The two found a boat and hitched a ride, setting sail for Athkatla. Upon their arrival, they learned that the tourney was not within the walls, but rather east, halfway to Crimmor. This could have been inferred without asking a single soul, however, as mounted men and carriages poured out of the main gates at a fair rate. Lumli and Soddy followed the steady train.
As they came upon the site, which was a large stadium with palisades and a tent city, although judging by the number of people attending, the length of the tourney, and the amount of tents, which seemed too small, people were probably commuting daily to the event.
Soddy observed the population, and though there were certainly extravagantly rich men and women present, he doubted that there were kings. He wasn't going to tell his mistress this, however. That would not end well.
They found a small tent for rent. Soddy negotiated the rent on credit; he promised a portion of his bet winnings to the owner. Of course, Soddy didn't intend to keep this promise. He unloaded what there was to unload and left on his own to gather information. This heist was, for a single event, a long-haul, so he had to prepare. With that, he took a knife and departed.
Alright. Gold.
The Halfling strolled through the tent city and crowds, looking for the rare, yet existent people who were stupid enough to leave their coinpurses hanging on their belts. He had no luck, however, so he simply kept an eye out for such people on his way to the arena, which was defined by tall, wooden palisades, inside of which were equally tall terraces of seating, and the center, the arena proper.
There were four men, appearing as two pairs, equiped heavily with harnesses and helmets standing at the foot of the palisade. They appeared to be arguing, particularly the smallest man from one pair, and the largest from the other.
"There is no chance for you, Orc. My lance will knock you to the ground if your horse does not topple under your grotesque form," chided the small man. The large one stated coldly,
"I'm a half-orc, cur, and you don't even have enough weight in that tiny frame of yours to knock over a girl," replied the alledged half-orc.
"I do too have the weight!" whined the smaller one childishly, and, as if to prove himself, he hobbled clumsily in his armour over to an unsuspecting woman, grabbed her by the arm, and pulled her down to the ground. Laughter came from within the half-orc's shell of armour, complimented by the frustrated growls of the violent jouster.
Petty fools.
Then, something dawned upon Soddy. It was, he thought, something that was probably already suggested, but it was worth a try. The Halfling approached the group closer.
"If you are so confident, sirs, then perhaps you should wager against eachother," Soddy suggested to the four. Then, he continued, speaking to the half-orc, "You will probably lose."
The smaller man looked up from whatever it was that he was concerned about and laughed a metallic, echoed laugh, "He is right, Orc! I'm afraid I won't be making any money off of you, since you will surely not bet in your own favour; you know you are weak!"
"Weak, am I? You're on, then. Five hundred gold to my victory!"
"Would you not bet more? You are clearly not confident enough to bet any significant sum."
Pride.
"More? Fine. One thousand," responded the half-orc.
"You are bargaining with yourself before you bargain with me. Is that how little you trust in your abilities?"
If the half-orc reacted, his helmet concealed it, but his hissing breath was audible. The other three men stood in perfect silence and stillness, awaiting his response.
"Five thousand gold and three of my most prized and priceless swords," he finally answered, as though he were whispering his last words to someone that he was about to murder. The small one jumped, or tried to, and fell, but clambered up and drudged over to them once more.
"Hah! Good. I wager one of my smaller estates and my betrothed's hand that I will win," he offered cockily. His companion gave an audible gasp, but said nothing.
"Very well. I will give my life eternally to whoever wins, but should neither of you win this tourney, I take the spoils of the wager."
Even though his life was technically not his to give.
"It would be hard to enforce this wager if we did not have any names."
"Shinjuro," said the half-orc.
"Ludwin Ulfamalor the Fourth: don't you dare speak it unless it is in praise," chided the smaller man.
"Soddy Slitherspitter. It is agreed, then. We will meet here when it is done."
All parties shook hands. If Ludwin won, he would take Shinjuro's five thousand gold, his swords, and Soddy's life. Should Shinjuro have won, he would take Ludwin's betrothed, his estate, and Soddy. Soddy did not care overly much for the actual winnings. He simply wished to see their pride get the better of them. He knew that they wouldn't win.
Soddy took his leave. He made his way inside the palisade and watched the practice jousts for a short while. He listened to the chatter about the jousters: who would win, who would lose, who would accidentally die. There was much talk about the half-orc, "Shin," who alledgedly hailed from Kara-Tur. Soddy did not know the truth, so he decided to play into the rumours.
There was also talk about Ludwin Ulfamalor the Fourth, which could have been summed up as begrudgingly respectful of the man's training and family, despite his horrible attitude, which was clearly public.
Of course, people spoke of the other jousters, and Soddy listened to this chatter specifically. He needed a nobody that nobody would bet on nor suspect to win. He didn't intend to bet on him, of course, simply for him to emerge victorious.
So, he watched them and picked a man, Raleigh Chanley, whose name he had not heard at all before. The man had won a joust, though not easily. To an average better, this would be poor material, but Soddy saw an opportunity. Raleigh's equipment was excellent and his aim superb, but his horse was inferior and weak.
After practice had ended, Soddy followed Raleigh to the jousters' quarters and approached him with an offer.
"Hello, Sir Raleigh Chanley. Do you have a moment?"
"I do. What is it?"
"I have an offer for you. It will ensure your victory in this tourney."
Raleigh froze and stared at Soddy for a time before asking, "Why do you want me to win?"
"Betting. Five thousand gold, priceless swords, an estate, and a woman's hand in marriage are all mine if I win. You may have one of the four things wagered if you comply with my offer."
"Three. The woman, if she is fair, the estate, and the swords," countered Raleigh immediately, much to Soddy's hidden displeasure and irritation.
"That much? Then you had better not stray from my plan in the slightest," the Halfling groaned. Raleigh agreed, and Soddy informed him of a medicine that he would make to strengthen the horse, giving him more stability to aim and more force with which to tilt the opponent. However, Soddy would not use this medicine for every joust. The rest of Soddy's plan, he told Raleigh, was a secret for Raleigh's sake.
"Very well, Halfling. Find me here or the stables when you have need of me," Raleigh said before retiring. Now that he was in the jouster's quarters, Soddy looked around for Shinjuro and Ludwin's rooms. He did, peeking slightly and making a note of their locations. Then, he began his return to the tent.
On his way, he finally found a hit for gold, a drunken man in fine clothing and a feathered hat. Soddy followed the lone man, eyeing his fat coinpurse and preparing his knife. When the man was in a makeshift tent alley, Soddy snuck up behind him and cut the purse from his waist silently, then backed away, disappeared behind a tent, transferred the coin into his own coinpurse, and then tossed the empty sack into an empty tent. With that, he walked away with his noble's allowance, grinning as the drunken man howled in the distance behind him.
It was day two. Soddy had not slept much, but he never did, so it was no suprise. He dug through his limited luggage and retrieved a few purple and black leaves with gloved hands. Then he poured water into a bowl and dropped the leaves in it. It was gradual, but the water was beginning to take a darker, purple color, though at the rate it was going, it wouldn't be finished until much later. In a seperate bowl of water, now with bare hands, he placed a green herb and finely ground salt.
As there was nothing more to do but to wait, Soddy returned to the arena.
Greed.
It was not yet time for the jousts, but nobody was going to practice. Now was the time to place bets, official, sanctioned, and otherwise. Soddy's agenda was set, though. He went through the crowds, talking to people, arranging bets - bets specifically on Ludwin or Shinjuro. He arranged bets dealing with large quantities of gold, then pulled individual betters aside and sold them apparently valid advice for a tiny cut of the better's winnings. After all, a Halfling with a keen business sense was, as Soddy's story went, not uncommon.
Eventually, he had made three rounds about the entire arena - no small feat for such a small creature - and had an inordinate amount of people betting on either Ludwin or Shinjuro. Of course, there were those who bet against them, and the yet large amount of people betting on other jousters, including a tiny following for Raleigh. It was time, now, for Soddy to wait.
The first jousts went by. Men lost and won. Shinjuro and Ludwin had gone, and both won their matches. Then, it came to be Raleigh's turn. This was the benchmark in Soddy's mind. If Raleigh could prove just competent enough to hold out against the average jouster, his plan would work better.
The two jousters sat on their horses, lances up, crowd cheering. Then, they lowered their lances and charged at eachother. Raleigh's lance tilted his opponent, and the crowd cheered. Soddy did not, but he did silently rejoice.
There was an intermission; short-term and single-match bets were accounted for, and the crowd bustled. When the next round came, it grew louder. Raleigh, Shinjuro, and Ludwin had all survived.
Each round that passed, the jousters appeared more and more exhausted, yet Soddy's plan was progressing smoothly. The three had yet to be thrown from their horses. Finally, the day's jousting was over, and it was time for merriment, jubilation, and festivity, all of which Amnish merchants readily capitalised on.
Soddy, however, returned to his tent. He donned his gloves and prepared vials, then filled them with the now purple fluid that he had begun making that morning. He concealed the vials and made his way to the jousters' quarters, where he found empty rooms and snuck into them.
Let us hope they are tired from today's entertainment.
He opened a vial and poured half of it onto one pillow, though the pillow did not stain purple, instead appearing as though water had been spilt on it, then moved to a different room which was not adjacent to the one he had already hit. He continued this process with multiple rooms, and when he finished, Soddy departed, returning to his tent.
He had to get sleep. So he slept. Seeing his mistress was somewhat rare, for he was always busy preparing her entertainment. In truth, he had to bargain with himself. Giving a higher dosage of the purple liquid would have made for more entertaining and obvious effects in the short term, but it would have compromised his plan, so he applied only the necessary amount. He could only pray to Urdlen that she could see what he was doing.
Day three. Upon waking, Soddy ate breakfast, finally, and began filling the second mixture into a larger vial. Posthaste, Soddy took the medicine to the stables, where he waited for Raleigh. When Raleigh arrived, he took Soddy to his horse and the Halfling applied the medicine. It would take time for it to begin kicking in, but it was just enough time for the calm before the storm to pass.
He took his leave, making his way to the seats to continue his campaign for Ludwin and Shinjuro's publicity and popularity. By now, not a single soul in the audience did not know the two jousters, and an unreal percentage of them were betting for one or the other. At one point, Soddy decided simply to find his mistress and enjoy the games.
The jousts began. A large number of the participants had unknowingly been poisoned, just enough that their performance was hindered but they would not suspect foul play, simply a hangover or absence of 'game' that day. To onlookers, their performance was normal, but Soddy saw the signs of his poison. He knew just how much, and exactly how individuals were suffering from it, the signs and symptoms.
Yet again, Raleigh, Ludwin, and Shinjuro made it through the day. The devious Halfling could see the effects of the medicine working, and they worked for the whole day, tapering off only slightly toward the end. Satisfied, he left for his temporary home. The nights were not particularly dark, as the dense tent city was always torchlit.
Soddy came upon his tent, but the owner was waiting for him. He demanded gold, as pure credit would not be enough.
"It is alright, sir. I have a cut of my winnings, here," the Halfling assured him as he surrendered a relative pittance from his stolen gold. With the landlord's greed sated, Soddy entered his tent and prepared new vials. The poison concoction was now totally finished; the stock that he used had completely dissolved, and it was closer to black than purple, now.
Tomorrow was the final day. The most crucial step of his plan had begun. He was counting on Shinjuro and Ludwin being out that evening. When Soddy heard them arguing, he was relieved. He slipped into the jousters' quarters and found their rooms, but did not enter them immediately. First was Ludwin's.
"The Master will surely win. He has triumphed most gloriously thusfar! Oh, yes, and when he wins, I will catch him, hot with excitement…" a woman in Ludwin's room soliloquied naughtily.
Either that is his betrothed, or Sir Ludwin is a very naughty man. Oh well. I cannot have her in there.
Soddy found a curtain in the hall and hid behind it, peeking his head out to say loudly, "Sir Ludwin Ulfamalor the Fourth summons you, M'lady!"
"Y-yes!" she responded and dashed out in a handsome dress. For a moment, she looked about the hall, but her excitement was great, and so she ran off to find her man at wherever she assumed he would be, or so Soddy thought. With the distraction out of the way, he made his move, climbing onto the bed and pouring the concentrated poison on the pillow. Then, he made for Shinjuro's room.
It was sure to be dangerous. No one was inside, but as Slitherspitter opened the door, he spotted a thin line at ankle-level.
Amateur.
It was no great feat to step over the line, but Soddy was very thorough in his inspection of the room before even entering it, and just as thorough with every step he took. Finally, though, he made it to the bed, after avoiding a few simple traps. Two vials of poison later, for Soddy figured that Shinjuro, being a half-orc, could use a bit extra, he left, minding the traps.
"I'm telling you, that Ludwin is going to use foul play. It's a certainty," Shinjuro's voice rumbled through the corridor. Soddy was right outside the room, so he bolted in the direction opposite to Shinjuro's voice, praying that he could turn a corner before Shinjuro turned his.
Just as the half-orc and another man's feet stepped from behind the wall, Soddy had rounded his corner. He panted and made his way out, back to the tent for dinner.
Day four. The last day. Soddy ate his breakfast quietly and packed the highest possible dosage of the medicine into a vial - the herb had nearly totally disintegrated, only its veiny structure remaining. Then, he met Raleigh at the stables.
"The difference is astonishing," Raleigh reported.
"Good. It does not seem as such from the stands. When you have won, meet me and the losers by the entrance to the arena."
"You're confident."
They waited a while, and Soddy applied the medicine only just before the jousts were to start. He needed to delay the effect so that it would be in full force only for Raleigh's final joust.
There was only one round. First up was Ludwin and another jouster. He came out onto the arena, his arms up and his voice howling in jubilation and self-endorsement. It was quite the show, and the crowd roared in excitement, their hopes incredibly high for the nobleman.
"Oh… I should conserve my arms' strength," Ludwin said to himself as his arms began to tremble with weakness, which he thought was due to holding them up. The other competitor made no flashy entrance and was simply focused ahead at Ludwin.
Ulfamalor lowered his visor and couched his lance. Then, they took off. Everything was in slow motion. Midway through the charge, he found that his arms had become heavy and his head ached to the point of bursting. His lance fell lower, and his opponent's smashed into him at full length, knocking the cocky noble to the ground.
The crowd roared in disbelief. So many people had their money on Ulfamalor, and he wasn't even defeated by Shinjuro, his prime rival. The disappointment in the crowd, voiced uninhibited, pleased Soddy, who had found a seat in the stands.
Next was Shinjuro. His large figure sat rigidly on his horse. The crowd's excitement grew jubilant again, hailing their other favorite with cheer. The half-orc did not make any unnecessary movements, as was his perceived character, but this time, it may not have been voluntary. His opponent emerged and was booed. They charged. From the get-go, however, Shinjuro was feeling the double-dosage, though it did not occur to him that it was poison.
Similarly, Shinjuro was tilted, and the crowd roared again, their disappointment now fury. At that moment, countless families had been driven poor, rich men confident in reliable individuals put into rags, while the betting booths vacuumed the gold in absurd amounts and a few men were made rich through the greed of others.
The winners of the matches against Shinjuro and Ludwin faced off, but many people were hastily trying to recover their losses through whatever means possible. After the match had ended, it was Raleigh's turn.
He was beaming underneath his armour, and his horse seemed ready to charge a dragon. His final opponent waited at the other side, and they charged at eachother. Unsuprisingly, Raleigh emerged the victor, but he was not met with any great cheering or happiness. He was, after all, simply one of the final three nobodies to joust. If it had been his opponent rather than him, nothing would have changed. Still, he knew that he had won more than victory.
Soddy waited at the agreed-upon location with the two companions of Shinjuro and Ludwin from the first day. They both served as witnesses to the deal, and were essential to completing it. The woman that Soddy had found in Ludwin's room stood beside one of the men, carrying a scroll-sized case. The other man held three katana and held his foot on a wooden box.
Ludwin arrived first, stripped of his armour and sweating, but all he could do was stand there and lament over his failure while they waited for Shinjuro, who followed suit in quite the same manner.
"There is one more person I would like to wait for, if you don't mind."
They were too exhausted to argue. Soon enough, Raleigh arrived, and the the witnesses began to surrender the wagers of the men they represented, Soddy cleared his throat and announced something.
"You will only be giving me the five thousand gold, sirs. The rest goes to Sir Raleigh Chanley."
Ludwin's eyes grew fierce and outraged, and, his security and ego compromised, for his woman was now being given to an apparently competent human, he screamed, "What?! That was never in the deal! You can't give my… my... betrothed and estate to this nobody!"
He failed to mention that Soddy was also a nobody. Perhaps it was because Soddy was not a threat.
"No, it was not, so you should not concern yourself with what I do with my winnings."
Raleigh took everything proudly, his ego lifted by the victory. That is, until Shinjuro threatened menacingly, "I know where Ludwin's estate is. If you ever hope to sleep peacefully there, you're out of luck, Chanley."
Contrary to Ludwin's feelings, his former betrothed trotted happily over to Raleigh's side.
I suppose that whore would happily trade husbands now that her previous one has been shamefully defeated and her new one gains power.
With a grin, Soddy feigned a bow and took his leave, Shinjuro's chest of coinpurses in his arms. He would allow them to suffer the aftermath, whatever may have happened. One thing he didn't want to do, though, was meet either of the scorned men again.
His job complete, Soddy returned to the tent, satisfied and pondering the many possible outcomes, rejoicing over the great spite that he had dealt in a great variety of degrees. His only hope was that his mistress was able to enjoy it as much as he did.
__
Spirit of the Sport
Lumli had gathered the morning of their departure from Luskan and tossed the oil lamps as she had remembered to do. Graciously taking a torch from the wall, she grinned wickedly and chucked the torch into the oil. The blaze immediately engulfed the foyer as she stepped out onto the porch and shooed Sod out toward the carriage. He carried the bulk weight of their good and shuffled haphazardly into the carriage as best as his so-called feeble body could. Lumli sat in the carriage admiring the blaze of the former home, the embers dancing in a sickening red blood color and then washing into the glimmer of golds and blues of the heavens.
She grinned as the flames licked the sky in a sensual tangle of smoke, soot, and flame. Sod hopped in the carriage and soon the driver was off. The two left their crumbling, torched, decaying hovel of a home in Luskan for the finer things of Amn - hopefully, if Urdlen would bless their venture to the best of it's abilities. Lumli also resolved on the ride that this would be one of the last tests she would have Sod accomplish. If he could pull off a joust con, well then he could just about pull of any chaos that Urdlen demanded of the two of them. She would have to show him now through example.
They traveled for around a week's time, from carriage to carriage, boat to carriage, whatever it took - until finally they arrived in Amn. It was marvelous, and bustling with people: perfect victims and innocent minds to prey upon with the mischief of the White Mole. Lumli's eyes glimmered behind the confines of her carriage window as she marveled at the amount of travelers heading toward the jousting tournament this particular week. She was giddy with anticipation. Sweat dripped down her wrists and on her palms as her body heated up just thinking of the scenarios. Urdlen was already preparing it, and now it was just her job to observe and report.
She and Sod sifted through the crowds toward the jousting ranges. They found a camping site near the arena and so each day of the tournament Lumli would be able to get a prime seat for the viewing. Sod had not told her of his plans for his final examination, but she was sure from his last prospects that he would do a fine job. She sat in a booth beside a large fat noble-ish man. He wore fine silks, that seemed to hang like curtains on his bulbous frame. She grimaced at the amount of odor permeating the man's body. Human odor was so rancid - seriously, pigs would have smelled better to her.
She made due by dabbing some perfume along her neck, and letting one of her loyal moles rest along her shoulder. Her moles' furs were far cleaner than probably any human within the arena. Soon the crowd started shouting and cheering. Most were cheering for one or another so-in-so's, but it mattered very little to Lumli. The only joy she got from watching sporting events, was the sheer bliss that came from the carnage of watching two races demolish each other for sheer sport. They announced the names and soon banners were flying and so were coinpurses to the dealers.
The bookies must have been growing golden by now with how much coin had graced their tips. She marveled at the stupidity to of it all - but then again, stupidity often caused chaos, so more power to the poor souls. She sat near the edge of the arena so as to overhear any conversations from the local jousters. Dear Sod. He was a little devil! She heard him skillfully plot a bait and switch routine and she hadn't even had to show him such. He lured them in with the thought of winning. Their greed took them over. It was glorious. She was going to certainly enjoy the jousts much more, now knowing the stakes.
The combination of the horse hooves, the clanging metal, and violent screams from demanding patrons was like a concoction of seductive sensation as Lumli sat watching in her seat. The shattering wooden lances as they splintered apart on impact and dented into the metal shields, resounded in her ears with a crackle of joyful undertones. The visual of brute force and discord between the masses was beautiful simply beautiful. Lumli marveled at the thrown men and the bruising, the lying, the cursing, the broken bones, blood, anything that came from the joust that was far more than the victory itself. She was enthralled in it all. It was sheer bliss for her. Urdlen was showering her with these gifts, she was sure of it.
The gift of carnage, of hatred, and of lust. It was all here, and she quite thoroughly enjoyed it all. She never really saw Sod the entire tournament, except for one small encounter when he came back to their tent for some supplies. She wished to rush him with kisses and passion, brought on by Urdlen's enjoyment of the tournament so far - however, her advances were not seen as important, in fact, he was quite shy about any sort of advances and dashed off as soon as Lumli managed to wrap her arm around him. Damn that boy. He was so good at what he did - it was hard to seeth in anger or frustration of any kind. Urdlen would only appreciate his dedication to his mission.
The final jousting day came and Lumli was clearly exhausted by all the chaos and conflicts amongst the masses. It was so enjoyable she didn't know which to watch first. The joust, crowd fights, domestic disputes amongst feuding couples, or something entirely different. The joust was eventually over and everyone booed at the outcome as some newcomer had won by a miraculous margin of victory. They lost all their money in the greed of the event. She savored every cried tear and every bloodied fist of frustration. She scurried out of the arena soon and followed the masses into the market - spotting Sod gloriously holding a hefty coin purse along his person. She marveled at her little slave.
_"Goodness my dear pet! You astound me yet again! I am sure you were praised for those actions. I heard the little scam you pulled - was anything else of that your doing as well?"
"Indeed Mistress, but p-please - I need no praise for that. It was my p-pleasure. I-I actually got a rush from trying to a-attempt something on s-such a grand scale."
"Well you did marvelously. So - speaking of pleasure - I believe the young chaos starter deserves a reward."
"… P-Perhaps we should find new housing within A-Amn if we are to continue with anything else?"_
She ran her fingernails teasingly along his dress shirt and grinned, nodding to him and herself. Housing would be the first task, and then soon they would continue their rampage of chaos - this time, upon the aimless Amnians. Together the two decided to stroll through the local marketplace and try to find a suiting inn for residence.
To Care, or Not to Care? That is The Question
They had found a cozy little cottage just at the edges of Amn, and here too, Lumli found great inspiration for their next deeds. Well around the house they now inhabited were farmers. There was farm land as far as the eye could see, and cattle and livestock roamed unhindered by their masters whims. It was like a blissful painting as she closed her eyes, and behind her lids all she dreamt of was that same pristine, picturesque background, burning to ashes. She wished the cows and sheep to go sick with hunger from the brutalized land; the farmers to grow poor, for they could harvest no food.
She wished the worst on them possible. Too much pretty and cute can degrade a person's mind - make it soft and feeble. She grumbled back into the confines of their humble country-side shack and looked at Sod. She paced back and forth on the floor, till splinters of uneven wood seemed to wish to give way into her feet. She suddenly stopped and glanced over her potions, ingredients, and knick-knacks that she so thoroughly collected over the years. Sod cocked his head in wonder at the woman as he began to clean up their former dinner, roast rabbit - medium rare.
She swirled her head back at him and cackled happily after a moment of contemplation. She danced around the table and even let her little moles run free in celebration across the floor. Sod had never seen her so jovial before and was concerned for her mental capacity. She hopped from the table and began grabbing up ingredients from her cupboards. Hogs feet, toad's breath, worm wart, kobold tongue; whatever she could muster up into a mixture she did so. Finally Sod had to speak up, for he had no idea what had snapped in the woman and was concerned for both her and his sakes. He dropped his plates onto the table and ran and grabbed Lumli by the arms to steady her steadily happier attitude.
_"Mistress? Is there something wrong? You seem - far too pleased with us just being on this - farm, than I have seen you all this time."
"Let go of me! I wish to make them suffer slowly Sod! Have you ever seen someone suffer slowly? Slowly decay into nothingness - and yet, not care about it?"
"Well I can say I've witnessed my share of suffering ye - wait - not care about it?"
"Yes Sod, my pet, it's called 'Sloth', the sin of not caring, and when you don't care about pain inflicted, damage done, or items lost - oh the fun it is!"
"I - I - I don't understand Mistress - I -"
"You will soon enough my pet! Now round up my moles and place them in their cages, and grab a few vials of this potion. Your final test has arrived."
"Final… test?"
"Yes my dear, if you pass this test, then I will know for certain that you are Urdlen's protegy, and I will carry you wherever I go - and we'll go sailing. Devastating the high seas, and islands, and people from all over. What do you say?"_
Sod was hesitant for a moment, trying to not sound overly joyful, nor unleash his rage and wrath right there upon her in his pleased mood. She had basically just given him an invitation to destroy the world with her, if he so chose to follow suit. His face, unversed in showing actual emotion, had a hard time smiling at this discovery, but he managed to do so fairly quickly, He was learning deception from Lumli fairly rapidly and keeping a poker face, or a tactful smile in the face of others would be necessary for their success. He did as he was told and nodded his head in acceptance, drawn to the idea of spending his life inflicting torment on those who tormented him.
He was with the woman who could guide him, love him - if love was even desired - care for him, and teach him horrible, wonderful, sadistic methods of which to inflict pain upon their enemies. She may have been different from the other folks he'd met in the past, but she was a good kind of different, a sick kind of different, the kind of different Sod wished to settle down with and burn a village with together. That'd be one hell of a first date. He headed out the doorway and followed Lumli in stride.
They hid behind a few stacks of hay that had been hauled up into the corner. There, Lumli gave Sod distinct instructions on the process that would follow, but gave the all clear for him to throw his own personal flair into it. A cozy, wicked grin nestled itself within the confines of his cheek bones as he nodded in approval. She was letting him cut his strings on this run, just as she had at the joust. She was beginning to trust him, and so for that, Sod would make sure this was one of his best performances.
He grabbed up the belt full of potions and took a few of his Mistress' moles, and slowly stalked over the barrels of hay and onto the farmland. His wicked eyes scanned the farm with a grin, as he looked back to Lumli in preparation. This farm would never know what hit them, quite literally. Sod and Lumli both rejoiced silently as Sod began his final initiation with undeniable malice.
__
Poison.
He loved it. It came in many forms and was subtle and an uncertain thing to the victim. This poison, in particular, was subtle, indeed, and it affected plants and animals differently. First, Soddy had to ensure that the farm would be crippled. He fed the moles a little bit of the potion and let them escape into the farmland at different places, so their individual territories would not be close together. They burrowed, fed, and prodded, spreading their waste and assimilating, to a certain extent, with the land.
Next, Soddy found every animal that he could and gave it a fair amount of Lumli's mixture, cutting the animals slightly and dripping it into their wound when they were uncooperative. After applying the poison to all of the livestock in the vast farm, the Halfling sprinkled it on the grazing grass and on crops, being careful to avoid notice. He had to interact with the farmhands and farmers, so it was crucial that he not be seen doing anything suspicious, let alone sabotaging the farm.
Finally, after much hard work, he left the fields proper and reapproached the homestead of the farm from a more realistic, civilian direction, still carrying the clear bottles of subtle poison, as well as a flask of water. He came upon the stead, then, wearing a classically cheery, Halfling face and demeanour. An older man answered the door.
"And who are you? It's past dusk, already. What do you want? he asked, none too warm.
"My name is Uldren," Soddy lied, "and I am mighty starved! Perhaps we might share drink and food! I assure you, my stock is potent and worth a dinner!" he patted his belt of poison, although it may have appeared as alcohol to the old man.
"Well, I'll be the judge of that! I'm Din Hayford. Come in."
Din welcomed Soddy into the stead, although a bit reluctantly. Soddy's status as a Halfling, none too uncommon around Amn, may have afforded him a lack of severe consideration. Dinner was, indeed, being prepared, and Din alerted his wife and children that they would be having an extra mouth to feed.
"Oh, Halfling drink, eh? Well, we'll have to give that a try!" Din's gaudy wife exclaimed. Although Din was an older man, most of his children appeared relatively young, and only three sons of his were older than sixteen. One daughter, the youngest lass, only insignificantly taller than Soddy himself, circled him in awe. He was not amused, but he retained his cheery, witlessly amused front.
"You's arf'lly short, mistah! You's a Halfwin?" inquired the child.
"That I am!"
Wretched, disgusting vermin-child. Die, die, die, die…
"Tha's amazin!' I'se nevah seen no Halfwin before. I guess they cohwll's you Halfwin a'cause you so teensy. Half a man! Hee, wittle Halfwin," she pressed Soddy. How he remained so patient and refrained from killing her there was a mystery, but he did, although he winced subtley.
After a bit of a wait, Soddy helped set the table and they all prepared to eat. A full bottle of Lumli's mixture had been poured for Din, his wife, and their three oldest sons. Another bottle had been brought to the farmhands in their quarters, seperate from the homestead. Soddy did not partake in his own drink, insisting that they receive fully his payment for the meal. Then, they ate.
Soddy had no real appetite, but he ate nonetheless as something to occupy him as he waited for the family to consume the poison. They did so, praising its strength and taste as alcohol, and unsuspecting of its true nature.
"I say, you have more of this, don't you? Are you going to be staying in the area long? asked a now jolly Din Hayford.
"Why, yes, I am! Why do you ask, good sir Din?"
"Well, I was just thinking, perhaps you would like to stay here for a while longer and pay for it with that spectacular drink of yours?"
Din was one step ahead of him. This pleased Soddy, for he preferred to be offered something he wanted rather than asking for it.
"Excellent! I shall eat dinner here, then, for as long as my stock survives. Worry not about my room; I have arrangements nearby."
They finished dinner, having completely downed the bottle, and then an extra, which Soddy had not expected. He could only imagine that the farmhands, typically more desperate men, would be dying for more. He said his overly cheery goodbyes and departed for the night to the cottage.
Withering. A slow deterioration.
He went again the next evening, eating joyously with them and giving them Lumli's poison, which they drank unwittingly and happily.
The poison began to take its toll. The plants and crops slowly and very subtley withered over the course of days. The livestock lost their appetite but retained their hunger. They became listless and lifeless: merely walking corpses. The family and farmhands who drank it also lost their appetites, and furthermore became uncaring and apathetic. Their intake of the poison slowed with the intake of anything else. Soddy was glad to adjust to this slower-paced, depressed state.
"The crops are not looking so well, but the men aren't even feeling up to tending them, nor I. It doesn't matter, though. There is always next year's harvest. And even then, what does it matter?" sighed Din one evening, a week into Soddy's visit to the farm. One of the younger sons, who had not consumed any of the poison, chimed in vehemently.
"What are you sayin?' We've everything invested in our farm. Hayford land stretches endlessly! Considerin' the cost of keepin' it, we need to harvest and sell, or we'll be put right out!" He was, however, largely ignored, and the younger children who had not been poisoned did not know what to say, so they, too, remained silent.
More time passed. Livestock, though only cattle and chickens, had begun to die. This went unnoticed, however, as none were ever out to tend the fields nor look after the animals.
It was a poison which could only be staved off through force of will. Mindless plants simply died. Animals with little willpower were overcome by its affects and died as well. Only stubborn creatures such as horses and pigs survived, yet they were nearly dead, and may as well have been given that they acted like corpses. Death came from starvation as well.
The lives of those in the farm were not going to be snuffed easily, if at all, by the poison, even though they received it in exponentially greater doses than the animals and crops. Soddy knew that their minds, however simple, were strong enough to resist even the side effects of the poison. So he had fed it to them nightly. Even though they drank less, by now, they ate less food to dilute the poison that they were affected about the same.
Listless, lifeless, and evidently horribly depressed, those who drank the poison rarely left their beds except to eat, which was also something of a rarity. Soddy was at the end of Lumli's poison, so he told the Hayford family that he may be around, but for them to otherwise not prepare his portion of dinner. They were relatively unresponsive and apathetic to his departure.
Two weeks after Soddy's first dinner with the Hayfords, their farm was dead. He had used the remainder of the poison on the sturdiest of their beasts, and they were all as dead as the crops. The only things that yet lived were the people who were supposed to tend to the farm, yet they were fully apathetic to its lifelessness. They had no willpower, save the youngest children, all of whom were worried and frightened by the ill fortune.
That night, Soddy left a note for Lumli. It read:
_This farm will burn,
It'll twist and turn,
Their minds are dead,
As it burns red
The morbid poem was written neatly for his mistress to enjoy, and one corner of the paper was burned and charred.
Late into the night, Soddy, having inspected the farmland, gauged the usual direction of the wind, and otherwise ensured the success of his plan, went out to the edge of one field and struck his knife against some flint. Sparks flew onto the dry and dead crops, and they took flame quickly. The smoke was nigh invisible in the night sky, but the flames were a beacon. He started another fire in the grazing pastures, burning already brown grass and long-dead livestock corpses alike. The fires spread throughout the farmland, until it was all consumed in a blaze of red.
Soddy went to the homestead, then, keeping himself a secret, and watching from around a corner as the sober children went in and out of the front door with water, pouring buckets of it fruitlessly onto the burning fields. That was only a portion of the sober children, however, as the youngest of them simply cried, while others attempted to save the farm and yet others tried desperately to get the adults to help. But the adults didn't care. Only after much screaming did Din wake and sluggishly walk to the front door, where he gazed upon his entire life in flames.
After much bleary-eyed gazing, he groaned and turned back into his house to return to sleep. His children called after him, but to no avail. Many who were fighting the fire had inhaled a fair bit of smoke, and so they went into the house to rest and breathe.
But, then, the wind changed, and the fires turned to the homestead, as Soddy had only partially predicted might happen. He stayed there as long as he could, relishing in the children's anguished cries for help. But those inside, and those in the farmhands' stead, did not help. They did not move, nor care, nor perhaps even notice that they were sleeping several paces away from raging fires.
Eventually the children, and even Soddy, had to flee. He ensured that he went unseen, but he did take one last look back at the homestead, now an inferno. He knew that the children would be forever scarred by this, and that pleased him. He knew their feelings of fear and isolation as those around them changed and became uncaring and without souls: no longer people, but shells of people who did not respond at all to things that they should respond to with a gusto. He knew, and he wanted all others to know as well.
With that, he retreated to the cottage and his mistress. He did not openly say it, but he thought that it would be best to relocate, as the flames could have taken their cottage as easily as they took the Hayford homestead. He was personally quite pleased with the results.
Fin_
