Dirt, grime, rust, and other smeared substances layered themselves around every surface. Unassorted items litter the street corners, releasing odors and taking ill any unfortunate to inhale the abhorred stench.
A tavern, lit by flickering lanterns, sat unbothered by the jagged streets and their seeping ambiance. The doors separating it and what was outside were run down, appearing as though they may fall off their hinges with a shove of too much force.
Taking a step inside you would immediately notice a higher standard of sanitation. Its want to attract stragglers from outdoors was dependent on its contrast to it, to profit otherwise would be delusional.
Ensuring the perpetual maintenance of this facility was a barkeep, she was spending her time in between patrons using a stitched-together cloth to wipe down the place.
Further back, away from the highchair bar. A conversation was taking place, between two individuals of not the most reputable look to themselves.
"I am willing to get you the bodies, though it will be additional as retrieval was not filed within the contract."
A man whose face was covered by a tattered hood, staring piercingly at his shot glass responded, "Just get it done. One-third upfront and potential deductions will be taken from the remaining two-thirds."
"Deductions? If anything you'll be wishing to increase my payment. Quality work always draws proper compensation, wouldn't you say as much!" He threw his arms out in a theoretical embrace.
"Proper payment is due to a job well done, gratuity has no room in contractual business. Your profit is preemptively priced in. Nearly all but guaranteed." The cloaked man took a stand, sliding a ragged pouch across the table.
It stopped just before falling off the table, reaching to whom he was conversing.
When he exited the building, making eye contact with the barkeep as he did so, immediately his sleeve went over his mouth and nose. And with this, he quickly disappeared into the stale dark surrounding every corner.
"Quite a fellow! Should've raised the prices since he's so upfront." He smirked wide at his own statement, clearly amused by it. "Hmmm, I'm used to borderline torture not quiet and simple. This will be a bit more interesting."
Holding his chin at his chuckle the man grabbed the pouch. Swiping the silver coin left by the cloaked mister and in its stead leaving a handful of copper ones.
Swiftly he made his way out also, going in a separate direction from his now associate.
A bit of time passed yet the streets were still fickle with occupants. But, this time if you looked over yonder a stray strand of light made its way, creeping closer, through the area and its decrepit shaded corners.
Any denizens hidden in the dark fled indoors no longer able to rely on the shielding of the night. The day awoke the city as no one could afford to lose the day's real estate.
Men, women, and young teens alike took to getting themselves ready. In this part of town, you didn't get the luxury of rest. Renting out your labor, or self, if you could was a necessity.
Too many were sick, too many were crippled, and too many were children. Once you came of competent age the obligation to get a job was something you couldn't get away from.
With a shovel in hand, some people had already begun clearing the streets. Their job starts at sunrise and ends when the roads become presentable. Foul and taboo, but the most consistent.
A handful of those who awoke were taking their time to put on armor and secure their weapons. These people were swords, working on commission.
Low-class, non-guild members who undertook the dangerous job of hunting down and eliminating threats of any kind, human or not, at request. This was easily the most profitable occupation for a slum dweller.
When given a straightforward quest you could make a week's pay in a day or two. With the rare one where you're met with two-to-three months' worth of compensation. But the likelihood of this was worse than finding diamonds in your own pockets.
Anything comes with its respective risks though. Being a commissioned arm had the statistically highest known mortality rate.
Along with this, the bar for profitability was too high. You'd need an innate talent, or any training from an arcane caster, to even take a look in that job's direction.
Cost of materials and supplies alone could bleed an entire family dry in a couple of days if luck didn't come about early on.
Days could pass with a worker tirelessly progressing on just one commissioned quest, to receive their pay and be met with less than if they shoveled the shit from the streets in the morning.
Only the skilled would try to make a career out of this. So it has become a place for the cutthroat. Who have formed a dangerous crowd with a common goal, and all the reason to subjugate any not sharing their strength.
Three people who fit the contrasting description of a commissioned gun were all talking just outside of the city's reach.
They were walking to presumably take the life of invasive, or dangerous, creatures lurking within the wilderness outside the slum outskirts.
"I'm just saying... This kind of activity from monsters is cuz an Indebted." The man on the farthest right spoke his mind, not pushing his opinion too hard.
The one to the left responded. "Yeah, yeah, maybe. But I'd say we're looking at a tainted point. The guild should be handling this, what if it gets worse?" His movements showed some genuine concern, that is for his safety.
"Ya'll just keep yapping. I can handle anything around here, tainted point and an Indebted included. Back me up and shut up, or I'll give your cuts to someone who won't question me."
The man in the middle, who walked slightly slower than the other two, spoke up in an attempt to quiet them both.
Out of them all it was clear he was the leader. The armor he wore was still raggedy at best, but it covered more than the others did.
A cracked chest plate, thick hide-like pants, no helmet, a belt for a sheathe. He didn't have much, yet compared to the other two; the man in the middle was an ironclad knight.
On the left, the man had an ax dangling from his waistband. It was wrapped in a custom holder, where the blade was next to the pelvis.
On the right, this man's shoulder was stuck safely between a handle and its bowstring. A backpack supplementing a quiver in his back. The arrows faced down and poked slightly through the bottom.
Continuing back and forth with their mouths the three progressed further beyond the slums.
The crumbling road reverted into a dirt pathway, the small plants became a towering canopy, and the slight bustle of the city now humming at a low buzz.
About three miles down, the men had entered the forest and came to a stop in search for clues to the whereabouts of their bounty.
Cutting the silence, the bowman gave a response after having examined the ground and woods around them. "It should be just past this row of trees..."
Delaying a bit, the men readied themselves.
The main man stretched extensively. The right one took to the bow on his right shoulder, backing up to give himself space. Lastly, the left one pulled at the ax he had sheathed in wait.
After preparation, they took a quick moment to breathe, and then with sudden intent the main man charged forward.
He moved so aggressively that he nearly sprinted on all fours, ripping up the ground.
Following just behind him was the ax, then tailing with even greater distance was the bow.
"There you go, now we wait." I've been tailing them for so long, and they haven't noticed. It's gotten so boring I've been narrating this entire trip.
Even with the lack of any academic experience, or properly curated practical experience, I would still have expected the ranger to pick up on my scent once; even if an accident.
But to be honest it's not surprising. Considering the fact that they walked into a tainted point.
The one guy made a good point of getting the guild's initiative on this, cause they've just made my job a whole lot easier!
He was steadily laying atop a tree, his feet stretched appropriately over a set of branches.
A sorry excuse for an apple in his hand, a crude knife in the other, he incrementally cut the fruit into sections before throwing it in his mouth.
With how he was stationed above the ground, amongst the birds and their nests, it would be difficult to spot him. So he sat for a while, listening to the passing words around him with no sense of urgency.
"TAKE ITS HIND LEG!" The leader shouted, his arms locked in a stalemate with a foe.
Ax in hand, pulling at it for momentum, the man came into view. "It's actually a tail. But on it!" He sprinted around, and subsequently toward the creature.
Protruding behind the humanoid monster was an elongated tail. It was strung out and buried into the ground, providing tons of leverage.
Its arms were packed with enough muscle to mimic that of a gorilla. But they were positioned starting at the ribcage, far lower than any person's would have been.
Where arms should have been, but in its stead, dense tendrils curled about; trying to pierce the main man's neck, with him being forced to one knee as he gripped them to prevent that.
Once the ax came across to sever the "leg" it shot backward violently. Only a dent was left in the target, with a clear chunk taken out of the ax as it was sent flying.
Portions of the wooden handle came apart, left in splintered pieces. And the metal head embedded itself in a fallen log a ways away, splitting it slightly.
Now disarmed, the man fell to the ground. The force of the impact was enough that he could only tense, rolling around mindlessly trying to get away from the pain.
The lack of backup gave initiative for the monstrosity to use the lower set of hands, going to break the leader's arms. Forcing them to part from its tendrils, against their will.
Suddenly, an arrow beamed into its face, through its skull, and shattered into pieces inside of its head; Exiting similarly to a high gauge shotgun.
From a further back section of the woods, leaning across a thicker tree for sight was the bowman. He had taken to what he knew best, restricting his utility in battle to instead serve as backup. Taking advantage of crucial openings.
He'd sent an arrow in the purposeful thought of it exploding on impact.
The broad tip of the arrow was made of a dense material, which became lower in quality as it progressed to the butt of the head. A cheap wood was used for the shaft, with the nock being of the highest quality.
Colliding with a target would have the tip penetrate, then the sudden force causing the nock to split through the arrow shaft, smacking into the weak section of the tip, forcing them both forward and leaving an exit wound.
After his hand released his bow he spoke, "Its head only went back? There's no way... they're fucked."
Precision wise he was nearly inch perfect. Even so, the influence on the battle was minuscule, he only hampered the inevitable. And with this in mind, he refused to waste another arrow or moment.
The leader was in the act of rapidly recovering from the fatigue that set in his muscles. The shot by the bowman pulled the monster from him for a moment.
Just pulling a stalemate for the brief stretch of time was taxing on his body beyond belief.
Still on the ground was the man, and his ax was still lodged in the plank on the other side of the battlefield.
Then there was the bow, he no longer stood in solidarity alongside the other two. His back was turned, and his feet motioning in a full sprint away from what he saw as an eventual slaughter.
As he ran away a disembodied voice came from above, my voice, "Leaving your compatriots!? Now that's some shit worthy of scum like you." His head looked up, his feet not stopping to check.
For a moment he saw the hilt of my extended blade. Thereafter he fell unconscious, his limp body caught in my left hand. I couldn't help a smile that cracked on my face, "Careful now, not losing any commission for you."
It was quite funny. He was fearful, fled from combat, and was still taken out by something he had no chance of preventing. I maybe should've toyed with him some more, not like he deserved any better...
Anyway, I shouldn't waste too much more of my time.
Before deserting the coward I decided to tie him up, stashed away in a hollowed-out tree. I'd say it would be too much if the common wildlife became curious and gnawed at him.
"WHERE IS MY COVER, LAYNE, CARLOS!" The lack of aid riled him up more. "I'M GONNA RIP YOU BOTH APART!"
He ducked below a sweeping tendril, pulling away from its body to not be grappled by its lower set of arms. Countering, he went with a right hook to the body.
It went to block but was met with restraint. The ground below had come up in thin pillars. It wrapped around and hardened its hands and feet solid.
His fist created a new cavity where bone used to be.
A clear blow to the (6th, 7th, and 8th) ribs. It put a mild breeze in his sails, and the 'bug' could not step to him...
The mangled grin on his face made his teeth look angular, and his expression demonic. "How does THAT FEEL!"
Responding to the provocation it broke free, whipping its tail around at the man. It hit his jaw, likely fracturing the joint and cracking the body.
Everything below the neck went limp without thought, and for a moment his vision went blurry before rolling into the back of his head.
Realizing that its aggressor had become incapacitated the monster turned. It already knew the man, Carlos, had fled. The last one was Layne, who recuperated enough to pull himself away.
It was a bit confusing as he should have been relatively okay by now. No excuse gave enough reason as to why his will to fight was so low; this man was horrible to bring into any dangerous situation.
Layne heard the ceasefire. He turned his head to look, hoping that his leader won...
The beastly presence of that monster was gaining ground on him. "Ghugh!" His heart sank into the ground. And he kicked his legs behind him faster, forcing his hands to be of some use as he crawled.
It was futile, death outpaced him by a multiple.
Then, keeping him from progressing any further, slithering tendrils forced both of his legs still.
His hands scooped greater amounts of dirt as he ignored the pain, but it was too much to overcome.
Standing above him, its legs on either side of Layne's torso, the monster grabbed his biceps too; using its humanoid arms.
To finish the job it positioned its tail above itself, swinging it downward at Layne's throat. No remorse on its face as it did so.
"Finally. I can rest now, they're all gone..."
