Holding his breath tight in his chest, Zach stifled his urge to hum a tune as he stepped from shadow to shadow. While the night had certainly ended differently than he’d expected, he couldn’t say he hadn’t enjoyed the… finale.

The Count had managed to keep up an almost admirable if blustering facade for longer than his tormentor had expected, but when the fool of a man finally broke…

Zach found himself grinning. Just because the end of the evening had been unexpected, didn’t mean that it was satisfying as all Hells. It had been a bloody end and consequently that had meant it had been very messy. He hoped that Jormir himself would be tasked to clean it up. That would serve the smug bastard right. He’d heard that blood stains were murder to get out of silk…

Getting out of the mansion had been a piece of piss. It was so late by the time that he was done that the corridors were completely deserted. He hadn’t seen a single soul as he’d slipped out of the Count’s room and headed for the nearest exit. No worries about needing to off anyone who saw his bloodstained clothes. Zach had actually felt pretty disappointed about that.

No, the only issue was avoiding the patrolling guards as he made his way out of the manor and into the carefully cultivated gardens. They weren’t as easy to take down as the ridiculous fops inside the mansion. He’d heard Jormir boasting to some other poor sod that the mansion’s security team were as brave and as armed as guardsmen came.

Thankfully though, luck was on his side yet again as the security was clearly designed to keep intruders out, not stop escapees. Though truthfully, Zach was sure it wouldn’t be hard to make his escape regardless. So what if these clowns were supposed to be decent at their jobs? He felt alive in a way he’d thought he’d lost after going under Sykes knife, and his Mana was practically singing as it jumped to do his bidding.

A twist of focus veiled his footsteps, a dollop of power extended the shadow he lurked in and all with no one the wiser. It was a shame the Count had been such a bleeder, or Zacharias would have simply blended back in with the wait staff, but with the copious amounts of blood on his uniform… it wasn’t likely to go well.

Still, he was almost home free when he heard a cry go out behind him and an alarm began to ring. Zach tsked to himself as he sped up his pace, but the guards lining the manor’s walls had exploded into motion, some even using some form of magic the Halfling rogue didn’t recognize to light up the courtyard.

The murder of a guest would look bad on Lord Casey, Zach chuckled to himself as he pressed flat against the ground, Or was this the hunt for the Purene Ruby? I have to assume the witless lass took care of it, or this was pointless after all.

The most important aspect of being a thief of his renown, of course, was keeping your calm when the plan went to shit. So Zach was all too willing to wait patiently as he counted out the number of guards patrolling near him, listening to the footsteps as he tracked his path to freedom.

Burning through his Mana in a swell of focus, Zach extended his own shadow as it swiftly connected to what little shadows remained in the garden. Each connection cost him more and more Mana, but as his shadow reached the manor’s walls, Zach grinned as he tossed one of his many daggers straight up.

As attentive as they were, the nearest guards quickly noticed the motion of the weapon and converged on the source, only to find a small shadow under a tree. Distracted as they were, no one had noticed Zach’s prone form blend into the ground and re-emerge within spitting distance of the courtyard wall. From there, it didn’t take him long to scale the stone wall, before alighting along its length.

Luckily, there was only one mage remaining nearby, the robed Human shining a beam of light through the garden. In truth, it would be child’s play to keep on his merry way, but just the thought that some upstart prick thought he could catch him, the one and only Zacharias? He barely even noticed as he palmed one of his enchanted daggers, extending the shadowy edge of his blade as the Halfling moved towards the poor schmuck.

One hand covered the fool’s mouth, even as the other sliced through his throat like it was butter, the mage’s young face flickering through surprise, fear and pain in mere moments as the lad’s lifeblood poured down his throat. And it was a young lad indeed, Zach noticed as he slowly lowered him to the stone floor, careful not to make any noise. Barely old enough to grow a beard, and dead to some rogue’s knife. Well, not some rogue. Only the most suave, handsome and talented one in the whole of Dray’Mel.

For a beat, Zach imagined what it would be like to be someone who gave a damn, before he rifled through the unlucky brats pockets. Wasn’t his fault the boy had gotten in his way, after all, and as Zach pulled loose a belt of rope, he just thanked his stars that it was a boy indeed.

A more experienced mage would have had some kind of defensive magic in place, and probably mucked the whole thing up. Still, luck was its own kind of skill, Zach reminded himself as he tied a rope around the boy’s waist, and pressed him up against the stone wall. So he could hardly be to blame that the boy got unlucky, and he had Lady Fortune’s taste on his handsome lips.

Rappelling down the length of the wall, careful not to drag the mage’s body overboard, Zach landed with nary a thump, before strutting down the street. Blessed once more, it seemed most of the gawkers that such a commotion inevitably attracted were focused on the main gate, leaving his trip down to the Slums completely unguarded.

It was nearly a shame being this talented, Zach mused to himself as he watched the buildings shift from sprawling mansions to disheveled hovels. But now that he was back in his element, things would be looking up for dear old Zach…

Unfortunately for the cocky murderer, Zach turned a corner and ran smack dab into a group of thugs, each sporting the old and very recognizable symbol of being part of the late Sykes gang.

Sadly luck was a fickle bitch at best.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Zacharias let out a groan as he was roughly shoved into a chair, his head covered in a black bag. The prick’s who’d nabbed him had been all too happy to direct their blows to his dome, and the concerning amount of dizziness he was experiencing was not something he’d recommend.

Still, the Halfling was pleasantly surprised he was still alive. Though the last time he’d been captured like this, he’d needed Winifred to bail him out.

But he couldn’t get lost in thoughts like that. He needed his focus. Not that these guys were really much compared to Sykes. The old bastard hadn’t been known for picking intelligent thugs. There’d be no need for an overpowered pit fighter this time. Zach was certain it would only be a matter of time before he made his second escape of the evening.

Of course, so as long as he was breathing, he had options. So the thief fixed a grin on his face and waited for the burlap sack to be pulled off his head.

Blinking away a sudden burst of light, Zach was quick to take in his new location. He was currently sitting in the center of a large room, surrounded on all sides by familiar looking faces, old friends of his from his days working for Sykes. The room itself was familiar as well, beer stains etched in deep to dusty countertops, and a couple of dangerous looking gamblers were betting on a dice game in the corner.

“By the Gods Above, did you blindfold me just to bring me to The Tipsy Boar, you muppets? I already know the damn place, you fucking numptys, I was here barely four months ago.” Zacharias half-groaned, half-laughed as he took in the mooks staring daggers at him. “Really guys, you’re making us all look like amateurs here, you only bag someone when you-”

Interrupted by a blow across his face, Zach reeled back in his chair and fixed his spinning vision on the smug smile his attacker wore across his dwarven mug. “Always so smug, always so clever, eh Zach? Sykes may have let you run your mouth, but when you’re dealing with me, you’d be wise to shut yer ugly fat gob.” The brown-bearded dwarf practically crowed, preening in front of his captive.

“Oh, Tiamat be damned, you lot put Finch in charge?” The Halfling coughed out as he spat a glob of blood to the side. “The bloody toady? Sykes’ personal ball-tugger?” Zach barely choked out before a swift blow to his stomach left him momentarily breathless.

“It’s Butch actually, and of course I’m in charge. I was the one who managed the Dragon’s Blood, not Sykes. It was easy enough to put these lots in their place, when they realized who held the purse strings.” Butch finished glibly, pulling a chair up beside his prone prisoners form. “And while I appreciate the promotion, it would be remiss of me not to punish you for our dearly departed leader’s death.”

Gasping for air, Zach surreptitiously tested the rope holding his wrists behind his back. “Sykes was a madman, and the lot of you should be thanking me. The Tomb-Makers had an eye on him, and they were likely about to take you all out. So you’re all fucking welcome.”

“Be that as it may, that’s not actually why we kept you alive Zach.” Butch grinned, leaning over his captive. “No, we have it on good authority that you’ve been getting deep in the cups and bragging about your supply of Dragon’s Blood. You were always Sykes number one seller, after all, so you must have quite a bit of it stashed away.”

Staring at the toady before him, Zach let out a small chuckle, that become a bellyful of laughter as Butch’s grin slipped off his face. “Gods be damned. You’re running out aren’t you? Did Sykes really take the recipe with him to the grave? I bet you’ve got quite a few people pressuring you for their next fix, much less the Nobles expecting their share of the loot.”

Ignoring the blow that came across his face, Zacharias let his head loll to the side as he looked over the crowd of angry looking thugs surrounding him. “None of you give a single copper of fucks about Sykes, you all just want to make some goddamn coin, isn’t that right?”

Straightening up, Zach lifted his unbound hands up in the air before reaching out to Butch in a pantomime of a handshake. “And I’ve got a deal of a lifetime to make with you all. How about I tell you where the Dragon’s Blood is, -and- how to make more. That’s got to be worth my life and then some?”

Blustering in rage, Butch’s beard began to bristle in anger as he stared at the Halfling’s offered hand. But the toady could hear his men grunting their agreement, so he stiffly grabbed Zach’s palm and went to give it a quick shake.

When their palms crossed however, Zach reached forward and grabbed Butch’s forearm and pulled him off-balance as he leaned in and whispered into his ear. “I never liked you, Bitch, and I’ll be damned before I shove my nose up your ass.”

Before the Dwarf could pull away, Zach pulled a sliver of his Mana from his Core and injected it into his newfound artifact, the ring he’d rightfully acquired from the Count’s corpse. Electricity danced along his arm and up Butch’s limb as the ill-fated dwarf began to howl in pain.

Flesh bubbling and blistering, it wasn’t long before the toady’s entire body slumped to the floor, bits of a steam wafting off his cooked corpse as Zach contemptiously dropped the disfigured arm before he turned a cheeky grin to the men surrounding him.

“But don’t you worry lads, the Dragon’s Blood will still flow. Now who wants to make some fucking coin?”