Then down into the crooked gutter
Past dark men who turn to mutter
And thus the fetid oozing stink
Gives reason for dark men to think
The good times continued the next day. Freck woke to a heaped bowl of milk soaked oats, with an apple sliced into it. Resting there on the rickety bedside table. Gods, Star was a gift. He reached out to slap her passing arse to show her how much he appreciated her.
Slap!
She laughed and swatted his squeezing hand away. "Easy lover, I have to work! Save the thought though for when i get home, if you havent beaten my to it". She jerked her chin at his free hand with a laugh.
Freck just smirked, not replying and sparing her his morning breath. As soon as she was out the door of their one room house he devoured the oats, shovelling it into his mouth as though some malicous oats fairy would come to snatch it away. He licked the side of the bowl clean, and sighed. There was never enough oats. Never enough. He sniffed. Gods, he was beginning to stink. He decided he should probably wash tonight, do something nice for Star. He nodded to himself. Yeah, take her out. Make sure he was clean. Get her nice and tipsy, then take her home for a good session. No work today... nice.
But for now... for now he could go back to sleep. And sleep he did. His feet hanging over the edge of the bed, his head on an angle up against the wall. Slowly the sounds of the street outside woke him again. Carts going past, the splash of a chamberpot, windchimes from three doors down, the grunts of pigs as someone herded them past. He sat up in bed, idly scratching himself. He needed to piss. He hooked an arm underneath the bed and found the chamber pot. He positioned the bucket, then sat careuly on the edge of the bed, not trusting himself to stand after waking so soon.
Damn, he was hungry again. No Star here to feed him either.
...
With one great arm around Star they walked towards their local. He smelt of soap and lavender. They soap being his idea, rubbing lavender behind his ears, hers. He had protested mid wash at that, but when she firmly reached down to grab his balls he relented. At least he was intact. Gods, how ruthless women could be. He sniffed unhappily. Star reached out to poke him in the guts. "Oh, stop sulking, you big baby".
"I'll give you stop sulking" he said, leaning down to snap at her ear in mock ferocity. She leaned sideways with a laugh.
"Cut that shit out Freck, we're almost here". And here they were, as they rounded the corner. The Shark Fin Tavern of Silverscales district. Her choice offcourse, but he didn't mind. It was the kind of place where fights didn't interupt every meal and the stains on the floor were probably soup, not blood. With luck once the night got underway there would be a good arm wrestle or two...
...
Freck and Star sat in the booth across from Badger and his latest. Freck had long since given up trying to remember their names. Badger went through women like... well, actually women went through Badger like Badger went through meals. Star and her opposite were talking some womanly crap about clothes. He and Badger was talking discussing important manly things. "Tits" observed badger.
"Tits?" asked Freck with a smile.
"Tits" affirmed Badger solemnly, nodding towards a buxom patron who was drinking heavily. Freck observed, appreciated, and moved on with his life.
...
Several drinks and a roast chicken later... the party had really begun. With Star blowing in his ear, he was arm wrestling the local smith. Strong bastard he was, but he lacked Frecks sheer size, and leverage was on his side. A crowd had gathered around, cheering and jeering. Star reached under his armpit, and dug her fingers in. He laughed, his concentration collapsing. His arm was forced back along its arc, before being thudded into the table. The crowd roared with laughter, as did Freck.
"Star!"
...
It was late in the eve now, patrons were beginning to drift back to their homes, and both Badger and Freck were deep in their cups. Star had gone home, and Badgers bitch had wandered off somewhere. They were talking business. "I'm tired of this standover crap, and i'm tired of being paid coppers on the gold" Freck said between drinks. Badger nodded. "And i'm tired of being told what to do by that uppity sonofabitch Kabal, grass is starting to look better on the other side of the street, if you know what I mean".
Badger made a pained face at that. "Shet man, keep your voice down, what the hells is wrong with you, you want to get us both knifed?"
"Bah!" said Freck leaning back in the booth. "We are the knives".
"Shet, fool, you got no idea, what you're talking about, and you better running your mouth afore they sew it shut".
Freck pulled a face and raised his mug again. As he lowered he saw two figures move into the inn. Even with his wits addled with drink, he knew trouble when he saw it. These men moved with a purpose that spoke of bad intentions. He nudged Badge with his foot under the table and jerked his eyes up over his shoulder. Badger turned his head, then narrowed his eyes. One word from Badger was all that it took to clear the fog from Frecks mind.
"Knives".
