iron quill (metamorphosis): with friends like these

[Brewmaster]

Near the outskirts of the town of Pleasanse, wood buildings and tin roofs subtly gave way to the thick molasses that is Malifaux's bayou. Deep within the cyprus trees and slogs of water lay a simple lean-to thickly wrapped in moss and nature; the home of a man of whom the public opinion swayed between "smells like a gin-soaked dead cat" and "looks like he got a batty-fang from a crocodile". The only people who braved travel to this locale were those with more desperation than money, byt if you needed a body gone, it was hard to find someone better than McTavish.

The young man standing at the front door wrinkled up his nose as he tried to lessen the smell with a handkerchief. He had long since given up on trying to keep his cloak clean and instead focused on delivering the request from his employer as quick as possible. "Ya ain't gon look any prettier jus standin deah Blondie." Came a slurred response from deeper in the bayou. Slowly shambling out was a man taller than most, swaying from the acrid smelling bottle of moonshine that he seemed drenched with. The young man startled as he saw two alligators following behind the drunk man like puppies.

"I'm just... I'm... I have..." The young man fumbled around for a small bag hanging off of his belt before the drunk belched in his face and managed to slur out in a thick Cajun accent,

"Name's McTavish, tanks for askin. You have a job. I need a name, a time, and Scrip. If you a repeat customer, den you get betteah benefits." McTavish stared at the young man, remaining uncomfortably close as the alligators paused a couple feet behind them.

"Within two days." The young man commented, the stench distracting him from the danger for the moment. "My boss wants a young man who's been making advances on his daughter gone. Saul Phillips Jr. My employer would like a token to show the jobs been completed, in exchange he will offer 80 Scrip upfront, and a promised bottle of Hallisters upon return of the token."

McTavish guffawed, yanking the bag from the man's hand. "A bottle of Hal's just cause some runt get a little dash-fire in em... sound like someone be having a sour mood. Done. Be back heah in 4 days wid my bottle! Where da young runt gon be?"

"He frequents the saloon at the edge of town, the..." The young man chewed on his lower lip as he thought, "the lilac den I believe." McTavish looked at the young man incredulously.

"So... his daughter or his DAUGHter?" McTavish asked, ribbing the young man with an elbow. The young man snorted, then quickly regained his composure.

"My employer's daughter is not... employed... at the moment. And I doubt she would need to go as low as the lilac den were employment necessary." The young man replied.

"Ooo-EEE, got us a belle do we? Well den I feel even worse for da young Mr. Saul. Double done. Now, if dey ain't anythin else, you be a good boy an git, for my babies tink you ain't welcome." McTavish responded, slapping the young man on the back. As he watched the figure dart quickly out of sight, McTavish looked to one of his crocodiles and muttered, "you tink I oughtta be callin in Trixie?" The gator simply stared at him quietly, eliciting McTavish's response of "Yeah you right. She charge too much on dis anyway. Guess we back to de ol' fashioned way."

-

McTavish smelled at the air as he heard the faint uttering of "last call!" uttered from inside the lilac den. For the past half hour he had been looking for the best spot to funnel his prey towards. Cityfolk tended to get nitpicky about the "people hunting people" thing, so McTavish had to use a bit more finesse to avoid a hassle. He picked out a rain barrel towards the center of town to rest up against for cover and took a moment to splash some water on his face. Might as well look presentable while he was here.

McTavish heard a drunken shout as a wiry young man wearing a charcoal grey vest over a white button-up shirt stumbled out into the night. "THAT's why we never came back here..." The young man shouted in an irritatingly scratchy voice. "The drinks is piss jus like the company!" The doors to the saloon swung open slightly, revealing a fairly standard looking freight train of a bouncer.

"Go home Saul. I don't care if you're the king of Scotland or Oliver Twist, you know the rules is rules. Sober up a bit, and don't get so rough next time. You dropped this by the way." The bouncer replied in an even keel, handing Saul a music box. Saul's face washed between sadness and irritation as he looked at the item before sloppily pushing it back towards the man.

"Hold on to it, yeah?" Saul questioned. "I don't want it broken." The bouncer softened slightly and nodded. Saul proceeded to fumble his way past McTavish, breaking into an old shanty with an off-key bravado.

"Findin yourself some company, sug?" McTavish nearly jumped at the sound of an all too familiar female voice whispering in Gremlin right next to his ear. He turned to see a young Gremlin female wearing a hat that was way too big, clothes that were way too small, and leaning on a rifle almost as big as she was.

"Trixie ya dern fool, you gon spook the hunt!" McTavish forced out in a whisper in the Gremlin's own language, his heart finally climbing back down his throat. Trixie leaned forward and replied with pursed lips,

"Well I certainly wouldn't want you to walk away without a happy ending. What's the pay?" Trixie queried, licking one finger and holding it up to test the wind.

"Solo. Just collecting on a muckender is all." McTavish returned to English as he began stealthily following Saul, Trixie vanishing behind him.

McTavish could feel the pulse of the night as he began the hunt. It didn't matter where he was, chasing his prey was an addiction. The adrenaline high of stalking after a target was as good as any drink McTavish had ever had. Saul was keeping a fairly steady path, pausing once or twice to rest against the side of a building or on a water trough. McTavish's muscles tensed as he felt the moment arriving where he would strike.

"Now when you say solo, you mean so low I can reach it, right?" Came Trixie's voice from the left. McTavish ground his teeth as his trigger finger twitched reflexively. Keeping Saul in his sights, McTavish stormed over and did his best to keep a straight face.

"Woman, I am in da midst of bidness right heah, an if you insist on interruptin, I'm gon get cross." McTavish declared.

"Tavvy, sug... I'm aware of this. Now why can't I give you a helping hand?" Trixie asked, adjusting her brim.

"Cause your help is too pricy for dis one." McTavish scoffed. Trixie gave McTavish a polite smile, then ran up on Saul as he was paused, cracking her rifle across the back of his knee. McTavish rushed forward as Saul fell, knocking Saul unconscious with the heel of his boot.

"Sometimes, we help out friends. It's not all about the money." Trixie stated, checking her rifle for damage. McTavish stared at her blankly as he dragged Saul into the darkened alleyway, deciding the best path back to the swamps.

"An altruistic Gremlin... You'll pardon my callin foul on dis one. You always been bout da pay." McTavish began tying up Saul's arms and legs as he talked. Trixie just laughed quietly and glanced out down the street.

"And you always used to work for S'omer an his boys. Bayou's changing, sug. And you done right by Mah, so you done right by me. You earned a little back-scratching. Copper." Trixie and McTavish ducked behind respective covers of broken crates and an outhouse, McTavish doing his best to hide Saul's body from the light of the kerosene lamp the officer was carrying as he walked by. After the tense moments passed, McTavish hefted Saul's body up onto one shoulder, and began slinking his way back.

"... You're being real, aintcha?" McTavish asked finally. Trixie chuckled as she snuck alongside him.

"I always tell the truth sug, even when I lie." Trixie answered. McTavish paused near the edge of town, checking the quiet one last time.

"Ya know. Maybe I change my tinking aboutcha. I'm used to working with what I got, not what's useful." McTavish and Trixie snuck in silence for a few moments before McTavish finally said, "you want his shoes, dontcha?"

" If it's not a bother. I mean you're just going to throw away the guy ANYways." McTavish shook his head as he spun Saul around for her to grab the shoes. Maybe it ain't that bad workin wid em after all.

1516 words

5 elements used (kinda rules lawyering the theme into McTavish growing as a person.)

[ProximoCoal]

Really enjoyed this.

 

to nit-pick, I'd like some punctuation after 'lean-to' in the first paragraph and at the end of the same paragraph you have spelt 'but' with a 'y'.

 

 But as I said, awesome stuff.