Self-destructive binge

Kalma disappeared around the corner away from Mevar. She turned and switched over to another corner. She was now staring at some fat man with his children, her smile allowed her to pass. She went into a hot-room of the Hammam and sat down. The other tenants there looked at her funny as she sat in her bath-robe for a moment. She waited expecting Mevar to come bursting in the room, hot on her heels. Instead no-one by the description came in and those that did wanted to sit away from her. She went out through the other door when a group left after about fifteen minutes. She waited and checked her surroundings. Mevar would and could attack her. The lancet was not only for Kuolio's benefit when he had pulled it out of Mevar's pocket. Most likely it meant that Kuolio or someone else would go for a long range kill or then it would be someone close. A smiling nondescript face that shifted just as the knife would plunge into her heart. She smiled contentedly. She continued to feel the surrounding area, her sight accompanied by hearing. She was interested in movements, body language. The watergenasi by the pool looked at her as she passed. He was an assassin, but not for her, his subtle shift in body language voiced that as her body hid him from the children in the pool. A woman was being hugged by a lithe and athletic green human. The woman smiled at Kalma and the imperceptible blink signifying that the man would be in for a surprise tonight. One of the things that surprised Kalma always was how reliant and complacent even fiends had become with magic. The first rule in any deception is to make the deceived believe that what he is seeing is near truth. That way when the strike comes it would as surprising as it was deadly. But what she needed to do was get out of here, for she needed some answers. Two hours later, she was in rusting cast-off armour, her clothing filthy. Somewhere there was a corpse that was missing more than its shoes. She held a filthy piece of paper that had been torn from an even filthier plaster wall, sodden chunks dripping off the old glue as she re-read the bit about promises of boxing fights. The place with its black granite walls, iron spires, and trolls that snapped at anyone who dared come to close was perfect. She braved herself and walked forward. The trolls leered at her, their sagging breasts hanging loosely against their girdles. "Looks like someone has gotten lost dearies. What happened, discovered that being a man was not enough?" The cackled, one lifting the foppish blue cloak that trailed in the muck. "Thieving my deary, dreary is whats I sees." "Let go." she tried to look intimidating, failing worse than how her clothes fit. "Is this the Bottle & Jug or is this not?" "Ooh, she has some spirit, doesn't she?" The four trolls put their heads together looming over Kalma as they pretended to evaluate her again. "Look at that she even has a piece of poster for the boxing matches. Fancy that. I am sure she would make a fine addition to Hoxun's lad." "Depends if they he is going to skewer her first or then wear her like a hat." one of the trolls leaned over and whispered in her ear. "You are not a virgin are you?" "Of course I am not! What kind of question is that! Now let me pass." The four convened, the one who had asked her the question, tut-tuts. "Ohh, she is a virgin. Terrible." "Terrible" all four joined in agreement. Kalma snarled and plunged past them to the door. Inside was not much better. Soiled red carpets cover the floor, wooden partitions with garish images of the blood-war divide the room into sections. Large trolls were badly dressed as serving wenches. The people looked at her for a moment before going back to their bub. Some man stood up with his drink and a troll snarled , her bangles becoming tangled in the mop of a wig that she wore as she drove the man back to his seat. Kalma walked over to the bar on her left. She did not like the armour and if she was not in front of such a mass of people she would probably happily throw it off. It hung off her badly. Not being neither fat nor tall. The man behind the bar spat in a pint and rubbed it out. "So what will it be?" he looked at her with a sneer on his face. "A pint of bub." Kalma said looking at the man. "You must be Hoxun." "Well isn't the lady a bright cutter, like a shiny piece of glass if I must say." The sarcasm dripping from his voice and into pint he spat in before pouring her a pint. "What do ya want?" "I am looking at making some quick jink." Kalma looked at the man intently. "I think you got the wrong place missy, if you are looking to market your custom-house goods I recommend trying the street up. They have been in need of an article for the past few years." Kalma put down the soggy tear from the poster on the bar. "So you're looking for a fisticuffs are you missy. Paying, playing, or laying?" The man, Hoxun said. "I am looking to make some quick jink, and if that means I have to fight your lad, I will." "That demands more garnish than you would have. Unless you have hidden away a deed to a kingdom. Besides my boy is not on the forgiving side." A troll dropped the tray on the counter, the mugs and jugs clattering together and looked at Kalma. "The table in the corner needs a refill." She plunked the money on the counter sliding it over into Hoxun's waiting hand. "Unless you have a game today. I am willing to wager what I have on myself. The poster says that a winner of the fight gets 200 gold pieces right?" Hoxun looked at the trollop who shrugged and looked at Kalma who was looking strongly at Hoxun. Four hours later, a very broken and bruised Kalma limped into the lower ward. She had gotten rid of her armour, but the rest of her clothing spilled out around her. She looked up at the sign. The sign creaked a bit in the non-existent wind proclaiming it to be the Styx Oarsman. If that was not a sign enough the tiefling outside was one. A short and weedy man of too many interbreedings, he had that ugly look that someone whose grandchildren would only be called mongrelmen would look like. The tiefling looked her up and down and asked her, "password?" Kalma simply grabbed him and smashed him with the brick she had been holding. Smart and efficient were the keywords here as she made sure that his malformed skull broke, his brains slipping out into the filth of the gutter. A quick search discovered his winnings for the night and the key to get past the locked door. She pocketed the winnings, the keys she left in the door as she entered. The place was dark except for the lone candle at the bar. Several things brushed past her as she walked over to the gith bartender. No-one needed to look to see a human had walked into the pub, one with a few wounds and shocking white hair and alabaster skin. They whispered among themselves. "glass of wine please", she said in common. The gith looked her up and down a sneer on his lips as he poured her something into a small wine glass that for a moment bubbled and seethed. She tasted a bit and it made her lips and tongue numb. "Have you seen Rule-of-Three?" The gith nodded and pointed to a table in the back. the rest of the group who were interested for a moment went back to their whisperings. Some tiefling muttered that maybe Rule-of-Three should start charging an entrance fee. This was replied to be the sound thump of a hand slapping the back of the head followed by the face against the table. Kalma took her drink and walked over to the back table. Some other group was there busily hearing a tale of some kind from an aged githrezai beggar that was telling it at a half whisper, giggles among the group clearly bothering the group of tanar'ri next to them. "...and then she walks over with a wine glass full of boiling..." The whole group snickers at this point as the gith pretends to see her for the first time. "Why hello Kalma, why don't you join us. We were just talking about the haughty woman who drank a potion thinking it was wine." "excuse me for a moment." Kalma gets up taking the glass with her. She pushes it at the gith who pulls out a real glass of red wine. The rest of the group she had just sat with burst out in laughter. They shake his hand, look at Kalma and laugh with giggles and snickers at her. She leaves the bar and walks over to the gith as the group discover with a trip and a curse the corpse. "My dear Kalma, what can I do to you tonight dear" the old gith asked. "I've got some stuff that has been happening. But I need your help. Tell me what you can about a lower planes creature called Shendivari, I met his henchman Mevar. Some kind of half-human with black fur on his back and along the back of his arms. He came from the plane Excelsior." She threw the pouch, her hard-won winnings on the table with a thud.