We needed information on the Dying Man shard that was haunting us. We needed supplies. So Eric took us to the Mountebank Club.
If you're not aware, the Mountebanks worship a being known as Jack of All,
Jack Smith, Stingy Jack, Jack the Hand, etc., who may or may not be the Fear of choices,
deals, and unforeseen consequences. The Mountebanks themselves wear masks, go by pseudonyms, and make up false pasts.
They stared at us as we walked in.
(Not the best customer service, I must say. I get that they're more interested in waxing philosophical and trading in information than in actually selling goods, but they still do sell goods.)
"Howdy," Eric said, nodding at one of the Mountebanks, one dressed in a fox mask and a business suit.
"Hello," replied the fox-masked Mountebank. "My name is Asher Lyall. And you are...?"
"Eric."
"Not giving away your full name? A wise decision." Asher laughed. "Very well. What do you need, Eric?"
"Weapons. Gear. Information."
"Supplies will be easy enough to handle, I imagine. Now, what's this about information?"
"The Dying Man. Do you know anything about it?"
"Well, yes," Asher said, his tone making it obvious that he thought the answer was obvious. "Fear of death, possesses people, makes them experience necrosis even before they die, it's got lots of different shards that each do their own twist on the basic concept..."
"Okay, here's what I'm wondering. Have you heard of a shard that can possess people who are already dead?"
Asher stroked his chin. "Hm... well, shards can't really feed on the fear of the dead, and even then, there's the practical matter of rotting the body away too fast. I mean, the shard's necrosis, plus the decay a corpse will naturally exhibit... doesn't really work. I mean, unless the corpse has already been embalmed, or what-have-you. I'm assuming you've run into one that can work around those issues, though?"
Eric nodded.
"So, you knew this person was dead before the Dying Man took them over... heh. I bet angel face won't like the Dying Man infringing on its trademark. So, what exactly do you need to know about this undead shard?"
"How do I get rid of it?"
Asher said nothing, just rubbed his thumb against his index and middle fingers. Eric rolled his eyes and sighed but, nevertheless, pulled out his wallet and handed Asher a couple bills.
(I didn't notice what denominations were written on them- for all I know, the question could've been worth $3 or $30 to the Mountebank.)
"Thank you. Now, that's a tricky question. You can kill the host, but if it's someone you remember, you're probably not going to want to do that. Sentimental value, and all. Actually, I'm not even sure if you could kill the host, if they're already dead... killing a Dying Man host is not something I'd advise normally, mind you. It tends to mean getting possessed yourself. But if this shard can already possess the dead, it might not matter either way.
"So instead," Asher continued, "you'd want to debilitate the host. Beat up the shard, tie it up, dump it somewhere it won't be an issue." He looked us up and down. "Then again, I'm not sure either of you could take a shard in direct combat. Well, maybe you could. You-" he nodded at me- "you look pretty scrawny." He scratched his chin. "But maybe you could ambush it, or set a trap, or something like that. How intelligent is this shard, exactly?"
"It seems animalistic," I said. "I'm not certain if that's actually the case or if it only seems that way, but..."
"Oh, that reminds me. Who are you, again?"
"Henry."
"I see. Well, Henry, if this shard is actually unintelligent, setting a trap shouldn't be difficult. You could consider purchasing some rope from us, maybe a net, something strong enough that once it gets snared, you can dispose of it as you will before it gets freed, which is to say hopefully never."
"...That's it?" Eric asked.
"What?" Asher said.
"That's it? All we're supposed to do is tie it up?"
Asher shrugged. "I'll throw the restraints in free."
"Hmph. Alright."
"Excellent. Now, please excuse me for a second," Asher said. He walked away and went into the backroom of the building.
"...So, who is this guy?" I asked Eric.
Eric shrugged.
"You don't know at all?"
"Well, supposedly Asher Lyall was a prisoner for six years before breaking out with the assistance of magic gifted him by Jack of All, but I can't think anyone would be stupid enough to believe that and still be alive in the Runner business."
"Are any of these people trustworthy?"
He laughed.
"Point taken."
Asher returned after a few minutes, carrying a rope, a net, and several hefty-looking chains. I was surprised someone so scrawny-looking could carry all of that, to be honest.
"That's... a bit more than I expected," Eric said.
"We wouldn't want our customers to be unsatisfied, now would we?" Asher asked. He handed it over to Eric. "Pleasure doing business with you, Eric, Henry, but I must be going now. Ciao!"
And with that, he walked away.
So Eric and I walked away from the Mountebank Club and did so, surprisingly, not empty-handed.
- Henry
