Sensual thumbed the wallet stacked full of coins and groaned. She still didn’t think she was getting paid nearly enough to warrant dragging herself through the streets of Freeport in search of this one character. Not this one, in particular. Who thought so highly of himself (especially since the 2008 elections were upcoming) that he thought it fit to hire a personal guard of some sort. After wandering around meeting dead end trails, she finally tracked them down. Disguised in the Inn.

Sensual sighed, and listened to the on-goings of other patrons, all eager with their own stories to tell. She blocked them from her mind as she walked along, searching for this one. Lord Udoaka. She knew him only by his name and the one photograph she was given for the job. Who this other.. person, was with him, she had no idea. Eventually she heard his name whispered, Corrydonn. Why on earth he was dressed as a cockatrice, she had no idea. It must have been some sort of campaign management.

She reminded herself of the hefty price tag this assignment came with. Find anything, just some little bit of information, that could put his presidential campaign on a rocky start – was what the person requested. Whether they were to be seen as future competition she had no idea, and left it at that. All she cared about was the coin in her purse.

The doll and the chicken wandered around in what seemed like an aimless pattern – stopping once or twice on the roof, to shake Sensual off their trail. She simple shrugged and continued to follow, oblivious to anything else ongoing.

At least, something finally happened, just before she was about to go home. This Lord, this Udoaka, in the shape of a doll, spilled poison all over some innocent sarnak child. This was what Sensual was paid to capture and report on, this was it! So she scrambled to collect her notes, and without even a fair well, jumped into the night sky to report back to her customer.

She informed them of everything that she had seen, everything that had happened, and by the end walked away with another few coins for her trouble. She slipped her totems into her pouch for future uses, noting that it was easier when people didn’t try to run away from her as she was collecting her information. If only everyone worked that easily.

One thought on “A Man and his Chicken”

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