Tis Thursday, and time for some Shadow Wolf!
I found Bull much more friendly after fighting him. In the North, this was common; men and women among my people would often iron out their differences with a friendly brawl or some other form of physical contest, like wrestling, or demonstrations of strength or agility. Other would intervene only if the fighting was becoming injurious. In Myrrhn brawls are seen a prelude to greater violence and often dealt with harshly, in order to discourage what follows. I am of the opinion that it is natural for people to fight, and that this desire builds up in some until it reaches murderous levels, which explains why Myrrhn is less violent than Nordan lands, but has far more killers. Of course, it could also be the climate and the laws, I am not expert on this.
Still, Bull and I got along well after we exchanged punches, which comfortably confirmed my biases. We talked while we drank. I told him of some of my days as a doorman for the Doxie’s guild and he regaled me with tales of his life as a salvage hauler in the Jetties. His work involved finding useful parts in the broken vessels hauled to the various graveyards of ships that surrounded the slum. It was dangerous work; not only were the boats unstable, but some vessels became the lairs of lethal predators.
“Have you ever come across any Vampires?” I asked.
“Once,” said Bull, his expression souring. I flagged down a waitress and ordered a bottle of the Broken Whale’s second best whiskey. “Fortunately it was during the day, so we only lost a few men. Can’t say I likes the idea of a truce with the fucking bloodsuckers.”
“Oh?” I poured us both a glass. The whiskey was an ugly colour, but it was strong and tasted pure enough.
“The Old Towners just want the money that the bloodsuckers can give ’em. It us who they prey on, not those who live on big houses on high land.”
“That sounds about right. I’m looking for a vampire myself. One who has crimes to answer for. Have you heard of any activity around here recently?”
“Now that you mention it, I’ve heard of a few bloodless bodies washing up portside with no leech marks on ’em. A few missing as well. I suspect it is the blood trade again. Mind if I ask why?”
“The vampire in question had a friend of mine killed. As you say, it was the blood trade.”
Bull shook his head. “Fucking bloodsuckers. I’m tired of them nibbling at the edges of our place in the city. I can show you where they are Ragnar Grimfang; I know all the places they might be hiding.”
“I sense a condition,” I observed, thinking that he might be angling for more gold.
“Yes,” said Bull. “I want you to bring me with you when you kill them.”