Something done about a year ago during down time. This is just the beginning of the story I wrote out but I wanted to submit it as an example of commission-able work.


"RTF" version

The figure walked off of the gangplank on unsteady knees, as his legs slowly began to adjust to the stationary ground. Three months at sea had taught his limbs to sway to the motion of the waves, and now as his boots clicked nervously against the hard wood of the pier his arms flailed slightly out before him. He withdrew form his left pocket a small hand stitched and embroidered handkerchief and dabbed at the green chitin like skin covering his forehead. Three pronged many segmented fingers folded the now damp cloth up into a small triangle before replacing it deep into the same pocket from which it had escaped.
The once proud Touchikan Baron had fled his homeland, leaving behind him thousands of copper and silver pieces in land and products form his flourishing business. He had only barely escaped the Empire of the Coda’s rampaging army, and now as he stood on the small bustling pier of the port town of Jericho, his hopes and dreams seemed to be as sunk as the rocks coating the bottom of the small cove itself. He sighed as he let four pairs of deft arms wrap against a guard rail along the pier’s western edge, two eyes starring past his thin spectacles, out to where his homeland once lay.

~*~

The first few weeks of spring dawned vibrant and bright as the Touchikan race held its annual festival. Hedonistic parties of every description rampaged across the green countryside as the insect-like men and women celebrated another winter’s death. The most lavish party as usual was held in the Barony of Von Plotzkrieg, a local baron and highly successful businessman. He had spent the last fifteen years of his life, since being orphaned at the age of ten, building up a small empire, and today the entire plantation and the small town that serviced it erupted in festive colors and lights, as the streets ran red with mulled spiced wine.
Plotzkrieg had just downed a large glass of mulled apple cider when he noticed out of the corner of his eye the advancing columns of a war party. He recognized from his trading the trappings and heraldry of the Empire, and the cider turned to ash in his throat as he forced it down. His first impulse was to run through the town and warn everyone… perhaps they could get some kind of defense in order before the army arrived?
But then Plotz’s survival instinct kicked in. Like every true businessman Plotz had learned to allow his instincts to rule his mind more then once, and as he watched the empires ranks roll onto the fields like advancing locusts, (for a brief moment Plotz was reminded of his second cousin a very handsome featured grasshopper who owned half of the neighboring island chain) He realized his best chance for financial… and literal survival was to escape as quietly as possible.

Two hours later, Plotzkrieg was traveling fast and hard over the rough hewn earth, his barony behind him in flames and his pockets and bags filled to bursting with copper coins and slips of debt. His wings were so weighed down by the cloth and tapestries wrapped around his shell that he could no longer fly, but it was necessary if he wanted to rescue anything from his family’s ancestral home. He wouldn’t learn till much later how the army had ruled that all Touchikan’s were considered “ruminants” and therefore were placed into the Empires slavery program. The outcry’s of outrage and rebellious warfare that ensued did nothing to convince the Empire of the insect people’s intelligence or sentience. None of this concerned Plotzkrieg as he sailed away form his homeland, his money secure inside of his wing’s air pocket, a small section of exoskeleton made to prevent air pressure from building up under his wing joints which made an excellent natural hiding place. He had sold everything he owned and still could claim in order to purchase safe travel to Jericho and the safe harbors beyond. Now as he starred into the night’s sky wondering what fate had tossed him into…. He couldn’t help overhearing a sailor mentioning the fabulous bazaar.

~*~

The back allies of Jericho’s bazaar felt like the least likely place for a Touchikan to ever find his home. The cramped alley way and tight spaces put unbelievable pressure on the armor like plates arranged across Plotz’s sides and his wings were constantly pinned to his back. However soon he was able to fight his way into the center of the bazaar where several small permanent shops stood about in a cluster. These back alley specialty shops dealt in everything form dark black rituals to wonderfully named drugs, promising the most powerful experiences this side of heaven. Plotz smirked slightly, his twin pincers clicking in delight as he thought of the fools dousing these drugs into their systems, only to wake up naked in some stream two towns over…
Plotzkrieg sighed as he let his upper left arm dangle to his side and slip into one of his suit’s pockets. He extracted a long gold chain and a special pocket watch, reading the many color coated dials carefully. It was an amazing device he had conned off of a wizard, which told the user their exact location, time and situation in any given moment )at the moment it was seven in the morning in the small port town and Plotzkrieg was listed as “disinherited”… which was obviously true.) He snapped the watch shut and rammed it back into his pocket, scowling as he thought about how… even when he was relatively new to the area the local merchants had already realized his pet peeve. He let his hands drift lazily as he waited, his third and fourth hands deftly pick pocketing two passing merchant carts and shoving a small scale and weight set, and a silver plated dagger into his pant’s pockets. These pockets were another ingenious invention, however they were of Plotzkrieg’s own design, flowing downwards and wrapping three times around the thin wisp like insect legs of their owner they bulked out his appearance, making him seem more human while providing ample hiding places for stolen or illicit goods.
Finally… fifteen minutes after he should have arrived, a squat odiferous salesman emerged form the smallest building and rubbing his grimy hands across his apron shook the lower two hands of the Touchikan. Plotzkrieg shuddered and twitched as his two most sensitive dexterous hands were manhandled, and as soon as he could he extricated them and hide them deep into the pants pockets. “I believe you were in the market to sell your fine store and its accompanying merchandise? Maybe we could go inside and you could… show me your wares” he said softly, rich voice easily carrying through the steamy air. The squat man smirked and nodded enthusiastically and led his new “friend” inside.

~*~

It took Plotz at least five hours to finally work the man down to a price he saw as reasonable… and considering that the business connected to his new home as well....Plotz felt that he had at least managed to maintain his upper hand. He retained at least half of his former fortune, and now he had a premises’ filled with arcane objects of dubious quality. His pincers clicked in anticipation as he knew he would soon be able to gouge the townsfolk of every penny they owned.

~~~**~~~
Plotzkrieg woke up seven days later to a torrential downpour. His new roof seemed to be in much worse a shop then it was when he bought it… or so he told himself. He sighed as he patched the roof with a few scrap pieces of leather, slowly applying the tanned hides with the sticky glue like substance he had found in a crate marked repairs. His first week in the new town hadn’t been a roaring success, and waking up to a new hole in his roof didn’t improve his outlook one bit.
Emerging form his home a few moments later into the steaming street, Plotz had to raise his pincer clad hands to his glasses and readjust them. He hated the wet weather, especially since it prevented him form seeing half the time. His race had developed a slim sticky film which coated the eyes and protected them during any flight they undertook. While this was a necessary adjustment, the film tended to get stuck and grimy in humid weather, and living off of the ocean was not really agreeing with the large Touchikan. He scanned the streets as he slowly moved, large carapace bumping against some of the smaller stalls. The townsfolk had in the begging complained and hollered each time Plotzkrieg had wandered the streets upsetting goods… now everyone simply moved anything fragile from the edges of their carts and let the other goods pile up at the corners.
Plotz was not looking for anything in particular this day, which was unusual for him. During the last week he had scoured every single inch of the town seeking out whatever he could find. Now his feet marched him along the piers randomly, his arms pulled close to his body in a dual cross shape, huddling close to his frame. Plotzkrieg was unsure of himself today and this made him feel incredibly uncomfortable. He knew he had to find something in this small town that would make him a fortune… or else he could never really return to his home. He had a plan… one that would cost a small fortune to complete but one he wanted to see to fruition with his entire body and soul.
As it happened, fate had it’s hands on Plotzkrieg’s shoulder as he ambled about aimlessly. The Touchikan was just about to head home, when a small male figure ran past him. It was clear that this man had something to hide, as the dock master and his assistants came peeling after him, screaming in rage. For the rest of his adult life he would not understand what compelled him to act… but Plotzkrieg slowly moved till he blocked the dock. His ample back carapace filled the dock and prevented the dock master and his lackeys form coming forward. “What the hell is wrong with you? Can’t you see we need to get by,” they screamed almost in unison as Plotzkrieg pretended to be reading the shipping marks on a series of crates.
The thief had pulled up short to watch the strange events, and as he tried to comprehend why the forgiver would aid him, Plotz flipped him one of the thousands of tiny cards he had created his first day in the city. The card contained everything the thief would need to know to look up the older Touchikan. Without really knowing why or how, Plotzkrieg had taken the first step into a dark and twisted path which might someday lead to his ultimate success… or his ultimate corruption.

~~~**~~~

It would be five more days before Plotzkrieg would hear from the thin man again. He had almost written the whole incident off to dumb luck when the bell hanging over his shop door alerted him to a customer. His large body rolled around from it’s position over a small weathered book and he rearranged his spectacles, expecting yet another mage trying to peddle off some shiny bauble or another. To his surprise the thin man stood before him, now dressed much more impressively. “I came to officially thank you for saving me back there…” the young man said, his words flowing out like silk.” If it hadn’t been for your… quite sturdy back I would probably be under the pier rotting… I thought it would be best to stop by and offer you my gratitude… and an opportunity.” From the way he spoke it was clear to Plotzkrieg that the man meant something… beyond simple friendship, and so without more then a nod form the large insect-man, He lead his new guest into the back rooms where Plotzkrieg made his humble home. His assistant (a new addition) took over almost immediately, leaving very little problems whenever something like this came up.
After pouring the thin set male a large decanter of brandy, Plotz sat himself down on a small padded chair, built specifically for his race. “So what exactly did you have in mind? Mind you my fighting days are long since over… I haven’t held a blade in my pincers since before you were probably a larv… I mean child.” Plotzkrieg’s normally green skin tinged a bit yellow from his obvious mistake.
“ Well, actually what I had in mind was… you acting as a sort of.. .moving house. You see I work for a collection of… independent dealers who wish to move a great deal of a certain good in and out of this fair port each day. You would provide the housing facility, and take a large portion of the profits from each transaction yourself. After a long period of time working together I am sure you would become… quite wealthy…” The thin man steepled his fingers together as he finished talking and starred into his reflection form Plotz’s gold tinted glasses.
“So if I understand you correctly you want me to act as a drug mule correct?” As usual Plotz cut directly to the meat of the conversation, but for once his guest didn’t seem to mind his manner and in fact smiled darkly at the reference.
“That’s exactly what we want form you yes… you would have the items delivered to you each day, and you would keep them out of sight for a few days… perhaps till the porters stopped searching for their whereabouts… and then we would pick them up and deliver a tidy sum to your coffers.”
“The problem I have with this deal is what happens if the porters decide to do a random inspection of my shop? It’s rare but it has happened before… and I certainly do not want to draw attention to myself when I only just landed in this country… you have to see that there are certain risks in completing tasks like this.” Plotz spread his twin upper arms wide and let his pincers fall open in a traditional placating gesture that didn’t loss it’s effect on the thin set male. He stroked his chin thoughtfully for a few moments before responding.
“We would be willing to provide you with a … retainer of sorts. We could pay as much as…. Eighty ounces of pure silver in coin form? This should suffice to guarantee you against any charges you might face.”
Plotzkrieg let the figure slowly slip into his mind and his lower set of pincers clicked thoughtfully. It was true that forty ounces was the usual penalty for having illicit substances for sale in your shop but… he also knew that this man had to have had a reason to come out this far… to risk so much and trust Plotz. “I understand that your offer is…. generous… But I need more of a retainer if I am to also keep my silence. You see if I got one of your shipments and decided to turn it over to the deck-master… I would not only receive a reward for that shipment but.. .when your dealer comes to pick up the goods I would get a second reward… I don’t really thing Eighty ounces is enough… it would have to be something more along the lines of one hundred and fifty ounces before I would be willing to much my own thick exoskeleton on the line.” He folded both sets of arms and leaned back into the cradle of the seat, letting his wings suddenly unfurl and sweep behind the chair’s back into two long perforated brackets specially designed to let the membranes dry out. It was an impressive movement, his yellow gold wings hitting the sunlight and flashing translucently in the morning air.

~*~

That evening Plotzkrieg was busy counting out the ounces of silver he had received, a seductive smirk plastered on his face as each tiny weight showed him more and more of a profit. He had talked the man into a retainer of one hundred and thirty silver ounces along with a guarantee of at least five times that amount by the end of the month. It might have been a bad business to be in but.. .as he tied the bag which held the tiny coins together and placed it into his pocket he knew that within a few years he could finally enact his revenge. The Baron Von Plotzkrieg, once renowned for his massive fields of crops and his lenient manner with his servants and employees, was now Baron Von Plotzkrieg, baron over the ever expanding addictions of Jericho.