[b]Ozgad's Folly[/b]

"Not here?" he asked. His tone was mild, but there was murder in his eyes, "What do you mean? Has she gone to the market, perhaps?"

"N-no," Dreska was a tough old bird- you'd have to be to run a brothel in a place like the Folly. She could face down a raging orc or a drunken Akagi swordhand without blinking, but this cowled stranger set her nerves on edge. He had some glamour about him, she was sure. No street magician with tricks for the slow eyed or half-witted, this.

"Then what [i]do[/i] you mean, sister?" he asked in his conversational way. He spoke Nagathi with a strong Imperial accent, which added to Dreska's unease. Not that she didn't have plenty of experience with Justinians- the Folly was home to its share of imperial outlaws, renegades, adventurers and merchants, but they almost always came by sea... This'un had ridden overland. Survived the ashlands and the beastkin and Daigon knew what else and there was hardly a scratch on him. Now here he stood, deep in the slums of the meanest city this side of Daigon Zul, calm and confident as you please, like he was the master of the place.

Dreska stepped out from the crooked wooden doorway of the Silk House, making room for Gaznug, the hulking greenskin she paid to break skulls when the customers got too rough with the girls, to loom into view.

"What I mean is," she said, more confident with the orc backing her, "She ain't in the Folly no more. Sent her off with a sailing ship week before last, I did. Imperials, or at least Marchers, I took them for."

"You were paid," said the stranger, "to keep her [i]here[/i]. Your instructions were perfectly clear. Keep her safe, keep her away from prying eyes. Wait for someone- that would be [i]me[/i]- to arrive for her."

"Well that was more'n a year ago, weren't it? And anyways, them sailors from the [i]Ushtobal[/i] came around askin' for her same as you, like they knew the arrangement. Now I don't need to stand here in the mud taking guff from from strange men."

Gaznug growled menacingly.

"The [i]Ushtobal[/i]," said the stranger quietly, completely unfazed by the scarred orc circling to his left, "Alright sister. I'll leave you in peace."

He jangled a small pouch of coins, "One question, where was this ship headed?"

"Captain was rather mum on that score," said Dreska, "but sailors blabbed in their cups and to the girls. Nailbite, in Northmarch. They was none to happy 'bout having to round the Arm. I s'pose you know why that is. Reavers there don't serve no Khan. Serve other things."

The stranger spat into the mud and spun on his heel. Gaznug stepped into his path.

"How 'bout those coins," said Dreska, "I upheld my end of the bargain, didn't I?"

The stranger glanced up at the orc, meeting the monster's gaze. "Oh, sister, you'll get paid."

Gaznug's face went suddenly blank, he pushed past the stranger, lunging at Dreska, who stood there looking puzzled as the greenskin's powerful hands closed around her head. 

The stranger walked away, black cloak billowing out behind him. He was out of sight by the time the brothel owner stopped screaming.