DREADWOLF - Chapter 126

◈ Chapter 126:

A black wooled Lyra stepped through the upper class and quite posh streets with a little hop of excitement in her step. It wasn’t that she was afraid, of course she was afraid, a bounty hunter or gang with no scruples could come for her at any moment! But it was Florens. Florens! Her home city! Being here was special, in her opinion Florens was the greatest city in the world, although admittedly she might have been a little biased since she had grown up here.

She tried her best to not think of how much her view of the world had changed since she had first left the city. Goblin slaves were once something that her eyes passed over without even registering, now they were eye catching blemishes on her city that caused a squirmy feeling of guilt deep in her gut.

The small Kobold at her side was slightly less joyous, giving the well dressed levelers they passed surly looks, his claws resting on the sheathed blade on his hip, hunched and wary.

The edges of vast manses could be seen over the roofs of the busy streets they were wandering through. They were on the edge of the noble quarter, as near as could be without actually entering it. They found themselves in a street of stalls and shops selling the kinds of luxury things the elite were likely to spend their money on.

She stopped by a stall that a mouldy grey scaled Drake smoking a pipe was watching over, seated comfortably in an armchair.

“Hiya!” said Lyra brightly.

The Drake eyeballed her, a wisp of pipe smoke curling around his head.

He nodded toward the tables, and Lyra looked over them and bit her lip. She needed to buy at least something, what better way to get a merchant’s lips flapping?

After a moment of hesitation, she picked something out, a bottle of wine.

“Is this the wine that’s like really popular amongst the nobility?”

The Drake lifted a lip revealing gold teeth, sharp teeth.

“Aye, it be. Enough the stuff goes through those many golden gates to drown a dragon. Ain’t hard to get a claw on a few bottles these days if you gots the know how. It’s all yours, the real deal noble experience, all for a beggerin’ twenty five gold coins.”

“WHAT?! That’s daylight rob- aheheh I mean, that’s uh, nighttime gifting? Like, WOW, what a… generous price. You are a very kind and handsome Drake.”

The Drake squinted at her.

“If you don’t like the price then I reckon maybe you don’t belong here. This isn’t a place for paupers and trash, girl.”

“I’m sure it is a great and very reasonable price, and I am. very. happy. to. pay. that.” said the sheep girl, struggling to get the words out.

It was kind of like a bribe right? She found thinking of it that way helped a bit. A little bit.

Lyra instinctively dipped her hand down to grab a fistfull of coin from the dimensional bag on her hip. At the last possible moment she recalled that it was currently filled with nightmarish shadow things that would very likely dissolve her entire hand if she were to put it inside. She jerked her fingers away with a shudder

Instead, she carefully reached for a regular purse she had hung next to it in preparation for brib- paying for goods.

A pair of claws latched onto her hand as she was fiddling with the purse and she looked down to see Red glaring up at her.

“I’m the treasurer and I say no.”

She reacted quickly.

“Get your filthy claws off of me slave!” She slapped Red in the face, gently of course, but it still provided an impressive stage sound.

The Kobold looked at her flabbergasted.

“This is the last time I buy a dungeon fresh slave. You forget your place! Do not deign to talk to me again.” She waved him away and turned back to the Drake.

The Kobold rubbed his cheek vaguely and glared at her. Were the dramatics really necessary?

Lyra grabbed a fistful of coin from the purse and waved her closed hand in the air showing she had the money for the popular wine.

She of course had been well aware that the bottle was a favourite of the nobility and in limited supply. It was the reason she had stopped at the stall in the first place.

“Soooooo. I suppose you have to be quite well connected to get your, aheh, Drakey claws on one of these bottles. Know the ins and outs and the comings and goings and the ups and downs and the insides and outside and the things that happen?” she lifted an eyebrow suggestively, then her other eyebrow too, doubling down on the suggestiveness.

The Drake blew smoke. “If by that you mean do I have friends amongst the staff. Sure. nothing wrong with that. I know many young maids, old too, you know how it is.”

He gave her a weird leer, mouth opening and revealing that every one of his teeth were gold, smoke curling between them as he chuckled.

“D-do I? I-I mean, yes? And, good?”

The Drake paused then snorted through his nose. “You know nothing. Pay up or piss off.”

“I can pay, I can pay!” she dumped her fistful of coin onto the table, less than the total. “You know how it is, gold is very heavy and I’m only a little sheep. If you would take pity and help relieve me of some of it? Perhaps by telling me a little of a certain noble house? The Fenhorns? I’m sure it would be of no trouble, no trouble at all.”

“You could have gone with that from the start you know.”

Lyra paused. “Well in that case I won’t buy this ridiculously over priced wine.”

“Too late now, if you don’t buy the perfectly reasonably priced wine you’ll have been wasting my time and that makes me less than inclined to be talking with a nosey one like yerself.”

“That’s-!”

It was the Drakes turn to raise a brow

Lyra let out an agonised sigh and scowled at him. But she still slammed down more fistfuls of gold onto the table.

“S’good wine, no need to get in a huff. So good that I fancy it’s aged into a finer vintage just as we been speakin.”

Lyra’s scowl deepened and she slammed down another fistful of gold, practically punching the table.

“The Fenhorns?”

The Drake tapped ash from his pipe, speaking as he refilled the bowl.

“Can’t say I know much about ‘em. They’re the soft in the head sort, the sort of folk who spendthrift on charity, helping out stuck low levelers, feeding the starving, all that kind of useless shit.” He relit the pipe by snapping his claws together, some Skill or other creating a shower of sparks. “ ‘Course I do know of one of ‘em more than the others. Their so-called golden child. Hard to not know about that, when a family is angling for the top they crow and parrot about their spawn havin’ explosive growth at every chance they get.”

“Brax Fenhorn right?”

The Drake nodded. “Aye. Bugger came back to Florens and practically got a parade. The prodigal son returned! Look how strong and mighty he has become! Our star is rising!” The Drake turned and spat to the side. “Bunch of cunts if you ask me.”

“Were there others with him? Did he return alone?”

“He had a few girls hanging off his shoulders if that’s what you mean. One a noble like him by looks, the other I don’t know. They’re living on the Fenhorn estate. I hear a lot about that cause the maids ain’t particularly happy about it, and by that I mean talkin’ my ear off with complaints. Trashed rooms, won’t stop rutting on the furniture, oh and the wailing, waking them up at all times.”

“Uhhh, okay that last bit I really didn’t need to know, but… thank you?

The Drake leered at her in that way again, gold teeth on display.

“If you want to meet them I can tell yah that there’s a party, a celebration celebratin’ the golden boy’s jump in levels. You know how it is, you got that vibe about you, nobbity nobles treating leveling as an excuse to splurge huge amounts of coin and binge themselves shitfaced.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about. I have never heard of such a thing.

“Sure. And I’m a sopping hatchling. In any case you’ve heard what that wine gets ya, if you want to get past all the guards and magic and that then wait til the party and get in all sly like as one of the guests. You’ll pass, as I said, you got the vibe, noble like.”

Lyra glanced between the Drake and the bottle of wine.

“…I can’t help but feel you just told me things that were absolutely not worth all the coin I just spent on this wine.”

“I don’t know what yer talkin about girl, I was just havin’ a nice chat, ‘ad nothin’ to do with the wine, that was your own separate purchase. Not my problem if you are a wine lover who can’t help but go for a good vintage.”

Lyra gave him an outraged look, but after a moment she snatched up the wine and turned on her heel.

“I frankly don’t appreciate the way you have treated me as a customer. Good day sir. Red come!”

“But-”

“This is no place for honest and honourable folk like ourselves!”

She marched away with Red hurrying to keep up in her wake.

“Outrageous. To think that kind of unscrupulous conniving merchant makes his home here in the upper quarters.”

“Weren’t you trying to sort of bribe him for information?”

“No! Maybe! That’s completely beside the point!”

Annoyed, she stopped at a few more stalls and shops, even a butchers, but few others could tell her more, and only a little of that was useful. At least she now knew for certain that all of the ones Rain wanted were on the estate, further confirmed by their descriptions, an erratic elf girl, and a human mage, supposedly a water mage of some kind.

Most interesting was the coming party however, and it did give her food for thought. Could she…?

After a half-hour of learning nothing more, and a brand new collection of expensive junk plus a now empty purse, she decided not to push her luck on her first information foray any further and steered Red into an alley, the fastest way back to the library.

It was as they were making their way through it that a large blue scaled Drake stepped from a door and blocked their path.

“Ah, sorry, just trying to get by?”

The Drake didn’t move.

“Did you think passage was free? This is private property you are stepping on. There’s a toll to pass.”

“… In that case I’ll just be going back the way I came, uhm.”

She glanced over her shoulder to find two more large Drakes had appeared and were blocking the way back.

“If you would just let me by? maybe?”

The very muscular blue Drake was over a foot taller than Lyra and loomed at her threateningly.

“You’ve already stepped hoof on our property, that means you’re using it. You wouldn’t take a    bite out of a baker’s muffin then put it back without paying for it would you now?”

The Drake took a step forward.

A flash of red scale and a Kobold darted between them, blocking the Drake’s path.

Red lifted his golden sword, the point waving wildly as he aimed it up at the Drake’s abdomen.

“Stop where you are leveler!”

“Red… y-you’re protecting me…?” whispered Lyra, eyes wide.

“Don’t come any closer to my portable hoard!

“Oh.”

“She and all the stuff I shoved inside of her are mine!”

“C-can you please not put it that way…?!”

The blue scaled Drake sneered at Red, then in a flash of motion, that was likely Skill empowered, his claws darted forward and ripped the golden sword away in the same motion as a leg kicked out.

The sandal caught Red in the gut and he was tossed into the air, limbs flailing as he was brutally winded. He crashed against the stairs of a nearby porch, body limp.

One of the Drake’s behind grabbed Lyra’s wrist and dragged her to the side. The other snatched the black knife from her that had appeared in her hand, and then the dimensional bag from her hip.

“Wait! WAIT! TIME OUT!”

The sheer alarm in Lyra’s voice caused the thieves to pause.

“J-just listen very very carefully to what I am about to say.” she took a breath, “If you open that bag even slightly, you, and all your friends, are all immediately going to die.”

The Drakes eyed her then glanced down at the bag.

“That just might be the stupidest attempt at stopping a robbery I have ever heard.”

The Drake moved to open the bag.

Lyra struggled in the holding Drake’s grip.

“DON’T DO IT! P-Please! You don’t need to die over just a little bit of run of the mill mugging! L-Look, I can give you gold not to open it, j-just take the gold and go, and- and put the bag on the ground. Carefully!”

“You know that implies there’s something more valuable than gold in here right?”

The blue Drake was staring at Lyra, not liking the genuine concern he saw in her eyes. Gone was his belligerent body language, replaced with wariness.

“I… don’t know… something is wrong here.”

“She’s pulling your tail, acting, I can’t believe you’re falling for it you egg rotted idiot.”

“Hey! She might be for real! It could be poisonous or- or something.”

“Uhhuh. And she’s keeping a pet Panthara in it.”

“Don’t even joke about that!”

As they argued a figure stepped from the porch Red was slumped against. He had a limp, and a walking stick, and mouldy grey scales. A wisp of smoke curled around his head from a pipe.

He tapped the cane on the paving drawing their attention.

“You know you almost got by me without me twigging it you sneaky little thing.”

It was the Drake from the stall. He grinned, the gold of his teeth somehow looking so much more predatory than before.

“T-Twigging what?” said Lyra.

“A half woollie on the run. Course she looked nothin’ like you going by the posters, but a half woollie with a bit of a noble vibe? That cuts down who it could be by a lot, a hell of a lot from what I know of the Bellerhorns. Not to mention poking her nose into other noble’s business as nobles love to do?” The Drake ran his yellow eyes up and down Lyra’s body. “Well, youse still might not be this ‘Lyra’ person, wools all the wrong colour, but I am the kinda Drake who likes a gamble and my gamba instinct tells me you’re a good bet.”

“You’re wrong! I don’t know what you are talking about! You don’t have to do this! Don’t let your boss person pressure you into making a mistake!”

The grey Drake tilted his head. “Boss? I am the boss lass.” he gestured with his pipe at the others. “All these nasty little guttersnipes I keep around here are mine and many more. That’s how it is.”

“…But what if I’m not her?! You might be making a terrible mistake, a really terrible mistake!”

The grey scaled Drake blew out a plume of smoke.

“Oh so terrible hmm. If you are her you should say it now. The trouble you’ve found yourself in is only going to spread.”

“…What are you saying?”

“There’s an easy way to get a leveler who’s gone to ground to come out: Go after their family. The Bellerhorns ain’t much these days, fallen in their fortunes and kicked out their estate. Only reason a gang hasn’t scooped them up right away is their connections and levels. But that’s going to change as the competition heats up. They’ll break into their home, take them by force, then call out this Lyra until she comes a runnin’ and begs cryin’ and blubbin’ to be put under the blade to save her dear dear family.”

Lyra instantly stilled in her struggle.

“…Okay. I’ve changed my mind. Open the bag.”

The grey scaled Drake narrowed his eyes.

“What is this…bag?”

The Drake holding it lifted it to show the grey scaled Drake.

“It’s a bag of something- probably treasure, we think.”

“She said not to open it.”

“No I didn’t.”

The Drake blinked.

“You said it would immediately kill us all dead if we opened it!”

“That’s something I never said. I don’t know what you are talking about, those words never passed my lips. Are you sure you didn’t mishear? It’s just a bag of gold and jewels, feel free to steal it.”

The Drake looked at her blankly, completely thrown off.

“That’s not… that’s not what you were saying…”

“Something is wrong here, something tells me we shouldn’t open that bag boss,” said the blue Drake, gripping the golden sword in his claws.

“Hah! You’re pretty shitty criminals, imagine getting talked into not opening it! Your criminal friends will all point and laugh at you when you tell them the story of how a clever little woollie talked you out of stealing a small fortune!”

The grey scaled Drake was getting more and more irritated by the moment, puffing on his pipe furiously, a shroud of smoke building around his head.

“Gods this is ridiculous, she’s just tryin’ ter talk you in circles, that’s her damned thing! Now give me the bag and lop off her head you utter morons.”

The grey Drake limped forward, cane clicking against stone, and snatched the bag from the Drake’s claws.

Of course, in the process, the string that had been pulled tight came slightly loose as it snagged on one of the Drake’s claws.

A cat head popped from the opening and blinked in the light.

The Drakes froze.

“Ah. You’ve really done it now,” murmured Lyra.

“…Boss… why is there a cat head poking from that bag?”

The cat head turned toward the speaker and blinked at him, eyes filled with endless unimaginable stars drifting through an ungodly void.

The grey scaled Drake snorted.

“It’s her pet monster you dummy. She was protectin’ it.” He glared at Lyra. “Lass as much as this advice doesn’t matter since you’ll soon be dead, you should look into protecting yourself before others.”

“Actually I was trying to protect you from it, but it’s too late now, it’s too late, it’s all too late.”

The cat head started to struggle and the strings pulled wide. A collar of talons and claws appeared around its neck. The grey Drake jumped in surprise and dropped the bag.

The bag opened wide as it hit the paving and a nightmare poured into the alley. The cat was the head, the body was a maelstrom of black, a tiny cat’s head perched on some many limbed bipedal giant thing made up of endless teeth and claws and worse all shaped into a creature taller than any of the drakes.

The Drakes stared up at it in a state of shock.

A limb lashed out and instantly engulfed the grey Drake’s head, a spray of red mist appearing around it as the dozens of talons and digits and claws formed a fist, crushing it. The ‘fist’ was removed and his uncorked body collapsed to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. His head was simply gone, as though it had just evaporated. Judging by the red mist maybe it had.

The Drakes screamed and leapt away, desperately turning and running, falling in their panic.

Black centipedal tentacles swarmed out like long black limbs, each as thick as a torso. The cat head “meowed!” happily.

Blackness roared past a Drake and half his body dissolved into a slurry of gore that splashed across the paving, his remaining half taking a step, the destruction so sudden he was momentarily alive despite half of his head pouring down onto his gaping torso. A moment later and the tentacles had torn the rest of him to pieces.

One drake ran for a door, fumbling with the handle, keening in terror. It was locked and a wave of tentacles slammed into him, smashing his body against the wood. The tentacles retracted and all that was left of the drake was a red stain.

The alley seemed to become shadowed and Lyra blinked as she realised that a pair of owl wings had emerged from the things back, wings that pressed up against the walls, each feather tipped with a small hooked talon.

The last surviving Drake screamed as he looked up at the thing, desperately scrambling away on his back, Red’s golden sword held up defensively in a blue scaled hand, the wildly shaking tip pointed at the thing’s abdomen.

The terrible thing stepped forward, one foot a harpy’s, one a Panthara’s. The Panthara foot came down on the corpse of the grey Drake… and went through it, flesh disintegrating around the talons.

It took another step forward as the dozen centipedal tentacles emerging from its torso slithered around the remaining screaming crying Drake, encircling it.

A pair of pincers and talons darted in and snapped at the Drake’s leg, cutting its foot off. The Drake high pitch shrieked and desperately scrambled back. The thing followed, boxing it in with tentacles, pincers snapping, taking toes, an arm, the sword clanged as it hit the paving, along with the wet thump of the Drake’s severed hand. The thing batted playfully at his thigh and meat fell away.

To Lyra’s great dismay she realised that just like a cat the thing was playing with its prey. It was behaving exactly as a normal house cat would with a mouse.

“F-finish him! Quickly!” she cried, not wishing to see the thing do anything more cat like.

The thing paused and the tiny cat head perched atop the mass glanced at her. Lyra swear it actually pouted!

A storm of pitch black predatory things smashed down on the Drake and he vanished with one final scream.

The centipede tentacles receded leaving a lake of blood, the golden sword left amongst a scattering of clothing, The lake of blood washed outward and joined up with the others.

The thing had smashed every Drake into gore and blood. It was a lot. The alley was filled with pools of red.

Fortunately the thing seemed to have left the actual Red alone and he was pressed against the stone of the stair he had fallen against, claws clutching the railing in terror as he stared up at the thing.

Lyra bit her lip. “G-gods Rain, I really really super duper don’t think you know what the hell you are doing when you let this stuff out,” she swallowed as she looked over the undulating centipede tentacles bristling with hundreds of talons.

“Uhm, w-would you c-could you maybe g-go back into the bag now, pretty please kitty?”

She pointed at the bloody dimensional bag on the ground.

The thing stared at her without understanding. Then seemed to become distracted, just like a cat, a pot plant on one of the windowsills catching its attention, the fronds moving in the breeze.

The cat batted playfully at the plant and the plant was instantly obliterated and a hole was punched in the wall. The cat looked at its centipede ‘paw’ in confusion, clearly wondering where the plant had gone.

It turned back to Lyra as she desperately waved for its attention, jumping up and down and swinging her arms.

“Please go in the bag! Rain wouldn’t want you to be seen!” said Lyra, pushing the bag toward it with her hoof.

This time the thing seemed to understand, the gesture helping, and it approached the bag.

Then it curled over the bag.

In a moment it seemed to suck inward, tentacles and wings and everything pulling toward a point underneath it. The mass syphoned down into the bag, the cat head remaining on top.

Lyra watched, feeling more than just a little bit traumatised, as the blob of darkness wriggled down into it until it was just once more the cat’s head poking free from the strings.

The cat gave her one last look, tilting its head, and then vanished inside.

Lyra let a breath out she hadn’t known she’d been holding.

She looked around in dismay at the bloody messes that Red was gingerly stepping past.

“Sorry Rain but you’re going to have to give up more than a few cleaning potions for this one.”

Stratothrax

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