Beira, for her part, was simply here because she was hunting someone. Some rich, spoiled brat from Crocus, who had come to Shinku for reasons she couldn't understand. Someone had once told her that humans had serious issues with goodness; too much of it, and people decided they wanted to become bad, just for the sake of it. This young fool, for instance, had come to Shinku because he had the money to pay for his protection here, and rather good guards as well to defend him. It was all probably some silly 'bravery' contest for bragging rights among his peers. "Hey, you ever been to Shinku? No? Then I'm way cooler than you, because I have, and I got back." But what this poor sod probably did not know was that there were powers beyond his understanding that had manipulated him into being here. Beira had known, when she saw the ring on his finger, that he was most likely an unwitting pawn in some unknown person's games, as she immediately identified it as an Utgardian relic, something that was supposed to have been lost to eons past. It was probably a trap; someone was trying to bait Beira here, and use the spoiled brat as a bait. The bait had worked, in any case, but if Beira had her way, that was as far as the whole trap would be sprung. Whatever was behind the trap was probably an Old One, a member of an ancient evil race that was well tied to Beira's origins, and like her culture, was lost to long forgotten times. Beira had faced Old Ones before and triumphed. She did not fear their tricks.
Presently, she sat in a bar, watching the spoiled brat drinking with his three goons around him. While this was a relatively high-class establishment (after all, the dark side still had class), it was almost empty, probably because the brat had bought most of the spaces therein. That would make the questioning session easier to manage. Rising from where she had secured a seat, her body concealed by her traveling cloak, the Utgardian approached the table and said in a quiet but clear voice, "Greetings. I would like to talk to you." The brat looked genuinely surprised that someone would probably dare to approach him, but his face slowly changed from irritation at being disturbed to something much more vulgar. He whispered something to one of his goons, who rose and went to speak to the owner of the establishment. In a few moments, the place was totally empty. Money was magic of a kind.
Beira was aware of two goons standing behind her chair, but she made no attempt to leave, or show she was ruffled. "What did you say you wanted to see me about?" the opulent brat inquired, licking his lips. He was probably of the same age, probably a bit older than Beira, if looks were to go by. No one would believe it if they knew actually how old Beira was. "Your ring," the Utgardian maiden said innocently, "I would like to ask where you got it. Who gave it to you?" The young rich oaf grinned dangerously. "Why don't we have a bit of fun, first?" he burped. The Utgardian's countenance grew irritated."Show some manners," she replied imperiously, "and be so good as to answer my questions."
The brat's face contorted with rage. Clearly, he was not used to being spoken to like that. One of the thugs standing behind Beira suddenly grabbed a fistful of her hair in one meaty hand, while the other twisted her right arm painfully behind her back, forcing her to rise at the same time. "No one rejects me or keeps me waiting, woman." The other goon grabbed her cloak, pulling it away from the God Slayer to reveal her curvaceous, half-clad form. There were murmurs of lascivious appreciation from the group, and then the brat said with glee, "get her face down on the table and spread her..."
His words were cut short when he noticed that the goon restraining the Utgardian maiden was now a dark purple statue, totally immobile. Beira pulled herself away from the hold of the statue of nether rime, breaking its arms as she did. A dark, ominous aura swirled round her. The second goon made the mistake of throwing a punch. Beira caught the coming fist in her open hand, and the man instantly suffered the same fate as his colleague. Ripping the outstretched arm clean off its body, the God Slayer viciously clobbered the head of the third thug with the makeshift ice club, laying him flat on the ground. The rich slob ran for the door, but Beira got there before him, locking the door swiftly, before grabbing him and smashing him through a table. Then she twisted his arm in a rather unnatural way, taking pleasure in the sickening crunch that emanated from his arm. He shrieked at the top of his lungs.
"Now now, be a dear and calm down," Beira cooed, pulling him to his feet by his broken arm. "Now, let's try the questions again. Where did you get that ring?" Discovering that his screaming did not seem to do him any good, the rich brat decided to cooperate. "Fr-from... from a me-- me-- merchant," he stammered. Beira shook her head in mock disappointment. "That's very vague. Please be more descriptive, or I shall get your face down on that table and spread your-- wait, what did you want to spread again?" A good number of people had heard the screams and were watching the proceedings. None was interested in helping. That was what you got from a place like Shinku that thrived far away from the shadow of the law.
WC: 1147 words