Dark Thane

Replacing the grate, Zen crawled between the legs of the cattle until he reached a low wall. He crouched behind it on his knees for a few moments, softly counting under his breath, "One-fifty one, one-fifty-two, one-fifty-three. When he reached one-sixty, he stood just in time to see Marith Darkforge disappear around the corner of the building directly in front of him.

He leaped over the wall in one bound, crossed the crooked street crowded with laden wagons, and quickly ascended a narrow staircase cut into the side of the building. At the top of the staircase he found a small servant's door propped open by a lump of coal the size of a child's fist. He ducked through the door and entered a long, dark hall, removing the coal as he passed so that the door closed firmly behind him, its latch locking into place with a loud click. Pausing, he heard footsteps ascending a nearby staircase. He shrunk into a dark corner beside a closed door, ducked his head between his shoulders and began to make small retching noises.

As the footsteps reached the top of the stairs, they paused. He heard a sharp intake of breath, then a relaxed exhale. "Stinking gully dwarf," a female voice muttered as the footsteps continued, entering the hall and approaching him. "Is this what I pay good rent money to come home to?" Zen kept his head lowered, even as he felt a sharp kick to his shins.

"Gods! What a smell," she exclaimed. Zen rocked forward, clutching his bruised shins and mewling pitifully. This gave him the opportunity to shift his weight onto the balls of his feet. Another kick landed on his jaw, snapping his head back. "Get out of here, you filthy, stinking rat. How did you get in here?"

Zen heaved with dry retches, spittle flowing into the matted hairs of his beard. "Mercy," he moaned. "Me sick."

"Well get sick somewhere else," Marith yelled as she opened the door to her apartment. Zen heard the groan of the heavy door on its hinge and reacted immediately.

The swiftness of his attack caught Marith Darkforge by surprise. She had just turned to enter her apartment when Zen bowled into the backs of her legs, throwing her face first into the carpet. In an instant, she had rolled to her feet, two long, wickedly curved daggers in her fists.

Still in gully dwarf form, Zen closed the door and put his back to it Marith gazed at him, her dark eyes sparkling with hate. "Why you miserable little gully dwarf!" she snarled. "What can you possibly hope to… "

Her sneering bravura died as she watched the gully dwarf swiftly transform into the gleaming, silver-gray body of a sivak draconian nearly seven feet tall. Zen towered over her, each of his fists nearly as large as her whole head, the muscles of his thighs thicker than her entire body.

His clawed feet dug into the black carpet covering the floor as he readied himself for her attack. He knew Marith Darkforge. He had studied her for weeks, had followed her through every routine of her life. He had watched her eat, watched her go about her daily duties, watched her train; he had followed her while she worked the gully dwarf warrens searching for him. He knew her reputation, her preference for two daggers, the way she always led with high right-handed feint while the left hand drove in low to the groin. She liked to spill the bowels of those she killed. Her martial skills were excellent if predictable. Surely she was one of the better opponents Zen had faced in his long and violent career; plus, he was weaponless and wore no armor, which meant this would be an interesting encounter.

She recognized her advantage, but she had not yet gotten over the shock of the draconian's sudden appearance. She had been hunting for this very one for the better part of a year. "You!" Marith hissed in surprise.

Zen smiled, parting his reptilian jaws to reveal long rows of back-curved fangs. This was one of the most alluring dwarf women he had seen in his eighteen months here. Adult female dwarves were mostly stocky and stout as though built out of bricks with too much mortar by a careless mason, neither handsome, nor ugly nor particularly well made. Utterly unremarkable. Human males lusted after female elves, but no one lusted after dwarf women. Not even dwarf men.

This one was different. There was something positively coltish about her legs. Her smooth, bare arms were muscular without being overwrought. Her black hair gleamed like the feather of a raven. Her chest, encased in its hardened busty torso of leather armor, heaved with excitement.

"My master has been searching for you," she said. Her lips, a moist dusky rose, parted in a nervous smile. "He urgently needs to talk to you."