Street Fight

-Dalen Capital, Lower Quarter. Night, 2 DSTR-

At the Arch Kline dismounted, he could see a place where being on a horse was not to his advantage. Looking down into the narrow streets made up of warehouses and tenements that loomed and leaned in as if they were boxes ill stacked and prepared to fall in on the place. The smell of filth and awful floated up the streets as if it could be seen, he had not experienced it in some time, and prayed he would not have to again.

“Laffy, keep the horses, Herod and Froggy, keep a watch on the flank.” Kline said. They did as he ordered without question, though he could see the reluctance in Laffy’s eyes. It was not that he did not trust the older man, but they needed someone to keep the horses ready, if not they would likely get stolen.

Passing under the arch he felt a change, if it were only in his mind, as if eyes were now on him. He looked around and it seemed even the rats were watching him. What black magic was at play here, what dark and primitive spells were still woven in this place where hope was so easily snuffed out.

He was impressed with the orc who had kept pace on foot, but the dogs had been slowed, the trainer holding fast to the leashes they tugged and pulled at, barking and howling to be set free.

They kept going down the streets, the lamps here were lit with magic and with flame, he wondered why. What he did not notice was the slight change on color of the flames as they passed, or the way the streets grew quieter and darker, as if the shadows were moving by themselves.

The stood on a passage that led down to a slave holding pin, a large barnlike house of four stories made to house and keep slaves of any manner. It was known to keep slaves of such creatures as giants and trolls for hard labor tasks and major work projects. The dogs seemed mad for the place.

That is when the first bolt came out of the shadows, then the next and the next, four in total. The shadows around them materialized into the lithe form of dark elves. The weapons all had the tell-tell green scarf on the end of it, marking them as members of the gang. The dog handler got two of the bolts, crumpling to the ground and freeing the beasts to run at the slave pens.

The dark elves moved with fey grace, short blades drawn and likely coated with poison. With the dog handler down and another city watch doubled over in pain, they moved to the rest of the group. “Remember, no need to die here.” A female one said to the others. “If you lot want to turn back now, we promise to let you go.” The laughter was demonic.

Kline had hos long sword in hand and was advancing before he had time to think about it.