Milo leaped from the third floor of the building he had climbed, turning a flip in mid-air and landing in a three-point stance. Two rough-looking men walking by were startled and started to draw their swords, then relaxed and held up a hand. "Kulag!" Milo did the same and then continued on his way. The two members of Squint's gang looked up to where a small balcony stuck out from the front of Madam Daintyfoot's Parlor. The doors behind it were open, candlelight spilling into the night and the scent of lilacs.
"Isn't that...?"
"Yep, and I am not going even to wonder what a certain gang member is up to, leaping from her Ladyship's private rooms."
"Above my paygrade, in so many ways."
"And no yelling or alarms, so she isn't upset."
"I didn't see anything."
"Nope. Too dark down here."
Milo, for his part, was enjoying having nothing to do. He went back through the night market and shopped for small things that would be useful: a small lantern with an enchantment that let him power it with his mana, a better bedroll to replace his old, tattered one. Several hundred feet of the light silken line preferred by high-level thieves doing second-story work and a water jug that carried the same enchantment as his Gathering Bags. He politely dickered with each merchant, but only to be polite. He had more money than they did and didn't mind them making a good profit. His last stop was at the apple vendor he had bought from before. The man recognized him and knew him. He bowed low. "Ah, my best customer! How are you today, sir? I see that you're back in town. Off on another mission for Lord Squint, I suppose. Your last one sure shook things up! Rescuing all those folks. Here, try one of these on the house." He tossed Milo a yellow-green apple that was sweet and crisp. "Fresh from the north. A little expensive to import, but they travel well and never bruise."
Milo loved it. "This is really good! Can I have a bag of them? And the arrangement we had before? Let's continue with that. I don't want those little one's going hungry." He handed the man a small stack of gold, part of his earnings from selling his ore." The apple vendor counted it and became nervous.
"Yessir, and don't you worry. I'll order more and ensure those young ones get an apple daily. You have my word." Milo nodded to him and walked off toward the Adventurer's Guildhall.
The apple merchant yelled at his son. "Mind the store. I'm off to order another two shipments. That's one of Squint's captains. I'm not taking chances of anyone saying I didn't follow up on my end of a bargain with him." He hurried down to the docks to buy four more barrels from the captain that had imported them and to place orders for more.
His visit to the apple vendor accomplished, Milo skirted the night market, on the side away from the halfling's cheese shop. The smell was enticing, but he was determined to control his addiction. Cheese was too powerful a tool in battle or as an aid to recovering from wounds to turn it into a casual enjoyment again. If a cheese fiend like Larry could master himself, certainly he could. He ducked through a back alley between two buildings, knowing that the smell of rotten garbage would cut off the alluring odor of stinky cheese that was following his nostrils. The pungent aroma of rotted fish and urine blocked the scent, yet even such a horrid little alley had its inhabitants. Three shadows stood up at the far end, blocking his way.
"Well, well. What do we have here? A lost little Kulag who thinks his gang is still in charge of the city. We own these alleys, and you'll have to pay the toll!" Two more people blocked off his retreat. Milo could see them perfectly, but all of the gang were humans and had trouble seeing him. A slight noise from above told him of at least one more assailant. Two of the group blocking his way were Level 9, and the leader was Level 11. A glance behind showed two Level 8 players blocking the rear. They all wore bits of leather armor and rags and were armed with two poisoned daggers or small, jagged swords. The smell of the poison came to his sensitive nostrils. It was a cheap poison made from rotted fish livers and black mold. Very intense and easily identified. Also useless against him.
He could run back or climb up and escape the clumsy trap, but he hadn't had a good workout in over a week and was curious about what was happening.
"I see. Did Squint give you a good deal when you bought his alley? It's nice to see him giving young gangs a chance to own property. How many copper do I owe you? And can I pay in advance for tomorrow? This really is one of the better back alleys to stroll through." He decided to use his claws and tail in this arena but would give the one above a special treat if he attacked.
"Damned Kulags! Always with the lip and the quick comebacks. When you come back tomorrow and limp off to Squint, tell him the Poisoned Talons are coming for him." They took several steps toward him, and Milo turned and ran at the pair behind him. They'd half expected him to do that but were surprised at his speed. Both stabbed at him with their knives, inflicting small wounds. Milo concentrated his attacks on one poor player, not trying to dodge. His claws swept up, the first cutting deep and the second scoring a critical hit. With six opponents, Milo didn't play with them. He had honed his strikes during his time in the arena fighting Larry. Only his most powerful attacks could hurt his friend, and Gilad had trained him not to strike at less than his full power. Against a normal player, his claws could disembowel with one strike. This player got two, and the second was overkill. He fell to the dirty cobblestones with his insides on the outside, and Milo hit his partner with a hard tail slap that seemed to appear out of nowhere, knocking him backward.
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As expected, the player on the roof tried to join the fight. Milo knew he was there but was still surprised that he didn't even attempt to use stealth. "Cowabunga Dude!" The player dove at Milo, both daggers poised to stab downward. Milo turned and thrust upward with his palm, releasing the runic formation he had prepared. The alley lit up with the release of the Rune of Force, blue-white light showing every grimy detail as a bruised body was slammed a hundred feet into the air. One player moaned as he died on the ground; his partner leaned against the wall, shaking his head and trying to clear it. The three who had charged into the alley paused as they got a good look at their opponent.
Bone covered his head, giving his face a bestial appearance. Sharp talons emerged from bone-armored forearms already covered in blood, and a snaky, ten-foot tail moved back and forth like a scorpion. As they slowed to surround him, he yelled "Kulag!" and charged the rightmost opponent, slashing his hamstring as he went past and dodged the other two strikes. Instead of fleeing, he turned and faced them. "I like this alley; maybe I'll buy it." He charged back at them.
The fight lasted a minute and was bloody, neither side giving quarter. While Milo was outnumbered, his opponents saw poorly in the dark and weren't coordinating their attacks. Milo, on the other hand, had fought against multiple opponents many times. Their knives hurt, but the poison was ignored. He'd felt the pain of Cremona's poisoned claws, and this was nothing. Their daggers did roughly a hundred points of damage but had trouble connecting with him, and his vitals were protected by plates of interlocking bone. Striking back, the rune-powered strikes of the Claws of Alta Viator carved deep into their bodies, doing hundreds of points of damage on each strike. And he never quit moving, leaping over his foes, running along the alley's walls, or tumbling past them. Soon all of them were wounded or dead; only the leader left as a threat. Milo was bleeding from a dozen wounds, but they were already closing, his regeneration sealing off the bleeding.
Milo saw that his last opponent was winded and wary. Perhaps it was time to talk? "I've been out of town for a bit. Tell me about this little gang war so I know the stakes."
"What's to know? It's every guild against the Kulags. Squint got too big for his britches and thinks he's in charge of the city. Lots of money coming down from the merchants up top to encourage a little descent. Didn't you get the quest?"
Milo shook his head. "Like I said, I've been out of town. But don't worry; I'll go talk to Squint and catch up." Two of the gang were up now, limping forward. "I think it's time to end this; sorry, but I'm on a tight schedule today." Two minutes later, only five tombstones marked where the Poisoned Talon Gang had died. The sixth was on a roof where he had come down from his trip to the ceiling. Milo leaned back against the wall and pulled out a healing potion. That had been a fun fight. He'd lost over half his health and been forced to fight all-out against them. The experience point gains were small, but there was more to fighting than a number. Training in Limburger Hollow had taught him that. After a ten-minute rest and cleaning himself off, he went on his way, staying out of the back alleys and walking along the edge of the market. He didn't have time for more fights.
From atop a nearby building, a figure in the shadows stroked the fur of his cats. "Yes, you were right. He was just playing with them the whole time and wasn't in trouble. If he sticks around, he's going to tip the scales in our favor quickly. I may have to cower in my headquarters for a week eating pudding, to keep the sides even. Good job sniffing him out; I had no idea he was back! I'll have to think of a good quest for him to do."