The sounds of the late night echoed eerily down the streets of Stagfell. The narrow alleys near the Marketplace were almost deserted. A cloaked figure staggered around the corner stepping here and there to avoid trash and fetid water that infested the street. The tan cloak was wrapped tight and dark red spots seeped through in places. The woman paused wearily before a plain wooden door and let out a gasp of relief at seeing a symbol carved roughly into the door frame: a circle with three daggers.
With one final effort she pushed through the door and collapsed on the floor inside. Soft arms picked her up and gently carried her into a back room. Candles were lit and the cloak was removed. The priestess gasped as she saw the wounds covering the woman, "By Threv, who did this to you sweet sister?"
"One of the guards, you know the one. Please, please help me..." the woman sobbed.
"You are safe now. First I will tend to your wounds and then we will pray together that Calistra take vengeance for you."
The priestess washed the wounds with water and wine before gently caressing each one. The woman dozed as the sliced flesh quickly mended. The priestess gently kissed her, "You are whole again sister. Calistra smiles on you."
The woman told the Priestess Vesper of the sadistic Goldcloak who paid and took her to the Ambush Grove. There he took out his dagger and began slicing. Not enough to kill her but enough to make her scream. The Goldcloak's companions stood outside the grove snickering.
Vesper lay two fingers on the woman's lips. "Stay here tonight and rest under our Lady's protection. She heard your prayer and vengeance shall be yours."
******
Vargis clutched his bottle of rot gut tightly. He was finally off duty after his long double post. It was time to get back to the barracks, play some cards with the boys and drift off into drunken sleep. He stepped carefully around a body collapsed in the street. It was difficult to walk and if he dropped the bottle it would be a long trip back to the docks for another.
Vargis felt a pang in his gut and looked around for a deserted place to piss. A nearby alley looked like the best spot. The alley was dark and Vargis began to relieve himself. As his eyes grew accustomed to the inky blackness he became aware of a man shaped shadow standing only a few feet in front of him. "The hells...?"
Before he could think about it further he heard a snap and pain exploded around his throat. Vargis dropped his bottle and grasped at what felt like a rope or a whip around his neck. He dropped to his knees and grabbed at the whip. Barbs on the whip tore into his palms and into his neck. His tunic felt warm and he smelled his own blood thick in the air.
A large man with a long dark beard stood over him. The man pulled the whip tighter. "You will carry these scars and they will remind you that if you so much as touch a whore again I will find you and geld you." Vargis tried to yell but his sound only came out faint as a whisper. The man twisted the whip and released him. Vargis collapsed face down gasping for air. When he looked up again the alley was empty.
******
Several streets away the Priestess Vesper shed the moldy old cloak and cleaned the blood off her whip with it. She threw the cloak in a trash heap and turned back toward the Market District.
