Stories : The Sneaking Suspicions Of Fire
The Stalls. The decrepit, fething Stalls. You would think I would be delighted making a living in a place like this with my…particular talents. But I’ve lived a long life in a short amount of time, and not due to my own choosing.
Family. Heh, I wouldn’t even know what that means if it wasn’t for my grandmother. My father died when I was a wee Halfling, off to some distant land seeking some adventure. My mother, if I can even give her such a title, was never much in my life. She worked as a nanny with some merchant family in nicer district of Katapesh. She would rarely visit and send us money so we could eek out a living. But one day, we didn’t receive word from her. She didn’t show up, she didn’t leave a note, nothing. She disappeared.
My grandmother and I went to visit the family she nannies for, but they were just as amiss as to her whereabouts. They were even more distraught that their daughter had gone missing with my mother. All they had to offer us was a journal she used to keep. And sure, she did write a couple times about me and how she misses me, but most of the entries were about this human girl she took care of. In fact, the very last entry was about how excited she was to go on a picnic with the girl. I burned the journal after reading that.
14 years old and without a fething mother who was barely in my life anyway. Not too soon after, my grandmother passed away, bless her soul. But unfortunately I was still too young to make it on my own. I had to resort to making a living for myself in the Nightstalls. Stealing food, pick-pocketing money, living in back alleys was the way of life for me. All the while, my mother is off gallivanting with some stupid gakking human child whom she obviously loved more than her own. If there are such things as gods, she can go rot in the gak-filled pits with Rovagug for all I care.
Anyway, the thing about living like a thief, you eventually get caught. Fortunately, I was caught by the right folks and I wasn’t put into slavery like most of my kin. Instead, they realized my talents as well as my vast knowledge of the local area and trained me to become a Duskwalker Agent. Instead of hiding in the shadows to sustain my life, I would act as a watchman to police the Stalls, but all the while using their shadow to help carry out my tasks. A new life, befitting of my new name and title.
The Stalls, a place of wondrous pleasure or terrible pain. Some stalls sell things you may need, other stalls will sell things you can’t believe people would ever want. Sex is huge – from gnomes to devils, anyone feth anyway they choose. Not to mention, the overabundance of drugs and poisons. A magical place for any child to grow up in, indeed. Thanks mom.
Anyway, life is pretty good for myself these days. I still maintain a network of contacts with the Stalls for any supplies I may need. I am mostly seen as a consultant of sorts for the Duskwalkers. Also, I get hired to help protect caravans of goods to and from the Stalls to other cities in the region. I just hope one day I can find my dear mother and let her know a piece or two of my mind – not to mention I can’t imagine what I would say or do to that human girl who stole my mother’s love. Feth her, too.