Room 37.

"Do it." The weedy man commanded.

"I don't want to." The other said as he held a vial of discolored liquid.

Another man marched up to him and smacked him over the head before barking at him.

"Down it, meat, or we'll force it down!"

The man whined pitifully, gulped as he eyed the mixture within the vial, and then chugged it in one go. The others seated around watched him for a moment. He hacked and coughed but managed to keep it down. They all waited in the dark and run-down room, the only sounds being the boiling of jury-rigged alchemy equipment made from half rusted pipes and whatever else they could scrounge together for their little operation.

"Well? Anythin'?" Rickie asked as he and the others kept watching.

The sampler made to speak before his body shuddered. His face turned a sickly color and he fell down to the nearest bucket and expelled the contents into the rusty soiled thing. Rickie groaned and kicked a nearby rusty bedframe in frustration. Why wasn't anything working, he thought with irritation and worry.

Barnaby gave this racket to him and his boys to run after the last boss went tide up. Probably from drinking his own supply, Rickie thought. Which just meant seagull shit. They still had to pay up to the boss or risk their operation getting caught and them all snagged by the guards. The only difference between before and now was that they hauled up to Barnaby instead of Lord Myrle. He and his boys didn't know the details, just that the elf had run afoul of something, or someone, that wasn't so easy to roll-over and now the Thieves Guild was cast to the depths.

"Or where ever folk dispose of shite 'round here." Rickie muttered as he went over to his twitchy alchemist and snatched the next potion from his hands.

The sampler went wide-eyed and fought weakly as Rickie's meatier boys held him still and made a cut along his hand that wept crimson. The poor dredge of society whined and pleaded before the potion, which was a foamy off-red color, was forced down his gullet. Half of it was choked up but enough went down for them to get what they needed to.

Then they waited. But just like before, the bum that they nabbed to be their little taste tester soon threw up the potion, a quick glance at his hand confirmed that the health potion did jack all. Again. Rickie cursed in frustration once again. A simple health potion was the first thing you're taught in alchemy! It was so simple that a child could do it! Even the ingredients weren't that hard to acquire either!

Yet even simple potions were little better than sewage. Potions weren't exactly the best tasting things, but when done right they shouldn't be THAT bad and their effects should still work. But nothing was! They tasted like piss and did fuck all save for making the drinker sicker than a sloshed sailor!

Maybe it was their alcohol, Rickie thought. It wasn't exactly "pure", but even then it should've done SOMETHING! It shouldn't be failing this badly! He growled and got in the face of their twitchy alchemist.

"Why isn't it workin'?!"

The alchemist stumbled and jumbled through his words that Rickie had to smack him just to get a straight answer from him.

"I don't know! I followed everything in the books!"

"Well apparently not because none of it is workin'! Find out why or we'll find someone who can!" Rickie threatened before leaving the alchemy lab to check in on his other racket.

He marched up a floor, his steps causing the wooden steps to creak and groan. He thought being given not just one but TWO rackets would mean he didn't have to slum it in some worthless crumbling ruin like before. But about the only difference was who he worked for and the fact it didn't smell like the sea and fish guts anymore.

Oh, and the guards carried some kind of "thunderstick" he heard Barnaby call 'em. Seven hells, he could still hear the sounds they made the other day as clear as sunshine! Thunderstick was right, and the guards ALL carried them! He didn't exactly like keeping his head down. Especially as he was the boss of their little operation now, even if they kicked up to Barnaby. But even he wasn't dumb enough to risk all those things being pointed his way.

He stomped over to a door and pushed it open. A voice shouted out as he did so.

"THUNDER!!!"

Rickie immediately fell to the splintered floor to avoid whatever was thrown at him. Except the only thing he could hear was the snickering laughter of his scratchers. They were called such because of their constant scratching away as they made counterfeit spell scrolls. He cracked his eyes open and glared at the group of four that laughed like gulls on the docks!

He got up and marched to the head of the lot and grabbed him by his grimy robes.

"You think that was funny?!"

"Yeah, I do!" The boy said with a manic grin as he continued to chuckle.

Rickie snarled and pushed the boy back into his chair. If he made an example of him then he'd have to make an example out of every one of them. Scratchers were madder than haberdashers. Something about inking and enchanting the scrolls drove them bonkers. Potion chemists were about the same, but working with potentially volatile potions made sense. All these bunch of jackdaws did was scribbling on scrolls!

"Have you made anythin' at least?!" Rickie hissed.

"Yeah. We made scrolls." One of the other scratchers commented and held up a piece of parchment with a colorful set of paints on it.

"And?" Rickie asked.

The scratcher held the scroll out towards the wall and shouted out the name of the spell.

"LIGHT!"

Nothing.

"I though you said you made scrolls?!" Rickie asked heatedly.

"We did. They just aren't 'magic' scrolls." The lead scratcher said that caused them all to begin cackling like gulls once more.

Rickie groaned and rubbed his face.

"Well why not?!"

"Because we can't." One of the scratchers stated as if it was obvious.

"And why, pray tell, can't you?"

"Don't know." The lead scratcher said with a shrug as if it was supposed to be obvious.

"Well then tell me what you DO know!" Rickie growled.

"We can't make magic scrolls. All we can make are pretty pieces of paper." The lead scratcher stated.

The difference between a real magic scroll and an "imitation" was down to the fact that a fake scroll lasted only long enough to fool a potential buyer. So a spell of light would last a few minutes before dissipating rather than about an hour like a normal scroll. Both were only one-offs. But a decent forgery could net them plenty of coin long enough for them to relocate before the guard came down on them.

IF they could make them that is, Rickie thought with mounting frustration. Neither racket wasn't without its risks, but the payoff should've been worth it. But at this rate it wasn't going to amount to anything!

"Well figure out WHY and get back to work!" Rickie yelled before departing.

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"WILL DO CAPTAIN!" The lead scratcher called out with a chorus of laughter from the others.

He made his way to his own room. Which was about the only room that didn't look rundown. He crashed down on the moldy mattress with a groan. He thought being the boss was supposed to make his life easier. Instead it looked like all it did was make his neck the first on the block when things got bad.

Which is what it looked to be becoming, he thought. The potions weren't being mixed right for some reason and the scrolls weren't holding an enchantment either. The latter he couldn't do much other than hope and pray to whatever being there was that looked out for him, if there even was one, that those mad loons could figure it out before Barnaby's men came to collect what he didn't have.

The former he could at least assist with. But the idea of potentially ending up like his predecessor wasn't an appealing one, Rickie thought. Especially not long after the guards stormed up the mountain with those thundersticks. He didn't want to know what was up there that drove the last man briny or what needed so many guards with thundersticks for.

But it was either be productive and MAYBE have a possible excuse for Barnaby, or sit here and hope that his boys could figure something out. He groaned and got back up knowing that at least if he did what he could he MIGHT be able to save his neck for a little longer.

He stomped down the steps and left the crumbling brick building and out into the cold air of their new "home". It was just as busy as the markets back home, but there was an air of tension and dread in the air that wasn't felt back in Daele until the siege started. But it was different somehow. Like it was almost suffocating. A feeling like every breath he took was potentially going to be his last.

Which was something he wasn't entirely unaccustomed to. He didn't exactly grow up in the best of areas back in Daele. But you expected it in that life. Here though? It was like something hung over their heads like the headman's axe. The only ones that didn't seem affected by whatever foulness was in the air were the guards in green. They strolled around with a sense of boredom that he couldn't fathom why. Especially after that business not long ago!

He turned his gaze up at the mountain. Even this far away felt FAR too close. Something about it made his skin crawl and his hair stand straight. Like the mountain was gazing back at him. He shook his head. That kind of thinking is how the last man got chummed, he thought.

But he couldn't help but notice his pace slowed as he continued towards the mountain. Like his own body wanted to go anywhere but there. He found himself at the edge of the area where the goblins controlled. If he continued he'd need to keep his head down even more if he didn't want to end up swinging from a pole.

The more he thought about it, the more he was preferring the idea of watching over the rackets. So he turned on his heel and headed back with a quickened pace. The further he went from that looming hunk of rock the better he felt. As he opened the door to their hideout, he cast a one last glance at the dark mountain.

Maybe that loon wasn't so mad after all, Rickie thought as he went inside.

-----

Barnaby's Brothel/Casino

"So what is this worth?" Barnaby asked the little girl that say on his knee as he pointed towards the sets of green bills arrayed along his desk.

"That's a five dollar bill. It's worth five one dollars." She said simply.

"But what is worth five dollars? And what is worth one dollar?" He asked.

The little girl thought to herself, scrunching up her face as she did.

"You can buy a chocolate bar for a dollar. But you can buy a bag of candy for five!"

"Can you now?" Barnaby asked with measured interest.

The kids that "Lord" Myrle had enslaved had come to Barnaby and took him up on his offer of showing them how the world truly worked. In exchange though, he wanted to know what they did about this world. Mainly how the money worked. He had started taking the local currency, but it wasn't an exact rate as he couldn't figure out what was worth how much.

Did a night with a pretty lady amount to five of these dollars? Or was it worth more? So far he's hadn't needed to answer that question as it seemed like the locals weren't interested in his business. So he's been forced to accept what pitiful coinage from the other refugees. But with an influx of new blood he wanted to know the answer to that for when they came looking for comfort or a game of chance.

The little girl's answer wasn't entirely helpful. But it wasn't as worthless as he would've initially thought either. Sweets weren't usually available to the common folk. So it was rather pricy to get them. But from the way the girl said it that wasn't the case in this world.

"So five is better?" Barnaby asked.

"Yup! But a hundred is the best!" She said cheerfully.

Barnaby looked at the assorted bills he's gathered so far. The highest he had was a what she called a fifty. It wasn't much. But at least she gave him a good idea of what to rate his services for. If a hundred was the highest currency available then he'd have to adjust to make things a bit.

If he wanted to assimilate into this world it was paramount that he knew how the currency worked. Especially as it seemed like the coins from Daele wouldn't last long if what he's learned about the country he was in from the kids was somewhat accurate. It was massive and had access to goods he's never even heard of! Things that only a noble or even royalty could afford was fairly affordable to the common folk. Things that even seemed magical were treated as disposable commodities.

Communicating over vast distances was easy. Travelling was also easy. Getting food or healing was even easier. Back in Daele he would've had to resort to seeing a back alley sawbones to fix anything. But there were several pills here that he could get for dirt cheap that would do the trick!

From the sounds of it he could live better than any king or even emperor with little effort! All he had to do now was make sure to do things carefully and he could live a long life with little trouble or worry! If he could figure out how that is.

He turned his attention from the little girl and towards her brother over in the corner as one of his goons played with him.

"Alright boy. Arms up."

The boy raised his fists feebly. His goon knocked them to the side with ease.

"No! Like this!"

His goon showed him how and he tried to mimic it as best he could.

"There we go!"

He held up a hand.

"Now hit me."

"What?"

"You deaf boy?! I said hit me!" The goon ordered.

The boy threw a punch towards the open hand.

"I'm sorry? I didn't feel nothin'. Try again boy!"

The boy threw a punch again, this time with obviously more force. But the goon didn't look impressed.

"Birds shite harder than that!"

Barnaby watched as the process continued. The boy would hit and the goon would push him on. Rinse repeat. At least he was being taught something useful, Barnaby thought as he returned his attention to his lesson on currency when the door opened and his other henchman entered.

"Some guards are here!"

The other goon turned his head, and moved his hand out of the way. Allowing the boy to send his small fist into his cheek. The boy yelped and began to tear up at the slip. He started warbling apologies. The goon turned back around and gave him a pat on the head with a laugh.

"That's how you do it boy!"

"What?" He asked tearfully.

"When your opponent has his back turned, you take the chance to shiv him good and proper!" The goon said with a cruel smile.

"But my pa said you should fight with honor." The boy said uncertainly.

"Piss on honor! Did honor do him any good?" The goon asked.

The boy started to tear up again, but shook his head. The goon patted him on the head again with a surprisingly kind smile.

"Don't worry my son. Ol' Uncle Jerry is gonna teach you right and proper he will!"

"Touchin'. What's this about guards?" Barnaby said as he turned his attention from the sweet display.

"A couple o' them are downstairs!" The other goon repeated.

Barnaby sighed and lifted the girl up and down off his knee before jumping down from his seat as well.

"Stay here with Jerry you two. Tom, come along."

The two kids laughed. Barnaby wasn't sure what was so funny but they laughed whenever he said the names of his two goons. Whatever, he had business to attend to downstairs, Barnaby thought as Tom followed after the dwarf. His merchandise poked their heads out their rooms as Barnaby made his way past. They didn't linger though as they retreated back into their rooms to prepare themselves for Barnaby to showcase them to potential clients.

When Barnaby reached the bottom he spotted two guards dressed in the green uniforms of the recent arrivals. He wasn't sure how high or low they were in the chain of command. But he'd bet they were simple grunts by their looks and attitudes. He put on his business smile and marched towards them.

"Welcome! How can I provide fer you today?!"

One of them shuffled nervously and didn't make eye contact with Barnaby. His friend smiled a cocky smile and seemed to speak for the both of them.

"We heard you might have some entertainment."

"Depends. What are you lookin' fer?" Barnaby asked, accustomed to folk not usually asking straight out what they wanted.

"We're lookin' for some 'haughty wenches'!" The more brash of the two said in a strange accent and a wink.

Haughty wenches, Barnaby thought for a moment as he tried to decipher what it was exactly he was being asked for.

"Uhm, o' course! Follow me!"

"Sweet!" The grunt cheered and dragged his far more nervous friend along as they followed after Barnaby and his goon.

He led them past the gambling den where the more brash one called out.

"You guys have gamblin' too?!"

"We do! You can have a go when you want!" Barnaby said with enthusiasm.

"Awesome! Where's the blackjack table?" The brash grunt asked and looked around at the room.

Barnaby looked to his goon with a cocked brow and mouthed the word at him. His goon just shrugged. Barnaby turned back towards the two grunts.

"We're new ta the area. We're still settin' some things up."

"Oh. Do you at least have some slots or roulette?"

"Unfortunately, our gamblin' is a bit underdeveloped at tha moment." Barnaby apologized but made a note to find out more about the games of this world.

"So what do you have?"

"We have Knuckle Bones and Devil's Hand." Barnaby said.

"What's that?"

"Knuckle Bones is a dice game. You and yer opponent make a bet o' how many dice will end up as what, then you roll. The winner is the one with the closer number o' dice in his favor. Devil's Hand is a simple card game, you play and try and hit the highest number without goin' over."

The brash grunt smacked himself in the head.

"Oh right! I forgot! Sure we'll play a game of 'Devil's Hand' when we're done huh Ken?!"

"Uhm, sure Matt." His friend said with a bit more enthusiasm.

Ooookay, Barnaby thought as the grunt talked and acted in a strange manner. He shook his head and gave his goon a look that said if they acted too weird customer or no they'll be bounced out. He led them past the gaming rooms and up towards the brothel. He made sure to speak idly and loud enough so that his girls knew to get ready.

He stood before the set of doors and gestured to the first door.

"May I tempt you with an elven beauty from the forests?"

As he said this an elven woman with golden hair opened the door and sauntered out seductively with nothing but a thin green veil covering that did nothing for the imagination. She was also covered in golden tattoos that ran from her face down to her toes. The brash grunt whistled and elbowed his friend.

"Best Ren Fair ever!"

"If she doesn't enthrall you, maybe a dance with a treasure from faraway lands?" Barnaby asked and the second girl stepped out from her room.

A human woman with ebony skin came out dressed in silver belly dancer attire. She sashayed over and stroked the chest of the nervous grunt before sauntering away. His friend laughed and slapped him on the back as Barnaby motioned to the third door.

"If they're a bit too 'tame' fer you. Then perhaps somethin' a wee bit, excitin'?"

Out came a gnomish woman. Her green eyes sparkled and shined behind her large glasses that sat on her perky face. Her own dress was far more modest than the other two, she wore a simple beige dress, but it hugged her figure enough to show the two grunts what she had to offer.

The brash grunt elbowed his friend.

"Go for her! My cousin had a dwarf girlfriend and he said she was a FREAK!"

"While this isn't all that I offer, it is all I have available at the moment. Unless you want ta play a game or two while mah other girls become available?"

"And risk gettin' sloppy seconds?! No thanks! We're good!" The brash grunt said.

He marched over to the elven lady and slapped her ass, eliciting a playful moan and giggle from her. He then turned towards Barnaby and pulled out a wad of bills.

"Do ye accept ye olde American?"

"Uhm, sure?" Barnaby said, not quite sure if something was wrong in the grunt's head but not willing to make a fuss about it until AFTER he paid. If he got too weird with his merchandise then he'll have him thrown out head first.

"Sweet! I'll take the elf girl! Ken will take the dwarf won't ya Ken!" The brash grunt said and tossed the wad of bills towards Barnaby as he gave his friend a cheeky grin.

Barnaby caught it and undid the stretchy band around it and did a quick count of how much there was. It was alot if his brief, and not entirely helpful, lesson with the little girl was true. He counted several twenties and fifties among the wad. He'd have to count it with the girl to make sure exactly how much it was, but from the look on the grunt's face it seemed like a typical price for a night with a girl.

If it wasn't? Then his girls can keep them occupied long enough for him to make sure and come back to get the rest, Barnaby thought as the brash grunt picked up the elf bridal style and retreated into the room. The nervous grunt shuffled and blushed and didn't make any effort to move from his spot. Barnaby turned towards the gnomish woman and jerked his head towards him. She nodded and made her way over to him.

"Come on handsome. I'll be gentle."

The nervous grunt mumbled something but followed after her into the room. Barnaby dismissed the third girl back into her room to wait for other customers and departed for his office. He had some more currency to count with.