[ADMIN - Sottie, Dersh, the Inebridee Brewery and associated characters are written and owned by Greg Dewey ]

[Sinterbourne and Fletcher]

Damion's desk creaked under the weight of the sacks of gold that had been piled upon it. Fletcher, in his third clean shirt of the day, stood beside Damion's chair and helped to count the night's proceeds. They were considerably less than expected.

"This is terrible," said Damion. "We haven't pulled in this little since the very first night. What happened, Fletcher?"

"It was the betting, sir. The door brought in it's usual take, but the people weren't betting tonight."

"Why not?"

"Well, we were scraping the bottom of the barrel with the animals, sir. I mean... a gorilla? No one want's to put money on that. Then there was the wine..."

"I've always given the wine away for FREE! What does that have to do with my profit?"

"No wine, no drinking. No drinking, fewer people placing bets. And the bets they DO place are smaller. More restrained."

"Hmmm.... Was there much side-betting?"

"A little."

Damion sighed. "We'll have to keep a better eye on things next time. Find out what happened to my wine. My collection is my pride and joy; I took a big loss, even WITHOUT considering tonight's proceeds."

"Did we make enough for our needs tomorrow?"

"I don't know. Vendredi says he's got something special for us. Something that we're going to pay top-dollar for, no doubt. "

"Did he say what?"

"You know Vendredi. He's got to make a big show out of everything. He's not going to tell us now and spoil the surprise. I want you to meet with him tomorrow afternoon, just outside the city. Whatever we buy, we'll pick it up late tomorrow night. And have someone clean out the cages for the new animals."

"Yes, sir."

"And we need more foosh. I'll meet with Aeragar tomorrow to discuss the buy. Hopefully we can talk him down off of the price."

"We've still got some potion left over, don't we?"

"Some. Not a lot. We can delay the buy until after the next show, I think. I hope." Damion leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh.

"Well, sir... I wasn't going to bring this up until later, but..." Fletcher reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, folded piece of parchment. He handed the note to Damion.

"What's this?" said Sinterbourne

"A message. Someone gave it to one of the guards after the show, with instructions to give it to you."

Damion unfolded the message and read the lines that were written on the paper. He scowled and tossed it back to Fletcher. Fletcher's expression soured as he read the message aloud:

******************************************************************
SINTERBOURNE,

SEND A REPRESENTATIVE TO THE PAN-DEMONICA
TOMORROW AT MIDNIGHT.
WE HAVE BUSINESS TO DISCUSS.

-ERIC HOOD
******************************************************************

"'Eric Hood.' Is this the same man-"

"The very same, sir."

"The guard get a look at him?"

"Not a very good one."

"Gods... what do I pay these people for? Is this man going to be trouble?"

"I'm sure that's HIS intention. I'll meet with him tomorrow. If anything, I'll get a good description so we can have him killed later."

Damion nodded.

There was a sudden commotion outside the door and down the hall. Both men jumped, and Fletcher reached for his rapier. They had guards posted in nearly every hallway, and now the closest ones appeared to be involved in an argument of some kind. There was lots of shouting, but so far no one had drawn a sword. Fletcher and Damion relaxed when they heard Zade's sultry voice spewing curses and insults at the guards. About a
minute later, there was a forceful knock at the door.

"Come." said Damion. The heavy wooden door was thrown open as if it were made of balsa. On the other side, bleeding, frowning, and still cursing under her breath, stood Zade.

Damion and Fletcher simply stared. Neither had ever seen Zade in any condition that even remotely resembled the way she looked now. Her mostly-decorative leather armor was torn in several places. She had an ugly wound in her side that looked like some creature had taken a bite out of her. Her beautiful face was marred by a bleeding wound
on her bottom lip and chin, and her whole body reeked of sweat and ale.

"....uhhhhh...." said Damion.

"What happened to YOU?!?" interrupted Fletcher.

"Wolves. Sottie has these... wolves... patrolling his property. Your men... and I use the term loosely... got themselves drunk and left me to deal with Sottie's security on my own."

"Dogs did THAT?"

"Shut up, Fletcher."

"Where are the other's now?" asked Damion.

"Oger wandered off as soon as we got back. He's wounded... probably dead or passed out by now. Slimmon is safely locked in his quarters. I don't know what's wrong with him... but he isn't right."

"And Terris? Where's the archer."

"Your archer wanted a taste of your berserker potion. He attacked me; I left him behind to cover our escape. The stuff's probably worn off by now, in which case he's either dead, unconscious, or on his way back here."

"WHAT!?!" howled Damion. "My Potion! Do you have any IDEA how EXPENSIVE that stuff is?"

"No. And I don't care... I wasn't the one who drank it."

"This is very bad, Zade." Fletcher said in his most patronizing tone.

"Will you SHUT UP!"

"Well, did you at least manage to tear the place up a bit." asked Damion.

"No."

"No?"

"No. Things were bad from the beginning. Fog so thick you could hardly walk. The only thing I saw the whole night was the inside of a dog's throat. But now that I know what to expect I'll be prepared next time."

"Which is going to be when?"

"Tonight. I'm going to treat these wounds, gather up some more equipment and be on my way. Without your 'men,' this time. Just give me my money and I'll get going."

Damion and Fletcher looked at each other, and then back at Zade. "Money?" they said simultaneously.

"It's a show night. I always get paid on show nights." Zade frowned.
She knew what was coming.

"Well," said Damion, "We've had a little setback in the finances..."

"I see four bags of gold sitting on your desk right now. Don't tell me
about setbacks!"

"I've got expenses to cover."

"I AM one of those expenses!"

"You'll just have to wait until the next show. We'll have twice the profit than this time."

"That's what you said LAST time. Give. Me. My. Money. NOW!"

"Now just wait a minute, Zade." injected Fletcher, "You just came in here and told us you couldn't even rough-up a drunken brewmaster and his dogs, and now you want to get PAID! Paid for WHAT?"

Zade glared at Fletcher, and then at Damion. Both men stared back at her with faces of stone.

"You'll get paid next time, Zade." said Damion. "I promise."

"Your promises aren't worth-" Zade was interrupted by another commotion from the hall. There was some yelling, and the sound of boots scuffing against the floor. Zade turned to face the door just as Terris entered the room half-carried by two guards. The man was so drunk that he could barely stand up on his own.

"Terris." said Zade. "I see you made it back."

"n-n-no thankkz t-to-to you...."

"Terris, where is my potion!!" bellowed Damion. Zade held up her hand and clenched it in a tight fist. Damion fell silent, at least temporarily.

"What happened, Terris" she said.

"y-you left.... you l-left me...th-thats what h-h-happnd you b-b-bi-"

"You were the only one who stood a chance against that thing. What did you see after we left?"

"h-h-h-hhhhhuh?"

"Why are you drunk? What happened to the ale-beast?"

"D-D-Drunk...."

"Oh, that's enough!" shouted Fletcher. "He's not going to tell you anything in this condition!"

"Ss-sh-shut up F-Fletcher you ef-f-effeminate b-b-bastar-"

"What!" Fletcher stormed over to where the guards held Terris and punched the man in the stomach. Terris doubled over in pain, and then began to jerk violently. The drunken archer held his head up just in time to shower Fletcher with a steady stream of bile and half-digested ale.

"AAIIIGHH!" Fletcher slipped and fell down, where the disgusting substance covered not just his shirt, but his entire body. He scrambled to his feet and, screaming and cursing, bolted from the room. Damion sat behind his desk and frowned at the malodorous mess, while Zade instructed the guards to take Terris to his room. Unfortunately, Terris shared a room with Slimmon... it would be an interesting night for
those two.

"Well," said Damion. "Any chance I can convince you to clean that up before you leave for the brewery?"

"Neither one of those is happening tonight. Or anything else on any other night until I get paid." replied Zade. "Consider me on vacation. I'm going to treat these wounds, then, should you decide to pay me, I'll either be in my quarters or having a drink at the Pan-Demonica."

Zade stormed out of Damion's office and marched toward the stairway leading to her quarters.

[Oger/Sottie]

Currently, Oger's body was collapsed against a wall near thefloor of a dimly lit hallway. Sottie clandestinely looked outthrough the alcohol within the mind, and the eyes of Terris. Hewas careful not to disturb the curse of aggression that Aeragarand the gods of drink had so skillfully bestowed. The spirit ofdrink within Terris chuckled as the man spewed some of it'ssubstance out, drenching Fletcher. Sottie bubbled with goodhumor and noted Zade's comment about the Pan-Demonica. It waspossible the yogi of drink might bump into the intoxicatingwoman there sometime in the near future.

As Zade stormed from the room, Oger stood and began staggeringthrough the hallways of Damion's domain. Few guards challengedhim, and those that did were mollified by meaningless drunkenmumblings. A few times they directed Oger in a different
direction, but usually they let him pass, snickering at the loadof booze he was obviously carrying. The swami's mind reachedout into the brotherhood of intoxication and found that many ofthe guards in the building were unexpectedly strong members this night. "Most auspicious," the fakir thought to himself. He had taken what knowledge he could from Oger's mind, and now skimmed along the surfaces of the minds of the drinkers in the building as he passed near them. Some he could not get near without difficulty. For these he laid Oger's body down so that he could move through the brotherhood of intoxication unimpeded by concerns about a body. A few had strong minds which had some chance of detecting the fakir's presence, but many of the minds were either so unschooled or drunk that they could no more detect the swami's presence than they could appreciate the intricacy of fine art. The fakir slipped into them easily, gaining tidbits of knowledge about Damion's operation such as underlings know. The swami came to understand a bit of the key personalities he was dealing with through the minds of their lackeys. He learned their strengths, quirks, and weaknesses. The strong minds he avoided, not wishing there to be any chance that his presence would be noted.

[J'Hasp]

The impossible creature known as J'Hasp hung by its claws just outside the door to Damion's office. His sharp talons sunk deep into the soft wood, and his long, prehensile tale swatted the air behind it. J'Hasp's head rotated, following the female as she left the room. A short sniff brought her odor into J'Hasp's preternaturally sensitive nose. Ale. Sweat. Blood. Anger. A touch of fear. These and a thousand other smells combined to form the unique symphony that was Zade. And yet there was something else... J'Hasp purred slightly, and sniffed again. Yes... beyond the animal scents and the natural woman-smell, there was the barest hint of something...someone... familiar. Someone he had smelled in Bephal during the master's latest trip there. And later outside the master's house.

The female disappeared down the hall and up the steps. J'Hasp made a mental note to follow this woman's scent one day, to seewhere she had been. And with whom. But for now, he had otherthings to do. The male known as Sinterbourne was alone now, so there was nothing more to hear. Now it was time to have a look around and discover whatever secrets he could find. J'Hasp skittered along the ceiling, his claws clicking as he went. His movements were light and quick, like those of a creature one forth his size. His speed was slightly faster than that of a man running along the ground at full speed. When he smelled a guard approaching, J'Hasp slowed, but did not stop. He passed over the man's head without a sound and continued on.

He explored every passageway, and sniffed around every door, looking for whatever he could find. Each room was had it's own distinct smell that J'Hasp used to identify its purpose.

The building had five floors, two of which were underground. One large staircase connected all of the levels, and several smaller ones ran between two or three of the floors. Sinterbourne's office and living quarters took up the entire top level. Zade's quarters were there as well, as was Fletcher's. J'Hasp sniffed around Zade's door, but the female was not present.

There were training rooms on the floor below. They reeked of sweat, and Zade's smell was thick, indicating that the mysterious female spent many hours here.

The ground level contained the kitchen and housing accommodations for the guards. The kitchen-smell was thick with meats and exotic spices.

The first below-ground level was huge, its height was twice that of any of the other levels. This was the arena. It smelled of blood, violence, and masses of drunken humans. There were several sections that were separate from the main area, including one that was a walkway leading to a balcony that looked down upon the rest of the floor. There was also a short hallway that apparently led nowhere. It had an odd scent...J'Hasp investigated.

The hall's one door had an acrid, chemical smell. There were no guards nearby, so J'Hasp climbed down the wall and brought his head close to the door. He sniffed and listened. There was one man inside. Awake. Afraid. J'Hasp could smell the fear even
through the haze of chemicals. He heard the occasional clinking of glass, and the constant bubbling of about a dozen liquids. His nose identified most of them, but there were one or two that he had never smelled before. He pressed his eye to the keyhole
but could see nothing beyond the complex mechanism of the lock. J'Hasp hesitated, and then decided that now was not the time to pick the lock and enter the room. Perhaps if master sent him back later... J'Hasp climbed back up the wall and continued his methodical mapping of Damion Sinterbourne's headquarters.

The next level down was the sub-basement. It held the animal cages, storage rooms, and Sinterbourne's personal wine cellar. On the far end of this floor, past the store rooms and the double rows of empty cages, was a long dark passageway. The walls were made of soft dirt shored up with wood, it was obviously a recent addition to the level. Just outside the opening were two large glowing candles hanging by chains from the ceiling. They
emitted sickly sweet smell, a combination of cinnamon, strawberries and peaches. To a human or an ordinary animal, the candles would have certainly masked the stench coming from the small cave, but J'Hasp's nose cut through the heavy fragrance and could detect the odor underneath it... the stench of death and rotting meat. J'Hasp dropped to the floor and crept along the length of the tunnel. The passage grew smaller as he progressed, until it suddenly opened out into an open chamber. It was almost completely dark. The light from the candles did not reach all the way into this chamber, but J'Hasp could have
detected the large circular pit in the center even without his sharp vision. He could smell it. The pit was the source of the death-odor. J'Hasp peered over the edge of the
pit, and the smell assaulted him. He jerked back, and then leaned forward again cautiously. He sniffed. The rotting flesh at the bottom of the pit was a mixture of both human and animal. The animal corpses were the most recent and more numerous. The freshest human corpse had to have been several weeks old. Then there was something else... a creature... J'Hasp's ears flickered when he heard the faint heartbeat and the slow, labored breathing. There was something alive down there... something that had an odor that was indistinguishable from the death in which it dwelled.

As J'Hasp stared into the darkness he heard the heartbeat quicken suddenly. There was a deep sucking sound as the unseen creature filled its lungs with the foul air. Then came the voice...

"....feeeed meeeee....."

J'Hasp hissed and bolted from the chamber. He emerged from the cave moving almost too quick to be seen. He took the wall and then leapt for the ceiling. His claws found purchase instantly, and J'Hasp was soon rocketing up the main stairway and away from the creature in the pit.

[Zade]

After a quick detour to the holding room, Zade finally returned to her quarters. She carried a flask of water and one bottle of Sinterbourne's spoiled wine. To Sinterbourne and his aristocratic 'friends,' it was 'swill,' but to Zade it was just what she needed... a tall bottle of nearly 200-proof alcohol. Mixed with a small portion of water, it would make a quick and perfect end to the night's debacle. Several bottles had been missing from the storage room, obviously she wasn't the only one who was taking advantage of Damion's bad luck.

Zade unlocked her door and lit the small lamp that was her only source of illumination. The room was Spartan to say the least. In the corner next to the window was a small cot covered with a filthy blanket. Next to it was an equally small table, upon which the lamp sat. Miscellaneous clothing and weapons were piled up in the opposite corner from the bed. A lonely desk chair occupied the center of the room. No desk... just the chair. Placed in the seat of this chair was a small bundle wrapped in a light brown cloth. That bundle had not been there when Zade left.

She snatched up the package and unwrapped it. It was Blaymore's gift... the little contraption with the three claws and the mechanical linkage that made them open and close.

"What the Hell IS this thing?" said Zade. She looked around, half expecting the blue-robed assassin to detach himself from the wall or rise like a ghost from the floor. She saw nothing.

"Bah!" she re-wrapped the gift, walked over to the window and threw the offending bundle as far as she could into the dismal Montfort night. She leaned out the window and listened, but did not hear the package hit the street. As Zade ducked back into the room, she caught sight of the full moon hanging low in the sky. The clouds from earlier had dissipated, revealing the glowing white orb in all its splendor. Zade stopped to watch it
a while. She found it strange that, in all her life, she had never took the time to notice how beautiful the moon really was. She had always viewed it as either an aide or an impediment to whatever nocturnal mission she happened to be on... but now there was something else about it. Something... compelling.

A sharp pain in her side snapped her out of her reverie. Her wounds. They still need to be treated. Zade rummaged through her pile of equipment and pulled out a wooden bowl and several small cloth draw-sting pouches. She then shoved her chair across the floor until it stood next to the small table. She sat down and began to work. The pouches contained roots and herbs, some were dried, some freshly gathered. Almost every specimen came from some common plant... at least they were common in and around the slave quarters where she grew up. The overseers were more than generous with their whips and flails, but healing salves and potions were very rare. Zade's mother was a root-healer. She knew by heart a dozen recipes that could cure... or cause... just about every ailment known. They came from her mother, and from her mother's mother. And she had
passed them down to her children. The potion Zade mixed now was for the healing of wounds, both on the outside and within. It was a mixture that not even most trained healers and alchemists knew. More than a few had offered to buy the recipe from her, among other things. She always refused.

Zade pinched the various fresh roots between her fingers to release the few precious drops of sap into the bowl. Then she crumbled the dried ingredients into a near-powder, and added them as well. Finally, she poured in just the right amount of water, as well as a little saliva. The resulting liquid wasn't much to look at, and its strong, herbal smell was almost overpowering. Zade frowned. She could have mixed it better. She had done so on many occasions in the past, but tonight this would have to do. She poured out half of her remaining water from the flask, and then topped it off with her some of the medicine. Then she set it aside and again rummaged through her pile of belongings. This time she removed a dirty cloth. There was a clean spot on the end, and this she dipped into the remaining potion. She took the moist rag and dabbed at her torn lip. The wound bubbled and the pain flared up, but then subsided immediately. Even without a mirror, she could tell that the wound was mostly... if not completely... gone. The potion healed small wounds instantly, and rapidly accelerated the healing of larger ones. It was nowhere near the power of Sinterbourne's berserker potion, but then it wasn't addictive
either. Zade treated her leg in the same manner, and then picked up the bowl and pour the remainder into her wounded side. The pain made her wince. When she examined the wound she saw that it was already beginning to close. In a few days it would be gone entirely without so much as a scar.

"Now..." Zade sighed. She took the flask and brought it to her lips. She hesitated for a moment, remembering how foul this particular potion tasted when drank. Still, it was necessary; she had no idea what diseases those wolves had carried. The potion probably wouldn't totally cure anything she had picked up... it was for wounds, after all... not sickness, but it would stave off any damage until she could see a proper healer in the morning. Zade turned the flask up and gulped down the entire contents. Her head swam for a moment, and then cleared. Her tongue felt like it had been drug across the bottom of a latrine.

Zade uncorked her bottle of 'wine' and washed the potion down with a generous swig. The pure alcohol burned her mouth an throat as if she had swallowed hot coals.

"Ahhhhh....." she said. "Guess I don't need to mix this with water after all..." Zade took another swig, then began to remove her leather armor. She remembered as an afterthought that she had left her door open. Naked from the waist up, Zade strode across the room, looked up and down the empty hallway, and slammed the door shut.

[J'Hasp]

The door closed with a bang. J'Hasp, who had been hanging from the ceiling in his usual fashion, sniffed the air for several more seconds, and then headed back to the stairwell. He almost hated to venture down the stairs, for that would take him closer to the thing in the basement. Perhaps there was another way...

[Sottie]

A wash of feeling overcame Sottie as he felt strong drink commingling and conjoining with a strong, attractive woman not far away. Oger's body teetered against a wall and began to slide towards the floor as Sottie was nearly overcome with delight. He did not need to lift a finger, Zade had been bit well that night, and now had an abundance of alcohol in her system. The times were most auspicious, for the gods would see
to her individual curse themselves.

As Sottie quietly staggered around a corner, he saw _something_ dissappear behind a door. The hall was long and he had only a glimpse, but it was obvious that whatever it was, was deliberately being quiet and that it was not even remotely
human.

[Dersh]

In wolf form, Dersh had easily followed the scent of ale left by Zade and her drunken followers. He knew the alpha of his pack was occupied with magical pursuits, as the swami of drink had told his followers that he would be preoccupied for some time. Dersh picked up many scents approaching the building that lady Zade and her now drunken compatriots had come from. One scent was that of a creature he'd never encountered despite his long years. Whatever it was, it seemed to be able to climb shear
walls. Dersh might have concluded that it belonged to Damion save that later in his investigation of the area surrounding Damion's building, he caught its scent elsewhere. The creature's scent joined the scent of a man a few blocks away. The too had evidently left together. Dersh noted this bit of information, particularly the man's scent. It seemed somehow familiar. Perhaps the man had been at one of the bars Dersh
frequented.

[Sottie]

Sottie continued to wander through the building following his whim. Just as all roads led some to Rome, all corridors led the yogi of drink to the wine cellar. On his way he found Damion's arena and a corridor with a chemical scent. He could sense the presence of a man nearby who knew opium well. Sottie noted the man's presence. He was sure he could convince the poppy spirit Opia to help him enter the man's hallucinations at some later time. Eventually, after finding an area where animals were evidently held, the drunkard found the wine cellar. There he performed a few rituals to consecrate it to the gods of drink to make their task here that much easier. The tippler then staggered back to Oger's quarters and let Oger's body fall to his bed. Sottie slipped from Oger's mind, and after a few minutes reviewing important items, opened his own eyes back at the Inebridee Brewery. There was much to be done. For one thing, a pack of mundane yet powerful wolves would need to be secured to help guard the brewery. It would not do for the
Inebridee wolves to be an unexplained phenomena.

[J'Hasp]

J'Hasp returned to the hall and followed it to the other end. It dead-ended in a blank wall, so J'Hasp went from door to door until he found one that had no fresh human scents eminating from it. Using his sharp claw, he picked the lock and opened the door. It was an unused office with a window. After closing and re-locking the door, J'Hasp opened the window and climbed out onto the sheer vertical wall of the building. Hanging there
like a gigantic insect, he closed the window and climbed around the rear wall, where he saw a figure standing on the ground a small distance away. He sniffed, purred slightly, and climbed down to the ground.

Eric Hood stood not two blocks away, playing absently with his dagger. J'Hasp trotted up to him and began to bounce up and down, shifting his weight from one clawed foot to the other.

"Have a good look around?" asked Eric.

"Yesss" replied J'Hasp "J'Hasp lookss. J'Hasp lisstenss. J'Hasp knowss many thingss now."

"Good. We'd better get going then. The boss is waiting up for us..."

Eric turned and walked off into the night, with J'Hasp following behind him.

[To Be Continued]