Korisius Scrim, Private Detective: Episode II

A Cursed Eight short story

By Accipiter G. Goshawk

Welcome one and all to another side-track into the world of the Cursed Eight!

Here continues the peculiar tale of one Korisius Scrim, private detective, whom we last saw in episode I

For anyone living in Port Xirshe, salt was as common as dust. You found it on your shoes, in your hair, sticking to the cat…heck, I had to scrape it out of my ears at least twice a week.

There were of course, other disadvantages.

Salt in a wound, for example, is something most people never got used to. This fact was something many of the guilds and ruffians of the Port had learned to exploit to their great advantage. In fact, the barbaric practice of cutting into someone, smearing their wound with salt and then plunging the offending body part into a bucket of eels had become so popular, it was known by the flattering moniker of “Xirshe’s Kiss”.

Given that my head was currently inside the afore-mentioned bucket of eels, I was having a hard time appreciating the irony.

“Pull him out, boys. Let’s see what the great Korisius has to say for himself.”

The grating nasal syllables that were assaulting my eardrums were the emissions of none other than Port Xirshe’s finest fence and information broker, Troll-nose Smith. To be frank, nobody called him Troll-nose. At lest, nobody used to call him Troll-nose…

“You’ve got a lot of guts coming back to my side of town, after what you did to my face,” he hissed into my left ear. “I should repay the favour in kind. Hey, Jimmy! Anyone have any hogo toxin on hand? I’d like to see Scrim’s ugly face become all huge and pumpkin-like.”

The toxin of the hogo fly was a little surprise most reputable detectives would never dream of using on an unsuspecting civilian. I personally happened to always carry a small flask in my shoe for emergencies. A few years ago, I had sprayed a few drops on Smith – who, I might add, was trying to stab me with a turkey femur – and had caused his nose to blow up to epic proportions.

Which might explain his slight animosity towards yours truly.

“No hogo? Fine, I guess the eels can have another go at him,” he sneered.

I winced, as countless grains of salt did their dirty work and sent jolts of pain running through the wounds covering my face.

“Come on, Tersek,” I said, trying my best not to whine or stutter, “that was a long time ago. Water under the bridge, right? Plus, I’m here on business…something that might bring a few gold pieces your way.”

Smith held up a hand. I felt the beefy paws clutching my shoulders loosen slightly.

“How many gold pieces, Scrim?”

I knew the answer to that one.

“How many do you want?”

Old Troll-nose just stared at me for a moment, trying to peer into the depths of my soul. Then he burst out laughing.

“You devil, Korisius! I really hate you, but by the Twelve, you make it hard! Come, let’s drink.”

He jumped off the wall on which he’d been perched and sauntered into the Gutted Guppy. I followed, pretending not to notice the disappointment of the local rabble, who had probably been hoping for more of a show.

The story continues in episode III…

3 thoughts on “Korisius Scrim, Private Detective: Episode II

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