Disclaimer: Rifts® and most of the terms used in this story are Registered Trademarks owned and licensed by Palladium Books, Inc. and Kevin Siembieda. I am not Kevin Siembieda, so I do not own Palladium. I merely play in their playground and enjoy doing so. What money I do make is from my job, and not from this story.
It has been 2 weeks since the unlikely traveling companions entered the city of Kingsdale. Eric’s uncle, Darren, has allowed the group to reside in the penthouse apartment behind his shop, the Custom Mech Emporium, more commonly referred to as the CME. He is not charging rent, which is a godsend considering that the party hasn’t been able to establish a line of credit with the Universal Banking System used in Kingsdale. Darren and his son, Nate, have been showing the party around the city during their down time.
When he arranged citizenship for the party, he was able to waive the requirements to serve in the City Guard. The group was given the status of Independent Security Contractors, or ISCs. Darren explained that they would be able to assume freelance work which was deemed “non essential” to the regular city guard. As such, permission to carry firearms within the city has been granted. Darren warned that registered ISCs better have a damned good reason for discharging their weapons.
It is the morning of May 1st, 103 P.A. and Nate Omura is escorting the party back from the Kingsdale Market Square. As the group turns onto the street leading back to the CME, they can see the squalor of Dregtown. The city slum is situated on the side of a hill, outside of the Kingsdale’s protective wall to the southeast.
Dessius uses the magnifying feature of his bionic eyes to obtain a closer look. The shanty town consists of simple wooden and clay huts, some of which are propped up on stilts to avoid resting in the filth that sticks to the shoes of the residents who walk through the squalor.
The smell of unwashed bodies and rotten garbage fills the nostrils of the party members from 10 blocks away thanks to a gust of wind which blows from Dregtown’s direction. The foul smell causes the city’s residents to cover their faces with scarves, or breathing masks.
As Nate notices Dessius’ wary glances towards the slum, he cautions the group about Dregtown. “That place has a life of its own, and the Dregs live by their own rules.” he says. “Dregs that can’t defend themselves don’t last too long. Dregs that can defend themselves do it very well. The city guard’s got no authority there. If you go in there looking for a fight, you’ll gladly get one.”
Nate stops at a house, about 3 blocks from the CME. “Well, time to go and pay a visit to the old ball & chain.” he says. “Listen, if you guys want to start making some money, there’s a halfway decent tavern on the corner of the next block westward. There’s usually some odd jobs available on the message board inside.” With that, he points down the road a bit to a 4 story building. A flashing neon sign reads “Four Fingered Billy’s Tavern”.
Dessius gives one more look towards Dregtown as Nate enters his home. “We owe it to Eric’s uncle to eradicate the cancer that is Dregtown before it threatens the peace and security he’s worked so hard to establish here in Kingsdale.” He snarls. “Being poor is no excuse for lawlessness. We should root them out and teach them a lesson and destroy those who refuse to learn.”
.
Eric shifts his attention from polishing his Wilk’s-Remi 130s to the immense Wolfen before returning it to the weapon as he carefully chooses his next words. He quickly dismissed, ‘Heel killer, bad dog,’ and ‘who woke up with mange in their furry butt this morning,’ and decides on something a little more tactful…
“You know, Des, I’m just about as big a fan of a full throttle tussle as the next pooch.” he says. “Especially when I’m the one bringing the gun to the knife fight.” Eric offers the Wolfen a crooked grin, but Dessius struggles to understand the humor.
“I’m thinking maybe we should collate some facts before we go around pissing on other people’s trees.” Eric adds. “You know, maybe talk to some folk and make some friends before we start burning down everything between here and the Gulf? At least see who’s got the bigger dog in the fight?”
Not sure how to respond to Eric’s lighthearted comment, the Quatoria simply grunts. “I didn’t expect you to understand, you talking monkey.” the Wolfen replies. “Perhaps flinging your feces around would be more in line with your tastes.”
The rest of the party doesn’t quite know what to make of the Wolfen’s comments until he flashes a toothy grin. “Alright, so that’s how it’s gonna be.” Eric says under his breath, appreciating Dessius’ deadpan sense of humor. Dessius’ enhanced, cybernetic hearing system picks up the comment as if Eric shouted the words for all to hear.
“Yes, little man.” he says. “I have a feeling this is indeed how it will be.”
As the group approaches the building, two Juicers barge out of the front door. The two chemically augmented men laugh loudly, shouldering their way past the party and nearly knocking Endarrin the Elf Mage off of his feet.
Anomen turns to say something to the men, but the two juicers just keep walking as if nothing transpired. Dessius’ enhanced hearing allows him to listen in on their raucous conversation.
“Did you see that ugly-assed Dreg by the side door?” one of them says. “That’s 2 days in a row she’s been panhandling and whining. Someone should drag her back to Dregtown where she belongs……. “
The conversation drifts off as they round the corner. As the group reaches the front door of the tavern, the sound of sobbing can be heard from the side alley. Dalryn and Anomen peek around the cornerto investigate. The Twins see a woman sitting on the ground, dressed in a tattered hooded black robe.
She hugs her knees, rocking back and forth. Her face is covered, but Dalryn clearly sees the tracks of tears. She seems not to notice the Atlantean brothers as they approaches.
Anomen, upon seeing the woman’s condition, grinds his teeth and looks back over his shoulder in the direction of the
Juicers. The Undead Slayer makes mental note of any distinguishing features for future reference and then
turns back to the woman.
“Are you all right, ma’am?” he asks, extending his hand to help her up off of the ground while scanning the vicinity looking for signs of a struggle.
“Of course she’s alright.” Eric says, rolling his eyes. “The crying fetal position is a time honored demonstration of joy and contentment.” He does not make any moves toward the woman, but takes a step sideways beginning to put himself between Cassie and the unidentified woman.
“Smell anything, Lassie?” Eric adds, throwing a glance at Dessius. The Wolfen grunts in response, obviously not understanding the reference.
The crying woman suddenly looks up at the party as Anomen approaches, as if she was completely unaware of Eric’s sarcastic comments. Her skin has a green-gray tone and is covered with small scales. Her reptilian yellow eyes are spread wide apart on her face. Her nostrils resemble small horizontal slits. No one in the group recognizes which
species of sentient being she belongs to.
She recoils in fear as Anomen reaches out his hand to her. She glances around the party, demonstrating the same fearful look. As Eric steps protectively in front of Carlie, the D-bee woman’s gaze fixes on the Psi-Ghost. The reptilian woman calls out to Carlie in a weak and pleading voice.
Dalryn, Anomen and Carlie are the only ones who understand the woman’s language. “Please help. No one help us.”
she says in the guttural tongue of Goblin kind. “We poor and have nothing. My little Marda is gone 2 days. Guards no
help us. Please someone help us”
Carlie withdraws from the woman with a bit of disgust. “What do you want me to do about it?” she asks.
“I don’t know of your Marda. I’m sure she is fine and will become a great woman because of whatever
adventures she’s gotten herself into. And remember, guards only help those who help themselves.”
Dalryn gives Carlie a disapproving glance before squatting down to eye level with the reptilian woman.
“Who is Marda?” he asks softly in the Goblin tongue. “Can you tell us what she looks like? Does she go out on her own often?”
Anomen backs slowly from the woman and raises both hands to show her he means no harm. “So, her daughter is missing and because she is different she is being ignored and bullied.” he says with an irritated tone of voice.
Shooting a glare to Eric and Carlie, the Undead Slayer turns towards Dessius. “You wanted to help clean things up around here, right?” Anomen says to the Wolfen. “How about we rejoin this woman to her child?”
Dessius turns his attention to Anomen and gives a single, firm nod. A click is heard as he releases the safeties on both of his NE-4 plasma pistols. A slight crackle is heard as the plasma weapons come to life.
Eric puts on a mock confused look with a half smile and raises his hands with a shrug. It’s as if his entire
body is saying, “What?!”
“Carlie, she seems to trust you more.” Anomen says to the Psi-Ghost. “Ask her more about this Marda.”
Carlie turns to the Undead Slayer, hand on her hip. “Despite what this woman apparently believes, I
have no maternal instinct.” she says, playfully. “I’m sure her daughter is fine.”
Carlie looks over to Anomen with a sigh. “But I guess it wouldn’t hurt to keep our eyes open as we continue to explore.” Carlie also adds a glare in Eric’s direction before turning back to the party, annoyed that he felt the need to be protective. “But we need to find out who we’re looking for first.” she adds, waiting for the woman’s response.
Dalryn continues to speak with the woman the in her garbled language. His calm demeanor calms the woman, lessening her anxiety. Eventually, she allows Dalryn to assist her up off of the ground. She dusts her tattered
clothes off, attempting to regain whatever dignity she has left.
“Apologies.” she says. “Not used to kind words from males in this city. I am called Tearn. My people are the Draykh. We come here 20 cycles past. My daughter, Marda, she did not come home from meditation. Marda very special.”
She turns away from Dalryn, momentarily overcome with another wave of tears. Once she composes herself again, she continues. “Marda is first Draykh female born this generation with the gift.” she says. “Please, kind ones must help find Marda. Dwellers of Clean City want reward for help. Draykh have nothing valuable. We survive in Dregtown, but
Clean Ones not care about us. Marda is too special to lose. Marda likes place of the Clean Ones’ dead to meditate. I will wait here. Please return her to Draykh people. We suffer if she dies.”
After Tearn finishes what she has to say, she heads off down to the end of the alley. Much to the party’s surprise, the Draykh nimbly scales the side of the building adjacent to the tavern and climbs onto the roof.
Not entirely sure what to do since he can’t understand a word the woman is saying, Eric begins a one sided conversation with himself in Japanese. “Great, we’re on an Easter Egg hunt for some lizard eggs and all my friends have the sense of humor of a dog boy in heat.” he says, drawing some strange glances from the rest of the party.
Anomen looks on as Dalryn starts to translate Tearn’s words to the rest of the party, realizing that they are still standing in the alley next to the bar.
“Pardon me brother, but perhaps you can better explain to the others the words of the woman with a drink in hand.”
he says, gesturing for the party to enter the bar.
Before Dalryn can respond, Dessius turns and begins walking through the entryway. “Standing around talking to each other won’t help us find Marda.” he growls. “I’d like to put a little pressure on these drunks and see what they know about the Draykh people and whether anyone’s seen little Marda.”
Eric watches with eyes wide as Dessius heads toward the bar. “Running off head long into potentially dangerous situations with little or no information is my shtick.” He shouts while walking after Dessius. “Respect my boundaries!”
