The dark figure found Milo again near a small clearing outside of town. The small halfling was collecting bits of leaf some of which the figure recognized as toxic and others were as harmless as dandalion flower petals and mugwort. The man hid and continued to watch further.
The halfling was humming a happy little gnomish tune to himself as he cut the bits of leaf, seemingly at random, with a small butter knife coated with drying flakes of blood.
Milo screamed out loud as his new adoptive gnome father, Lumji Foodle, used the device once again on his son. The small pool of collected water around the halfling's feet caused arcs of electricity to dance across the surface of the pool and up and down the halfling's prone body.
"I told you!" scolded the gnome in a suprisingly jovial tone, "if you get caught stealing from me, then you get to help me with my research. It's fun, isn't it? And you're doing a wonderful service for the people! Imagine if you could store life energy in an electrical charge! The implications!" The gnome's eyes glazed over as his thoughts went from words to a more private place inside his head, completely blocking out the screams of the child until his thrashing caused one of the gauges to malfunction. "Stay still and quiet, won't you? This is for science!"
The halfing's screams stopped almost immediately into nothing more than slight crying. He wanted to please his father. That's what good boys did.
Darien had come to the Isle of Gastopinay in search of the bones of one of the races of small flightless birds that were known to inhabit the area. Ground up and applied with calloh root and wurm's tongue, a mineral in the bones acted as a catalyst in speeding small amounts of poison directly to the heart of a victim. Death was nearly immediate and as any good assassin knew, immediate was always better; always cleaner.
Off the small boat, powered by a rather overcomplicated steam engine of some form that never quite worked right, he stepped into the small port town of Carato Shempkin and was immediately assaulted by a band of small children from several races selling knick-knacks and bobbles of varying styles and qualities.
A flash of metal caught his eye and his attention was immediately focused on a small halfling child who had been selling some form of a hard confection-like candy created from licorice root and a mostly non-toxic resin. In the child's hand was one of his own custom-forged daggers! He hadn't even felt the catch of the leather against his skin as it had left its sheath. The child, his eyes fastened to the blade in a mesmerized fashion, suddenly started as he realised that Darien was indeed still right in front of him and was staring quite intently at him.
The halfling held up the dagger sheepishly as an offering to him. Darien took it quickly and secured the assassin's dagger to his belt once again before shooing the children away from him with an angry yell. But as they departed, a crooked half-smile crept onto his face s he watched the small halfling child make his way barefoot toward the orphanage.
Milo had lived in the orphanage as far back as he could remember. It wasn't so bad really. Two meals a day and all he had to do was sell trinkets to tourists and perhaps acquire valuables from them in the process. Other than that, as long as you didn't bother the Matron with things like fights or the eventual cuts and bruises from said fights, you could live an okay life there. He had been adopted many times but always ended up back here. Often for stealing. Twice for things he had actually not done. And once for feeding Wolf's Bane to his favored family dog to keep him from becoming a were-doggy, unaware that Wolf's Bane was poisonous to all canines. The dog had died shortly after and Milo had been heartbroken.
So when the Matron stuck her head in the doorway of the shared bunks area that the children shared and called his name, he knew the drill. He spit into his hands and rubbed the dirt off of his face. He smoothed his dirty clothes and greasy hair as best he could. As he quickly ran out to the front area where the Matron recieved guests to find an odd looking gnome standing next to the Matron, who was quite contentedly counting a small sack of coins.
"Hello Milo. I'm your new father. My name is Lumji Foodle."
Darien continued to stay crouched in the shadows as Milo skipped his way back to the clearing, with his leaves in one hand and the blade in the other. He had kept an eye on Milo for months now, even going so far as to introduce himself and slip the boy a few coins for sweets and the like. He had talent surely, but ever since that damn gnome had gotten his hands on the poor boy, he wasn't quite right in the head. Even so, he had managed to send word back to the assassin's guild and had secured admission papers for Milo to enter in a couple of weeks. But he wasn't sure what to think now. He had never seen Milo act like this. Carato Shempkin was crawling with investigators and its citizens were in shock and bewilderment.
During the night, someone had attacked the peaceful town, killing six young innocent children. Even more disturbing was that their bodies had been mutilated, each one missing a piece of their body; a section of torso, a leg, an arm...and indeed a single child and his father were just gone completely. Lumji Foodle had not been seen since last night and it was believed that he was responsible for the deaths of the children and indeed possibly his own son. Some of Foodle's instruments had been used to pry open closed windows.
Darien had followed the tracks easily enough out of town which meant that others would pick up the scent soon enough. He looked back the way he had come apprehensively. If Foodle had not killed Milo, then that meant-
"Hello, Mr. Darien!" said Milo happily. "Have you come for the tea party?"
Darien had not heard the halfling approach. "Tea party?" he stammered, for the first time slightly uncomfortable around the child.
"Yes, of course!" giggled Milo. "I even brought a friend! Come have tea with us, Mr. Darien!" Darien allowed himself to be led by the arm to the clearing where Milo had indeed set up a small table and chairs as well as an old tea set that looked like it had been salvaged from someone's refuse pile.
Sitting in one of the chairs, dressed in a potato sack and flies sat the remains of a child but...something...was off. He looked closer and realized that it was not one child, but several (six he would guess) stitched hastily together with yarn and needle. And attached to the body was the head of Lumji Foodle, mouth stitched into an eternal smile.
As Darien watched, a crow swooped down and picked at Foodle's eye before the approaching Milo waved it away. "Mr. Darien is here, Bobo! He came for tea! Mr. Darien, Bobo says you should sit in the other chair! I'll pour!"
Darien slowly removed the knife from his sheath, watching carefully as the halfling happily poured the imaginary tea and sang.
Milo awoke from his sleep with a smile on his face. He looked up from his spot near the firepit at his sleeping friends, except for Al who never slept much, but seemed to close his eyes every now and then. He was happy to be here. The Assassin's Guild had taught him much, but staying there wasn't for him. It reminded him too much of the orphanage and of mean Daddy Foodle. He preferred making his living out and about, meeting so many nice new people and finding neat new things to play with. He had to be careful not to be caught by Siris who would make him return things or stop him from making mean people be good.
Milo settled back down to sleep whispering a goodnight to Bobo and wondering when Mr. Darius would wake up and find him once more.
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Milo looked up from his cup of tea. "Bobo, it seems that Mr. Darien fell asleep. Oh! What's this? A letter for me? What's Hammerhand's School for Gifted Boys? Oh! Mr. Darien wants to be my new daddy and send me to school? Mr. Darien! MR. DARIEN! He's really very asleep, Bobo. I must be a good boy and not awaken him. But I'm supposed to enroll so soon! I will just use some of his money and go ahead of him while he sleeps, dontcha think Bobo? I'm sure Mr. Darien will follow me when he wakes up. After all, I don't want to be late. Good boys are never late..."
Milo got up and with his dagger in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, he headed towards his new life, with the bag of gold and the admission papers at his waist. As he skipped along, he hummed a tune to himself.
Back at the table, a small murder of crows decended upon the corpses of Bobo and Darien. No one alive was there to scare them away this time.
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Elf or not, there is a reason I don't sleep around this little fucker. Good lord.
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