginal tearing, which I healed. Sir.” I frowned at her disrespectful tone and contemptuous way she pronounced the last word. She met my eyes for a long moment, before eventually blinking. “Also, she’ll probably need anti-pregnancy potions.” She paused, and seemed to collect herself. “As will I; pregnancy on either of our parts will reduce our efficiency.”
I nodded my agreement “I’ll go shopping after breakfast.”
As I sat down at the table with my bowl, Franz clapped me on the back. “I’m clocking out; I need some sleep. I’ll wake Riga up on my way up, and send her on down for the day. By your leave, sir.”
“Wake her up, and tell her that she has five minutes for breakfast.”
Franz left, looking forward to his bed, and Caitriona followed him, supporting Desiree, who limped with every step. A few minutes later, Caitriona returned, followed by a yawning Riga.
“Well, look who’s finally awake!” I loudly crowed as the freshly woken blonde glared across the kitchen at me. I met her hostile sneer with a wide grin, as I took another bite of oatmeal. Giving the glare up as a bad job, Riga collapsed in the chair across the table from me, prompting loud shrieks from the distressed wooden supports. Kristin scooted a full bowl in front of the appreciative barbarian, before retreating back to the counter, though not fast enough to dodge Riga’s heavy smack to her backside. Blushing furiously, Kristin scuttled behind the counter and busied herself with washing out the pot, Riga laughing at her all the while.
Shaking my head at Riga’s foolishness, I turned back to Caitriona, who was leaning against the wall behind the chair vacated by Franz. “Caitriona, I take it you know how you’ll be spending today?”
Unenthusiastically, she nodded. “Out on the streets, nearly naked, rubbing up against greasy bastards for coin, got it. By the by, the money Desiree got last night is sitting on the table in the foyer.”
I nodded my thanks to her. “What are you planning on wearing? The same lingerie as I gave Desiree last night?”
She snorted. “Hardly: She’s going to have to wash those before tonight. I’m going to leave my leggings and underwear behind; the singlet will cover enough to hint at something interesting, while leaving enough exposed to tantalize.”
I looked askance at her; that was going to be my suggestion. “Have you been involved in this sector before?”
She rolled her eyes at the apparent stupidity of my question. “No, you men are just incredibly easy to manipulate. It’s shameful, really.”
“Fair point. Anyway, as soon as Riga’s done, the two of you can go. Take ten gold with you – that’ll buy a dose of potion for today from the apothecary down the street. While you’re there, tell him that I’ll be coming by later.” I hesitated for a second. “Also, thank you for healing Desiree, and for not resisting more. I’d hate to have to hurt either of you more than necessary.”
She glared at me, and hissed. “Remember what I said in the cage; I will serve you, but I don’t like it, and I don’t like you. Touch me without cause or consent, and I’ll tear your fingers off, barbarian bitch or not!” The pale tint of her skin turned ruddy as she blushed with anger, before stomping off upstairs, presumably to strip down.
I looked over at Riga, who has finished her oatmeal. “Will you be able to handle her?”
She belched, than sighed with satisfaction. “Yup, she won’t get away. Elves are tough, but I’m stronger.” A lecherous gleam fills her eyes “Hey, can I get a free go or two on her? Or, is there an employee discount?”
“Eh, so long as you don’t distract her from paying customers for too long, enjoy yourself.” I said in a disinterested tone, feeling like I’d just set a child loose in a candy shop.
About an hour after Caitriona and Riga had left, the later looming over the former like a bear over a caribou, I gently closed the front door behind me as I stepped out into the street. Franz was still asleep, so I’d be alone on this trip. Fortunately, I wasn’t going far. My father had an alliance with several of the gangs and minor crime families in the area, and I wanted to renew those relationships, starting with a small group of thugs who hung out in a pub a few doors down.
The pub was small and grimy, with a number of stained wooden tables scattered about the dimly lit room. The electric lights overhead stuttered, planting the seed of a headache deep in my brain as erratic shadows danced across the floor. Closing the door behind me, I wandered over to the table furthest from the entrance. Six men, all around my age, lounged around the door, each with a drink in hand and at least one visible knife in their belt.
One of the men looked up, as he heard my footsteps. “Hey, Aliusha, long time no see! Pull up a chair!”
I collapsed into the offered seat, leaning over and shaking his hand as I sat. “Hey Julius, you’re looking good! Business going well?”
A dangerous smile danced across Julius’s lips. He and his little gang were muggers and small-time thieves, one of many similar bands who infest Crossgate. I knew him from past dealings – Julius always knew a man who knew a man who could get you what you needed, for a modest price. He was a good drinking buddy, too.
“Business is going fine, plenty of country bumpkins wandering around. Heard about your dad – it’s a pity, the old bastard was a good businessman.” Julius flicked a finger at the bartender, who brought another round of shots of rotgut to the thugs. He tossed a pair of small coins at the man, and slammed his drink down.
“Yeah, but that’s how life goes. Anyway, I’d like to hire your gang for a while, if you’re interested in making some money.” I held up a bag, which contained most of the money Desiree had made the night before. “And it’s good work, too! You’ll have fun with it, I can guarantee this!”
One of the other gang members spoke up. “Huh, what do you want, and why should we do it and not just take your money?” Julius shut him up with a scowl and a fist to the side. “Ignore him, he’s both new and stupid.”
“Well, this might become a reoccurring job. Basically, I’m running a string of girls out of my father’s old brothel. But, there’s a fair amount of competition in the area. I want you to take care of that. Do whatever you need, but I want the only girls working this block to be my whores. If you can keep all other prostitutes out of the area, you’ll get 40 gold a week. I’ll give you a bonus of 10 gold for each pimp you kill in the process. And, if you can convince any shop owners in the area to start paying tribute to me, I’ll give you another 60 gold per week.” I explained.
“Sounds like a good deal!” Julius smiled. “First week’s pay in advance?”
“Nope! But, I will stand you two rounds of drinks.” I shot back. “So, will you take it?”
“Yeah, we’ll head out tonight. By the way, what do your girls look like, and what are your rates?”
I briefly gave a description of Desiree and Caitriona, warned the thugs away from Riga, and gave the bartender a few gold coins on the way out.
The noonday sun beat down on the cramped street, raising the scent of offal and all other kinds of rot into the sky. As I walked back to the brothel, I made a short stop at the apothecary and bought several doses of anti-pregnancy potion.
I spent the rest of the day making small repairs throughout the brothel, mostly painting over the newly repaired walls and hauling away leftover junk. I joined Kristin, Franz, and Desiree for lunch, and sparred with Franz for practice. Desiree seemed to have returned to full physical health, though the red rims around her eyes indicated a continued dissatisfaction with her lot. After lunch, Kristin helped me decorate the foyer, artfully hiding new construction behind quick-dry plaster and fresh paint. She took a short trip out into the city, and returned with a new carpet, a ledger, and a small bag of pens. Around five in the afternoon, Caitriona and Riga finally returned.
“Welcome home!”
-
hooray!!! you updated! Really glad that your still working on this, cant wait for more, heh.
-
hooray!!! you updated! Really glad that your still working on this, cant wait for more, heh.
Glad you like it! I'm considering writing another chapter soon, but I need to find someone willing to beta-read it first.