Bog's World

Altogether elsewhere

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A year in Immorean. But earlier... - Forgileill

Forgileill found herself in Corvis. She went back to the old brewery house. Curiously, no-one seemed to recognise her. She saw several of the whores she knew and counted as her friends. Cautiously, she spoke with Aileen, Flonnese and Lizetta, but none of them appeared to know her. Forewarned, rather than going up to the apartment, she sought out Lily, finding her in the Buccaneer Bass, and catching her between customers, introduced herself, posing a series of questions to which she knew the answers. Lily, who appeared not to recognise her either, spun her line, the bitchy little slut. Forgileill smiled sweetly, thanked her and went in search of Sadie.

Checking the news sheets, she found that she’d arrived almost a year before her first arrival, that is, two years before she first came to Corvis. Which explained some things. The obvious thing to do would be to slay Pelyth before he killed her. But she knew that didn’t happen as she’d already had those experiences. One of Kcasamenzay’s more emphatic lessons was not to interfere with time – you can’t change what has already happened. All she to do was lie low until after their show down with Kelkess/Vahn Oberen.

Unlike Lily, who was most likely jealous of Forgileill’s looks (and therefore earning potential), Sadie was always glad of good company. She let Sadie go back to Tommy that night and took a room in one of the better inns on the upper east bank. She found Sadie again around midnight the night after and let herself be taken back to Tommy’s apartment. He would of course, “interview” her in his room.

She smiled inwardly and in triumph. She knew all about him already and he knew nothing about her. She gave her name as Evie (Yes, it is short of Evlin, my, what a sharp mind you have Mr Verder). Behind closed doors, she sat her next to him on the bed and he outlined his terms. She’d make ten shields (silver pieces) a night for him and she’d get to pocket three, he’d have her for no charge whenever he wanted. If she could earn her night’s dues in one trick (‘ain you’se almo’ preddy enough to d’it, missy Evie) then good for her. Then he made to push her back onto the bed. She giggled and let him roll on top of her.

Then, straight away, before he could do anything, she used the power in her arm wrap. His eyes rolled up and his whole body sagged as he came. He flopped down and she rolled him over until he was on his back and she was sat on his chest, knees putting her weight on his biceps. She let him see and then feel the knife she held at his throat. She let him see her magical claws in action, brandishing them in front of him. She delivered her terms then, reaching behind her and jabbing at his crotch occasionally when she thought he wasn’t paying quite enough attention.

Firstly, he would tell no-one about this exchange, as far as everyone else was concerned, she was now just one more of Tommy’s girls. She would pay the required monies at the same time all the others did, but he was not to tout business for her. She would have the private room to herself from that moment on. And that was it. If he wanted to live, all he had to do was keep his mouth shut.

So, ‘new arrival’ Evie became acquainted with the rest of Tommy’s girls, who at this time included Lillian and Sharona. They weren’t quite as pleasant as Tyler and Orfie, but nowhere near the work shy degenerates Lily had made them out to be. Forgileill was pleased, she could hide out in Filcher’s Crossing almost indefinitely.

Only each day left her feeling more hungry and increasingly weak, After five days it was as much as she could do to get out of bed. She felt the craving for blood coming back. There were not yet as many Llealese refugees and the make shift abattoir she would use in the future was not yet in place. All the while her thoughts became obliterated beneath the overwhelming need, weakness and desire to feed. Starving herself to death was not really the answer – she needed blood. The occasional large rat was not enough to keep her going. And to be quite frank, they seemed to be much more aware of her as a predator than any human ever was.

On one dusk trip back to the Old Brewery on the seventh day, mind numbingly tired and ravenously hungry, she was accosted by another pimp. She could tell by what the man was saying that Tommy had been telling his peers that he had a hot new girl who was raking it in. She didn’t recognise him.

He dragged her into an alleyway. How had he managed to catch her ? Was she really that far gone ? Forgieill couldn’t believe that she hadn’t spotted him, that she hadn’t the swiftness to evade one man. She tried to fight him off. He struck her backhand across the face, splitting her lip and drawing blood. It was the blow of pimp to a whore, not a serious attack. She drew her claws but he caught her wrist. Had Tommy betrayed her ? Probably not, he was too much of a coward. She really must be that weak. And so hungry. She was so hungry she could cry.

She wriggled all she could as he tore at her clothing with his one free hand, pressing himself to her. His attempts were hampered by keeping her right wrist in his vice like grip. She had been lifted off the floor and was being held to the wall as his knees forced hers apart. Her struggles were not getting anywhere. Her attacker was overpowering her, and not too slowly, either.

He was strong. Powerful. Virile. She could hear his heart thumping. She could smell life coursing through him. Men were never more alive than when they were like this. Involuntarily, she licked her lips. Her teeth had changed, she’d grown fangs like some kind of vampiric creature. Tears welled up within her and began to roll down her cheeks. He hadn’t noticed, his eyes were down, his focus was elsewhere. She didn’t want to bite him, she wasn’t that kind of girl.

She was hungry. He was scum.

She was crying now, silent tears, never to be witnessed. He was now nearly through all of her defences. She sobbed once, not knowing if she’d made a sound or not. If she had, her attacker was deaf to it. Forgileill’s mind screamed through all the ‘if only’ thoughts she’d ever had in the space of a single heartbeat, coming down to one gut wrenching truth. If Pelyth Rysslhyr hadn’t seduced her at Duke Ebonheart’s ball, she wouldn’t be about to raped in a back alley in Corvis.

She wouldn’t be doing this to save her self. She bit.

His entire body stiffened, as if though pleasure, when her fangs sank into his neck. In frozen tableau with him unable to move, she fed. She couldn’t stop herself. Eventually, inevitably, he buckled and collapsed. The smell of blood was everywhere. She tasted it on her lips and wanted more. She knelt and pulling his head up onto her knee by the hair, ignoring the pleading in his eyes (as he’d ignored her struggling against his attempt to rape her), bit again. She felt giddy in a good way. Still she drank, until eventually she was sick, vomiting the man’s blood over the walls of the alleyway. But she felt good, alive, strong. Powerful.

The body went into the Black River via one of the canals. His purse would pay her rent to Tommy for three months, doubtless the ill-gotten gains of more than one night’s work.

The next day she went to see Jaryll Greydan, a tailor in the quad. Last night’s apparel (now down the sewer, where the rats would eat the bloodstained evidence) would need to be replaced. Jaryll was clever, he knew how to create garments in which one would pass for a common whore, but with a little gimmickry, became a little more, versatile.

And that’s is how ‘Evie’ became part of the scenery in Flitcher’s Crossing. On ‘earning nights’ as she thought of them (as opposed to ‘feeding nights’) she was a little more gentle with her victims, taking money from men who eagerly followed her to a cosy backroom or darkened doorway, but when it came down it, couldn’t perform. At her slightest touch, it would all be over, they would mumble their apology and she would speak comforting words and take their coin. It all added to the illusion of Evie as whore.

And the thought that other men had her made Tommy mad. She would goad him into jealous rage with her outrageous tales of her sexual exploits. All copied from the others. But Tommy would never believe that, he would only believe what Forgileill wanted him to.

And if one of those clients became violent (or every six or seven days, when she would be so desperate that she would have to feed) or pushed too far too fast, he was doomed[1] . With adventurers heading every which way, Llealese refugees beginning to come south and Khadorian spies blundering about, it became all too easy to take as much as she needed. Always following the same pattern, she realised that she was putting herself in the way of harm to entrap these men. But then, they were intent on their own act of evil, were they not ? She knew that without this affliction that she could easily evade or defeat them, but that in this state she needed to feed, or she would die. It was Pelyth’s enduring curse that was torturing her. And killing them.

It was easier to transfer the blame for their deaths to the Eldrich. And they were all woman beaters and rapists. One day a sudden thought occurred to her. She could intercept Pelyth before he reached the ball, she could prevent him seducing and violating her. But then she thought about that night. He’d never seen her before. She understood that any attempt she’d make from here would be doomed by pre-destiny to failure. That was one of the days she killed. Another was night of the ball itself.

Eventually, as she knew he would, Tommy contacted Moe the Magimp about exchanging Lillian and Sharona for Tyler and Orfie. Partly because winter was coming and he wanted to protect his investments, partly because he wanted to ingratiate himself with his two new girls and possibly partly because he wasn’t outright bad, Tommy acquired fur coats from somewhere. Doubtless they were stolen, possibly being shifted now before the Khardic hunters came south with this years new furs.

She wrote herself a note and left it in plain sight, in her own writing, with her name on it, in Sindarin. In it were the notes she’d first read when Sadie first brought her here. It was an introduction to the Old Brewery House and an admonishment to beware the bastard as well as the information that Thunderwicket is a steamjack. She paused, about to warn herself about Alexia, but hesitated and stopped.

Taking part of her haul, a heavy purse of shields and crowns, she took herself out of the city before the Longest Night. Which was a pity, it would have been an excellent opportunity to have a good night out. And a good feed.

[1] Forgileill has three good friends Aileen Enda, Flonnese Doogan and Lizetta Cabridge. And a number of other girls whom she is fairly friendly with Desle Baskin, Elspeth Scarrow, Jordan Scarrow, Canice Calligan, Kearey Calvirt, Nancy Spugden and Sally Jessop. Men who abused these women were one of her targets. The only possible witness to one of these revenge attacks is Lizetta. And she’s not talking. Not to anyone.


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