Just another Job Part 2 - Fishing Hoods
Rem knew the area between his mansion and the fishing village as the back of his hand. A two cargo carts wide, well maintained, cobbled road connected the city of Krart and her outlying temporary settlements.
During the longer part of a Turn or eleven months out of nineteen to be exact, the land, rivers, as a matter of fact everything except The Old Forest, was frozen stiff.
The Frost weaved its deadly web and gale winds wreaked havoc upon all; not even the strongest of magicians dared face its blue snow. Only those fortunate enough to live in a underground or well insulated house stocked full with fuel, food, and other necessities, could survive the devastating Krartian weather.
Some sages claimed that in hallowed antiquity weather it wasn’t so bad, and that there were more seasons than the Frost and the Warmth. Rem always chuckled while reading another one of their newly published scrolls. No matter how the weather was like before, they were living in the here and now. Adapt or die; there was no in-between for the citizens of Krart.
Even the monstrous denizens of the Old Forest suffered death by weather.
The weather was quite nice and the wind warm. The last four months of the Warmth were a time for everyone to prepare, gather their harvest, fix whatever damage that their shelter had suffered during the last Frost and stock up on fuel. As a matter of fact, Rem could see priests of the God Iroh who carefully collected sawed down trees, marked for firewood the previous Turn.
Running, Rem could only wave to the rangers and acolytes, who barely saw him through the thick, over-planted forest.
He made a mental note to visit their temple after this job of his was completed. Irohans were a bit overbearing and somewhat pompous in their manner, appearances, even the way they acted. One could not deny the many and essential services Irohans provided to the citizens of Krart. The blessed fuel alone would be enough and people were more than happy to have a heavily armored, armed to the teeth priest of Iroh nearby, when their city was under attack.
Although he also bowed to Iroh, Rem was a Kannite.
His chosen deity was Kan; he who gave life and the protector of children. His god was responsible for judging the souls of the deceased and could even bring the dead back into the world of the living, had they had not fulfilled their purpose in life.
Rem decided to visit both temples; buy enchanted fuel from the Irohans and see how his friend, priest Zaratos was doing. Powerful and ancient, the mummified warrior priest loved to craft toys for the children in the worker’s district. If Rem could procure large fish bones and in sufficient quantity, the blessed undead would be most thankful.
When this Turn’s Frost had ended, during the Festival of Life the undead walked out of their own city quarter and gave gifts to those children who suffered the most. That was Rem’s favorite festival and as a kannite himself, he tried to aid his temple as best he could.
Kannites... you would do better to stay on their good side.
Following an hour of easy running, Rem entered the fishing village and the soles of his boots touched mud for the first time since... yesterday. The man smiled and slowly inhaled the all-prevalent aroma of freshly fried, boiled and grilled fish. His gaze locked on a food stall where the Hoods usually left one of their number to scout who entered or left the village.
Trying not to step in another mud-filled puddle, Rem walked up to the stall and smiled, fixing his rebellious braid before addressing the vendor:
“Could you please tell me good sir, where may I locate the Floating Shop? It is, I hope, still afloat?”
The wrinkled old dwarf’s stocky arms gestured towards the end of the village wharf, while his mouth, partially obscured by the long, traditional for fishermen mustache, muttered back the proper answer:
“Certainly my good sir! It is still very much afloat and sailing, even against the strongest warm winds. Now, may I interest you in some grilled fishies?”
Rem politely refused using the proper hand sign.
To the six well hidden and armed to the teeth Hoods this meant that he was not being trailed by an enemy. The solver of problems saw how they snuck back into their concealed ambush positions, while one of their scouts walked openly on the street. The boy looked and acted exactly like a proper fisherman’s apprentice, and gave Rem the sign to follow him.
Most people who knew little about the Hoods, like the ordinary man or woman on the street of Krart, couldn’t imagine that most of the city legends they were fed were purposely faked. There was no “Floating Shop,” nor there was any central base of operations. In fact, nothing centralized ever existed, for the simple matter that it could be easily located and destroyed.
Certain things, like the fact that the Hoods were skilled vigilantes and they were indeed everywhere, were quite true, however. You never knew who was working for them either; oft the most unassuming people supplied the Hoods with valuable information. Once they were marked, corrupt local officials, cheating traders, and criminals would never wake up.
That job Rem did for the Hoods last Turn was another one of his freebies – the cheating merchant he snapped the neck of had been slowly leeching off some of the poorest denizens of the Worker’s quarter. With the memory of that whining, slobbering fat elf begging for his life, the solver of problems followed his guide into a restaurant and sat on one of the free tables.
The server, a fine-looking dwarven woman stood next to him, her notebook opened and pencil in hand:
The malicious rumors that dwarven women have beards are... ridiculous!
“What would it be, hun? Baked giant cod or turtle soup? Both are today’s specials and very tasty. If you have the coin to spare, the chef himself can cook something special for you on the table.”
“Yes please, call the chef. I am indeed in a mood for something rather special today. As a matter of fact, could you please tell the chef that I’ll pay good coin for his forest fish special.”
The smiling server winked, left him a complimentary bowl of fish jerky and quickly dashed to the kitchen.
Just one humble restaurant, nothing out of the ordinary here!
Rem stuffed his mouth full of dried fish and while he waited for the local Hood chapter boss to emerge from the basement, ordered a flagon of beer from the bar. Those sneaky dwarves! The little bastards knew how to run a business, yes they did. That free jerky was so effin dry, that patrons simply had to order a drink and chase away its saltiness. He didn’t mind though, supporting their family business was always a pleasure and the money, he should have coins by the chest-load before this Frost wove its deadly blanket.
A bulky, yet shifty looking dwarf came out of the kitchen. Wearing a cooking apron with the name tag Bortom on it and a chef’s bonnet, compared to most dwarves Rem knew this guy was absolutely jacked. If that wasn’t enough, this dwarf’s movements seemed almost purposefully slow. He was certain that if push came to shove, that beefy man could run as fast as him or even quicker!
Bortom was the Hood who hired Rem to solve the cheating elf merchant problem.
The “cook” pushed a portable alchemical grill next to his table. With a turn of some knob he raised the heat and slapped a large, brined cod on it. While the fish sizzled, his host sat next to him and unrolled a small map which was masked as a embroidered tablecloth. He activated the ordinary at first glance, yet very magical item by uttering a dwarven tongue-twister:
“Fresh fishy fish, hundred wriggling little fishies in a fish basket!”
Bortom
Quickly, the map became adorned with all sorts of local landmarks; a number of remotely changed notes twinkled beside gorges, meadows, and areas of interest.
“Whad’ya want to know Remmy boy? My missus told me that you be looking for some fresh forest fish, innit?”
“Indeed, that is some elusive and very fresh, recently floated out of Krart fish. Hope your suppliers know where I can fish for it?”
“Freshly floated he sais... Bah! Give me specifics boyo. Ya know, there be many fishies in and out of the water. Forest or no forest, they be needing their moneys them suppliers of mine. Member, you can order from them suppliers only once, Remmy. They can’t be hunting for forest fishies forivar!”
Rem deliberated while Bortom swiftly turned the cod and sprinkled it with dried spices and fresh herbs. Distancing himself from the mouth watering fragrance of the sizzling fish, the solver of problems carefully examined his options.
He could ask the Hoods just to locate the Useless and count their heads. A simple, quick reconnaissance job, which wouldn’t be costly to him and take a few hours. However, something stank to high Vortex and if Rem had to go after said bandits, he’ll be damned to do so without backup. Just in case that certain somebody, who easily lost their oh-so-expensive and important chest, omitted an important piece of information.
Rem was no fool, neither he was overconfident. He would ask the Hoods for combat support; not just a scout team, but one of their best war bands. It was clear that he had to pay good coin for that or owe the Hoods a favor. Monetary expenses were part of any successful job, especially one after which the solver of problems remained among the breathing.
Undead men could spend coin, yet Rem loved his fleshy self too much to become one of the blessed so soon...