Alterez stumbled down the alleyway on his way to the guildhall. He had been drinking, but that had not been the cause of his awkward gate. The poor gnome with bad taste in fashion had been the cause of sorts. Alterez had convinced the gnome to take a nap by virtue of a blow to the back of the head, and he had then proceeded to unburden said individual of his reprehensible taste in clothes. The poncho felt a little small, the ridiculously large sombrero didn’t quite fit his head, and the maracas shaking in his hand with each step made him feel a little sleepy. A quick bump when he arrived at work would jolt him awake, but for now, he continued the short ways to the side door to the guildhall.

“You should take his money, too.”

“And his life while you are at it.”

The voices in his head tried to convince him towards engaging in risky ventures, as usual. He had grown accustomed to ignoring their less-than-sage sources of advice, and indeed the plethora of drugs he took on any given day helped to drown them out. Not that he was addicted or anything like how humans would become dependent on them. Oh no, as a goblin, he remained immune to such inconveniences and to any risk of an overdose. Much the better, for Alterez rarely found himself sober from more than three substances at any given time.

Alterez really didn’t want to work today. He had a lead on a new illicit substance that had quickly become all the rage for those degenerate enough to indulge. He knew everyone who was anyone involved in such things in Berkerin, and he had decided to wait a while to see how other users reacted to the substance before he too experimented with it. Not that he feared adverse side effects, for his supreme goblin physiology was not susceptible to such things. No, he remained aloof to see how the plugs would react to customers. Sometimes the first hit is free, and before you know it, the plugs have their meat hooks in you, and Alterez had not fallen off the turnip wagon last week.

As he neared the door, he clicked his tongue in dismay. She was there, along with her lover boy. She had quickly caught on to his wily ways, for trying to get out of work was one of his favorite pastimes. The gnome had provided the means for today's exc… er, reason, yes, reason why he could not work today. He could smell her scent as it wafted around the sides of the closed door, the light fragrance of pleasant perfumes tenderly caressing his nostrils as he chanced a whiff. Undoubtedly, she lingered there to nag his green ass until he agreed to work. He patted his cheeks with the maracas to focus himself on the task at hand.

“Showtime!”

He opened the door and danced his way in, a large and perhaps creepy smile plastered on his face as he shook his maracas and gyrated his hips in his best sashay as he entered the kitchen of the guildhall. She stood there, hands akimbo, awaiting his latest masterpiece of why today was not a good day to work.

“Chooka, you look wonderful! Love the horns by the way, you simply have to let me know what you use to shine them. Anyway, I can’t work today, religious holiday and all. I simply came by in the traditional attire that one wears when communing with goblin gods as a courtesy to inform you that I will be visiting the Shrines today.”

Today was not Shrine Day, not that he regularly attended, but Chooka did not know that.

“Oh really. Are you sure your Shrine Day was not exactly three days ago? You know, the day your pet beetle-dog needed to be properly mourned in remembrance of his passing. I’m certain that the work schedule is not wrong in that you are to work today, so cut the bullshit!”

Scratch that, she did know his Shrine Day schedule. If only he had been a troll, he could claim wai’fudo as an excuse, since that was legally protected as a good reason to ditch work. Alas, the gods, in their superior judgment, had found such a crass form too inferior to contain his greatness and had blessed him with the body of a most magnificent goblin. This could still be salvaged though. Time for some alternate truths.

“Calumny! I implore you not to abnegate her gorgeous physique, but rather to steel yourself lest she inveigle you in her prevarications!” Alterez drooped his ears and gave his best beaming gaze of hope towards the human next to her. If he could be swayed, then the battle would be won. “I beseech you, assume the responsibility of a plenipotentiary on my behalf and convince your fine lover to not divorce herself of all reason. The exegesis of my people’s most sacred texts demand that I appease the gods, not as a lickspittle, but as a humble and faithful petitioner.”

“Alterez,” the tall and scantily clad remnimi female interrupted as he prepared for his second salvo of buzzwords. “You always use big words when you try to weasel your way out of things. I swear, if I retrace your steps and find an unconscious gnome who was waylaid on his way to a Gnomerween party, I will personally…”

She slipped into speaking goblin at that point, which Alterez was pretty sure she learned just to threaten him. The human did not understand a word of it, but by her tone, he caught the drift of her hostility. She really pulled out the stops this time, and the three different ways she implied she would mutilate his genitals and use them as a garnish when she force-feeds him his own guts nearly brought a tear of joy to his eye and really needed to be remembered for his own threats in the future. In a way he felt a little proud at how well she had progressed in her linguistic aptitude for the sophisticated communication medium that is the goblin language.

“You should let her do it.”

“You might enjoy it.”

And now the peanut gallery had ruined the moment he was having with Chooka. They weren’t exactly wrong, but they probably wanted him to bleed out from a foray into hedonism. They coveted his body and wanted their turn, but him still being alive held up the line for the other goblins to reincarnate in the timeshare that is his body. After all, he had done much the same to the previous host, so he could not exactly blame them for trying. The real problem was that the amateurs always gave bad advice. They should at least seduce him with good advice for a few decades before they pull a fast one on him and get him strangled in a back alley poker game gone wrong like civilized goblins.

The human didn’t say a word, clearly not wanting to get mixed up in this, and with the battle lost, Alterez needed to gracefully recover from this setback.

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“I think I dropped my coin purse on the way here. I will be right back in a jiffy to get right to work, boss!”

With his closing argument, and a few shakes of the maracas, he sashayed his way back out with the extra large smile on his face. He retraced his steps to the gnome, dressed him in the ridiculous outfit, and woke the poor soul up. Alterez provided a standard and well polished dose of fibbery and flattery, and the dope even thanked him for his help! With that settled, he returned to the kitchen, where Chooka waited for him to get started.

Alterez removed a vial of violet powder from inside his vest. He popped the cork and deposited a line of it on the counter in front of him. Plugging one nostril, he snorted the whole thing in one go, and after a few sniffles, placed the bottle back where he had withdrawn it. Purple Maze was an excellent substance to help one focus on a task for hours at a time, and he would need it today to distract him from his desire to seek out Dragon’s Kiss, the new substance that he intended to try.

Satisfied with the dosage and the sensation of clarity washing over him, he donned his apron and chef’s hat. He flicked a finger at the dials on a vox-illusio, and the clash and carnage of metal and death filled his ears as the music of his people played for him. With a guttural and primal shout, he let the hate flow through his veins as he grabbed a nearby cleaver and set to work to prepare for today's food orders.

Chooka, satisfied that he would do his job, departed with her boy toy in tow. The man in question wasn’t so bad, and he even brought Alterez some prime ingredients every now and then, but they couldn’t understand how being the only goblin in town could be frustrating. A goblin has needs, needs that a [Courtesan] like Chooka could fulfill, but she would never give him the time of day, even if the difference in size could be made up for. Gnomes were not green enough and miccen were too furry for his tastes. Perhaps he would have to make a visit home one of these days and find himself a bimbo.

Rage flooded his mind as he turned the music up to eleven. Each and every dish was carefully prepared with the proper amount of hate and spite as his drug-fueled bender careened him towards another day in the kitchens. A few drops of Fairy Garden to make the lights taste pretty, a puff or two of Amber Destiny to keep his hand perfectly steady, a few sips of Milk of the Wereflower to push his metabolism to the max, and he was a one-goblin cooking machine. His movements were practically a blur as he dashed between stations, managing several dishes at once with practiced ease.

Orders came in and food was dished out. Dishes were washed in an instant thanks to Skills from his Blessing as a [Line Cook]. The kitchen was his domain and he the unrivaled master of his realm. They had all laughed at him when he first came to town all those years ago, but no one laughed any more. He had shown them all his skill, his knowledge of the culinary arts, and of dark rituals for victuals. He had even led a cooking ritual during the war. They had called him mad, but when the entire defensive line had not faltered due to hunger or fatigue as a mystical force empowered the beleaguered defenders, they had no choice but to acknowledge his superiority.

CHOP!

Down came his cleaver, perhaps a bit too hard as he thought back to the ridicule he had faced from his rivals. It wasn’t even the good kind of ridicule that a certain tall and lithe remnimi used upon occasion after he goaded her. The way she could loom over him with murder in her eyes as she humiliated him with her disgust and insults had awoken something with him, something he craved more every time it happened. She made him feel small and pathetic in a way that freed him of all other concerns and silenced the voices. Sure, she had a great rack and luscious lips, but Alterez was not a shallow goblin. He loved how she made him feel, and if she were unavailable, he would have to find someone else to fill the void.

The drugs sure were not doing it, but another bump of Purple Maze helped him to regain his focus. Just take it one day at a time until he got what he wanted. Maybe the new stuff would help scratch the itch or dull the desire. Dragon’s Kiss was purported to make one feel good inside, so maybe this one would round out his routine. It would probably be a good idea to take along some extra muscle when meeting the new plug. Perhaps lover boy would suffice, and maybe he would gain some insight into how to seduce Chooka as an extra benefit.

“You could see to it that he meets an unfortunate accident along the way.”

“Poor Chooka would be lonely and would need some loving in his absence.”

Amateur hour! Such rookie advice would never work. She would hold a grudge against him if she did not brutally murder him. Even taking the long road of slowly driving a wedge between them would similarly fail. No, best to let it run its course. Chooka had a boatload of lovers who came and went. It would only be a matter of time until he too left, and for a seasoned goblin such as Alterez, time was in infinite supply.

He had learned from his past mistakes. He had been killed a dozen times over, and for as long as he had lived in this body, this may very well be his last reincarnation before Gubberloodoo took him to the Great Beyond. He had been patient as he waited for his next chance to take control of the body. He had watched and learned from the current hosts, gaining their trust and subtly pushed them to reach beyond their grasp. Biological immortality was already his by birthright, and provided he didn’t come down with a mild case of death, he would live forever.

No, it simply would not do to backstab the man. Backstabbing had its merits and Alterez found himself a skilled practitioner of the arts of betrayal. Just as the wrong knife to cut a fish yielded poor results, so too would the wrong social tool inevitably bar his path to success.

Alterez would need to befriend this one and use him as a means to delve deeper into Chooka’s social circle. He had heard of her current romantic dynamic, with Skull and Chooka both sharing a bed with the man, at the same time even! Surely one more added to the fun would not be unacceptable. He just had to play his cards right and he would be part of the inner circle.

But how would he be able to achieve such a thing? Being a live-in chef would get him in the door, but it may well cast him as ‘the help’ and prevent him from drawing them in deeper. He had to keep things cool and casual with Chooka, using the other two as the bridge. Skull was a bit too intimidating in a supernatural sense. Her vibe gave off more of a promise than a threat of terrible violence, and that didn’t do it for him.

Perhaps he would need to galavant around with them. They always ran off together on some adventure or another while Chooka stayed in the city. Perhaps he could endear himself to them by his usefulness as a cook as well as a fighter as they slayed monsters or whatever it was they did. Alterez had enough experience to know just the right spot to slide a knife in someone to take them out quickly and quietly, so surely he would not hold them back too much.

Yes, this would work, but how would he broach that topic? He could not just tell the guy, “Yo, help me buy some drugs.” That would scare him off. But that little errand would be a good in, especially if they enjoyed a small dose of shared adversity, the best building block of a good friendship. Perhaps a light street fight would be enough for that. He would just have to improvise.

Near the end of his shift, Alterez used a Skill to send a request to Chooka to send her man around. He also turned down the music so that he could converse properly. A little bit of powdered Monkey-Weasel blood to help calm the nerves. The man arrived after a few minutes and Alterez stopped his cooking to speak to him. Manners were important, and giving undivided attention showed respect.

“Yo, help me buy some drugs.”

Fuck, why did I say that? I had explicitly decided not to say that.

Alterez cursed inwardly but maintained a calm demeanor. This shitshow was off to a great start. Well, in for a copper, in for a pound of flesh. Just gotta wing it and it should all work out.