As is standard for fantastic and magic-filled stories such as these, the stage is set with a storm. The beating of the rain from overhead, people splashing their way home and trying to hide from the downpour under cloaks. Lightning flashing, thunder rolling. Drivers hurrying their horses onward to drier destinations, shopkeepers hastily closing market stalls and putting up tarps to keep out the worst of it. Mages of various ages unmoistened by the deluge, similar spells all stopping the rain before it could even reach the flashy clothing and robes below.
The market street bustled despite the ceaseless torrent, important errands and business carrying on with little regard for the opinions of nature. The wiser citizens sat in cafes and restaurants and huddled around food and hot drinks. Those caught outside pulled their cloaks tighter and walked on. One particular figure in a dark cloak turned from the broad street and into a darker alleyway. Lighting flashed overhead as the figure hurried further down the maze of alleys. The storefronts grew no less dense as the figure wound deeper and deeper into the knot of lanes, just more and more esoteric. Alchemists specializing in various poisons for “pests”, hedge wizards with fancy signs for “Entirely Legitimate Artifacts”, and one surprisingly well-kempt boutique with a sign that proudly read in garish script “Kevin’s Small Files, Lock Picks, Small Mirrors, and Other Assrt. Tools of Thievery”.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
The figure passed even these unavoidably nefarious locales for what must have been an incomprehensibly sinister final destination as it worked its way deeper still into the shady underbelly of the city. The shops became increasingly and borderline comically unsavory. “Not Stolen Bones Depot”, “Skornval Kitten-Crusher’s Humanely Acquired Monster Parts”. The shadows seemed to hang more loosely from the walls, concealing more of the surroundings than they had any right to. Lamps grew fewer and farther between, their light struggling feebly against the thick darkness as the cloaked figure strode through the dim light.
The figure paused just long enough in the light of a lantern for the darkness to begin creeping up his heels before he turned smartly and took off at speed down an alley between two buildings that hadn’t been there a moment before. The figure seemed less sure of its destination, picking the way down the paths more slowly now, a few times even doubling back. Eventually, the figure came to a dead end with a grotesque and incredibly detailed sculpture of a gargoyle. The cloak leaned in close to the statue and could be heard whispering words into the statue’s ears. The gargoyle came to life, shoving the figure and mumbling about invasions of personal space as he clambered out of the way of a hidden passage.
“At last.”