Riptide

Forfeit

Klois stands tall upon his post, gazing down upon the approaching changelings before him. Two of his fellow councilmen, Nazeer and Jacos, stand on either side of him looking just as displeased. He had sent the two changelings out on a con job over two months ago to collect the Infernal Elixir from a rival tribe, and they had yet to report back their progress. At least, until now.

"It seems they are empty-handed my lord.." Nazeer states coldly, her eyes narrowing upon the couple.

"Not exactly." Jacos states matter of factly, easily pointing out the small bundle in the female changling's arms. "And you believed that they would not uphold their word."

Nazeer stirs at their words, turning upon her fellow councilmen with her eyes in near slits and incisors bared in a warning. Jacos stands unfazed by the threatening display.

"Their word is as good as our own. You would take well to remember that Jacos, or have you forgotten in your old age?"

"Silence!" The two goblins snap to attention at Klois' words, rising nearly in sync from their seats as Klois moves towards the edge of his podium. A silence rushes over the room as everyone waits on bated breath for the head councilmen to speak.

"I understand that we have made a deal with you a few months ago regarding the retrieval of a rival tribes artifact?  Have you brought the artifact?"

Both changelings spare a glance between one another as if attempting to formulate a proper response. "We have...not."

Nazeer and Jacos erupt into a fury of comments, each one drowning out the last as if they were two children attempting to displace blame. 

"And you thought they were going to follow through!"

"They have never let us down before, even I am surprised!"

"We have been gracious enough with you Naldims. Do not forget that you owe several debts to our tribe."

"What possibly could be worth the debts you owe?"

"We should just kill them where they stand--."

"Take our newborn child!" Brukros shouts, his fists clenched tightly at his side. His statement instantly hushes the murmurs of the chatty Jacos and Nazeer, who look on in anticipation. "Please, as leverage you can take possession of our newborn."

There is no need for discussion on the matter as the council knows the power a changeling child could bring to their tribe. They would no longer need to hire outside help. No more shares of profit. It would be a stupid decision to not agree to the Naldim's terms.

"It is your choice." Klois bellows, watching carefully over the two for any sort of foul play.

Their silence is affirmation enough.

"Haju." Within seconds an emerald green goblin breeches from the darkness of the podium, walking silently towards the couple. Camara notices immediately that unlike most goblins she's interacted with, this one carries himself differently. His walk resembles that of a soldier; calculated and prestigious. He bears no scars similar to those of the high council and appears to be in his middle years.

Military. No, there's no way they'd allow an ex-military in the works Black Market. Then where--

"Camara." She's broken from her thoughts by the sound of her husband's voice. Looking down, she sees that Haju has his hands extended out, awaiting the child she holds in her arms. Her breath hitches at the sight and she subconsciously clutches the baby closer to her chest.

She hears a harsh breath before her name is called once more. Looking towards Brukros, she finds that his face is contorted in a look of annoyance, but his eyes bleed with guilt and remorse.

He knows that he promised her they'd settle their debts. That they'd live a happy life off on the meadow side, with new identities and not a single concern in the world besides what might be for dinner.

He knows what he is asking of her, but it must be done.

They've never failed a job, and this won't be the first.

Haju easily takes the baby, grunting softly as he takes upon the rather large child, before returning to his post beneath the podium.

"You have made the right choice." Klois declares, raising his right hand above his podium before promptly bringing it down onto the rough surface.

A vociferous scream breaks the silence of the room. The cacophony of metal clashing against metal forming into the chaotic symphony of conflict. Music played on for minutes before concluding with two final beats of a drum.

At the podium, two white eyes stare as the floor is painted crimson.