The jackrabbit - a few minutes prior

Leaning back on a chair inside an old dusty shack, a wiry ab-human with large scraggly rabbit ears picked his teeth with a dagger, impatiently waiting for his boss to return, an overly lackadaisical attitude about him as he idled in his chair.

His name was Mart, and currently, he was on shaky grounds with his boss.

His boss was an older ab-human boy called Fabran, an ab-human of unknown descent, Mart personally thought the older boy looked like some sort of ferret himself.

Normally Mart got on very well with most people his boss included, not directly opposing Fabran on anything, only offering suggestions, but of late his boss had been listening less and less to his suggestions despite Mart being Fabran's most capable and favored subleader.

When this began to happen initially, Mart had waved it off as coincidence or simply another bad mood from Fabran, which the older ab-human was prone to having. But over time, this ignoring of advice had gotten to the point where Mart could not mention anything to Fabran, without the older boy turning around with wrath on his face.

Mart had quickly stopped offering any advice or even considerations to Fabran, he could tell only trouble he was not ready to deal with, waited along that path.

Soon however Fabran had started listening to someone else, someone who whispered sweet praise in the gang leader's ears but had her own agenda.

An ab-human Shatokan girl called Ella.

Ella was extremely anti-human and as a result of her persuasion and new position as Fabrans favored lieutenant, all human members were subsequently ejected from the gang.

Mart had told Fabran how dangerous that girl was ages ago and how she would betray him, but Fabran would have none of it.

Now, much of the original gang was lost for various reasons.

Leaning forward, letting all four of the legs of his chair clack back to the floor, Mart chuffed as he picked his buck teeth clean, the dagger deftly levering out any debris that had gotten stuck in between the incisors.

Flicking a tiny piece of celery onto the ground that had been jammed in his mouth since his last meal, Mart stomped on it, grounding it into dust before pausing in thought.

It was a shame, but it looked like the recent set of reoccurring failures were getting to Fabran, and the older boy was not handling it well.

Ever since the gang had taken up the name of the Coyotes, Fabran had proclaimed it was time to take juicier marks rather than the less aflush ones than they had in the past.

Mart had been skeptical of this idea but had not challenged it at the time, wanting to see if Fabran had some sort of plan.

He didn't, only a sparse idea of overwhelming and surprising the caravans in an ambush.

Despite a severe lacking in tactics, some success was garnered from the first few robbings, the robbing going off without a hitch, no deaths on either side, but after those first two robberies, their luck had dried up.

On the next burglary, Mart had almost been gored by an angry cow as they attempted to steal from a passing caravan, a few of the gangs number had received moderate injuries from altercations with the original owners of the loot, and Fabran himself had to fight off three coneheads before they could escape back into the twisting alleys of the black district.

The coneheads, the favored nickname given to the city guard by slummers, had heard about a small gang robbing some of the smaller trade caravans and had sent more men to help the trade flow without interruption.

Mart and the Coyotes had acquired some trinkets, but not nearly enough to cover for their losses, two of the gangs number having died, slain by the caravans guard in a botched attempt to claim the treasures within the caravan.

Mart had known those two for some time, neither were other kids he was particularly fond of, both of them being money grubbers that didn't like to share, but he was not thrilled that two of their number had died for a few bits of largely worthless metal.

It was this enormous error in Fabran's judgment that caused Mart to later question to Fabran's face if it were wise to continue hitting such large targets.

Fabran had not liked that one bit, and had demanded he silence himself before he did it for him.

Mart had known Fabran was always a little volatile and rash at times, likely to eviscerate those who did not immediately adhere to his words, but unlike those unwary others, Mart knew when to hold his tongue.

After that, Fabran had begun to leave him behind when he went on supply runs, taking Mart out less and less as they continued to raid caravans much to Mart's consternation, instead leaving Mart to guard the primary hangout.

Sometimes the crew Fabran took with him would come back unscathed, clutching armfuls of goods, and other times the crew would come back injured and even missing a member.

It was becoming intolerable to Mart, surely Fabran understood that they couldn't keep this up? Eventually, they would get caught out by the coneheads or their numbers would be whittled down into obscurity by the constant losses.

"Da dumb git," Mart muttered under his breath as he remembered the last time Fabran had come back with a total of two dead coyotes and three badly wounded, two of that number dying later to their wounds, for a total of four dead coyotes.

Four dead kids. Four! Fabran was ripping up all the effort that had gone into building this gang up in the first place.

Mart was not often angered, but the wanton waste of his fellow thieves was stupid, the more kids that died the worse the coyote's reputation would become, pretty soon no young thieves would want to join at all.

And that would be the downfall of this gang, without new blood to add to the mix, the gang would fall apart as its members dwindled, either from getting killed or from abandoning the sinking ship that the coyotes were.

Mart closed his eyes and slowly shook his head as he thought about himself and what he would do next.

Mart was a simple guy, a simple guy with simple tastes, he liked breathing, he liked filling his stomach, he liked sleeping under a firm roof, he liked permanently borrowing useful things, and he very much enjoyed good company.

Of course, even a simple man had dreams and ambitions, Marts was to climb out of the ditch he had been born in and make his mark here on this world, he also had another dream, he wanted to fly, to soar among the heavens, free, untethered and unbound, able to go where he pleased without worry.

The second dream he always snorted at as he thought about it, before dismissing it as detached from reality, but the first, the first was possible if very hard to see coming true.

Mart wanted to be a somebody, not a nobody, and right now, he was a nobody.

Of course, being a someone was a dream still far too unrealistic for Mart, and so he usually kept contentedly to his simple desires. Good food, nice shelter, plenty of knick-knacks to sell and of course, affable company.

But even as basic as the dreams and desires he had were, and how simple he saw himself, he could still easily recognize an incoming catastrophe when it neared him.

And the coyotes were heading facefirst towards disaster, with Fabran steering them into the heart of oblivion.

"Welp," Mart mumbled aloud with a soft resentful chuckle as he flicked his dagger out from between his teeth again, "nothing dat I can do about dat, except hunker down and prepare for da inevitable fallout of dis mess."

If Fabran was determined to plant his own tombstone, who was Mart to stop him?

So long as Mart himself wasn't buried along with the guy when he finally bit the dirt, it didn't bother him too much.

While It did still annoy him that he had wasted some of his time and effort on supporting Fabran, some of the ties he made here possibly being worthless, it wasn't all bad.

He had at least gotten the bare bone structure of his own crew set up, soon he wouldn't have to stick around this dried up dump anymore.

Mart snickered audibly again, vaguely uplifted by that notion, causing some unsettled movement to spark around him, small faces turning towards him worriedly. The faces of the young urchins he had recently recruited into his budding gang for their passable skills.

None of these younger kids save one, were really that talented, but they weren't awful either, each one of them could creep up on the paranoid hobo's that made their homes in the black district, and each of them could at least steal from wandering drunks without being immediately caught.

The children were of both human and ab-human heritage, something Mart had thought acceptable, he carryied no grievances against pure humans despite his own ab-human nature. Some people were simply born luckier than others, it was a fact, he wasn't going to treat members of his crew any better or worse because of their ancestry or pure blood.

Besides, his best thief was a pure human, a boy going by the name of Tommy, also known as Teeny by most of the coyotes.

Tommy had not been recruited by Mart himself, instead, being a part of the original coyote members that answered directly to Mart himself rather than Fabran.

There weren't many of those, but Tommy was among their select number.

Mart glanced around at the fidgeting urchins spread around him, knowing full well that Tommy wasn't there, the small blonde boy was currently on watch at the head of the alley, he being the very best at sneaking away unseen.

Even Mart, a veteran of creeping about couldn't outdo Tommy in stealth, Tommy was just that good, if anyone of note, Fabran or otherwise, appeared, Tommy was to warn Mart beforehand.

No doubt Tommy was also out there adding more of his scribbles to the alley, but Mart wasn't worried, Tommy had a sharp sense of hearing for a human and a skittish nature, the boy would detect something coming long before it arrived.

With Tommy as his lookout, Mart planned to tell Fabran in person that he was leaving, but he had to be ready to split and run with his new gang if things went poorly, Fabran wasn't a forgiving guy, and leaving the gang to make his own would probably be seen as a betrayal that could very well end in a bloodbath.

A bloodbath Mart wanted to avoid as much as possible, for both his sake and the freshies.

There was no way Mart could beat Fabran in a straight fight, Fabran was a skilled combatant not to mention a hedgemage capable of wielding the very wind itself as a weapon, Fabrans favorite and only magic attack being his iconic 'Terror twister,' a name he came up with on his own that did not fully allow one to recognize just how devastating the spell could be on the human, or ab-human body.

Mart had seen the meat stripped to the bone from that attack, the victims of it writhing in pain before succumbing swiftly to their wounds, flesh stripped bare.

It wasn't something Fabran could use frequently, a single use of his powers exhausting him, but it was more than enough to deter anyone from ever challenging Fabran's right to lead, including Mart.

So here Mart was ready to book it if Fabran got violent, Mart's urchins also knowing his designs to flee which was why they were so nervous, they had heard about Fabrans wrath and violent powers.

"Calm yourselves guy's," Mart reassured, gesturing casually with his dagger at the anxious urchins, "just remember da plan and every'ting will be ok"

His small crew members looked towards Mart, some of the fear dropping from their eyes as most of them nodded in response.

Seeing the compliance and resolve restored in his followers, Mart grunted briefly before sheathing his dagger, satisfied.

These kids were still afraid, but they would do as he instructed and that was all he needed.

Mart glanced around at his urchins before inviting those standing to sit and relax, it would be best to not be too on edge, that would make it harder to focus.

Those standing glanced uneasily at each other before sitting cross-legged on the ground around the table

They were almost like his own little family. well... not really, they were still just a bunch of young hopeful opportunists.

Mart tapped his chin with a nail recently chewed short, thoughts idling back in the past as he waited, family on his mind.

Mart had long since lost those related to him by blood, his only relative, his mother having perished as a slave to a foolhardy merchant with ambitions greater than his means 10 years ago.

The merchant had pushed into some of the cheaper businesses in the black district hoping to establish an economical foothold, but his attempts to tame and bridle the district had only resulted in souring sales and less profit.

Mart and his mother had both been owned by this merchant back then, and had been worked tirelessly as the merchant's resources dwindled over time, causing Mart to weaken and sicken one day with a terrible disease.

A disease known simply as the Gangarian shakes, that plague later sweeping the entirety of the slums killing hundreds, even thousands of humans and ab-humans alike.

It had been an awful disease, and Mart had known its horror personally.

He had caught it, the pain and nerve-wracking spasms intense beyond belief, but he had weathered and survived the sickness with his mothers diligent and loving care, even so, the experience left his tongue and some of the nerves in his left foot erratic and twitchy from the damage, giving him a permanent lisp and excitable left foot.

Mart had survived and made a recovery only to see his mother sicken and succumb herself, she had grown gaunt steadily, the very life draining out of her eyes as her body had spasmed and thrashed uncontrollably over the course of three days, her eyes distant and unseeing, misted with pain, and delirious ramblings.

On the third day, as Mart lay weeping on his dying mother's lap, all his attempts to make her better complete failures, his mother had suddenly regained lucidity, her elongated fluffy ears perking up as her deep brown eyes grew clear with unrestrained understanding.

"Oh, the pain is gone," the bone-thin woman had said with a soft voice, one of her hands suddenly caressing Marts head weakly.

"Mum!" Mart had cried out hugging the skinny adult with relief.

"Och, not to tight my young kit, I'm still a little delicate" the woman winced before she hugged Mart back in a limp hug.

Mart had loosened his hold but continued to cling to his mother, for a time they had embraced silently, then his mother had let out a racking cough before she whispered in Marts ears, a worried tone in her voice.

Worried not for herself, but for him.

"Mart my young prince, my baby kit, promise me something." the withered grown-up had whispered, "promise me you will take care of yourself, promise me you will do better than me, promise me that you will survive when I am gone."

The last part of his mother's sentence alarming him, Mart had replied, not understanding, and not wanting to understand.

"Mum?! what do you mean? you're not going anywhere are you?!"

His mother had not immediately answered as she hugged Mart, but her thin arms had tightened around him before gently, taking his moistened face into her hands and tilting it upward towards her, voice very serious, not allaying Mart's fears at all.

"Promise me Mart, promise me you will make it," his mother's bright eyes had stared deep into his soul, "that you will live well and prosper, that you will not give up even when I am no longer here."

"No! mother! I-" Mart had protested the tears continuing to flow down his cheeks

Interrupting her son's outcries, the ab-human woman wiped the tears away from his face, her voice softening.

"It doesn't matter what happens to me now my son, I am old and weak, it matters only that you be strong and live a long and fruitful life, promise me you will do that."

After a deep ache echoed in his chest, Mart had said in a sob, his fists clenched.

"I will- I promise mum..."

His mother had passed away later that night, the whisper of 'I love you' being the last thing on her dying breath. She expiring on a bed of hay in a hovel unsuitable for pigs.

Mart, in the present, grimaced at that memory, both a dull pain and appreciation wrought in his chest from that recollection.

His mother had been exceptional, he might not have survived this long without that promise.

Reentering the past, Mart drew his attention to after his mum had passed on, Mart having just buried her in a shallow grave, ignoring the calls of his master who was bedridden with the shakes.

The foolhardy merchant had soon followed his mother into the afterlife, killed by the very same illness that had struck down Mart's mother.

Mart had cried for almost half a day after his mother's death, but for the merchant he had felt nothing, the merchant being a cruel and unforgiving master who had forcibly taken his mother to his bed on more than one occasion and whipped him with a horse crop on others.

Sometimes Mart wondered if that merchant had been his father, his mother never telling him who his dad had been, but either way, Mart had not cared, the merchant was dead, and he was alone.

Born of an ab-human slave, young Mart had always been under the yoke of slavery and so left without a master or mother, Mart had waited in the merchant's house for the authorities to come, to take him away as they did for all ownerless slaves, but no one ever did.

No guards came to chain him and lead him away, and no slavers were around to put a collar on him.

The disease, both the maimer of his body, and the killer of his mother, had given him one final gift.

His freedom, he was free, and without even trying to escape.

Unsure what to do with this new freedom and without any caretakers, Mart's early days on the streets were uncertain and harsh learning experiences filled with dirt, blood, and pain.

Mart, in those early days, used to wander the backwaters of the black districts looking for salvage and wayward coins, scrapping with other urchins like himself just to get his hands on the scant findings.

He didn't have to resort to that sort of scrounging anymore, but the habits that he had developed from that period of his life, had never quite gone away, instead, they had only been deeply ingrained.

He had starved, been threatened, been punched, kicked, bitten, even stabbed a few times.

'Strength... and survival...' Mart had not forgotten his mothers words, the ab-human boy pushing himself back to his feet with gritted teeth, those words filling his mind every time he was knocked down by the unsavory realities of the world.

Gradually these constant experiences changed him, molded him, teaching him vital skills, and so he had learned, every time he was betrayed or beaten, he made note of his failures and tried a different approach, every time someone wronged him, he assessed whether retaliating was worth it or if offering friendship was better.

It was like this, Mart slowly came to understand life and how it worked, at least for him anyway.

Whether it be simple differences or heavy grudges, Mart did not plan to let the harsh actualities of this world bog him down, he would joke and laugh with anyone if they but gave him a chance.

Life was too short to be angry about every little thing someone else did, it was better to live and let live, and simply wait for others to slip up before making a move.

They always did, no one was perfect.

The streets were a tough place, but yielding to those who persisted and knew when to bug out, and Mart was one such individual, he could smell success on the air when it approached, his nose for success never leading him astray.

After all, the gang he was a part of now he had joined on the belief that it would provide a better means of living, and he was right, joining Fab's gang or coyotes as they were called now, had been the correct call at the time.

Although not anymore, and he had not joined it alone...

Mart recalled those friends that had helped him get on his feet after the death of his mother with parts both fondness and regret.

The Gestalt siblings, Taldur the grinner, and his younger sister Lescar, Marts best friend.

The siblings were people that had lent him food and clothing when he had been a fresh orphan, unjaded and starved.

Taldur had been a tall, bearded youth, with hard amber eyes that made one think cynical adult rather than inexperienced youth, Mart had not really known him that well, but he had respected and liked the stoic teen for his prowess and generosity towards him.

It was the younger sister, Lescar, however, that Mart had been truly close too, she had been his best friend, confidant, and all-round great pal.

Mart and Lescar used to trade gossip and laugh at the rumors together, when he stole anything good he had shared it with her, when her brother came back with excess goods, she would sneak him the lions share of the overflow, and when the winter nights were the worst they would let him sleep in their tent.

The Gestalts were as good a couple of friends as one could hope for, he even remembered the time Lescar had given him the dagger sheathed on his waist, an expensive gift considering how well made it was.

Mart smiled shortly at this memory then frowned as the regret struck at him again, he did not often feel his conscience bother him, but when he recalled the Gestalts, in particular Lescar, he couldn't help but feel a little guilty.

Taldur and Lescar had been Marts friends for as almost as long as he had been on the streets, the older brother Taldur had been gone for years, but his best friend Lescar was still presumably alive.

He wondered whether she still considered him a friend after that last argument they'd had?

Mart recalled his last conversation with the skinny girl.

"We can't stay with Fabran! he's violent, unpredictable, and repulsive!" Lescar had scowled

"Give me some time Lez," Mart coaxed "I'm making headway on da guy, soon I'll be second in command den 'tings will improve."

"You have been saying that for months!" Lescar replied angrily, "but we have nothing to show for it, every time we steal from a mark, he takes all the supplies and leaves us with nothing!"

Mart had looked Lescar up and down at the time, both she and he, had lost a lot of weight since her brother disappeared, and she was getting only thinner, Fabran had indeed been draining all of the better hauls from them, and Lescar's waif-thin waist only prooved that.

Mart went to address Lescar's concerns when suddenly Lescar said more quietly.

"We can't keep doing this! ...I- I can't keep doing this..."

Lescar had crossed her arms and looked away, her voice waxing despondent, her body shivering as she clutched at herself uncomfortably.

Mart instantly understood what she meant by that, and winced before lifting a hand to touch Lescar's shoulder comfortingly.

"Look, I promise dat once I become second in command I'll be able to get 'im d'to stop propositioning you, you just 'ave d'to wait-"

Mart did not get to complete his sentence as Lescar turned and snapped at him, fire dancing in her eyes.

"Propositioning?! He's done much more than that! he's- he's..."

Lescar couldn't seem to finish her words, and instead simply turned pale as she continued to clutch her arms to her chest uneasily, a queasy and distressed expression on her face.

An opportunity to speak available, Mart said gently, "Just a little longer Lez and den I-"

"No- no, I can't do it anymore..." Lescar interrupted shaking her head, "I'm- I'm leaving..."

"What?!" Mart had cried aghast, disbelief in his voice.

"I'm leaving," Lescar repeated, her tone growing firm, "I can't deal with that- that sick vile boy anymore."

"Wait! don't do dat!" Mart hastily reasoned, "Fab's gang is da only one accepting minors like us in da whole of the black district, where on Guiettes would you go?!"

"I don't know yet, but I'm leaving anyway, I can't stay here any longer Mart."

Lescar had begun to stride away but then had paused turning around with a hopeful face, an open hand offered to Mart.

"Will you come with me?"

Mart had digested her words and open palm before he made one of the few decisions that he regretted even now.

"Are you crazy!?" Mart coughed, "I can't leave! Dis is the best spot we've been in for months, I'm not leaving."

Mart had thought Lescar was bluffing when she'd proclaimed her intention to leave, but he soon found out otherwise.

Lips trembling and eyes wide and wet, Lescar had picked up her satchel and quickly left the room, leaving Mart stunned before he shot up out of his chair and chased after her.

"Lescar wait!" he had cried attempting to keep up with Lescars longer more conventional legs as she sprinted away.

Lescar, already some distance away stopped at the corner of an alley before turning her head, tear tracts running down her cheeks as she shouted back in a hoarse voice.

"I hope you enjoy your second in command position without me Mart! because I can't deal with this anymore!"

With that said, Lescar turned the corner, and by the time Mart reached it, she was long gone.

Mart at first, had felt great anger at Lescar for not understanding patience, but later had felt terrible for ignoring Lescar's situation.

He should have been a better friend, he had left her alone with Fabran's attentions for far too long.

Nowadays, that was ancient if slightly painful history, he had not seen Lescar in one whole year and he doubted he would ever see her again.

'Ahhhh, I'm waxin nostalgic,' Mart thought mildly with a bitter smile, 'better get my 'ead in the game or Fab's gonna 'ave it instead.'

Forcing himself back into the present, Mart dismissed Lescar from his thoughts.

It wasn't as if she was going to be in his life anymore, last thing he'd heard she'd joined up with the adventurers guild and found herself a decent party.

Good for her, but irrelevant for Mart himself.

Mart could not join the adventurers guild, unlike Lescar, he had a known criminal history, he was not famous or anything like that, but he was well known in some parts of the black district.

The adventurers guild did not tolerate criminals, any who attempted to join would immediately be handed over to the authorities.

For that matter, it was lucky for Lescar that she had a clean record, she was not actually free of crimes but she had never been spotted or caught either, the protection and lessons she'd received from her brother had ensured that much.

Ruefully scratching at his chin, Mart rose from his chair only to pull his dagger out and spin on the spot when the front door swung open with a clang.

"Jackrabbit! someones coming!, and she's got a bunch of monsters with her!"

"She?" Mart questioned as none other than teeny Tommy closed the door behind him, Jackrabbit being Mart's street monicker.

"Not Fabran then?"

"No!" Tommy answered with wide eyes, chalk dust visible on his floppy fringe as the blonde locks on his head trembled, the young boy swinging his head from side to side. "Its some rich-looking noble lady with a huge monster bat thing and two smaller monsters following her."

Mart frowned at this description, he could not imagine why a noble, especially a woman, would bother coming to this armpit of the black district.

'Unless...'

Mart's mind jumped towards all the recent robberies Fabran had made, some of the trade caravans that he had attacked had been funded or owned by aristocrats.

Was the woman approaching them an angry noble, looking to protect her investments in a personal capacity? or a wealthy hired mercenary ready to spill blood in the name of the one that paid them?

"Frick!" Mart cursed jumping to his feet, he couldn't take this casually, he didn't know how this lady found their main hideout but nobles had a well-known advantage in both training, resources, manpower, and personal talent.

They often had magic, they usually were proficient in at least one type of weapon, and their physical abilities often just exceeded that of ordinary folk in the most unfair of ways.

If a strong common man could shatter an iron rod with a sledgehammer, then a strong noble man could shatter a steel collum with his bare fists in the most extreme of cases.

No one who messed with the nobility tended to last long.

Cursing again Mart looked to his followers, all small scared-looking scruffy kids, they would be absolutely no help if this lady had hostile intentions.

Gesturing for his urchins to hide in the long shadows of the room Mart himself crouched low into the dark as the kids melded into the shady corners and crannies of the room.

Being an ab-human Mart had some degree of night vision, even so, this room was dark to him, a purposeful thing that would better allow him and his urchins to flee should this noble prove violent.

A preparation they had made for Fabran, but it would serve well here too.

While the rest of his urchins scampered off to hide in dark crevices and shadows, Tommy stayed by Marts side hiding behind his silhouette.

Turning his head to briefly nod and wink at Tommy, who nodded back with a shaky grin, Mart snorted briefly before gritting his teeth and turning back to face the front.

Mart would be the one to talk down the noble if at all possible, and if not, the one to delay the angry aristocrat if things went sideways.

None of the urchins, not even Tommy, would likely last longer than a second against a noble, Mart was the only one who had a chance of holding off a noble for any period of time longer than five seconds.

It did not mean Mart would be fighting alone, the reassuring presence of the smaller boy behind him, Tommy would be helping Mart out on this one.

While Tommy was not very good at prolonged combat, he was still a skilled ambusher. If this noble proved to be straight up hostile, Tommy would step around Mart to get the first strike, hopefully, either outright killing or injuring the woman.

After that Mart planned to either finish off the wounded noble or to turn and flee after dousing the noble with his favorite spice mix.

Mart pulled out a small bag from a pocket, that bag filled to the brim with spice, as he weighed it in his hand, ready to dish out some nose burning agony.

Inside that bag an unpleasant fine powder of ground jhilic seeds and the dried rinds of prag resided, a powder that could cause long-term blindness if directly in contact with the eyes for an extended time frame, and otherwise made one's eyes water and cloud with pain and itchiness, the nose following suit.

Mart called it his 'Itchy bitchy' dust, or just itchy dust for short, it was something he had made up entirely on his own after personally discovering the unfortunate side effects of raw jhillic on the nasal passages, it had taken two whole days for the sensation of fire in his nostrils to go away and afterward he could still barely smell anything but jhillic.

That of course was no longer the case, but it remained a fact that Mart had found himself a potent tool.

He'd planned to use it on Fabran before making good on his escape, but with this noblewoman and her pets approaching, he might have to use his trump card early.

"Bloody gitzs dose damm Nobles, making me use the good stuff on them!" Mart growled his eyes watching the front door closely, If there were two types of people that Mart straight up didn't like, it was nobles and slavers.

Both tickled Mart the wrong way, one because they looked down on him like he was a nothing, a piece of unclean dirt, and the other because they saw others as only objects for selling.

Mart thought himself rather pragmatic and easy-going, but he couldn't hide his distaste when he saw people being led away in chains, more slaves for the market and upper class.

It reminded him of his own origins and his dead mother.

It made him angry.

Feeling his emotions beginning to get unstable, Mart narrowed his eyes and slowed his breathing.

He needed to be calm for this, his entire crew's lives were hanging on his performance here.

Nobles, when they deigned to show themselves before the common folk, were no joke.

Body tense as a strung bow, Mart waited with bated breath for the door to open, ready to act if need be.

For a short while, Mart heard nothing but a soft rustling and the sound of feet grinding away on the pavement before the sound stopped just behind the door.

Pursing his lips briefly before shaking his head, his mouth shifting into a smirk, Mart whispered quietly.

"Come on in lady, I'm waiting..."

Dagger unsheathed and poised to strike, Mart almost stumbled backward into Tommy, when something he had not expected happened.

CRASH!

The door, a solid and tested wall of oak and steel flew right of its frame, crashing to the floor just shy of Mart's right foot.

"Da fuck!" Mart hissed as he darted back, Tommy moving ahead of him.

Gaining some distance, Mart screeched to a stop and focused back on where the door had once stood.

In the door's old position stood the noblewoman, a tall long-legged shape silhouetted against the light outside, the finer details of the aristocrats face hidden by a plume of dust from the destruction of the door.

Even though the dust, Mart could see the woman had a fine form and some very swish clothes, clothes way out of Marts pay range embroided by silver and made from a combination of leather and satin.

The woman stood tall, head held high as she looked own at Mart and the others hiding in the dark, a confidant, haughty air about her.

Mart felt his anger fizzle in the gut of his stomach from that haughty look, but ignored it, watching the noble intently, waiting for the woman to make the first move.

The well-dressed woman stepped forward into the room, still obscured by dust before opening her mouth.

Mart tensed and gripped his dagger ready for anything, he'd heard some magic involved chanting words, he expected he might have to evade some sort of spell.

So when the woman, lifted both hands to her mouth in a cupping motion and shouted in a crude tongue, Mart was quite surprised.

"Oi! ya bloody twats! I'm back! and your wanker leader better show himself, or I'm gonna do a lot more than simply bust the door, ya baloney incompetents!"

'Wait what?!' Mart blinked caught off guard by this unexpected announcement.

Mart did not know any nobility let alone one that spoke as the slummers like himself did, 'by the abyss, who was this chick?!'

"Come on out you muppets!" the young woman said impatiently, "I know you guys are here! I saw Tommy's pencil collection, he would never leave those behind willingly!"

'Wait...' Mart stopped, a sluggish connection dawning on him, 'is that her... no way?!'

The dust cleared a little, giving Mart a better view of the woman as she stepped out of the cloud, auburn hair glinting healthily as she placed her hands on her waist, a demanding look on the woman's familiar features, "Show yourselves! Are you not professional thieves? Proud coyotes?! Get out here you twats!"

Spotting the woman's face, Mart coughed than chuckled disbelievingly, There was no doubt about it, this woman was her, It was Lescar, his best and only friend.

Beginning to slowly step out of the dark, Mart with a slightly numb feeling in his chest said in his best-unbothered voice.

"Well looky looky 'ere, are my ocular orbs deceiving me? Or is it Lez da leaver gracing us wit' her prezzence."

Keeping his voice even Mart struggled to not break out in a fit of anger.

He'd thought he had entirely done away with his own anger at her leaving, but apparently, he'd been wrong.

Wincing slightly at these feelings Mart crushed the turbulent emotions down before Lescar could spot his consternation,

Lescar seemed surprised to hear him, and replied slowly as she stared towards Mart.

"Mart??? is that you? You sound a little different?"

Mart's voiced had deepened steadily over the last year, that was no surprise to him.

Quickly, as Mart took the last step into the light he shot back.

"An' you look a lot different..." Mart squinted keeping his anger under wraps "Realllllyy different."

Marts eyes quickly scanned over his best friend.

She certainly did look very different from since he'd last seen her, he could see certain improvements for starters...

Before Mart could mull more deeply over Lescar's appearance, the tall girl fidgeted uncomfortably before hardening her voice and snapping Mart out of his examination.

"Mart! Where is Fabran? I need to talk to him!"

"Not even an 'ello after all dis time?" Mart frowned up at Lescar in response.

The long-legged girl did not respond to Mart's provocation, simply starring at him with a focused gaze.

It looked like she had not entirely forgiven him either for his past mis-endeavor.

Rubbing his forehead, Mart let out a long breath before answering the silent Lescar.

"Fine, if you really wanna know, dat git Fab is out on a 'supply' run wit' da others and he won't be back till late'ah."

Mart did not tell Lescar what he was planning to do against Fab, she was not involved in crew business anymore and it would be best to keep it that way on such short notice.

'Aldough' Mart thought vaguely 'she does seem Abyss bent on finding Fab, why?'

'She couldn't want revenge surely?! dat would be suicide!' Mart thought haphazardly.

Interrupting Marts thoughts Lescar questioned him "Why aren't you with him and the others?" the haughty seeming girl raising an eyebrow, disdain creeping into her voice, "I thought you were supposed to be his best right-hand man?"

"Yeah, well..." Mart cringed feeling that barb sharply, "''tings change and Fab don't like me much anymore espezzially not after I let in da newbiezzs."

"Newbies?"

Feeling slightly relieved that Lescar had not pursued that earlier topic, Mart answered fervently.

"Yep, the newbiezzs," Mart acknowledged before swiveling around, "Oi! teeny Tommy! Get the newbiezzs up here! An old friend is visiting."

Mart turned around to look at the woman- no girl in front of him, after telling the kid hiding behind him to fetch the others.

He still felt a little disgruntled to see her so suddenly, Lescar clearly having similar feelings but he also felt kinda... glad?

Tommy briefly stepped around Mart to address Lescar receiving his prized box back before darting away to fulfill Marts order, Mart studying the distracted Lescar more in-depth while Tommy did that.

She had always been an auburn-haired pretty human girl as far as Mart was concerned, but there was an undeniable look about Lescar now, very far from the skinny girl he had originally known.

While she still had tan skin, and a lean build, there was a certain maturity about her now, a steadiness of resolve and clear gaze far beyond the mere surface level of a clean face, and swanky looking drapes.

Was it just confidence or something else entirely? what had she been through recently that had inspired that change?

Mart could not see what might have done that, but he did see a few other recently developed assets of Lescar's, that he was sure she hadn't been so well endowed with the last time they had met.

Marts's eyes drifted up and down the redhead's lithe form, settling briefly on her hips, before slowly rolling up to oggle Lescars more bountiful chest, he knew for a fact that Lescar hadn't had those two developments last he'd seen her.

Not that Mart minded, he thought that the girl's additional curves could only be an aesthetic improvement over what she'd had before.

Feeling a little more of his anger fall away Mart's lips parted in slight smile 'Nice gains Lez,' forehead crinkling as the ab-human boy squinted one last time at the girls new feminine traits, 'Its certainly a better look than the skinny beanstalk I saw last time.'

'Though...' Mart paused now looking up at Lescar's face with disguised concern, 'was Lez always dis tall? I'm pretty sure she was shorter than me by like, an inch, why is she looming over me?'

Standing next to Lescar, Mart could tell she now stood almost a whole head taller than him, 'dat isn't fair!' Mart groused quietly, 'men should always be taller than women!'

Mart felt distinctly annoyed at this, he'd never been that tall, but at least he'd always been taller the girls he'd met, but now he was outdone by Lescar herself.

Mart was about to say something about Lescar's obvious growth spurt when Tommy tapped him on the shoulder to inform him of his arrival, the other urchins gathered around him.

Dismissing height based questions for later, Mart rolled a hand as he indicated each kid to Lescar.

"Dese guys 'ere are da newbies, I picked them up after dey showed some spunk or talent on da streets."

Looking incredulous the redhead said in a hushed tone, "Did you really? I couldn't see Fabran liking that at all,"

"'Ee didn't sadly, said I 'was weakening the coyotes by recruiting no skill scum.'"

Mart frowned as he recalled those words, the Urchins around him likewise muttering to themselves bitterly.

Looking up Mart smiled and said, "But we know better don't we Lez? Me and you both were dat once, even if you look szzo different from da rest of uzzs now..."

Mart pointed at Lescar's richly appointed clothes, high demeanor, and curvy figure and felt a twinge inside himself.

She looked like she had done really well for herself, better than he had, that sort of annoyed him as well for some reason.

Feeling a sliver of his anger awakened, Mart after a pause decided to see how much of his old friend was really still inside that tall successful-looking figure.

Looking for anything he might be able to use to tug on her semi sensitive self-image, Mart smiled evilly, an idea about what to target coming to the forefront of his mind.

Laughingly Mart called out loudly "Oyoyo! You sure did get fit! Did you get diddled by some rich pomce or some'ting? What's with da getup? Are you a lords floozzzy now? Does he pay you well? cause, those drapez look pretty priczzey."

After that, Mart waited for the moment of truth, was this the girl he had grown up with or someone he didn't really know.

Lescar's haughty expression froze on her face, then steadily turned red, Mart could swear he could almost see the steam coming out of her ears, then it happened.

"I did not get diddled by some rich guy! You- you ass!"

Lescar had stopped putting on her terrible accent and had reverted back to the way Mart knew she normally spoke, a clear and crisp voice that was utterly flustered.

Mart smiled genuinely this time, Lescar was still the same kid he knew under all that swish and posturing, but that didn't mean he was going to go easy on her now.

He couldn't resist when she made it this easy to get under her skin, clearly, her time away from him had slackened her defenses.

As he was about to strike again there was a subtle rustling in Lescar's hood and quite suddenly the angry expression on her face paled, almost as if the tall girl had suddenly remembered something important, she grimacing shortly before straightening up and returning back to a more controlled voice, the accent discarded, but her voice no less authoritative.

"Enough of this Mart!" Lescar called out in a commanding tone that made the urchins around him shake a little "I came here to see Fabran, if you are not going to be helpful-"

Unaffected by Lescar's air of authority Mart interjected with a snicker, his left foot thumping sporadically against the ground as he made certain gestures related to Lescar's appearance.

"You sure you ain't been diddled? I heard dem Floozzzy'z gain a lot of weight too."

Mart made sure to wiggle his hips for extra effect and he was not disappointed by the results.

Much like before, Lescar's face went beet red, the girl struggling to contain herself before she burst out in a fit of anger.

"You- you rabbit jerk!" Lescar said, stomping up to stand right in front of Mart, her full height towering over him as she bristled at the shorter ab-human boy, lips pursed with hardly constrained venom.

'Ahh 'ere it comes,' Mart thought eyes briefly closed as a sense of nostalgia overcame him.

Lescar opened her mouth as she leaned over him and out poured a stream of insults, her original goal forgotten.

"Youingrateasshole!IshouldhavekickedyouintheballswhenIfirstsawyouruglymugofacheesegratter! Youbootlickinglickspittlespinelessjackasssofullofhisownselfishcrap!!"

Lescar continued to cuss and spit venom at him but to Mart, the words all blurred together, the contents within the sentences mattering not at all to the boy, he had missed even this volatile part of Lescar.

Any sense of prior anger at Lescar fell away as Mart continued to snicker aloud under Lescar's irate bearing, Mart's further laughter only increasing the girl's exasperation and vitriol.

"Ugh! why are you like this?!" the tall girl finally came to a stop as she exhausted her own anger, her arms hanging limply to her sides.

"Because its fun," Mart responded, tapping Lescar on the arm, " and because you make it too easy Lez."

Lescar frowned, a spark lighting up in her gaze again, she pulling her hand away at Mart's touch, but not stepping further away.

"Don't get comfortable Mart," the girl hissed crossing her arms, "I still haven't forgiven you, I'm here strictly on business."

Frowning slightly at Lescar's immediate discarding of his attempts to breach the gap between them, Mart raised a brow quizically at her statement, a prepared response in his head.

"Business? you look pretty wealthy on your end at the moment, what would an upstanding adventurer like you have to do with us gutter trash?"

This time Lescar did not react to Mart's provocation and replied without hesitation, a hard glint in her stare.

"I find myself in need of a crew, and I was wondering if Fabran would mind donating his."

Mart blinked at this, his mouth slightly ajar, 'Lescar wanted a crew? Why?!'

"And *ahem,*" Mart coughed still a little stunned, " 'ow are you planning to do dat? Fab might not be dat popular right now but you don't stand a chance if you challenge him for da right d'to lead, no one will side wit you against him, especially since you've been gone for a whole year."

The hood Lescar was wearing rustled again and Mart swore he saw a pair of glowing yellow eyes in its depths before he shook his head clear, Lescar smiling as she stroked the hilt of her sword, nodding towards the monsters behind her, the enormous bat creature snarling in a low growl, while the pale rat one waved its bony scythe-like tail threateningly.

"Ohh I have my ways," the human girl smirked, "I will. Have a crew. By the end of today..."

There was an intensity in Lescar's eyes that suddenly reminded Mart of the girls older brother, Taldur. An intensity that spoke of a fortified determination to accomplish her goals.

Somehow, despite the odds against her, Mart felt that she might actually succeed.

'Well...' Mart thought to himself, as he looked back and forth between the resolute expression on Lescar's face and her monster pets 'I guess da plan will have d'to change a little.'

He looked at the small kids around him, the urchins were talking amongst themselves animatedly as they whispered and gestured towards Mart and Lescar.

'Maybe it will 'ave to change a lot,' Mart mused as one of the older urchins, the ab-human girl with tiny wings, pointed at Mart then Lescar before making a motion of pushing her finger through a circle she had made with her other hand before bursting out giggling with all the other kids.

'Yeah,' Mart nodded to himself, 'time to roll with whatever come's next.'

Mart chuffed, then looked up and said to Lescar.

"Lez, how's about a little deal, yeah?"

The human girl pursed her lips before stroking something hidden in the shadow of her hood.

"Hmmm, I'm listening Mart."

Mart smiled, maybe he wouldn't have to lose all of his connections today after all.