Burning Road

Contracts and Plots- Part I

By The Under's standards The Dust Ball was considered the slums. Only the dregs of the dregs lived beneath the old Evenfall Bridge, and even then most didn't live there long. Its population consisted of creepers with nowhere else to go, and creepers with no hope left to lose. There were also the occasional wanted souls hoping that the very bottom of the barrel would be too deep for the soul collectors to come looking. Darklings rarely traveled west of Mourn Wood. From The Crooked Arches to The Dragon River, The Dust Ball was the perfect place to disappear.

Ragdhyl's body was still recovering from his fatal encounter with Cross. The nickname given him by Vhal seemed apt, his atrophied limbs flopped around like a true rag doll. Vhalova carried him on her back, Mimi walked ahead lamenting the misfortune of the day. She'd stolen into a Demon Prince's stronghold, stole back out with one of the darkling aristocrat's prized possessions, and gave it up to save her family. Ragdhyl had beaten the best gambling hall in Pan Warren, and won the biggest pot in the history of Tarob's games. Unfortunately Cross' hunters grabbed him before he could collect. It was the greatest day of their lives, and it was flushed down the sewage drain.

She'd heard the term "easy come, easy go" before, but she'd never experienced it first hand. At that moment she hated those four words more than any others.

"Some darklings were looking for you, Yodiha!" yelled One-Hop Hogan from atop his perch. The orc was the son of One-Hop Ham who died after being trampled by a cave serpent. Both had lost a foot to clan violence.

"Dealt with the demons already, One-Hop, any other news?" Mimi shouted up to the orc. She didn't bother to stop.

The One-Hops were a combination of rumor mongers and town criers. She gestured for Vhal to keep up, and she went back to cursing their bad luck.

"The Sun Stone Court is moving on The Moonbourn Nation!" One-Hop cried.

"The elves are always at war, next!" shouted Miminda over her shoulder.

One-Hop scowled as the goblin was unimpressed by his news. "The-City-on-The-Thumb-Cliff-Over-the-Sea broke off and fell into the sea!" called the town crier.

"About time!" she shouted even louder. "Next!"

The orc jumped down from his perch and hopped along the rocky ridge upon which his home sat. He hobbled ahead of the trio and leaned over the edge as far as he dared.

"After sixty cycles The Gold Dragon has returned to his grotto!" desperately shouted One-Hop Hogan.

The rocks gave way beneath him, and he took a wild tumble down the thirty or so feet to the road. His scream coming down was the loudest shout of all. Quinley, a local gremlin sneak thief, stole out of the shadows and pilfered One Hop's one boot. The creeper raised the boot into the air in triumph before running off. Mimi and a number of onlookers clapped at the gremlin's success, Quinley had been spending the last couple of cycles collecting left shoes and One-Hop Hogan had worn the one he coveted most.

They took the left at Spittle Shine Avenue, and began the hike to the end of the row where their hovel waited. She looked back at Ragdhyl's pitiful body, and knew he must've felt as terrible as he looked because he was rarely, if ever, so quiet. She caught his eye.

"For a few minutes," he rasped, as if his throat were starved for moisture, "we were rich."

Mimi nodded in agreement.

"Don't worry Rag Doll, we'll get what's ours," she assured him. Goblin and Pixie both agreed.

Like every family who lived in The Dust Ball they existed in a perpetual state of desperation, struggling day to day for their next meal. Ragdhyl was a skilled Scriptor and a talented teacher, running a weekly school for those who wanted to learn their letters. Vhalova could hold her own in a fight which was a very valuable commodity for those that wished to travel through The Mourn Wood, unfortunately customers were scarce on the best of days. Miminda was a pickpocket by trade, and was routinely hired to pilfer by unsavory types like Cross.