Croot once again looked over his newly found companions as he left the unnamed grog-house with them and they stepped into the narrow alleyways of Riddleport, the City of Cyphers. Jenner led the way. He was a tall, lanky man and a halting speaker who seemed a bit awkward but was deceptively quick with a knife. Joffo followed along quickly behind him. He was a Shoanti tribesman who had left his kinfolk long ago and taken up the manners of the locals. Joffo was strong and fast and mean, but very superstitious. Few cared to cross him. Bender was directly in front of Croot. He was both thick as a barrel and strong as an ox, but was considerably older than the others. Croot imagined he gained his name from bending the anatomy of people who offended him into awkward positions. Croot himself was a young man of mixed heritage. He was mostly indistinguishable from the masses with both a medium height and build as well as brown hair and dark eyes. Croot brought up the rear where he could watch his companions and preferred it that way. The group did not speak as they walked past the warehouses and shanty houses littering the wharf district.
Riddleport had many oil lamps placed along its streets to give light in the dark but without being regularly filled with oil to burn, they served as little more than decoration where Jenner was leading them. He stopped at the end of an alleyway between two warehouses. Light from one of the rare lit lamps illuminated the street just beyond the alley's entrance. "Here," Jenner said flatly and walked back past his companions a little away from the entrance.
There were a couple small recesses in the warehouse wall opposite Jenner and a large broken crate beside him. The light at the end would give them notice of any unlucky pigeon taking a short-cut and the darkness would give them a means to conceal themselves. This spot in the alley made for a nice murder box. Croot smiled. After failing miserably to convince the Tian merchant to allow them to escort him north to Karlsgard, Jenner had suggested he knew a place to wait for a pigeon or two and the rest was history.
Croot picked the large broken crate next to where Jenner was standing. The air reeked particularly strongly of urine and vomit as he stepped toward the crate and he knew that his chosen spot had very recently been made use of by some drunkard. He ignored the smell and whatever other bodily fluids he was stepping into, convincing himself that it was a good sign and this was a prime spot for an easy mark. He crouched behind the crate and into the darkness while drawing his dirk, then glanced impatiently toward the light on his left. A pigeon would fly by soon and he would be ready. Bender and Joffo none too quietly took their places in the shadows against the narrow alley's opposing wall. Jenner leaned against the same wall as the other two, but a little farther from the entrance and proceeded to pick at a bone of some sort with his long knife. They had drawn straws and it was Jenner's unenviable position of distracting their mark. Bender and Joffo would step out to intimidate the pigeon into surrendering his goods. Croot would wait to give the little birdie a kiss in the ribs if it gave them any trouble instead of paying up and flying away. He took a deep breath and waited as his eyes adjusted to the darkness around him.
Soon, a tall figure stepped into the light at the entrance and turned into the alley.
Croot quickly scanned the individual while it remained in the light. A curved sword in a wooden scabbard rested upon the figure's left hip, with its left hand gripping the scabbard's throat, and a bandolier strung across its chest fastened with a large brass buckle on its right side. Although a broad rimmed helmet hid the figure's ears, the general features were still visible. The small tusks protruding from the figure's mouth coupled with the greenish hue to its skin left no doubt this was a half-orc and Croot hated the half-breeds. This pigeon will not fly away tonight, he promised himself while trying to hold in his anger.
Jenner stepped away from the wall and in front of the half-breed who immediately stopped. "I believe you best hand'ver all yer stuff, real quick like," he said nervously. A master orator Jenner was not.
"I see," came a deep voice from the half-breed. "I believe you best move along." The half-breed rocked on the balls of his feet with his knees slightly bent, squarely facing Jenner. Croot grimaced, realizing that when the sound of its voice had drawn his attention to the half-breed's face, its free right hand had deftly taken hold of the sword's hilt.
Croot breathed quietly and waited for Bender and Joffo to make their move. "Bad Magic. Bad Magic. That's Amago. Let'em be. Leggo fellas." came Joffo's low but clearly worried voice. The half-breed still stood squarely facing Jenner and did not even twitch in acknowledgement of Joffo. Croot was momentarily stunned by Joffo's words.
Bender began moving into sight and away, back down the alley. Joffo quickly followed without uttering a word. Looking this way and then that way, and appearing very confused, Jenner began backing away too with words tumbling from his mouth, "Me sorry, me sorry."
Croot's emotions flashed first to anger at his mates, then to excitement as he realized he would have all the loot for himself. And he would get to leave a greenskin half-breed's entrails on the ground for it. He moved like lightning from behind the crate and thrust his dirk into the side of the half-orc. But, Croot's knife glanced off the buckle of the half-breed's bandolier, still finding flesh, but sapped of its lethality.
Fluidly and without hesitation, the half-orc shifted his weight and turned, the curved blade held in his right slashed across his body toward Croot as he drew his left hand back and into the air. For an instant, Croot could clearly see the half-breed's face. A face that marked the half-breed as little more than a boy with a sword in his right hand. A boy that Croot too late realized wielded fire in his other as a crimson stream flowed from the boy's free hand engulfing Croot and setting the would-be murderer ablaze before continuing on past and setting the warehouse wall ablaze too. Just as swiftly, the boy whipped his hand back, drawing a rope of flame from Croot and immolating himself with it.
Croot fled without looking back, running as he had only once before, and the fires continued to melt into his skin. While watching Croot flee, the half-orc pointed his blade at the flaming wall of the warehouse and then up into the sky. A ribbon of flame from the wall followed along, streaming high into the night air before extinguishing itself and leaving behind an intact but still smoldering structure. Amago held Bad magic, indeed.