“FIRE!”
A loud voice boomed in the cafeteria cutting through the jovial conversations and clinking utensils of the dining Temple Sangha. All across the room, heads swiveled in panic, searching for the cause of the alarm. It didn’t take long as a garbage bin located in a recessed corner belched black smoke which was the precursor to the explosive fire that ensued.
The panic that followed was predictable. People rushed away from their unfinished meals, putting as much distance from the roaring flames as they could. A cultivator in a Chef’s hat tried to calm the stampeding crowd, shouting for everyone to exit in a calm and orderly fashion. Like that ever worked.
Ren’s lips twitched in amusement as he grabbed a rack of the choicest Direwolf ribs off a plate, his action hidden in the confusing chaos that had descended onto the dining hall.
“Amitabha brother,” a whiny voice called out as Ren turned around, meal in hand. “That’s not yours!”
He paid no heed as he dashed into the logjam of bodies, joining the crowd that was pushing and jockeying to be the first one to escape through the exit.
“Hey! Hey!!!” the annoying chef shrieked, trying to get Ren’s attention. His nasally prepubescent voice cracking with the effort. “Thief, somebody stop that thief!!!”
Ren cursed furiously under his breath. There always had to be one! What was it with all these humans with hero-complexes? He had now encountered their kind on two different worlds, and Ren was starting to think it was a genetic anomaly found in humans with horrible self preservation instincts.
If something didn't pose an immediate threat, why get involved? After all, as far as Ren knew, heroes didn't receive any bonuses for their actions. The succulent ribs he had taken wouldn't be deducted from the man's paycheck, now would it?
Fortunately, the chaos within the room muffled the obnoxious cries of the brat. Blending into the crowd of fleeing individuals, Ren couldn't help but feel relieved that no one was giving much attention to the temple staff.
In a way, this was all the man’s fault. When Ren had arrived at the cafeteria some twenty minutes ago, he had just wanted to grab a delicious meal, maybe something exotic, and be on his way. Imagine his shock when he had been informed that the meals were not free, even to Temple members.
It seemed like the little amount of power the nasally youth had gotten in the kitchen had gotten to his head because he practically sneered at Ren, his eyes roving over his tattered robes. After a condescending stare at Ren’s stripe-free belt, the man had informed him that the Cafeteria only offered a discounted rate of 5 bronze coins to Temple staff. He went on to say that, with some luck, Ren might still make it to the soup kitchen across the Temple complex. Pfft, as if.
Ren had responded with a strained smile, nodding towards the haughty man who dismissed him with a snort. Half an hour later, the smile on his face was all too genuine, as he tore chunks of juicy meat from the massive bones. Every bite was savored to its utmost, even as the flavorful barbeque sauce dripped down his fingers.
Thinking back, Ren had to admit that it had gotten dicey there for a second, but the timed fire he had set, ignited almost exactly when he expected it to. Those few seconds waiting for the commotion to begin had stretched like hours, making him reevaluate his plan.
Luckily the oil soaked garbage bin ignited with a loud enough bang, that it momentarily drew the attention of both the dining faithful as well as the kitchen staff. Which was perfect for Ren, as he used that small window to snatch the delicacy off a passing plate.
Getting out of Aster’s Temple had been quite an experience with the looks he got, eating the messy meal, especially without a plate. But Ren could care less. His taste buds were rejoicing at the moment and that was reward enough. Far behind him, still stuck in the mire of people milling around the doors, he heard the Kitchen Acolyte shouting for his immediate return. A few new voices had added to the cry, and a quick turn of his head informed him that the annoying man had somehow recruited helpers amidst the escaping crowd.
“Fucking relentless,” he griped, around a moutful of ribs.
Quickening his pace, Ren walked further away, heading towards the closest Teleportation hub. He’d planned on selling off some of his spoils of war, and now seemed like as good a time as any.
Gnawing on the last few strips of meat on the Direwolf ribs, the tinkling loot sac tied to his waist added to the comical visage he presented. With each step he took, the sac swayed and jingled, its musical accompaniment a stark contrast to the solemnity of the surroundings. It was as if a touch of whimsy had decided to accompany him and before long, he was walking up to the cultivator manning the Teleportation pad.
“Destination?”
That gave Ren pause. He hadn’t gotten around to asking Kala about this. “The Slums?”
The man gave him a weird look. “There’s no such District.”
“Oh? Good to know. Say, where can a man get cheap beer and maybe sell some extra tools he no longer uses?”
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“That would depend on what you are trying to sell.” The man’s eyes narrowed as scrutinized him and the sac on his waist. “If you are trying to buy or sell metals, you’d best go to the Artificer’s District. Some Blacksmiths have set up shop there and they can give you the best price.”
Pausing to look around, he continued. “But if you’re after the best rotgut this side of Haroshet Forest, you best go to the Skirt— “
“Skirt?”
“You new or something? That’s what everyone calls it seeing as it hugs the village walls and is on the outskirts. But officially, it is the Lower Village.”
“Gratitude,” Ren inclined his head. “So, I can find what I’m looking for in the Skirt?”
“Not if you barge in sounding like a noble’s bastard,” the man snorted. “Also, it would do you good to lose the Temple robes. Now when you get there, ask for directions to the Loose Maiden Inn. They haven’t got the best ale, or food, but mayhaps, you might find someone there willing to buy your … tools.”
Nodding in thanks, Ren pulled out 2 silvers and handed it over to the man. He was moving to walk past him but a muscular arm blocked his path.
“You’re 5 silver short,” the man offered an outstretched palm to a befuddled Ren.
“I might be green, but I am not that clueless. Teleportation costs are 2 silver. Why the upcharge?”
A commotion from a side street drew both their attention, and Ren heard the intolerable voice of the Temple Kitchen staff asking someone if they’d seen a man with his description. Ignoring the growing irritation, he turned around waiting for a reply.
“I don’t think you have a choice,” the man smirked, gesturing to the loot bag attached to Ren’s belt. “Seems like you’ve got something hot in that sac, and the owner is just around the corner. 5 silver is the price for my silence. Take it or leave it.”
Extortion, that’s what it was! He would normally find some humor in the situation, but at the moment all he could do was nod.
“Fine.”
He paid the fee and stepped onto the Teleportation pad. Ren was all the happier when he blinked away from the Temple District and appeared in a whole new District, far away from pesky Chefs.
The moment he arrived, he stepped off the platform and walked briskly away. He turned down the first street he passed, then turned into an alley. The smell of urine hit his nose, and he had to step over the crumpled-up forms of unconscious people, their glassed eyes hinting at the euphoria induced sleep from whichever drug they’d taken to escape reality.
He made it to the adjoining street, and walked north looking over his shoulder. So far, he couldn’t spot any tails, but he hastened his steps when he saw a group of guards patrolling a few dozen steps behind him. Ren hadn’t forgotten his rough start with the guards at the Village gates, he just hoped they had. Regardless, he needed to switch streets to throw off his scent to any potential trackers, so he headed towards a poor imitation of a restaurant.
It was housed in a tilting structure, with wood so rotten, it was a wonder it still stood somewhat upright. Ren brushed past waiting customers, getting disgruntled yells and dodging errant elbows sent to dissuade him from cutting the line. He expertly ignored them, as well as the harried waitress who tried to stop him from barging into the kitchen. With a dancer's pirouette, he moved just out of her reach and grabbed a hanging cloak from a rack on his way to the restaurant's back door.
Tossing the cloak around his shoulders as he exited the establishment, he made a sharp turn, doubling back then ducked into the nearest building he could find. The room was packed but he got nary a second look from the men boisterously drinking as they gathered around a central table. Ren scooted over, keeping an eye on the entrance, and changing his posture to better blend in.
He wasn’t sure if he was followed, but with the persistence that the pesky Chef had shown so far, he wouldn’t put it past him. Ren was not in the business of taking chances.
His nose twitched the closer he pressed towards the center of the gathered crowd. The air was a ripe mix of unwashed bodies, spilled ale and pungent smoke. With no enchantment to initiate airflow, the heat from all those present created a soupy atmosphere. Beads of sweat ran down the faces of many, but it did nothing to stop them from shouting and grabbing at the skimpily dressed men and women serving drinks and rolled up stimulants.
Between Ren and the table in the crowd's exact center, were about 4 rows of people, so he could not see what gripped everyone’s attention. As he debated shoving forward to investigate, a bark of fury cut through the noise. Ren looked over to see a sloppy punch smack into the temple of another man clad in a gray kaftan, standing two rows ahead. The man retaliated with a … slap? Ren wasn’t sure what that sorry excuse was, but it totally missed its target.
Immediately, the surrounding crowd cheered them on, pushing them towards each other and delivering more damage than either had done with their weak strikes. Faces flush in either alcohol or shame, they grappled with each other, the chants of the crowd egging them on. A collective wince swept through the surrounding onlookers as a hand snaked towards the privates of one of the brawling men, and grabbed a handful.
Eyes tearing up in pain, his shriek of agony only let up when he sunk his teeth into the arm of his opponent. Before either man could embarrass themselves further, a wiry enforcer missing half his left ear, stepped forward and thwacked them both across the face with a thick baton. The men collapsed, bleeding and in pain, as the man pointed towards an illegible scratch on the wall.
“No fighting, no exceptions,” he barked and got boo’s from the disappointed crowd in return.
Ren watched, as he unceremoniously grabbed the groaning men and dragged them away. With his curiosity piqued, his audio filters finally picked up enough conversation fragments from the surrounding drunks to get an inkling of where he was. Keeping a line of sight to the only entrance to the room, he used the space created by the short fight to make his way towards the center of the gathering. There he caught sight of a large table and the sound of rolling dice reached his ears. Oh?
Besides himself, a wry grin formed on his face as realization settled in. This was a gambling den!
It reminded him of the years he was loaned out to a casino, helping to watch against bio-enhanced individuals counting cards and cheating to win. The poor bastards. They should have known that cheating was a monopoly, and that casinos weren’t appreciative of anyone encroaching on their turf. Most of his time during that stint had been spent breaking wrists, knees and elbows.
He licked his lips as he realized he now had the opportunity to be on the other side of the equation. Casually scanning the room, Ren noticed five enforcers including the half-ear that had removed the two men minutes prior. They all looked formidable, and from the essence he could see flowing within their bodies, they were all cultivators of the early to mid Tier Essence stage.
“Next buy in, 50 bronze coins!” a charismatic voice cried to the delight of the room’s patrons.