“Wait,” Dalthan said, glancing over his shoulder with a scowl. “You’re telling me that this ‘Mobility’ feat doesn’t help me run away?”

The rogue’s question was directed at the enormous frog riding along in his shadow. The less said about the overgrown toad’s ability to dive into the thief’s comparatively small shadow, the better. Dal tried not to think too long on the subject, choosing instead to chalk it up to some arcane fuckery.

Amazingly, the reality-warping shenanigans didn’t stop there. The blue slaad also managed to emerge from the shadow from the waist up, making the enormous toad look something akin to a five-hundred-pound man sprouting from a wine bottle. It reminded Dal of the stories he’d heard the adventurers tell of genies living in lamps. Except there was no lamp. Nor did this blue-skinned genie grant wishes.

Unless Dalthan’s wish was to spend every moment listening to the blue slaad’s incessant nattering.

Fortunately, when Dal realized he could direct Vex’s constant verbal vomit, he found that the toad would occasionally regurgitate a juicy fact.

“That is partially correct, Daaltaan.” Vex gave him the slaadi version of a nod, which was basically a bob of his huge, flat head. “Apologies, Daal-than.”

“Closer,” the thief said, breathing out a long-suffering sigh as he turned back to scan the signage lining the street ahead of them. The sheer volume of vendors continued to baffle him, even though this was the second time he’d walked down this street. Some of the shops advertised mundane objects like clothing or furniture.

Others had more exotic goods. One particular store caught his eye with a sign that read ‘Feeder Faires for the Discerning Pet.’ The entire front window of the store was lined with cages that held tiny people with iridescent wings. The sight of the diminutive creatures thrashing against their cells gave Dal an unfamiliar feeling of discomfort.

Perhaps he’d been distracted by the sudden upheaval in his life, but when Key mentioned feeding Fluffy, Dal hadn’t made the connection that she was feeding it tiny fucking people. Were there other stores that catered to the discerning dragon? Or giant? If so, did they deal in less tiny fucking people? As in, Dalthan-sized people?

This could be cause for concern.

Dal turned to ask Vex about how the larger creatures of the Hub sourced their food when he heard the amphibian abomination muttering.

“Daaltaan…Daalthan…Dallthan” Vex muttered, his quiet voice little more than a wet gurgle.

Dal had to admit, the otherworldly abomination was trying, at least. In a way, it would have been easier if Vex had been an asshole reminiscent of Zaplixel. “Dalthan. My name is Dalthan.”

Against his better judgment, he decided to shelve the grocery issue for another time. He had more immediate concerns. Such as the dwarf tailor he was on his way to meet. He didn’t think the dwarf would really follow through with his earlier threats, but if the little shit tried, Dal wanted to be familiar with all the tools currently at his disposal.

“Now, back to the feat thing,” Dal continued. “‘Mobility’ is the fucking name of the feat. If it doesn’t make me more mobile, then what the hell does it do?”

No sooner did the words leave the rogue’s lips than he felt a flash of pain across the back of his neck like a spattering of hot grease against his bare skin. He flinched away from the sizzling heat, unaware of the slaad’s curved claws sweeping through the air. It wasn’t until the murder frog’s swipe passed within an inch of his ear that Dalthan realized he was under attack and dove forward in a defensive roll.

Unfortunately for the rogue, no amount of evasive action could separate him from his shadow.

“What the hell?!” Dalthan sprang back to his feet and spun around, to face the slaad that was still casually hitching a ride inside the thief’s shadow. “Do that shit again and I’ll stomp your ass like I did Squeaky.”

The blue slaad tilted its head quizzically. “Squeaky was a gelatinous cube. It did not need an ass.”

Dal extended a finger as he took a threatening step toward the frog. The effect was less intimidating than he’d hoped because his shadow slithered further away, dragging the slaad with it. The con artist tried to make up the difference with a severe tone that cracked through the air like a taskmaster’s whip.

“Don’t try to distract me with your [Beastmaster] nonsense. Maybe if Squeaky had an ass it could’ve released some of its pent-up frustration instead of letting that shit build up till it went feral.”

Vex, slack-jawed, stared at Dalthan for a long moment before he hesitantly responded. “That’s not how-”

Dalthan interrupted the slaad with a warning growl. “I don’t need a fucking biology lesson, Vex! Nobody knows more about how assholes work than me, okay? I’ve been surrounded by them all my life. So, I don’t need you to lecture me about what an asshole can and can’t do.”

The [Rogue] took a slow, exaggerated breath. When he spoke again, his voice was jagged as the tips of Keysha’s arrows. “Explain what you were thinking when you decided that clawing my face off was a good idea.”

Vex’sakan’ilopupanawa split his fat lips in what had to be the most bone-chilling grin that Dalthan had ever seen. “Some feats are better understood with an illustration instead of an explanation. In my humble opinion, ‘Mobility’ is one of those. You felt the feat react, did you not?”

The thief’s lips pursed together in a thin white line. While he replayed the last minute in his head, one of his hands idly rose to rub at the back of his neck. It’d felt like it was on fire only moments ago, but now it seemed to be perfectly fine.

Dal was willing to bet that if he hadn’t moved Vex’s claw would have sunk into his neck right where he’d felt the phantom pain.

Assuming the rogue’s silence to be a form of tacit approval, the blue slaad continued. “When someone attacks you while you move, or tries to impede your movement, you will feel a similar sensation. So, it is true that the ability doesn’t make you more mobile. Instead, it makes the mobility you have considerably safer.”

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Throughout the explanation, the frown never left Dalthan’s face. It was a good piece of information to have, though it begat as many questions as it answered. What constituted an ‘attack’? What if someone struck him by accident?

Distracted by his inner musing, Dalthan almost forgot to ask the most relevant question.

The thief’s deep green eyes narrowed dangerously while his right hand slipped from his neck to drift down to the hilt of his dagger. “What would have happened if I hadn’t dodged?”

Vex lifted his broad, heavily muscled shoulders in a shrug. “You would have died. Humans are fragile like that.”

Even though he’d been expecting the answer, Dalthan couldn’t restrain the slack-jawed expression of shock written across his face. “You fucker! You said you’re here to help protect me because I saved your life!”

The slaad bobbed its head in agreement. “This is true, Human Dalthaan.” It was the closest that Vex had come to actually saying his name properly, but the [Rogue] was in no mood to encourage the traitorous toad. “Among the slaadi, power is paramount. You proved your power earlier by seeing something that was hidden from this blue slaad. And so, it has entered your service.”

Dalthan had a sinking feeling in the pit of his gut. A sensation he’d been feeling more and more often since he’d arrived in this horrible place. Either he’d developed an ulcer, or the Hub was an inescapable hazard to his health. Possibly both.

Unaware of the thief’s inner anxiety, Vex continued. “Should you prove to be unworthy of Vex’s loyalty, it is this blue slaad’s duty to exert dominance.”

“And you would exert dominance by?” Dalthan knew the answer, but he made himself ask the question anyway.

“Killing you.” Vex said with a bob of its massive head. “Such is the slaadi way. The same way you exerted dominance on Squeaky.”

“Is there any chance that we could annul our arrangement before any more dominance needs to be asserted?” Dalthan hadn’t had this much talk about dominance since the last time he had an appointment with Madame Leatherlace.

“Certainly not. This blue slaad is bound to you until one of us dies, Dalthan.” The giant frog seemed inordinately pleased by the possibility of years of unpaid employment.

“Fine,” Dalthan said with a tired sigh. It’d been a long day and there were only so many life-changing events he could process. “Let’s go back to the feat stuff. And don’t fucking attack me! We’re just talking.”

“If you wish, Human Dalthan.” Was it the thief’s imagination, or did Vex look sullen? Like a child who had to eat his greens before he got a slice of pie.

“Does this ‘Evasion’ feat do anything useful?” Dalthan asked once the duo had started their trek down the street again. The rogue couldn’t help the eagerness that sharpened his gaze as he scanned the storefronts that they passed. He’d been looking forward to a new outfit from the moment he’d woken up on that marble slab. As they drew closer to the tailor's shop, he could practically feel the new threads hugging his body like an eager lover.

“Hmm…” The slaad gurgled like a drowning puppy behind him as it mused over his question. “It should be similar to ‘Mobility’, I think. Imagine the same kind of precognition, except with a magical attack instead of a physical one. That is an oversimplification, but for your purposes, that should explain what to expect.”

That certainly sounded handy. Maybe it would actually do him some good to know what all this nonsense on his character sheet meant. He’d assumed that most of it was incorrect and useless. Why wouldn’t it be? The thing hadn’t even managed to get his race and alignment right. That was reason enough to view everything else it said with a healthy dose of suspicion.

There was another element to all this that made Dalthan leery of using Vex as an evil encyclopedia. He didn’t want the slaadi monster to know all his tricks should their relationship sour. He'd learned his lesson after the last adventure. Some of the feats likely wouldn’t matter in an open conflict, but some of them most certainly would. He needed to wait until he found another source of information before he explored some of the more sensitive elements of his character sheet.

Elements like the feat that said [Redacted]. The more Dalthan studied his character sheet, the more his attention returned to that strange entry. His mind kept drifting toward it, like the tip of a tongue worrying at a newfound cavity.

A new distraction presented itself when he caught sight of a familiar storefront. The window was filled with a fantastic display of hats that seemed custom-made to appeal to a cultured gentleman like himself. The tailor’s shop was like an oasis of style in a desert of inelegance. Even the sign hanging above the door spoke to Dalthan’s soul. It read, ‘Thollok’s Fine Threads and Haberdashery.’ Below, in slightly smaller lettering, it stated ‘Customers Seen By Appointment Only.’

This shop was made with people like him in mind.

So, of course, he let himself in.

“Hide for a moment, Vex.” Dalthan said, his green eyes alight with mischief. “I want you to be a special surprise for my friend inside.”

The blue slaad sank into the thief’s shadow as Dal stepped toward the waiting door.

Just as before, the tiny bell above the door rang as he pushed through the threshold and stepped into the small store that smelled of cashmere and mink oil. He’d barely had time to start examining a few of the nearby vests when the proprietor emerged from a door across the room with an arm full of shirts dyed a deep wine red.

The clothing was stacked so high in his arms that the dwarf had no hope of seeing who’d just entered his establishment.

“If you’re my next appointment, you’re twenty minutes early. Get your ass out of my shop and come back on time.” The dwarf, presumably Thollok, rumbled as he carefully worked his way from the door over to the nearest counter. “If you’re not my next appointment, you better be gone by the time I put these down or you’ll be the second dreg I’ve called the Watch on today.”

Dalthan winced, resisting the urge to give the dwarf a good stabbing for calling him a dreg. He was here for business, after all. Not pleasure.

Though, perhaps, there was room here for a little bit of both.

Dalthan called out in a voice that was smooth as silk. “Since you’ve already called the Watch on me once, I think we can skip that part this time, don’t you?”

The dwarf’s reaction didn’t disappoint. The stack of shirts immediately fell from his arms in a cascade of artfully folded cloth that became a disheveled pile on the floor. As the fabric fell to the ground, it revealed a shocked face and a set of brown eyes that homed in on the rogue like a bird catching sight of a stubborn worm.

Thollok was the same dapper-looking gentleman that Dalthan remembered. Clean-shaven save for a set of fantastic muttonchop sideburns, the dwarf was dressed in the green brocade vest and red shirt he’d worn earlier. It was obvious to anyone with an eye for such things that this man was a fashion pioneer. A visionary of style.

And currently a fuming volcano that was about to erupt with unbridled anger.

“By Ancev’s shriveled dick,” Thollok breathed. “What is wrong with you, human? I told you what would happen if you set foot back in my shop. And here you are! You’re like that Mezzelpic boy that kept commin’ round after my daughter. More balls than brains.”

The dwarf snarled the last words as he leaned behind the nearby counter. When he rose, he did so with a bearded ax in his hand and a malicious gleam in his eye. “Dealing with that kid taught me that there's only one solution for dealing with people like you. So what’s it going to be?”

The dwarf idly bounced the haft of his ax against one palm as he began trudging across the shop. “You want me to take your balls? Or your brain?”

Dalthan’s smile never wavered as the irate dwarf stomped toward him.

“Vex,” Dalthan said, calm as the waters of a placid lake. “Come out and introduce yourself.”