Somewhere, West Virginia, USA.

The night was young as a elvish woman led someone down an alley where they could get some alone time. The man wore the clothes of one of the dockworkers, former dockworkers now. Some of her best, though rough, clientele.

Back in Daele she was a "lady of the night", a polite and fancy way of saying she was a whore. Back there she had a room at a brothel near the seedier part of the city by the docks. But now she had nothing, nothing except for a new chance to start again. All she needed was a bit of coin to buy off someone from around here that could transport her elsewhere and away from her "owner".

Her and her client stopped at a corner around one of the town's brick buildings. Far enough away from people that they had some measure of privacy. Something most had little given how many were forced to huddle together for warmth and safety. She turned to face her client.

"You know the deal."

"Aye, I do." The dirty man said as he passed her a small handful of silver and copper coins.

She bit back a curse, it was less than she figured, but she couldn't afford to complain. Not like she was in any position to haggle. She slid the coins into a secret pocket in her corset as her client began to fondle and play with her, running his hand up her thigh as it moved her short skirt that barely left anything to the imagination. His foul breath made her skin shudder, but years of training, and beatings, taught her to push that feeling down so it didn't show on her face in front of a client.

Just a few more and she might have enough coin to leave, if not then she could use it and her own body to hopefully get far enough away, she thought desperately as the man continued to use what he paid for, kissing against the nape of her neck as he began to grope and fondle her.

He didn't get far into his enjoyment though when a voice called from the darkness. A voice that sent a jolt of dread and panic into the elvish woman.

"Look here boys! A couple o' love birds havin' a bit o' fun in tha dark!"

Her and her client turned to the voice. Some light from a nearby streetlamp shone across a rough and scarred face of a dwarf, and two equally rough looking men that stood at his side. Unlike most dwarfs, he fashioned his dark hair into mutton chops instead of a full beard. On his bare chin and neck were scars from fights and dark dwarven tattoos. He wore a nice dark leather vest with matching britches and boots, and a equally dark leather coat with a fur lined collar. His rough hands were bare except for rings that covered each finger on his left hand. The two goons wore boiled leather armor that were studded around the shoulders, toes of their boots, and on their gloves.

His dark opal eyes stared at her and the man with a malicious gleam and a matching cruel smile.

"Silver?! Fancy seenin' you out 'nd about!"

The elf, Silver, flinched at his voice, full of false friendliness. She didn't dare speak in his presence unless he stated otherwise. Something her client didn't have any such reservations about.

"Fuck off dwarf! I payed for some fun and I'm gonna have it!"

The dwarf merely walked closer, that same cruel smile on his face.

"Oh did you now? Well if you payed then I guess there's nothin' I can do ta stop you!"

"Aye! That's ri-ACK!" The man cried out as a very meaty and very rough dwarven hand found itself clamped tightly around the man's valuables.

"I hope you don't mind if I take over, aye?" The dwarf asked, and squeezed.

The man cried out as he dropped to his knees in pain. He weakly tried to hit at the dwarf but he couldn't muster the strength through the pain.

"You fucking-"

He didn't finish as the dwarf squeezed harder.

"What's that? Are you not havin' fun anymore?"

The man cried as tears streamed down his face, he could barely shake his head no as a response. The dwarf pouted.

"Aw, ain't that a shame?"

The dwarf let go of the man, who promptly threw his hand protectively over his family jewels before vomiting onto the ground. The dwarf motioned to the man as he fell into a fetal position.

"Deal with this."

The two mooks stomped over to the man and tossed him for anything worth of value he had before dragging him away. The dwarf turned his attention to Silver.

"Now what am I ta do with you, Silver?"

A fearful glance confirmed she was supposed to answer.

"I was working. Like usual."

"Oh are you now? Funny, because yer not supposed ta workin' right now. Yer supposed ta be gettin' yer rest fer when you DO work." The dwarf stated. With a barely visible gesture, the elf knelt so that she was now eye level with the dwarf.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

The elf was shaking as he spoke.

"I-i-i just w-w-wanted to-"

The dwarf shushed her and placed a meaty finger on her mouth to silence her. He reached into her corset and pulled out the meager offering of coins she had accumulated over the past night. He held them to her for her to see.

"What is this?"

Her looked fearfully between the coins and the dwarf.

"C-c-coins."

He gently stroked her cheek as he continued to speak.

"And who's coins are they?"

A tear slid down her face.

"Yours."

"Aye! That's right!" He cheered. Before gripping her thin neck in his hand.

"So what makes you think you could somehow buy yer way ta freedom with MAH COIN!?!?!" He roared.

"You don't think I didn't know about that purse you had hidden in yer room? Tha purse filled with what was mine? You truly think I'm that dumb, Silver?"

She tried to answer but was cut off as his grip tightened. He brought his face close to hers and whispered in a vicious tone.

"Let me get it through yer pointed-eared head! Everythin' you earn is mine! Everythin' you wear is mine! If that weren't clear enough then I'll dumb it down fer you. I. Own. You. If I wanna tie you up and let every man and beast have a go fer a copper I will! If I wanna turn you inta reagents fer some mad alchemist or bush-witch I will! You are mine ta do with as I see fit! Mind, body, and soul!"

He let go of her and she fell to her hand and knees as sobs raked her body. The dwarf just sighed and shook his head as he looked down on her.

"I have ta make an example outa you now. I saw how bad it was just ta get that poor sod. Which means yer not a earner anymore. And most o' tha people that would pay fer elf blood or whatever else I could squeeze outa you is back in Daele, and probably dead by now too."

Silver shook her head franticly.

"Nonononono-"

CRACK!!!

The back of a meaty dwarven hand lined with rings slammed into the elf's face. She fell, dazed by the impact. The dwarf swaggered over and began his work of making an example of the elf.

By the time he was done, the elf was covered in bruises and her once pristine face was swollen and covered with gashes from his rings and beaten bloody. Only the occasional sob or wet cough confirmed she still lived. The dwarf looked down on his former product.

"What a waste."

The two goons returned and stared down at the bloody elf.

"What should we do with her, Boss?"

"Throw her inta one o' tha alleys that tha goblins infest. They'll do tha rest." The dwarf stated as he pulled a bit of cloth from a pocket and used it to wipe the blood off his hands.

"You sure Barnaby?"

"Aye. There are plenty o' others that are desperate enough that can take her place." The dwarf, Barnaby, stated.

The two goons walked over and began to drag her away before being interrupted by Barnaby.

"And strip her. That dress cost a pretty penny."

Silver whined in pain as the dress was peeled from her body, leaving her alabaster skin bare and the many new bruises and scars, fresh and old, for any and all to see. While one of the goons draped the dress over his arm, the other threw the beaten elf roughly over his shoulder and they both made their way further down the alley and into goblin territory.

With that taken care of, Barnaby made his way back to his hideout. Barely glancing at a small group of feral goblins that watched from the dark corners of the alley. Normally they would see a lone person as an easy target. But they backed away and slunk deeper into the dark, they knew a predator when they saw one.

Barnaby chuckled, even in a new world there were those that knew better than to mess with him, he thought as he walked along the street of the town. Most people of Daele wouldn't know him. Those that did, knew he was a member of the Thieves Guild. But if any heard what had just transpired then they were smart enough to keep it to themselves.

But only to those that didn't actually understand the complex and decentralized nature of the criminal underworld. Barnaby wasn't a thief. He was many things, but a thief wasn't one. He didn't steal what belonged to others, he merely collected what he was owed from them. Gambling and prostitution was his business. Sure there were actual thieves guilds in the Thieves Guild. But that was only a portion of it.

The "Thieves Guild" was anything and everything that wasn't legal or condoned. Cutpurses, pickpockets, thieves, robbers and burglars were the more common, hence the name, but Barnaby and others like him were where the actual strength, influence, and wealth came from. Whorehouses, gambling dens, smuggling, slaves, loan sharks, protection, bootleg potions, counterfeit spells, you name it and every one of Barnaby's associates are doing it.

Or done it, he thought. Most of his associates and other "business" partners were back in Daele. They thought they could buy their way into the Warchief's good graces once the siege was over.

He wasn't so foolish. Anyone with half a working brain knew that orcs weren't the types to allow, let alone indulge, in vices. At least not willingly, he thought as he recalled a young orc woman he bought years ago. She was full of piss and fire she was! Beatings did nothing but rile her up, but after spiking her food and drink for many months she was much more... pliant and docile.

She made him some damn good coin for a time. Something about the muscled orc made her a lucrative attraction. Until someone with too much of an axe to grind against greenskins cut her throat during a session. Obviously she died, as did the man that did it, some rock farmer from the sticks. Lost his family to a raid or something, Barnaby didn't really care.

He and his men as well as some of his "product" were holed up in the Central District when word spread of a way out. At first he didn't believe it, him and many others that peddled in illicit goods and means had been trying to get out of the city for weeks. But the city was damn good at keeping him and his ilk from plying their trade, particularly during a siege.

But as his scouts started to report that people were actually leaving via a portal in the cathedral, well, he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth now was he?

It was fairly simple to slip into the cathedral and the group between the sheer number of people and the tired guards keeping an eye out for orcs, and not on opportunistic criminals such as he.

He entered the front of one of the old apartment buildings that were being handed out as shelter to the people of Daele. It wasn't long before he and his men had the whole building under his thumb, they either whored for him or worked in some other capacity, like fill-in muscle or lookouts when needed.

Barnaby thought that building his criminal enterprise here would be too easy. Then the goblins showed up. The fancy ones in uniforms and wielding blackpowder weapons. At first he thought it was a joke, some fair or show meant to entertain people.

Then they caught some of the cutpurses that crossed over. Those that complied were led away somewhere, if they really were guards then they'll be in some holding cell. The ones that fought back however were beaten to a pulp. If they managed to get a hit in on one of those human looking goblins then they were outright strung up and left as a warning.

Even when seemingly civilized, greenskins were vicious creatures, Barnaby thought as he walked into his "office". Which was a large room at the top of the 5th floor, made by tearing down the wall between two single rooms.

Barnaby sat down in his worn chair and looked out the dirty window of his office. He could hear sounds of his business booming below him. Even with little coin, people would pay just for a few hours in a clean(ish) bed with a warm body. He chuckled.

"Different world, same vices."

While he was setting up his whorehouse and gambling den, his other associates were busy getting their own business set up. Though with mixed results. Bootleg potions and alcohol wasn't getting any traction. The locals already had medicine that worked better than anything they could brew up, and liquor that could possibly rival even dwarven ale in terms of quality and strength. He heard that they were thinking of striking a deal with some of the locals east of the town about acquiring some of what they called "Moonshine".

Protection was even worse off. It seems the goblins had already muscled their way into that market and his associates were finding it damn near impossible to get their foot in anywhere without the greenskins already claiming it. They were discussing about either trying to push them out, or leaning on a group of halflings to the south-west of town.

Barnaby, however, didn't need to worry about all that. There were plenty of poor and destitute souls around for him to supply his work. Everyone wanted a warm body to cozy up with, and some had an itch to try their luck throwing bones. With the added benefit that the goblins and the local guards are more overwhelmed with the amount of people meant that he was free to slip between the cracks.

Sure, all he has right now are worn beds and some rickety tables to play on, but as the coin rolls in, he'll begin to make this place a den of vice fit for any city or town no matter what world he's in!