Tankards and Tempers

Chapter 232: Cattle Call

"Don't need me, huh? I'm a danger, huh? I'm compromised myself, huh?" Laska muttered to herself as she stomped through the streets of Mintar.

Laska closed her eyes, her head still hurt from last night's alcohol intake, but it was fast passing. The streets of the city were getting busier as the morning was starting its slow progression towards noon, but nobody really paid mind to her.

After her friends had gone, Laska had been left behind in their room at the inn. The hurt and the surprise at their rejection had made place for an emotion Laska was more familiar and more comfortable with – anger.

"I'll show them," Laska snarled as she angrily kicked a rock away. The rock slammed against the side of a building and bounced right back to her feet, ready to be kicked again. "I'll show them."

Several carts loaded with cider passed; its destination was to the charity auction as was read on the side of the cart. Apparently, the people of Mintar used the auction as an excuse to have a party. It was then that Laska got a wicked idea. She took a crumpled piece of paper from a pouch on her belt and unfolded it. It was the flyer that the boy on the street had given her, advertising the charity auction.

"That's it!" Laska told herself. "If they want me to go the charity auction, I will go to the charity auction. I will go there and raise so much money for charity. So much money. So much more money than there's even in that damn bank!"

Laska grinned as she kicked the rock again. It landed a few meters in front of her. "Yes, that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to auction myself and raise a fortune! I'm going raise so much money that they'll be able to finance a whole orphanage. Then they'll name that orphanage after me – Laska Leafwalker Safe Harbor Orphanage. In fact, I'll be so popular at the auction that the richest nobleman in town will fall completely and utterly in love with me and will ask me to marry him. And then I'll say no because I'm already with Rose and that'll make him so sad that he'll kill himself and leave all his money to me. And then I'll have even more money to donate to charity! I'll have two orphanages to finance! And I'll call the second one Viconia-is-a-stupid-fat-bitch Orphanarium! Yeah, that'll show them. That'll show them all!"

Laska kicked the rock with massive strength behind her kick. The rock was sent flying and crashed right through a large window at the side of the building. As a dog inside the home started barking loudly, Laska bit her lip and quickly made herself scarce before anyone would notice it was her fault.

The charity auction took place in the town square of Mintar. It was reasonably large, certain big enough to host a sizable farmer's mart. Today, however, it was home to a large wooden podium. To the sides there were people setting up stands to sell food, drink and assorted souvenirs. A dance floor was built behind the platform and Laska noticed one of the stands actually sold naughty underwear.

Before coming here, Laska had decided to go back to their room and fetched her sexiest clothes; tight-fitting leather trousers, open on both side except for a series or leather laces which ran up from her ankle to her belt and a black vest which had its underside higher than he usual vest. Also unlike her usual vest, it was a few sizes too small, causing her breasts to strain against the fabric. In fact, the silver chains in front of her vest were barely enough to keep the front of her vest from spilling open. She had chosen to wear her hair loose; hair that was long enough to reach her hips danced freely as she walked. In fact, this outfit left so much skin bare that she showed off quite a bit more of her tattoos that usual.

Moreover, Laska truly felt beautiful and confident as she strode over the square. She was certain that she was going to make a killing at the auction.

The tattooed elf spotted a sign which read 'participants' registration that way'. It led to a group of pretty and well-dressed women and also a few men, though they were in the minority. They were quietly chatting among themselves, but more than a few fell silent as they regarded the elf approaching.

Laska had to admit to feeling as proud as a peacock at being able to impress so many people at once. She walked over to a table where an official was sitting. On the table was a stack of forms, apparently from the other women around her.

"Name?" the official said, but the moment he looked up, he gasped. His eyes roamed up and down over her body, lingering a little longer at certain body parts. He gulped. "Oh, I hope you're here for the auction. Please tell me you're here for the auction. I, uh, we don't get many elves in this city, certainly not tall beautiful ones like you. Please take part in the auction, you will bring in so much money."

Laska smiled briefly. "No worries. I am here to participate."

"Okay, okay," the official took a form. "Name, please."

"Laska Leafwalker."

"Place of birth?"

Laska bit her lip. "I don't really know. Just put down Candlekeep."

"Alright. Age?"

"31."

"Really? You don't look 31."

Laska shrugged. "Elves age differently."

"Ah, right. Any hobbies?"

"Fighting, drinking and sex."

The official gulped again and blushed briefly. "Any sex? Uhhhh, sorry, I mean, occupation."

"Adventurer," said Laska. "I have my own party and anything. Though I don't really want to talk about them right now?"

"Really?" blinked the official. "Anything I've heard about?"

Laska told him a bit about her adventures, making sure to avoid any mention of Bhaal or Bhaalspawn.

"Wow, that's quite a story," said the man. "I'll have one hell of a sales pitch for you."

"So, what is this then?" Laska asked. "This isn't... sort of like prostitution, is it? Heh, I probably should have asked that before I got here."

"Heavens no!" the official blanched. "Ah, of course, you are from out of town, so you don't know our tradition. There is no obligation; your buyer only buys your attention and companionship for one evening. You are not legally obligated to give up your freedom and he or she can't demand you do anything you don't want to do."

"I was just wondering, because I saw the stand with naughty underwear..."

"Well, it all depends how the evening progresses. If you enjoy your evening with your buyer and he or she is charming, there's nothing stopping you from deciding to sleep with him or her. It'll be your choice entirely. But, I should tell you that this annual charity auction has produced more than one marriage over the years."

Laska put her finger to her lips. "Hah! Not exactly looking for a marriage, but I might engage in my hobbies."

"Sex?" the official blushed.

"Or fighting. Or drinking," Laska winked. "Depends on the situation. And the buyer."

"Right," the official said. "Sign here on the dotted line, please. Thank you. Now, I want to save you for the end of the auction, as one of the main events. I'm afraid that means waiting here in the tent behind the podium. We'll have make-up staff if you need them, and plenty of food and drink to help you pass the time. Thank you for doing this."

Laska took a slip as proof of her registration in the charity auction. She grinned as she put the slip away in her belt-pouch and turned to face the podium. This was going to be great and she could forget all about the poor treatment her friends put her through.

It was a busy day at the bank. Two long queues were before the two open teller windows, some kids were running around in the spacious entry hall of the bank. It was perfect for Imoen's mission – scoping out the bank, keeping her eyes open and finding weaknesses in security.

She looked up and saw the skylight high above, which Laska had mentioned. Indeed, it would be the perfect entry point and no doubt it was tightly secured. But that would be a later concern. Right now, she should focus on the back.

In front of her stood Jan and she was actually quite impressed by his disguise. He was wearing a top-hat, velvet jacket and a monocle, while he twirled a diamond studded walking stick in his hand. With the appropriate hair-dyes, some chin putty and some make-up, the gnome actually looked 80 years older. Jan bore his disguise with the haughty attitude of a noble in full control of the situation.

"Excuse me, rabble, move please, move please, nobility coming through!" Jan held his chin up as he suffered a series of complaints from the people in line he was bypassing. "Greetings, peon," he said to the teller after pushing aside the first person in line by batting him in the butt with his walking stick. "I am the magnificent and astounding Count Turnipsome, and I have chosen your meager plebian bank to store an item of horrific importance! I demand to speak with the manager, post haste!"

"I'm afraid the manager isn't in today, sir," said the teller.

"Bah, then I shall have to settle for the most senior member of your staff! Post haste!" Jan said, and flipped a gold coin to the teller.

"Right away, sir!"

Imoen suppressed a giggle – Jan was really making an effort to act like a complete arse and enjoyed himself tremendously. While they were waiting for the assistant manager, Imoen nonchalantly looked around for a bit. Security was tight; she counted three guards on duty in this room alone. The windows were barred from the inside and the front door could be barricaded from the inside with metal bars.

Most of the people here were simple citizens, though her eye fell on a trio of unsavory types looking around rather suspiciously. She let her mind wander as these three were not important. She noticed a large gated hallway secured with a locked door made from metal bars. Metal bars certainly were a returning motif in this bank. No doubt this corridor led to the vault.

"Concord!" Jan clapped his hands as the assistant manager arrived. The assistant manager was a friendly, if obsequious, young man who greeted both Jan and Imoen with a bow.

"Greetings, good sire," said the assistant manager.

"Indeed, the honor is all yours," said Jan. "I am the great Count Turnipsome, head of the Turnovashj estate, holder the Shrunken Chalice, master of the Forsaken Ostrich of Magnitude, purveyor of Living Statues and statues of Living Purveyors. I assume you are aware of my illustrious reputation?"

"O-of course, sir, we have all heard of your exploits of greatness," said the manager.

"Indeed?" said Jan. "Very well, I have chosen your meager bank to house one of my most prized possessions – the TURNIP OF DESTINY (tm)! Concord!"

This was the cue for Imoen to open the case she was holding. She opened it briefly to show the manager its content – a solid gold turnip inlaid with so many precious stones that it would bring the weak of mind to madness. Of course, in actuality, it was just a normal turnip painted gold with some spells applied for some fake bling, but the illusion was powerful enough.

"This is an ancient heirloom that has been in my family forever," said Jan. "But those horrid scoundrels from the Amnian Jansen clan have their eyes on it! That filthy scum has been trying to steal my treasure for centuries. Jansens, horrible, horrible, people. And that one fellow Jan Jansen is the worst of the lot, though dashingly handsome and clever he may be. I must make sure that my treasure will be safe in your bank! I shall inspect the vault."

"Of course, sir," said the assistant manager and motioned for two guards to join him. "Just follow me."

This was it. The manager led them to the barred gate and unlocked it with a key that hung from the keyring on his belt. Imoen memorized which key it was and then trailed behind while Jan kept the manager and the guards busy. The corridor beyond twisted and turned, and Imoen counted every step; they would have to navigate these tunnels in pitch black darkness, after all. Also, she noticed spigots on the side of the corridor, indicative of gas traps and magical beams.

Eventually, they came to a second barred door which the manager opened with a second key. Imoen remembered which key it was as he used it. The second barred door led to a larger, massive vault door made from steel. As it was daytime, it was opened and gave sight to rows and rows and rows of deposit boxes.

Playing the innocent naive little girl, Imoen gasped. "Oh, wow!" she sighed. "So many! However do you remember which box belongs to whom?"

"No worries, young miss," said the assistant manager. "I keep a ledger in my office with the numbers of the boxes. It documents which box is rented by whom, so I only need to check it quickly when the customer wants to check out the deposit box."

'Thanks, sucker,' Imoen nodded politely.

"Indeed," said Jan. "This reminds me of my fateful trip to the depths of the Maztican jungles where I first found the Turnip of Destiny(tm). I remember like it was yesterday – we were an expedition two hundred strong. At the end of the first day, we have lost most of those men. The main culprit were the shrimps. We mostly brought shrimp cocktails as rations but they went bad rather quickly due to the jungle heat; we had to leave them behind clutching stomachs. Then there was the attack of the giant mosquitos and the rest got trampled by dwarf elephants. In the end, it was just me, my blonde love interest and the wise-cracking black sidekick whom you know was doomed the moment he first appeared in the story. After a day's travel, we arrived at the temple where we found the Turnip of Destiny(tm) and it's horrible prophecy. For the ancient gnomes of Maztica used the Turnip of Destiny(tm) to predict the END OF THE WORLD! A giant space griffin will come who will not be looking where he is going and clonk his head against the planet, knocking it out of orbit and straight into the SUN!"

While Jan was regaling the manager and the guards with this wild and improbable story, Imoen crept up behind the manager and carefully, very carefully, pushed the first key into a bar of soap she had in her pocket. Seconds later, she pressed the other key he had used into the other side. After that, Imoen quickly pocketed the bar of soap and pretended interest in the story.

"That's why I must hide the Turnip of Destiny(tm) from the Jansens, for they will misinterpret the correct date, causing the space griffin to arrive early! The world would be destroyed this year at the 21st of Nightal! No, my friend, the fate of the world depends on the strength of your vault! Your bank must keep the Turnip of Destiny(tm) safe! For the sake of my blonde love interest whom has been taken by the evil Jansens."

"Amazing," the manager obviously lied.

"I am satisfied," said Jan. "I shall entrust the Turnip of Destiny(tm) to your meager bank."

While the manager locked up the turnip, Imoen nodded with a grin. She had gathered more than enough information. Viconia would be very happy.

The charity auction was going wonderfully and already the money was pouring in for charity. Auctioneer Erebus had decided to save his best prize for last. He considered himself to be incredibly lucky that this beautiful young elf had turned up at the last moment. She certainly was a very interesting character and would no doubt be very popular with the richer crowd of Mintar; he expected that she would bring up a large amount of money.

While a group of jugglers were entertaining the crowd during an intermission, Erebus went backstage to see if Laska was ready for her presentation. Just as he entered the make-up tent, he found Laska sitting in the make-up chair. There was nothing wrong with that, except for the fact that the Lisa the make-up girl was sitting on her lap and the two were liplocked.

'Sweet Sune, that is hot', Erebus gulped. It was painful to actually disturb them, but Erebus had to – he scraped his throat, startling Lisa but causing Laska to grin.

"Sorry," Laska said. "It was taking rather long so we decided to make our own entertainment for a bit.

"Uhm, sorry boss," said Lisa.

"That's uhm, quite alright," said Erebus. "Miss Leafwalker, you are up in five."

Laska got up from the make-up chair and adjusted her vest. "Alright," she nodded. "Let's go give the people a nice show."

"Laska?" Lisa asked. "W-will I see you again?"

Erebus saw that the elf rather cockily held Lisa's hand and brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. "Well, you don't have to buy me. I'll happily give myself away to you for free the day after my date."

'Oh, smooth,' Erebus thought as he saw Lisa melt right in front of him. A few moments later, he and Laska were walking over to the stage. The elf didn't seem to be nervous at all, something which would work greatly in her favor. Self-confident women had been more popular in this year's auction. "Right," he said. "Wait behind this curtain until I give you the signal. Any questions?"

"Nope," said Laska.

"Okay, here we go," said Erebus as he brushed past her and stepped on stage. The crowd , more than a little inebriated due to the massive cider intake, applauded the jugglers and he scraped his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen," he started. "This auction has already been one of the most successful ones in memory. We have raised so much money for the wounded and war orphans, and I thank both our buyers and our contestants for this. However, we have saved the best for last. Please welcome, Laska Leafwalker!"

Immediately, Laska blasted through the curtains, strutting on the stage with her swords drawn. Erebus admired her form – tall, slender, slightly muscular, exotic gray skin, long dark hair... if only he had the money, he would buy her himself.

"Laska, a beautiful young elven adventurer, hails from the northern library citadel of Candlekeep," said Erebus while Laska twirled over the stage. "Based in Athkatla, Amn, she and her party of friends have been the bane of orcs, bandits and even dragons. This woman is more than most of you can handle. The risk is great, but the prize..."

From the crowd came praise and wolf-whistles. The elf was really getting into it and started to do a sexy dance on stage.

"Laska is strong, confident, beautiful and mysterious," said Erebus, quickly playing into it. "And has moves that will bedazzle and enchant you. Her soft and beautiful skin has been adorned with gorgeous tattoos."

Laska turned her back to the crowd and slightly pulled down the hem of her trousers. It was not enough to reveal any naughty bits, but it did give the crowd a lovely view of the large blue dragon tattoo on her lower back.

"Can you handle her? Can you take the heat?" Erebus said. "And remember, folks, the money you pay for a date with her will go into the war orphan fund. Can I see two thousand gold? Two thousand! Three! Four thousand! I see Five! I see Six!"

Laska blew a kiss and bent forward, offering a nice view of her chest.

"I see Ten!"

"Twenty-five thousand gold! That's a record high number," Erebus blinked. "I believe it."

"I do," Laska grinned wickedly as she wrapped her teeth around the cork in a bottle of cider and yanked it out. She put the bottle to her lips and let the precious liquid slide down her throat. "I should have felt like a piece of meat out there, but I quite enjoyed the attention."

"We're just waiting to your buyer to claim you," said Erebus. "He or she will be going on a hell of a date."

"Oh, you'd better believe it," said Laska.

"Ah, here he is now," said Erebus.

Immediately, Laska was faced with an old, short, pudgy and bald man. However, there was a very warm smile on his face. For a moment, panic gripped Laska by the throat and at that moment, she sincerely hoped he didn't expect his money would buy her into his bed.

"Hello, miss Leafwalker," he kindly man said. "My children are just going to love spending time with you."

A fun evening at the Sotted Spider had ended inside Yazfryn's apartment. Apartment was a big word, though, as it was more of a tiny hovel. In the commoner enclave, a series of apartments had been hewn out of the cave rock. A single corridor outside connected all the apartments; Yazfryn's was sparsely furnished and didn't contain more than a bed, a table, a few wall sconces and a small firepit for cooking dinner. Above the firepit, a pipe caught the smoke and led it outside. Opposite to the door leading into the corridor was an open gateway leading to a tiny balcony outside, offering a view of the commoner quarters below.

Due to the nature of the windowless apartments, it was never really quiet. A crying child could be heard a few apartments away and two females in the apartment above Yazfryn were having a rather vocal sexual adventure.

Sendai did not care, she was in her own universe right now, having blissfully lain her head on Yazfryn's chest. Indeed, a fun evening at the Sotted Spider and just the right enough amount of mushroom beer had taken away enough of her inhibitions.

She had definitely been scared, though. Sendai had never considered herself to be particularly beautiful and had been very embarrassed when she had first taken off her clothes. Yazfryn had quickly made an effort to make her feel at ease. The bed had been so soft and comfortable.

In fact, Sendai had figured her first time would hurt more than it did. She had heard some horror stories in the past, after all. At first, it did hurt a little. But then it started to feel good. Really, really, good. Yazfryn was kind and gentle and Sendai had a wonderful experience.

After their second time together, Sendai was finally starting to understand why so many females considered this to be so popular.

And now, Sendai lay cuddled against Yazfryn's chest as he embraced her. She felt fantastic.

"Hm, again," Sendai whispered and raised her chin to look Yazfryn in the eye.

"Again?" Yazfryn smirked. "My, you've gotten the taste of it, haven't you?"

"Are you refusing me?" Sendai spoke cheekily, adding a mocking grin. "It is dangerous to refuse a female, don't you know?"

"I'll take my chances," Yazfryn chuckled. "I'm just happy you stayed."

Sendai frowned. "Is that so strange?"

"Pellanune always leaves afterward. She's quite rude about it, actually."

Sendai narrowed her eyes. "Is she still bothering you?"

"Thankfully, no," Yazfryn smiled. "It might have had something to do with you very publicly setting her hair on fire."

"Served her right," Sendai said.

"I think all the females realized that I've been claimed," Yazfryn chuckled while Sendai leaned in for a kiss. "Good thing too. I like you a lot more than I do them. You're definitely the most interesting female I've met in the enclave."

Sendai felt her cheeks burn at the compliment. "I, uh, I..."

"And you're so easy to embarrass," Yazfryn chuckled.

The drow rubbed her cheek against Yazfryn's chest again. "I can be myself around you."

"I still don't know much about you," said Yazfryn.

Sendai bit her lip and thought fast. "I'll tell you eventually. A female has to keep her secrets."

"I seem to recall you demanded to be pleased?" Yazfryn grinned.

"Immediately," Sendai said, adopting a faux vainglorious expression. "Your female demands."

"*My* female?" Yazfryn smiled.

"*My* male," Sendai returned as she leaned in for a kiss.

Back at the hotel room, Viconia, Imoen and Sarevok were discussing the particulars of what they had learned today.

"Change of the guards is every three hours around the clock, no exception," said Sarevok as they poured over a crudely drawn map of the bank. "We have to time our entry carefully. It would be unwise to hit them right after the change, but neither should we wait too long – we might run into unexpected trouble."

"Entry point is definitely the skylight," Imoen said. "Do you think we could get Khittix to craft us some super-strong spider silk to make ropes for us to rappel down from?"

"I'll put him to work right away," Viconia said.

At that moment, the door flew open, startling the three conspirators. Thankfully, it was only Laska. She strutted about like a peacock as she stepped inside the room and held her head high. "Who just made twenty-five thousand for charity? Me! Laska did! Laska did just make twenty-five thousand for charity because I am pretty, desirable, sexy and loved!"

Viconia narrowed her eyes. "Good for you," Viconia said coldly.

"Congratulations on whoring yourself out," Sarevok muttered. "Self-respect is an alien concept to you, isn't it?"

"Screw you guys, you're all jealous cause you're not me," Laska flipped off her friends and stepped towards the shower.

"Twenty-five K? That's great, Las!" Imoen smiled.

"Don't encourage her," Viconia sighed.

"At least someone cares," Laska said as she entered the bathroom.

Viconia waited for Laska to close the door before continuing. "Alright, where were we?"

"Well, we know the assistant manager keeps a full list of the numbered vaults in his office," said Imoen. "We need to stop there first to find out which one belongs to Yaga-Shura."

"Good find, sister," Sarevok nodded. "What can we expect along the lines of traps?"

In the background, the shower started to run and the three conspirators were rapidly assaulted by horrible off-key singing.

"Dear Tymora, how can one single elf be so annoying?" Viconia muttered. "Imoen, please continue."

"Fairly standard set of gas traps, but I'm counting on there being stuff we haven't see yet," said Imoen. "No sign of golems or anything resembling a construct. Still, I wouldn't put it past them to have magical traps set up we didn't see."

"Lalalalalalalallalalalal!" sounded from the bathroom. "I am so great! So great am I!"

"Ugh," Sarevok narrowed his eyes. "What about the metal grate in front of the vault."

Imoen grinned proudly. "We're in luck there. I've managed to get an impression of the key in a bar of soap. We'll be able to make a replica quickly. I just left it here on the dresser."

Viconia nodded appreciatively. "Good work!"

"Huh?" Imoen said as she looked at the top of the dresser. "I'm sure I left it here. Maybe it fell?" The pink-haired mage-thief got on her knees and looked under the dresser. "Nope, not here either."

As the sounds coming from the shower were suddenly becoming a lot more dour, the three conspirators shared a panicked look. "LASKA!" all three shouted at once as they rushed inside the bathroom. Laska actually let out a shriek as the three of them bullrushed her in the shower.

"AH! What the hell?!" Laska shouted. "I'm in here!"

"Where's the soap?!"

"Foaming on my body, where else would it be?" Laska challenged.

"Oh, no," Imoen groaned. "The imprint is completely ruined."

"LASKA, YOU IDIOT!"

"W-what did I do?!"