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Message: <blockquote data-quote="talien" data-source="post: 4914314" data-attributes="member: 3285">Gangs of Freeport: Part 3 – The Narcotics HouseAt first glance, Vlad thought he was on Dreaming Street. The furtive, the drugged, the soliciting, and the frightened occupied the walkways. Windows were boarded, shuttered, or tastefully curtained, but all were obscured. The entire neighborhood smelled of a bizarre combination of smokes, burning herbs and alchemical substances that make him feel lightheaded.As Vlad approached his destination, it became obvious that this he was not on Dreaming Street all. The buildings were run-down, the paint and colors peeling. The people had a desperate look to them, and while Dreaming had more than its share of desperation, all who frequented it knew that they could find what they sought—for the right price. He’d learned that when they rescued Corinalous, Kham’s father, from the Well-Dressed Man.For the people who could not afford Dreaming itself, the streets surrounding it provided a cheaper alternative. People huddled in alleys, shuddering with withdrawal. Red-eyed wretches accosted passersby, begging for sufficient coin to purchase a dose of Ghoul Juice, or a few minutes with their “beloved” harlot, or to pay off their gambling debts before they were fed to the sharks. Vlad’s target was a shack, sitting on one side of a small alley, sandwiched between a vendor selling cheap used daggers and a brothel so run-down and filthy, it looked as though the venereal diseases might actually leap out and accost passersby on their own. It was a tiny, ramshackle place that might well fall apart if struck sidelong by a stiff breeze. A tiny trail of smoke rose from a tin chimney. The windows were shuttered, and a crude hand-painted sign was tacked to the front door with a rusty nail. It read “Clozed for Bizness.”Vlad pulled out his tanglefoot bag and began to swing it.  People in the street made way for the big Milandisian; he was intimidating enough in full armor…swinging a weapon made everyone think twice.  Then Vlad kicked open the door and threw the bag.  It exploded in goo, immediately covering the blitzed out Cutthroats that lazed within.  Vlad drew Grungronazharr and put it against the nearest gang member’s throat.  “I want to ask you a few questions.”The Cutthroat giggled inappropriately and shrugged.  He was definitely high.“Good.  I want to know how you get this Ghoul Juice.”The Cutthroat’s eyes rolled.  “I…he smuggles them in.  Paulow.  We call him…” he started giggling again, “Sky-High.  He hates that.”“Where is he?”The Cutthroat laughed and told Vlad to do something with a farm animal.Vlad raised a fist, then looked around. There were some vials of the grayish-green stuff on one table.  He lifted his sword over the vials.  Suddenly, everyone stopped laughing.“This is Ghoul Juice, right?  If you value it so much, you’d better start talking.”The Cutthroat nodded, suddenly very focused. “Sky-High.  Where is he?”“Broken… Mug.”“Broken Mug?”  Vlad shook him again.  “Is that a place?”The man nodded.  Vlad pushed him back into the goo in disgust. The other thugs slowly got to their feet, moving as if in slow motion.  Vlad studied the Cutthroat carefully.  Then he held up one hand, the hand that wore the Carcosan ring.  Vlad transformed into a mirror image of the thug, complete with a tattoo on his neck that identified him a member of the Cutthroats.“Tell all your friends,” said the Cutthroat with Vlad’s voice. “I’m back.  And I’m cleaning up the streets of Freeport.”Then he turned and smashed the vials, scattering the contents all over the tiny shack.</blockquote>

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