Chapters | Bios :::CHAPTER ONE::: I'd seen similar scenarios before. There weren't enough witness to tell the tale remarkabley well, but enough nods from around the room to agree that, whatever had happened to Jeccus Monze, he’d asked for it. It was of a certainty that Jeccus, or “Jecs”, as his friends had once called him, was foul-tempered and not far from a constant drunkard. There was always a sneer on his face, aimed at whomever and whatever crossed his path. Jeccus never stayed still, jittering and muttering to himself about this or that shortcoming. The blame, however, always fell on others and never on himself. The barmates present at the time of his death couldn’t help but remember him bitterly, but still, he was human, and subject to at least their sympathy. But sympathy doesn’t really do the dead any good, once they’re gone. It was around the eight hour, the tavern filled with old time customers as well as a few new clientele, who had heard of Jecs’ death one way or another. Of these customers, there was an long-time friend and co-worker of Jecs’, sipping his brew and thinking thoughts just as dark. I had no idea who he really was, where he was from, or why he even really cared to mourn the poor barkeep’s passing, but I couldn’t begrude him for it. Jecs wasn’t liked, plain and simple, and any and all who knew him were aware that by drinking to the loss was about as meaningful as a lump of dirt. But the man I stared at then was of an odd sort, to be sure. His clothes were clean, sharp, and of the latest fashion. Surely not a man of little worth. And, as I’d thought to myself only moments before, he didn’t look like he was in the brightest of moods, meaning that Jecs had had at least one ally in his keep. After a few moments of my own dark thoughts, which was more than normal, I got tired of waiting; I wanted to know the exact cause of Jeccus’ death, from someone who wouldn’t coat the issue with their own feelings of discomfort towards the poor bastard. Strolling over, with a slight limp aching its way through each step, I sat down next to him. I noticed his eyes were a dark green, with only a hint of brown around the edges. Hazel, I suppose. They were as bright as his leather garments, shimmering under even the dim light of the bar. “You knew Jaccus?” I asked, my head turned away from him, looking towards the exit, but more importantly, giving him my good ear – which was my left, since my right was, at the moment, clogged with dry blood. “Yeah, I knew him. Made a good sheeka, he did.” His voice seemed deep, with a strange resonance that I couldn’t quite take as natural. I wondered, just for a moment, if I was sitting right next to my own brethren, but something in my head clicked and gathered a faint memory of my own dealings with Jaccus. “He wasn’t from around here, was he?” I think I said that as more of a statement, but I let it hang as an inquiry. From the corner of my eye, I saw his mouth twitch, and he glanced at me. There was an odd silence, then, as if he hadn’t heard me, he grunted and gazed back into his sheeka. “Northshore, right? That’s where he lived, isn’t it?” “Maybe. Never saw him outside of work.” I nodded, saying, “Gotcha. Just co-workers. But yeah, that’s where he lived.” He was staring at me again, with those emerald-like eyes that gave you the idea that he was on some sort of mind-altering drug. His mouth twitched again and he asked, “How would you know that?” “He made a good sheeka, right? Well,” I shrugged, “the best barkeeps learn that drink in Northshore. I suppose he could have lived – ” “That’s where lived.” I almost asked why he’d denied the knowledge before, but that wasn’t what I had sat next to him to ask anyway, so I just nodded. “Why you so interested in old Jacs? I ain’t never seen you hanging around here b’fore now.” “I bought a few drinks from him. Seemed like a nice fellow.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but we both knew how loved Jacs was. He shifted in his chair and said, “Yeah, he was. Shame about him dying out of the blue like that. Never saw it coming. Him or anyone else.” I pondered that for a moment and looked at him with raised eyebrows. “You want to know how he passed, don’t ya stranger?” The new barkeep, whose name I didn’t bother to catch, came by, tilted his head, and I bought me a round of clecko. The man beside me ordered the same. “Yeah,” I said, “and call me Matsumi.” He shook his head, saying, “Nothing out of the norm, around here. Wandered out one night, right in the middle of his shift. Said he had to take a leak.” He shifted again. “Came back in looking a mite pale. I thought to ask, but just figured he’d taken a little too much kipra or something.” “Kipra?” I asked. “He was into that sort of thing?” “Oh yeah, a well-known addict. Liked to keep himself up during the long hours – which is why I ddin’t think too much of his colorin’ ya see.” “Yeah. Answers a lot.” He seemed puzzled for a moment, then shrugged it off. “Yup. Well, like I was sayin’, he was lookin’ a bit, I don’t know, weak. Maybe starved, from the way his clothes kinda hung off him. That was strange too, but I figured he’d been tryin to loose weight and maybe had changed his clothes.” I put that in my head for later reflection, but still asked, “Changed clothes? While outside?” “Nothing strange there either,” the man said, drinking a sip of his clecko. “You work long, you sweat hard. Every now and then you gotta break up a brawl or move some heavy boxes; you may end up changing your shirt six or seven times in one day.” I nodded, motioning with one hand for him to continue. “So, he comes back to the bar, serves a few more drinks, makes small talk with some fellow or another, and then starts grumbling about…well, just grumbling.” He took a long swig and drained the glass clean. “Always something to grumble about with that guy.” I almost smirked, but kept my face collected. “Another hours passes, still nothing changes. Looked like how I told ya’, but otherwise, pretty much healthy as usual.” “If he took kipra regularly, he couldn’t have been all that healthy to begin with. Probably a bit tough around the gills.” He waved for another drink, shrugged and said, “Guess so.” I sipped a bit of the clecko, finding it a bit gritty, and asked, “Did he act funny at all? You know, not just appearance, but things he said or did?” “He griped. As long as he was griping,” he said, with what I took as a bit of heartache, “he was all to the good.” He drank some more, nodding slowly to himself. “So, he was normal?” “Competely, far as I was concerned. Left work a bit late, but not by much. Next thing you know, found him dead in a local inn. He stared there every now and then.” He turned to me, as if expecting me to ask something, but since I didn’t, he just shifted back around and drowned in another glass of clecko. “No one knows why? They just found him dead, and it’s what…a mystery?” He tilted his head and burped a bit; the liquor was hitting him now, but he managed a “Yup,” somewhere in there. “Doctors can’t figure it out?” “What doctors? Ain’t been no doctors ‘round here in…let me see…my Great-uncle Belabin was a doctor. That was say…I don’t know, quite a long time ago. Most doctors then were – ” “So no doctors?” I cut him off. “I see.” “You want to know what I think, Matkuki? Hmm?” Yeah, he’d gotten my name wrong, but dealing with drunks was a small talent of mine. Besides, I was still in the blue about something, and it looked like he was finally getting to it. “Sure,” I said. “What do you think?” “I think –” he shifted and hiccuped a bit, then said, “I think he didn’t die.” I digested that, hard as it was to believe, and raised an eyebrow at him. “I think,” he continued, “that he’s alive out there. Somewhere.” “You think that, huh?” “I do. And I’ll tell you another thing: he was attacked that night.” I leaned against the bar with one arm, and smirked a bit. “Who’d attack a good guy like –” “Don’t go giving me that Madetsu. Jacs was a drunken wreak. And an asshole to boot. Guy like that my ass…” I grinned a bit at that, then conceeded, “Ok, yeah, he wasn’t exactly a people person, but still, who’d wan’t to really do him any harm?” He leaned in real close, and the barkeep stepped away, which is about when I noticed the keep had refilled his drink. I also noticed that one of us was reeking of hard liqour, and I’d barely touched my own. “Them geists,” he whispered. “Them demon-spawned cocksuckers! They put some kinda twisted hex on poor Jecs. Probably wanted to rob ‘em.” Jeccus wasn’t rich, and neither was anyone else in Treen City. But I knew what he was talking about. Or rather, who. “Geists? Here, in Treen?” “You bet your – ” he almost fell off his seat, jerking around with a fervor that reminded me of a snake caught in an invisble net. “You bet yer’ arse! They’re all around us! Look just like bloody humans. But they ain’t like no human, Mati my boy. They’re far more fiendish. Evil, I tell you. And…” he seemed about to tear up as he quaffed his glass, “And Jacs, for all his moaning and complaining, was a hard-working man. A good man by that standin’.” I let him run down all that. I imagine he couldn’t even see me clearly anymore. I doubted even less he noticed how empty the tavern had become, the later hours picking up fast. Even the barkeep looked like he was about to close shop. “So,” I said slowly, “the geists got poor ol’ Jacs, because he worked hard and they wanted money from him?” “That’s right, dammit! Like vampires, but worse. They want everything we humans have, even the stuff they can’t actually use! Curse ‘em all, Matuki! Curse ‘em all, and the bleeding deviltries that helped their spawning!” I chuckled at that, and his eyes wavered into a drunken glare. “Don’t believe me do ya?!” He stood up and slammed his cup against the edge of the bar. “Just like all them other strangers, picking their noses here and there in things they couldn’t ever understand! Probably one of them blasted demons yer’self! Get on outta here, for I tear you a new arse!” I gathered to my feet, my limp feeling a tad better than before. I looked deep into that man’s face. Where once stood a somewhat dashing gentleman, devoid of the grime that usually festered in most humans, there was now only… only the truth. He was no different than Jacs; foul-mouthed and quick to anger. Never one to believe the obvious. Always had to be another cause. Not really a bad trait, if used properly. But he was drunk, barely standing on his own two feet, the barkeep heading to the back to lock up. I glanced around and saw we were alone, except for one man whose head was buried in a bag of peanuts and spilled beer. “Listen, you have the wrong idea. I believe you, in a way. In fact, I can probably show you just what happened to Jaccus.” He seemed to calm a bit, and his eyelids closed down for a moment. “You can?” “Sure,” I said, a grin on my face. “I’ll take you right to him, if you want. And you can ask him yourself what really happened.” The man dropped the broken half of the glass, and staggered over to me, placing a hand on my right shoulder, holding his left out to shake my own. “I’d appreciate that, Madaru.” I smiled and shook his hand. “Don’t mention it.” “Name’s Kebliem, by the way.” “A pleasure Kebliem.” I tossed a few coins on the table as we walked out of the tavern, into the dark city night, where dangers of all kinds lurked and awaited helpless drunks who are either too trusting, or simply take a bathroom break at the wrong time. “And don’t worry about the drinks. From here on out, they’re all on me.” He turned to me and grinned, his bright eyes now dim and growing bloodshot. “Jecs was a good man, Matsegi. A good, good man…” “I couldn’t agree more. Made a good drink, too.” “A sheeka master!” he chuckled. “Not exactly what I meant, but yes, that too…”