"Come on," Pallas Semele begged. "One more drink. You know I'm good for it."
"Afraid not, sir," Whittlee, a halfling girl with white hair, shook her head. "Ma told me that you've been nothing but trouble. You have to pay your tab."
"Bah," Pallas hiccuped. "Fine. In the morning, I'll pack up and go elsewhere to drink."
"You'll have to leave tonight," Whittlee informed him. "Ma's orders. If you don't pay off your tab before nightfall, you can't sleep here. Now, I got other customers to attend to, sir."
Whittlee walked away, leaving Pallas to look out at the window. The sun was already setting, earning a sigh from the half-elf. The Tea Kettle was known for a lodge for adventurers and good tea, but thankfully, it also served decent ale. The half-elf was more interested in a cold drink, and although Madam Freona charged him for the ale, she let him sleep with the adventurers for free. Now, that deal was coming to an end. In his defense, it was one fight he started. Granted, he started it because he was bored, but it was just one fight.
It was clear to see that Pallas was not a man of wealth or privilege. Any assumption that he had no coin on him would be completely accurate. The half-elf was slim to the point that it was unhealthy. The rags he wore were gray, covered in dirt, and mostly torn. He had no shoes and covered his feet and legs with white cloth like one would use to bind an injury. His rugged brownish hair was unkempt with a small patch of hair hanging from his chin. He kept his green eyes narrowed and cross, making it hard to get an accurate reading from him.
Pallas only had one possession that would be of any value: a rough looking drinking horn sheathed at his hip. It was as long as his hand to his forearm and resembled a tusk of some strange beast. Many different collectors offered coin for it, even though it was in rough shape. And each time, the half-elf turned them away with a shrug. He was desperate to find a place to sleep and eat, but not that desperate. He had a good run at the Tea Kettle. It was time to pack up and find somewhere else to rest up.
The door to the Tea Kettle opened, revealing a gnome wearing patchwork clothes and carried a floppy hat in his calloused hands. There was a look of worry on his face. Pallas realized that he was probably looking to hire an adventurer for the job. All eyes were on the gnome, who looked about the crowd until settling his eyes on the half-elf. The urchin cursed under his breath when the small man made his way over to his table, ignoring the jabs and glares from other customers looking for work.
"Are you an adventurer?" the gnome asked.
"No," Pallas shook his head. "Leave me alone."
"Please, my little girl is in trouble," the man told him, voice cracking. "Will you hear my story?"
"Again, no." Pallas denied sternly. "Now, why don't you go sod off and-"
"I can pay!" the gnome interrupted quickly.
"I'm listening," Pallas changed his mind. "Go ahead and tell me your troubles, friend."
"My name is Rilo Leadstopper, and I am a tinkerer," the gnome introduced. "My little girl, Villonah, is in trouble. After her mother died, she became a wild thing. She gets into trouble with the law constantly."
"I don't mess with guards, sir," Pallas tried to wave him off. "Good talk."
"Please, keep listening," Rilo begged while continuing. "She's only guilty of minor offenses, and the Black Fist have her down as a usual suspect for crimes. Last night, they arrested her without telling me any charges. I thought I could pay her bail at Castle Valjevo, like before, but the guards told me she wasn't in jail."
"Then she wasn't in jail," Pallas shrugged. "How is that not a problem?"
"I asked around the more, well, seedy people," Rilo admitted with a sigh. "A cutpurse told me that there is a secret prison ran by the Black Fist guards. Without their superior's knowledge, they murder and torture prisoners. To make matters worse, I heard my daughter stole from one of those guards."
"Report it to the guards," Pallas told him. "I'm no good at finding secret prisons."
"But I know where the entrance is!" Rilo told him. "A tunnel by River Stojanow that leads underneath the ruins of the Lyceum of the Black Lord. I can't trust the Black Fist for the job, so I need your help. I can pay fifty gold if you agree to aid me, and I'll throw a fine magnifying glass!"
"Fifty gold, huh?" Pallas stroked the long strand of hair on his chin. "Enough to pay off my tab. Guess I'll help out. Lead the way."
Rilo smiled, the worry on his face disappearing for a moment, as he practically ran out the door. Pallas stood up from his chair and stretched up. He smirked upon seeing the various adventurers glaring at him. They were looking for an opportunity to earn more coin, and the half-elf, who was no adventurer as much as he was a desperate man looking for a coin, took their job. He placed his hands into his rags and followed suit after the gnome. Maybe his luck would turn around.
For a entrance into a secret prison ran by murderers, they had awful security. Rilo led Pallas to the tunnel, which was unguarded, and directed him to go find his daughter. He entered the tunnel, thankful that his elven blood allowed him to see in the dark. For several minutes he walked, expecting for a guard or trap to hinder his progress. Yet, the only thing stopping any intruder was a shoddy door that marked the entrance to the prison.
Pallas grabbed at the door knob and twisted it in an attempt to open it. It remained in place, locked. So, the criminals did have some sort of security in place. Nothing that he could not break through. He reached into his rags, pulling out a dart and pin. With the pin, he picks the lock, allowing for the half-elf to open the door. He stepped into the next room.
In the room were eight cages, five of which contained prisoners. A door by the cages was barred shut with there being another door directly in front of him. In the center of the room was a stone chair bolted down to the ground, likely for interrogation. Asides from that, there were many other torture devices spread throughout the room. Pallas was sickened by the sight and wish he had something to drink to clear his mind of the dark images in his head. The prisoners, upon seeing someone that was not a torturer, almost ran against the metal bars, making a ruckus.
"A savior!" one of them cried out. "Save us, please!"
"Silence," Pallas sternly whispered, walking to the cells. "I'll get you out, but you're going to let the guards know."
"Sorry," a prisoner with one ear whispered. "Can you get us out."
"I'm on it," Pallas headed off to pick the lock of the first cell. "Any of you know a gnome named Villonah?"
"The gnome was taken to the Funhouse," one of the prisoners answered, motioning to the barred door. "The guards take prisoners there to execute later Once the guards are off break, she's a goner."
"Where's the fun with that?" Pallas cracked. "I'll dispatch the guards first. Saves me the trouble of doing it later."
Breaking through four locks was not too hard with his pin. He was tempted to release the fifth prisoner, who was huddled into the corner and muttering murderous thoughts. Pallas was reminded that there was a reason that they were locked up and decided not to free the final one. The other four prisoners already ran off and the half-elf was not interested in subduing the prisoners now that he came upon that realization. They were guilty of minor crimes at best and he had guards to take care of before they continue their acts of villainy.
Pallas walked over to the unbarred door, and without hesitation, struck it with his foot, knocking it back. Four guards were gathered around a table, enjoying a game of cards, with a giant dog sleeping on a pile of hay in the corner. The men were unarmed and without armor and looked towards the door in shock. The half-elf grinned, having the element of surprise, and threw the dart in his hand at the guard in the front. It landed at his neck, distracting the criminal long enough for the monk to close the distance and punch him in the face. People assumed he was too lean to be too hard of a hitter. There was much more to a punch than muscle mass.
The guard he punched was dazed but returned with his own jab, landing at Pallas' gut. He grunted, grabbing at his drinking horn, and swung it the guard. It soared passed him but a following punch sent him crashing down onto the table, out cold. The half-elf was thankful that his horn was as strong as a wooden mug, making it an efficient makeshift weapon. While the dog woke up in the corner, the remaining three criminals surrounded him and started using their numbers to take advantage and beat down on the intruder. Their blows hurt him but his punches were more powerful. Precision beats strength anyday.
He swung out with the drinking horn, smacking one guard across the face with it. A punch at his throat knocked him down, out cold like his comrade. He ducked under the remaining two punches, missed with his horn, but punched another man. He backed away, seeing that their attack dog was getting ready to join the fight. The half-elf hated beating animals, but seeing as how it was more deadly than the two before him, it took priority.
While he was busy analyzing the battle, one of the guards struck him across the face. Pallas backed away from the attack of the second guard, and swung his drinking horn down on the dog, followed by a kick from the gut. The dog growled in anger and pain and launched out to bite down on the half-elf. He raised his mug in between its jaw, and as it clamped down, there was a sick crack of one of its teeth falling out. The drinking horn was his weapon of choice for a reason. He pulled it free from the whimpering dog and knocked it out with a swift jab at its skull.
Pallas turned back to face the two men, both of whom charged to punch at him. He shifted his body out of the first punch and raised his mug to block the second punch. There was a sick crack of a fist breaking as the fist connected with the tough ivory of the horn. The half-elf was swift to take advantage of the injured guard, punching him right in the face. The man's nose broke when his opponent slammed his horn against it in quick succession. Finally, a jab to the side of the face knocked him out.
The final guard, frightened but with nowhere left to turn to, struck out against Pallas, smacking into his lean chest. He grinned, ready to put an end to the battle. With his free hand, he motioned for the man to continue his attack. The guard punched out at the half-elf, only for his fist to sail pass him. Without hesitation, he swung his horn up at the man's chin in a critical uppercut, then brought his free hand down on the top of his head. The strength of the blows coming upon his skull was enough to knock the pour man out. With the criminals knocked out, it would be easy to report them while releasing their dog out to the open.
With no more threats to deal with, Pallas made his way back to the prison and walked over to the barred door. The guards bruised him somewhat with their attacks but it was nothing he could not handle. It took him some time to remove the boards, but eventually, he was able to pull them free. With the door now opened to him, the half-elf kicked down another door, revealing what was once a grand chamber that had fallen into shambles.
What walls there were had collapsed long ago, making way for earth and stone to take their place. Obelisks were set up across the room and they did looked very ominous. Pallas made sure to stay far away from them while making his way towards the cage in the center. It was small, but for the female gnome within, it was rather grand. She was seated on the cold ground, arms grabbing at her legs as she cradled herself.
"Can't run away," Villonah whispered. "Can't run away."
"Oh, you'll be fine," Pallas assured her, reaching into his pockets. "I'll have you out of there in a moment."
"Can't run away," Villonah repeated.
"Ayep, just got to take care of one thing," Pallas pulled a dart from his rags.
"Can't run away."
"Just gotta kill the grick that thinks I can't see it," Pallas motioned towards the side of the room. "Pesky bastards they are."
"Can't run away."
"How did I see it?" Pallas smirked. "Elven blood, I suppose. Truth be told, I don't know. It's just different from the other rocks, and it's coming closer."
Without hesitation, Pallas threw his dart at what seemed like a regular boulder in the corner. Yet, as it connected, the rock screeched out, revealing itself to be a grick, like he claimed. Continuing with his attack, Pallas ran up and punched it, aiming for a precise blow. His hand connected with its hard shell, but it screeched out louder than he did. Punching rock may not be seem like the best idea, but what choice did he have at this point? It was either it or him.
The grick prepared to attack, uncurling its long tentacles. Pallas was familiar with how gricks acted, and remembered that they grappled someone with the tentacles and then pecked them with their beak. It would be an awful way to die so he was best off to dodge the tentacles. It lashed out with his tentacles and the half-elf ducked underneath them. He closed the distance once more, slamming both horn and fist down on its rock shell. It screeched out, its natural armor doing little to protect it from the numb monk's blows.
However, with how close Pallas was now, the grick was able to wrapped its tentacles around his body, holding him in place. He struggled against its slimy tentacles and looked in horror as it opened its beak, ready to peck into his chest. He recalled a haunting story of how one adventurer was killed with a grick wrapped its tentacles around his face and pecked right into his mouth. He gulped, seeing the monster launch itself towards its chest by pulling him with its tentacles. Thankfully, at the last second, the half-elf brought his horn between his body and the beak, blocking the lethal attack.
While the grick was dazed from slamming into his mug, Pallas squatted down, and rolled away from the monster. He stood up just in time to see it swing out with its tentacle. He blocked the blow with his mug and ran forward, fist raised. The half-elf punched the grick square in the beak, earning another screech from his foe. Instead of fighting, the monster retreated deeper into the chamber. The urchin, knowing he was outmatched, decided to take this as an advantage to flee while he still can.
Pallas rushed over to the cage, prying the doors open with ease. He rushed to grab Villonah, who struggled and pushed against him, repeating her saying over and over. Eventually, he was able to pick her up and ran towards the exit. The grick screeched as he left but made no attempt to attack him. The half-elf slammed the door closed behind him and sighed out in relief. Then, the he realized that they were no longer alone. There was an elf in the room with a bow, pointing a nocked arrow right at his head.
"Drop the gnome and leave," the elf ordered.
"Fair deal," Pallas dropped the girl on the ground and raised his hand. "Her father's not going to be happy though."
"Her father?" the elf hesitated. "You mean you're not trying to torture her?"
"Does it look like I'm with the Black Fist?" Pallas motioned to his ragged clothing. "You're not with them either, right?"
"I'm not," the elf lowered her bow. "I am Yvillah of the Order of the Gauntlet. Villonah is also with the order, a valuable ally. The two of us and our comrades have been opposing the tyranny of the Black Fist."
"Well, she's yours to take," Pallas offered. "She's going to fight back. They tortured her pretty badly."
"Of course," Yvillah approached the two, holstering her bow. "She stole a valuable map from the Black Fist, one that led to the lair of a white dragon in the far north. Since the Black Fist hold the citizens of Phlan with an iron fist, their interest in dragons is bad news."
"All I'm hearing is more reasons to get the hell out of Phlan," Pallas muttered. "Get my reward from Rilo, and I'll be gone come morning."
"If that is what you wish, although we could use your help fighting the Black Fist," Yvillah told him. "For your services, though."
She held out a pouch that jingled with gold and a vial containing red liquid. Hesitantly, Pallas took the payment, realizing that this would help him out in leaving Phlan. He pocketed the two objects into his rags and ran towards the tunnel, leaving Yvillah and Villonah. This was why the half-elf stuck to the taverns and kept drinking until he was unconscious. At least then, there was no risk of getting dragged into crazy conspiracies. It was time to leave Phlan and continue with his journey.
Night had fallen during the prison break. Rilo was kind enough to give up his award after learning his daughter was safe. With enough gold to leave town, there was no reason to stay in Phlan. All he had left to do was pay off his tab. Madam Freona had once claimed she had the influence to send men after her if he skips out on paying his bill. The half-elf remembered the glares of the adventurers from before, each who would love the opportunity to chase after him. Pay off the bill first then he could leave and never look back.
It did not take Pallas too long to find the Tea Kettle once more. Even though it was closed for the night, he was able to open the door and step inside. The chairs were stacked up on tables at Whittlee, her hair undone, sweeped at the floor. She looked at the half-elf in shock, surprised that he came back with such injuries. He made his way over to the halfling girl, pulling two pouches from his ragged clothing.
"Hundred gold," Pallas told her. "I'm paying my tab."
"Sir, you owe us more than that," Whittlee told him.
"I do," Pallas raised an eyebrow. "How much do you charge for ale?"
"You broke several tables and chairs during that fight you started," Whittlee reminded him. "Several hundred gold is on your tab."
"I see," Pallas sighed. "So, am I to be kicked out to the streets now?"
"Actually, Ma heard that you took a job for once, and thus, that marks you as an adventurer," Whittlee informed him. "You get to rest here for free now."
"Do I get to add more drinks to my tab now?" Pallas asked quickly.
"I suppose so," Whittlee shrugged.
"Good enough," Pallas walked away, pocketing his gold. "I'll be upstairs sleeping. Tomorrow, have a cold mug ready for me. I guess I'm not going anywhere. Here's to hope the Black Fist doesn't have me hung, or a dragon eats me. Ha! Like that would ever happen."
A/N: And with this, we reach the conclusion of Defiance in Phlan. To those of you who have become fans of one or multiple characters, they will be back in further adventurers. I hope to write a one shot featuring them later, followed by another story and series. I hope to not keep you waiting too long for that.
Until next time.