?Gnis wore threeyers of clothing and a pair of gloves. It was his own me-taken fault, for needing to. He''d chosen the coldest room in thebyrinth below Silva. He''d tried putting in a furnace once, but the venttion was shite and it somehow brought in the stink from rest of the sewers.
He''d heard somewhere it was a good strategy, keeping it cold as it was. Anyoneing to deal with him would be real ufortable-- and that''d give him an edge. Gnis was a smart guy. He''d take every advantage he could get. That''s how a guy survived for so long, doing what he did.
It just didn''t ur to him at the time that the higher up thedder he got, the less time he had to deal with the rabble. The less time dealing with the rabble, the more stupid he felt for having to live in the mescarred cold.
If he wanted a second office, he should have got one five years back-- back before everyone knew that he was the wealthiest sack of shite in Silva.
Gnis didn''t keep much in the way of personal belongings. He had a desk, he had a metal safe, he had a fake housent. He had a few portraits on the wall-- of himself, of course. He wasn''t the handsomest guy-- maybe average, maybe a little less. The painters tried to pretty him up. It didn''t matter. The paintings were a status thing.
Something that would really tie the room together, though? A rug. And it''d probably make the room a little warmer too. It wouldn''t be warm to keep peoplefy, but just a little bit would go a long way. And it''d look good. Maybe a nice bold red? A powerful color for a powerful guy.
"How in the hells do the whores not freeze to death, down ''ere?" He asked aloud, rubbing his leather gloves together.
As if to respond, a dim green candle-me began to burn in the room''s center. The normal-colorednterns began to dim at the same time.
Gnis rolled his eyes. There was a reason he never got a rug. It was that guy.
The mes expanded into a fat, green bonfire... and just as sure as dragons don''t exist, a hunchbacked, triple-thief, piece a'' shite Warlock hobbled out of it. He probably thought he looked real impressive, too, scowling with a ck toothed grin like he''d just eaten a libra of shite.
"Pyraxis..." Gnis groaned, "What in the seven hells d''you want?"
He looked over to where the mes had gone out. The fire was gone, but it left an ugly ck spot of soot on the stone. Seven hells... he''d probably need to mop it himself. None of his goons were good at mopping, save maybe Linos.
Or if he had a mescarred rug, he''d be able to put that over it.
Gnis was the head of a criminal organization. Apparently, that meant he didn''t rate nice things.
The old Warlock, Pyraxis reached his leathery hand out, pointing with a knobbed finger, "I have broughttt... DEATHHH... to one of your... beLOOOVED whOOores..."
He did? Well, that was the worst news he''d received since he''d heard Inquisitor Titos was seen skipping town.
"A shame," Gnis shrugged, "I''ll get Linos to clean up the mess. Funny. I didn''t know your eh... yer Magic Stick still worked, you old thief."
"LINOSSSS!!!!! IS!!!!!! DEAAAAADDDDD!!!" The Warlock screamed, devolving into a coughing fit. He sounded like a cat hacking up a hairball.
Wait, Linos was dead?
"You me-taken criminal!" Gnis yelled, pping his desk with his palms, "Linos was my best guy! Did he deserve it? The seven hells did ''e do?"
Pyraxis wiped his chin free of blood and snot with his sleeve, "Heeee..... hid... an ELF.... from me..."
Gnis slumped back into his desk chair, "me take that mushroom-brain... Ya''d think if a guy''s name was Pyraxis Elf-yer, then he''s got a special thing fer yin'' elves."<novelnext></novelnext>
The Warlock loomed over the desk. Gnis thought he could hear all of the old bastard''s bones creak.
"Youuuu innnSSSULLT ME, GALANISSSS????"
"Sod off, old man." Gnis red back, "I was f*cking agreein'' wiv you."
The Ancient''s eyes glowed a weird, heretical lime-green, "Elvesss... are a BLIGHT upon this LAAAAAND... Nottttt to be trusted!! Not to be... ssssufferrrred to LIVVVVE.... I have burnt..... VILLAGES.... CITIES.... razed to the ground... to protct.... my country..... ARE YOU LISTENNING?!??!"
Gnis raised an eyebrow. He wasn''t-- not really. He''d heard the Warlock''s xenophobic drivel before, and it didn''t have shite to do with him, "Yeah, yeah, f*ck elves. Whatever. The hells are you here for, old man?"
The Old Warlock wouldn''t havee to him just to tell him that his smartest lieutenant was dead. Pyraxis glowered, his eyes ring with burning green mana.
"THE ARTIFAAAACT!!!!" He demanded, smacking his wooden staff noisily against the dungeon stones, "It mussssst be RECOVERRRED!! For the GLOOORRY of the SNEK CULLLLT!!!"
Gnis stared nkly.
Pyraxis continued, mming his geriatric fist upon Gnis'' desk, "Only then... must we JOURNEY..... to the Icingdeath Mountainsss..... We will RECLAIMMMM.... The Sixth.... Eye."
Gnis stared at the old man''s hand, wondering how the old freak hadn''t fractured anything. When Pyraxis lifted his fingers, it left burning embers smoldering on the wood.
...His desk?! F*ck a mescarred rug. Apparently, Gnis didn''t rate a nice desk, either.
Annoyed to shite, Gnis swept the embers away with a quick st of his own eldritch energy.
The old bastard had taught him at least that much.
"Listen up, old man... and I say that partick-ry not outta disrespect, but ''cos yer hard of hearing..." Gnis leaned forward, "Yer not in charge, ''ere."
"Youuuu.... You DAAAARE?"
Gnis stuck out his chin, "Try me, ya ol'' bastard. F*ckin'' try me. You know I''m the only me-taken thief in this me-f*cked city criminal enough to do your dirty work."
The old man grumbled, but that was all. The mana that was collecting around him began to dissipate.
"...Whhhyy?????" The Warlock demanded with a disgusting gargle, "--is the artifacCCCT.... Not. YET. Recoverrrrred?"
"Because it''s a me-taken process," Gnis firmly reminded. "Listen, guy-- I sent like... thirty guys down to Greer''s ce. If they can''t get our Snake artifact, then we''ll just burn it down. How ''bout that?"
Pyraxis narrowed his eyes... "eptable..."
"You''re gods-damned right it''s eptable."