Within the damp streets of Yellowfield’s alleys tucked safely away from commoners and nobles who carelessly enjoy the security offered by the many districts within town is the one district that most residents of Yellowfield remain blissfully ignorant to or willfully ignore. The Undercommons reside underneath the town’s clean roads and harbor its own set of rules and customs. To those native to these moldy alleyways everyday is a struggle of maintaining what little they already have.
Within these streets Hazel contemplates her life from the safety of her small hut. The building around her is nothing more than a shambling mound, home to rats and roaches that serve as a constant reminder that nothing in her life will ever truly be all to herself. Constant drafts pushing the rotted wooden boards and the never drying puddles of water and filth that pool across her floors make it impossible for Hazel to feel entirely comfortable. This never bothered her though. The discomfort served as motivation to stay busy and on her feet.
Hazel spent her morning rummaging through the few belongings she possessed. An amulet given to her by her mothers and a broom that they used to sweep up the house. As Hazel ran her hands across the aged wood she smiled. Like this place could ever be clean.
She placed the amulet around her neck, but as she started to reach for the broom her reminiscing was interrupted by a knock at the door. As she pulled the door open she saw her landlord, Trolfut, standing at her door. Trolfut was a short gnome but filled with the hate and malice of an adult ogre. Deep down Hazel always thought Trolfut was more goblin than he was gnome but she refused to let that thought reflect across her face.
“Yes? What do you need Mr. Trolfut?” Hazel inquired and she answered the door and smiled her sweetest smile.
“Don’t smile at me, witch. Your rent is late. Don’t think I won't come through here and knock down this disgusting shack of yours if you don’t pay.” Trolfut attempted to scowl but his face seemed unable to contort into an angrier expression.
“I’m working on getting the money. It’s just been hard since my moms left and nobody wants to hire an orphan so it's just taking a little longer than I expected.”
“Save the sob story thief. You think I don’t know what that little coven of hags was up to when they lived here.” Trolfut looked Hazel up and down briefly before continuing. “If you were really trying to make some money you would have sold that little keepsake of yours by now. Looks like it's worth something.”
At the mere mention of pawning her amulet Hazel reached up and gripped it firmly. “If you want it so badly you’ll have to pry it from my hands.”
Trolfut turned to meet her gaze again. “Whatever. Just have my money by the time I return tonight or you’re out of here. No exceptions.”
Trolfut turned and pushed out of the damp doorway disappearing back into the fogged alley. Hazel sat for a moment contemplating her options. Trolfut wasn’t baseless with his accusations and Hazel knew it. In the past she had stolen a considerable amount of expensive herbs, artifacts, and money from anybody that her mothers told her was a target. Hazel was willing to do anything to keep them proud and happy. But since they disappeared without so much as a note she has found herself unable to do anything. What if they were caught because I messed up? What if they left because they couldn’t stand to live with a dirty thief anymore? Hazel would sit and go through these thoughts almost daily now. The pain of loneliness and abandonment was so thick it suffocated her, paralyzing her until she could only sit and wish that one of her mothers would come home and tell her
“Surprise. Sorry we took so long but we’re back now. Hurry and get ready, we have errands.” But everyday she waited, that wish seemed more and more unlikely.
I suppose I won’t make any money sitting in here. Hazel stood herself up and headed for the door. As she wandered down the sewers and alleys of the undercommons Hazel remained lost in her own imaginations. First I’ll pay rent, then I’ll get some more money and I’ll enroll myself in Death Crow Academy and before I know it, I’ll be one of the Queen’s Ravens. When my moms get back they’ll be impressed at how well I took care of myself.
As she fantasized about her future, Hazel passed through the fenceline, a street where less reputable merchants and vendors advertised their goods and services. The main rules of the line: don’t ask where the goods came from and don’t ask what they’re for. Hazel passed by a merchant pedaling expensive parchment paper and inks with the obvious intent to be used for forging contracts. It occurred to her, if I could only get ahold of those I could write my own letter of recommendation for Death Crow and take my first step to being a raven. Hazel stopped at the merchant’s stall and inquired.
“How much for the ink and paper?”
“More than you can afford. Now move! Your smell is scaring off my business.”
Hazel Stuck a hand into the merchant's shirt with her nails turning to claws pulling him in to meet her deep hazel eyes. She smiled sweetly before asking again.
“How much for the ink and paper?”
“10 gold pieces”
“Thank you,” Hazel responded, as she released the merchant.
As she continued walking towards the market commons Hazel pondered on how she would come close to finding 10 gold pieces. She could barely find the 3 silver pieces she needed for rent. As Hazel reflected on her impending doom she stood in the market square and watched the people as they walked by. Look at them. Carefree. Happy. None of them worrying about where their next meal should come from. How do they get to spend their time and money on pointless junk while I can barely afford my own home?
As Hazel thought, her eyes rested on what appeared to be a group of adventurers standing at a stall talking. I bet those adventurers wouldn’t even notice the difference if they lost 10 gold pieces. And yet if I go up and say ‘Hey can I borrow this to completely change my life’ I’m just a nuisance and a street rat. What if I do more good than harm though? Aren’t I giving back by joining the Queen’s Ravens? So this would just be a… necessary donation to a good cause. Hazel’s thoughts intensified and she found herself walking closer and closer to her unintentional target. Before she fully realized what she was doing, her own instincts took control.
Suddenly, the wind was in her face and she felt the weight of something heavy in her hands. She realized she was running and as she looked down she realized she was holding that adventurer's coin purse.
“Oh Shit!” Hazel screamed as she turned around and saw two pursuers after her.
“Fuck, shit, fuck, shit” Hazel stuffed the string of the coin purse in her mouth as she rounded a corner. In an instant she leaped forward springing onto the table outside of a small cafe. Her body instantly shifted in the air allowing her to assume her more comfortable form, a small black cat.
“STOP! Comeback! Please!” The voices behind her called out desperately.
As Hazel landed on the table she stopped to lock eyes with a young devilkin girl who seemed to be enjoying a cup of tea. The look of bewilderment in the girl’s eyes amused Hazel but it was the look of dejection hiding deeper within her iris that truly caught Hazel’s attention. No time. Keep running. Hazel reminded herself as she leaped across the tables.
Hazel darted through the streets cutting between legs and turning dow n alleys until she was sure she was safe. Just to make sure she was safe, Hazel released a small burst of faerie fire just as her mothers had taught her.
Nobody’s here. Hazel shifted her body back into its human form and began walking back towards the undercommon. She stopped in a gutter to sit and thought about her options momentarily.
“I can always just return the money. I’ll say it was a mistake and apologize.” For a moment she felt hopeful. “They’ll definitely kill me. Or arrest me.” Her hope burst in her face like an overzealous child with a balloon. “They’re probably already looking for me. If I try to spend the money now I’ll definitely be caught. AAGH! What was I thinking? That was probably some rich adventurer and now their whole guild is gonna be out to kill me!” Hazel groaned and rolled across the ground before stopping to watch the water flow into the gutters. “My options are either spend the money and possibly get killed or return the money and definitely get killed. So… guess I’ll spend it.”
Hazel stood herself back up and began to make her way back towards the fenceline. The streets grew dark in the dusk light as Hazel approached the merchant. The light reflected off her eyes giving the appearance of a seasoned killer. As the little light that remained spilled across the rest of her face her practicing, sweet, smile revealed itself again.
“10 gold pieces as promised” Hazel almost sang the words as she dropped the money on the merchant's stall counter.
“You sure that’s yours to spend?” The voice came from just behind Her. She turned to face her accuser and locked eyes with a young gray skinned elf covered in celestial markings, a bronze skinned draconian aiming a rifle at her, and the young devilkin from the cafe holding two daggers and staring intensely into her eyes. Hazel had only one thought as she swallowed the sight.
Fuck.
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