It was another cool evening at the harbor. Lexli once again found herself in a tavern spending money she didn't earn. She loved Ratchet. Major seaports meant lots of pockets from all over the world. Who knew what she might find in some poor shlub's coinpurse. She did have to give Gazlowe some credit though. His bruisers most certainly did lift. "They must be juicing on demon blood or something, I swear," Lexli murmured before hailing a bar wench. "Can I get a south island iced tea over here?" she snapped her fingers and held up one green finger. The buxom, gold-green goblin wench nodded and tucked a strand of her purple hair behind her curled ears. Lexli surveyed the tavern, ever eager for her next mark. But before she even got her drink, a human man in a hooded, dusty brown cloak sat down opposite her at the shipswheel-shaped table.
"Good evenin', Lex," he said in a warm, sandy voice. With a flourish of his cloak he produced a sealed scroll and laid it on the table. The peridot pilferer shifted in her seat. Lexli let out a nervous laugh and slid from the wooden seat. A leather-gloved hand seized her slim arm and held fast. He shook his head and guided her back to her seat. "No, I'm afraid you're not leavin' just yet, girl."
"Bastian, old buddy old pal, how have you been?" Lexli beamed a sharp, toothy grin at the man. He had a beard now. The mercenary always had a certain, rugged charm to him, but Lexli shunted such thoughts for the moment. "You know, I think I still owe you that drink from before--"
"You owe more than that, Lex," Bastian began and the goblin followed his gaze over the various, unusual characters to pass through Ratchet, "and I reckon you owe a good deal more since you sank your teeth into this town," he scoffed and released her arm. No one seemed to hear their argument, but Lexli's ears drooped some all the same. Bastian pointed at the scroll on the table. "I offered to play courier and track down your green ass," he said, "because I knew the terms if you failed. Mikkel is out for blood, Lex. You ripped off the wrong alchemist."
"Please," she smirked, "it wasn't the first time I've ripped off the dead." Lexli leaned over the table and scooped up the scroll. She confirmed the wax seal to belong to Mikkel Duskworm of the Royal Apothecary Society.
"He's not too dead to send out legbreakers," Bastian replied with no sign of a smile. "I still worry about you sometimes, and I don't want to hear you end swimiming with the makrura," he added. Six months ago Lexli learned about a shipment of rare herbs flying out of Stranglethorn on a zeppelin. She slipped into the cargo hold the night before the departure and swapped the herbs out with ordinary peacebloom. Boy was Mikkel pissed. Finally relenting, Lexli nodded and cracked open the scroll before hastily scanning the script.
"What's the Amulet of Amalgamir?" she raised a pierced eyebrow and continued reading. The letter mentioned the necklace possessed odd magic, something about transmutations, but Lexli was most pleased reading about wiping away her debt in one stroke. She found a crude map scrawled at the bottom of the parchment, but little else about the prized treasure itself. Bastian sat with his arms folded and shrugged when the little goblin looked up. "Let me guess, you're just the delivery boy?" her brows fell unamused. He nodded with the utmost neutrality. "Thank you so much, Sebastian," the pint-size rogue slid down from her chair and tucked the letter and enclosed map into her adventuring backpack. "So I'm supposed to sneak into Razorfen and steal some fancy necklace?" she asked only to receive another silent shrug. "This will be enough to clear my debt?"
"Is that what the letter says?" Bastian tilted his head, offering the goblin no insight.
"And why didn't they just send a bird to deliver this? It wouldn't be any less helpful than you, you old lug," Lexli bared her teeth in a mischievous grin. Bastian mockingly shook a fist. At last the busty golden goblin returned with the south island iced tea, placing it down in front of Lexli. "About time." She flashed an innocent smile at the waitress.
"That'll be ten silver," the wench held out a hand, and Lexli looked to Bastian.
"Oh-- well my drinking buddy here said he'd buy me a round for old time's sake," Lexli spouted, offering the courier a barrage of batting blue eyes. He frowned, rolled his eyes, and nodded to the wench.
"Open a tab for me, would you, doll? I'll have a bourbon," Bastian winked and the golden goblin walked off. "Only one, now, I'm working," he offered Lexli a stony, reserved expression. She held up the scroll and shook it in protest.
"You just punched out for the day," back into the pack it went, and the thief leaned over the table, pressing her hands under her modest bust, "unless I'm not enough goblin for you," she stuck her tongue between her pillowy, black lips and winked. She bobbed her head toward the waitress now beyond ear shot. "I could never do what I do with those things." This earned another eyeroll from Bastian.
"Don't get ahead of yourself, kid," he mused. After several hard drinks, many laughs, and a lengthy, fevered debate over the better faction Brewfest, Lexli and Bastian decided to hold their own drinking competition. Five pints of ale down, and they started to draw a crowd. Many of the tavernfolk gathered around in astonishment at the gluttonous goblin. By now the lithe and nimble goblin gal sported a significant potbelly. The hem of her leather jerkin rode up over a crescent moon of taut, green flesh. Lexli winced and rubbed a hand over her bloated tummy. It gurgled in protest of the foolish game.
After the seventh pint she wiped her foamy lips on the back of her hand and erupted into another thunderous belch. A holler of applause and laughter filled the thick, tavern air. Eight down, nine down, and then Lexli's head dropped to the table. The forty-five pound goblin held her own against the unfairly larger man, and after some more laughs and sighs the crowd dispersed. By now the candles grew low and many of the patrons left for their rooms or their homes.
"Why don't you go get some shut eye," Bastian said with a slur as he shook the swollen goblin, "the amulet isn't going anywhere tonight." Lexli expelled a sickly, wet belch and sloshed out of her chair on unsteady feet. With a hiccup she fell back onto her rump, sending the dome of her leatherbound belly wobbling. Lexli groaned and shuffled off to her room. Tomorrow she'd have some hard choices to make. And one of them would be some exercise to work off all the booze...
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