It helps when you know people...
Typical night at the Drunk Tank. The waitstaff were busier than a team of midget mountain climbers now that Loreli had finished her set. Mahmut smiled a bit, mentally calculating this night's take. A full house and only one bar-fight (Though, in his opinion, that Sidhe had to be nuts to even think of picking a fight with that group of kappa.).
Yep, it was a good night in Furhold...
"Hey, Mahmut! You're looking gorgeous tonight!"
...right up until that voice shattered his peace. The djinn was still smarting from losing that bet (and the week he'd had to spend in drag because of it). He looked at the kitsune, who had somehow managed to slip under his radar to get a barstool directly in front of him, with hooded eyes.
"Fuck off, you son of a syphilitic goat," he said. Foxtrot only laughed.
"Come on, Mah-mi," the kitsune chided. "Can you tell me you wouldn't have done the same if I'd lost the bet?"
The bartender growled softly, but conceeded the point. "It's a good thing I like Tannim," he said, reaching under the bar. "Or I might be tempeted to toss this in the garbage."
He held up a narrow package wrapped in green silk. It was also bound magicly by a spell cord tied about it in an intricate knot. FX's eyes lit up when he saw it.
"Good old Tannim!" he said, reaching out to claim it. For a moment, his form shifted to that of an elderly, black man in prison garb. "Helps to have a man who knows how to get things."
Mahmut snorted. "Don't suppose you're gonna tell me what's in there," he said as he handed it over. "And why it's warded six ways from Sunday."
"Sorry," FX said, once again shifting his appearance to that of a certain X-file investigator. "That requires Top-Super-Duper-Double-Dog-Secret Clearance. And you've only got Top-Super-Duper-Secret Clearance, buddy. How about a rum-and-coke?"
The djinn rolled his eyes and mixed the drink.
***
Later that night, Foxtrot sat at a table in the kitsune embassy, contemplating the package. It had taken a little sweet-talking to get to use one of the specially-shielded, tech rooms, but it was worth it. If he was going to take Tannim's little gift out of its wrappings long enough to do what he wanted, he needed the barrier between himself and the rest of Underhill. The magic fabric of the place didn't much like Cold Iron and its derivatives, after all.
He undid the knot on the cord and triggered the message spell laid inside it. A ball of golden light shot up from it and grew, finally darkening into the form of a young human dressed in blue jeans, grey t-shirt and a Battlestar Galactica jacket. He smiled, green eyes sparkling.
"Hey, Fox. Got what you asked for. I'll tell you up front that I don't care for giving a kid a weapon, but, if the situation's what you say..." His voice trailed off and he shook his head. "If you let her get hurt with the damn thing, I'll nail your tails to the barn door."
The image ran a hand through its tousled, brown hair. "I took the liberty of getting it Blessed and laying a calming spell in the blade. God knows the thing the kid will need most if the crap hits the fan is the ability to keep her head. Get your ass back to my place sometime. We'll have a Star Wars marathon or something."
The image vanished and FX chuckled. "We need to get your ass to Milliways, Tannim," he says. "Why watch Star Wars when you can have a brew with Han Solo himself?"
Turning his attention back to the box, Foxtrot unwrapped the silk. The fabric of 'reality' trembled as it was exposed to the metal inside it, but the shields of the room contained the disturbance nicely. With a smug grin, the kitsune lifted the lid to reveal an elegantly crafted tanto. The hilt was wrapped in white, ray skin and the scabbard was black lacquer. He lifted it out of the box and drew the blade. The foot of high-carbon steel had a faint, wavey pattern in the metal from the folding along with the hamon line where the edge had been tempered.
It was a deadly beauty.
"That ain't a knife," FX said with a grin. "This is a knife!"
But, before he delivered it to Mary, there was one more thing to do. He laid the blade on the table and began to gather his energies. Foxtrot didn't have much in the way of formal magic, just a few charms and wards.
But he could do this much.
Yep, it was a good night in Furhold...
"Hey, Mahmut! You're looking gorgeous tonight!"
...right up until that voice shattered his peace. The djinn was still smarting from losing that bet (and the week he'd had to spend in drag because of it). He looked at the kitsune, who had somehow managed to slip under his radar to get a barstool directly in front of him, with hooded eyes.
"Fuck off, you son of a syphilitic goat," he said. Foxtrot only laughed.
"Come on, Mah-mi," the kitsune chided. "Can you tell me you wouldn't have done the same if I'd lost the bet?"
The bartender growled softly, but conceeded the point. "It's a good thing I like Tannim," he said, reaching under the bar. "Or I might be tempeted to toss this in the garbage."
He held up a narrow package wrapped in green silk. It was also bound magicly by a spell cord tied about it in an intricate knot. FX's eyes lit up when he saw it.
"Good old Tannim!" he said, reaching out to claim it. For a moment, his form shifted to that of an elderly, black man in prison garb. "Helps to have a man who knows how to get things."
Mahmut snorted. "Don't suppose you're gonna tell me what's in there," he said as he handed it over. "And why it's warded six ways from Sunday."
"Sorry," FX said, once again shifting his appearance to that of a certain X-file investigator. "That requires Top-Super-Duper-Double-Dog-Secret Clearance. And you've only got Top-Super-Duper-Secret Clearance, buddy. How about a rum-and-coke?"
The djinn rolled his eyes and mixed the drink.
***
Later that night, Foxtrot sat at a table in the kitsune embassy, contemplating the package. It had taken a little sweet-talking to get to use one of the specially-shielded, tech rooms, but it was worth it. If he was going to take Tannim's little gift out of its wrappings long enough to do what he wanted, he needed the barrier between himself and the rest of Underhill. The magic fabric of the place didn't much like Cold Iron and its derivatives, after all.
He undid the knot on the cord and triggered the message spell laid inside it. A ball of golden light shot up from it and grew, finally darkening into the form of a young human dressed in blue jeans, grey t-shirt and a Battlestar Galactica jacket. He smiled, green eyes sparkling.
"Hey, Fox. Got what you asked for. I'll tell you up front that I don't care for giving a kid a weapon, but, if the situation's what you say..." His voice trailed off and he shook his head. "If you let her get hurt with the damn thing, I'll nail your tails to the barn door."
The image ran a hand through its tousled, brown hair. "I took the liberty of getting it Blessed and laying a calming spell in the blade. God knows the thing the kid will need most if the crap hits the fan is the ability to keep her head. Get your ass back to my place sometime. We'll have a Star Wars marathon or something."
The image vanished and FX chuckled. "We need to get your ass to Milliways, Tannim," he says. "Why watch Star Wars when you can have a brew with Han Solo himself?"
Turning his attention back to the box, Foxtrot unwrapped the silk. The fabric of 'reality' trembled as it was exposed to the metal inside it, but the shields of the room contained the disturbance nicely. With a smug grin, the kitsune lifted the lid to reveal an elegantly crafted tanto. The hilt was wrapped in white, ray skin and the scabbard was black lacquer. He lifted it out of the box and drew the blade. The foot of high-carbon steel had a faint, wavey pattern in the metal from the folding along with the hamon line where the edge had been tempered.
It was a deadly beauty.
"That ain't a knife," FX said with a grin. "This is a knife!"
But, before he delivered it to Mary, there was one more thing to do. He laid the blade on the table and began to gather his energies. Foxtrot didn't have much in the way of formal magic, just a few charms and wards.
But he could do this much.