Koshka approached the little wooden door and stood quietly for a moment. The cobblestones beneath her boots were wet, and the Tiefling glanced to either side down the dark alley. Echoes from the docks could be heard dimly over the crowding buildings. Clutched against her bustier was the pouch of coin.
Her dress was heavy with the rainfall, and water glistened on her curved horns as she took a breath to steady herself, before she knocked firmly three times on the door.
There was a moment of silence before the little window slid open with a crack that made Koshka jump, and from it gazed the large black eyes of the Half-Orc bodyguard. He was having to learn awkwardly to see through the small window, and frowned down at Koshka.
"I'm here to see Mr Darrow," she said, hesitantly.
The Half-Orc gave a snort, and the window slammed shut. Koshka shifted uncomfortably. Pulling at her dress and tugging her shirt from it's uncomfortable wet hold around her neck.
Finally the door swung open, and the guard stood aside to allow her in. He was huge, and Koshka felt his gaze on her back as she stepped down the little hallway towards the office. The hallway was long and tight, and should someone stand at either end with a crossbow, Koshka was painfully aware there was nowhere to go.
Her boots echoed noisily down the hall, and it seemed a long time until the Tiefling finally turned the corner to enter the office. It was small, the ceiling seeming to encroach on headspace, and Koshka held her hands clutched in front of herself as she waited to be addressed.
Darrow was seated behind his desk as always. Papers and coins cluttered around. Multiple heavy scrolls were lined up in a row near him, and he appeared to be in mid-transcription when his gaze finally crawled up Koshka's body to look at her. Every time when Koshka thought she was prepared, that she was used to it, she'd look into those eyes, deep and big and blue, staring out from that awful face, and immediately feel her stomach turn.
Koshka automatically turned her eyes from his gaze, and tried to look elsewhere. Her gaze found the little statues on the corner of his desk, and the awful feeling of tension in her gut started again. Glancing at the scrolls, she didn't want to be accused of snooping, so instead she settled on looking around her at the items on the walls instead. The pictures, the paintings, the many collected items that had found their way to Darrow's office.
"Koshka," Darrow said, his accent extending the first syllable into an unpleasant hiss, "You're wet."
Koshka tugged at her skirt uncomfortably.
"Yes...It's raining," she said.
Darrow's face, his true face, was as unreadable as ever, and Koshka tried again not to stare at it as the human extended a hand to gesture at her.
"You're treading water on my carpet, girl."
Koshka stepped back onto the bare stone quickly, tutting.
"Sorry, sorry I didn't mean to..."
"Towards me, girl, where I can see you," Darrow said.
Koshka took a breath to steady herself, and stepped around the red carpet to stand before Darrow's desk.
"Do you have something for me?" he said.
Koshka suddenly remembered why she was there, and fumbled the little coin purse from her bustier. Almost dropping it, she extended it to place on the desk before her.
Darrow's hand shot out, fast and deft as any thief. Snatching Koshka's extended hand and gripping it tight around the purse. Darrow's nails were neat and trimmed, the cuticles of his fingers red and sore looking.
He waited in silence until Koshka raised her gaze to look into his eyes.
Those blue eyes. It was so hard to look into them. Koshka's breath was shallow.
Darrow was a more horrifying sight than any bodyguard he could possible employ.
Darrow's skin, where it was visible, was a pale and pasty white. Years without sun had made his flesh like parchment, the skin around his eyes dark and sagging. Every inch of visible flesh upon the man, and Koshka could only assume, upon all the rest of his flesh currently covered by a plain and simple black shirt and breeches, was tattooed in excruciating detail of a demonic horror. As if superimposed over his own body, the demon seemed to regard Koshka as Darrow looked at her. Around his thin lips were leering, grinning fangs, tongue lolling black down his chin. Horns so elegantly designed they seemed almost to bulge from his forehead. All the way to his hands, where individual bony claws stood upon every finger, each knuckle meticulously covered. When buttons on Darrow's shirt had been loose, Koshka had seen glimpses of of bony ribcages, black against his pale flesh.
"Little small, isn't it?" Darrow hissed, dragging Koshka from her horror, "You owe me 60 gold, Koshka."
Koshka stumbled over her words for a moment, before she found her confidence.
"It's 25 gold, I...I had trouble this week. Things didn't go as planned."
"Yes well things rarely do if you plan poorly, don't you find?" Darrow said, without an ounce of humour. He continued to hold Koshka's hand in a surprisingly firm grip, "I find to take care of things I often have to do things myself, so that I don't have anyone else to blame. Tell me Koshka who do you have to blame, hm?"
Koshka hesitated, "No one."
"No one? So you are squarely to blame for failing to provide what you owe? 60 gold by this week Koshka, my spells don't come cheap, you know that."
She nodded firmly.
"Yes, yes I know. I'm sorry, I'll have the rest by next time, no question."
"I have your word, girl?" Darrow said, his blue eyes narrowing. Koshka had the sensation of being crushed, her ribs tightening, her breath short. For one awful moment, as she stared at his face, she had the sudden impression of one curving tattooed bone twitching, ever so slightly.
"You have my word, you'll be paid in full."
"Trust is all we have in this business, Koshka. I don't have to warn you what happens when someone fails to honor an agreement with me, do I?"
Koshka's gaze fell to the little statues upon the desk. Each one so real looking, so detailed. Almost impossibly so, like they'd start moving any moment. One, a dwarf, looked like he was in the process of beginning to swing a weapon, beard flailing, the tiny face twisted in rage. The newest one there was a woman, dark skinned, naked, long curling braids about her shoulders, an expression of shock on her face and one hand raised as if to defend herself. Koshka recognized the woman from the Yawning Portal, a known thief.
"Yes, I know," she said. Darrow allowed her hand free, with a deft turn of his fingers, he slipped the purse loose and, without looking into it, placed it into a drawer behind his desk.
"You have until three moons from now, or I'm making space on my desk."
Koshka gave a nod, and was about to turn to leave when Darrow's head tilted to one side, clearly listening. His face twisted, briefly, into a scowl, before his usual unconcerned demeanor returned.
"He doesn't have it?" Darrow suddenly snapped, responding to a conversation only he could hear.
Darrow spread his hands flat on the table, his face suddenly a mask of concern, "Hold him there until...No, send him back here, both of them. Now."
Koshka made to leave, but Darrow's voice snapped sharply, he was pointing to the corner of the office room.
"You. Stand there. Face the wall. Silence. Understand?"
Koshka hesitated, and Darrow raised his voice a small but noticeable amount.
"Now."
Koshka stepped to the corner, staring in confusion at a coatrack as she head hurried footsteps coming down the little hallway. She heard Darrow whisper under his breath.
An odd feeling came over her, a strange, cooling sensation her entire body over. In shock, she realized she couldn't see her own eyelids when she blinked. She had become invisible.
Koshka stood, silent and invisible, in the corner of the office, as two figures entered the tiny room with a commotion.
"Darrow, Darrow mate I'm so sorry I don't know how it happened but there was a problem with the trade off, they're all gone," came the gruff and panicked voice from the newcomer. From the height the voice came from behind her, Koshka could tell it was a Dwarf.
"You lost the satchel," Darrow said, his voice like ice.
The Dwarf stuttered, and another voice began. Koshka's breath burned in her throat, and her eyes widened in shock and recognition.
"There was a miscommunication, at the tradeoff, Mr Darrow, sir." the voice said. The same voice Koshka had heard whispering sweet things into her ear a night before, "I think, I think someone knew about the meet."
"And you, a professional courier, gave my package to the wrong person." Darrow asked.
There was a huff of breath, and Koshka could picture Finn's trademark shrug and careless rolled eyes.
"Professional hazard, always. I'm sure it can be found, after all, I remember everything I..."
Darrow cut him off by slamming his open palm on the desk with a slam that made everyone in the room jump.
"You allowed yourself to be tricked. To be fooled. To be taken for an idiot. To have MY PROPERTY STOLEN FROM YOU," Darrow's voice boomed, raised to an echoing yell.
There was silence for a moment, held breaths.
"I do so love having someone to blame, don't you?" Darrow said, coldly.
"Mr Darrow, surely we can..." the Dwarf began. Koshka's eyes hurt suddenly, and sickly green light filled the room. There was a moment of horrible screaming, and then nothing. Koshka stared into the corner in terror, waiting.
"You'll find my satchel by the end of the week, is that clear, Tormyr?"
"Yes Mr Darrow, yes sir, you have my word, all the best on it already."
"Go."
There was movement, the shuffle of a single pair of feet down the hallway. Silence.
Koshka felt herself return to normal, the feeling of chill replaced by the sudden awareness of being visible again, and the unexpected feeling of vulnerability it caused.
Darrow was seated behind his desk, hands spread. There was no one else in the room.
"Three moons, girl. Clear?"
"Yes...Mr Darrow... sir," Koshka whispered, breathlessly.
Darrow gestured at the door, and Koshka left.
Heart hammering in her chest, Koshka strode down the hallway and stood before the bodyguard. The Half-Orc placed a finger to his lips briefly, The last echoing footsteps were echoing down the alleyway, and when they fully disappeared into the night, he slowly slid finger from his lips, and opened the door for Koshka to leave.
-
Rain hammered down on Koshka as she walked through the streets, heels clicking on the cobblestones.
An awful weight hung in her throat. She'd made a terrible mistake. The only person who had seen her face was gone, but she knew, somehow, somewhere they'd be onto her, seeking her out.
Koshka looked down the rainy streets towards home, and instead turned in the opposite direction. Treave, she had to go to Treave. He'd know what to do.
-
Darrow sat in his office, his hands spread and gripped to the table in front of him. His breath was heavy, heaving in his chest, and he thrust out a hand to fumble with his drawers.
There was a roaring in his head. A hunger. A hunger that had to be sated before something terrible happened.
As he reached out, the claws of his tattoo rippled, for just a moment. The awful bone-white claws tatooed onto the backs of his fingers leapt fully from his flesh to scratch lines into the wooden desk. Darrow turned aside, trying desperately to contain it, but he was running low.
His store exhausted, he tugged one of the rings from his own fingers. Powerful magic, but no other option now. Holding it in his hand, he tried to concentrate, to quell the roaring deep behind his eyes. The creature staring out of his skull hissed a threat into Darrow's brain.
He concentrated, the magic ring quivered, and burned away to nothing in the palm of his hand. Magic surged through him, calming, quieting, sating.
Darrow leaned back in his chair, sighing in relief. It was quiet for now.
Darrow slammed shut the drawer and hissed. He was running out of wondrous items. Soon there would be nothing let for him to devour.
-
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