A pleasure house master.

You are Visp, a proud and prosperous pimp, lord and pleasure house master of the city of Xeft. For the last few months you have been embroiled in deadly conflict with Yohsl, a rival crime lord, a war that you soon plan to win.

At the moment you lurk in the shadows of the seedy alley, ignoring the smells and grime. This alley is like all the nameless alleys that zig zag and curve through the heart of the beggars quarter. The midnight bell tolls over the sleepy city. "You know for certain Yohsl will come through here?" you ask Pohst.

Pohst, a lithe man with dark hair and darker eyes nods grimly. "Yes," he is Yohsl's most trusted captain, but tonight he is betraying Yohsl. He clutches the pommels of his short sword and dagger in calloused hands. "He goes to visit his new mistress." Pohst is clad like you in dark clothes and cloak. He is also wrapped in silk cloth to muffle noise and hide the gleam of metal. The finest back alley fighter you've ever known, he is all hard angles and wiry strength. You take comfort in the presence of your three men watching him closely.

Suddenly Yohsl, a brawny tough who runs the cities rival gambling and pleasure house operations steps into the alley. He winds through the piles of refuse that clutter the uneven cobbled lane.

As Yohsl passes you spring into action, Pohst and your men following close behind. You bring your cudgel down hard on the back of his head and he staggers then falls to the cobbles. You, Pohst and your men drag his limp body through the streets to your brothel. In case it is being watched you go down the dark stairs that lead to a basement and one of the secret tunnels to the Oubliette.

You drag Yohsl to the podium and chain him. It is here that you plan on interrogating Yohsl. Candle light flickers upon the stone dias that lies at the centre of the oubliette. Candles, whips, feathers, harnesses, leather fetish wear, silken garments, thongs, corsets, stiletto heels and course clothes are laid about the dais. The air is heavy with the smell incense.

Then you bring sniffing salts to rouse the man. His pained eyes open. "Visp," he spits with venom.

"Right then, I think you need to tell me about your operation. Your plans, resources, men..." you say quietly as you pick up one of the whips and flex it's leather shaft.

Yohsl seems unimpressed but you have no doubt he is afraid. He chuckles, "it seems I'm between a rock and a hard place. If I talk I lose everything. If I don't," he shrugged. "Try your worst," he states simply.

You nod at his naked honesty, having expected as much. Yohsl is brave and will not willingly hand over his empire. You fondle the whip, considering your options. is repugnant. Threats are useless. There is a better way... perhaps if Yohsl had a new master. You smile at the notion. Yes, there are other more subtle ways to gain the information you desire. After all you quite considerable skills in apothecary.

You go to your ornate and highly carved teak desk and take out a vial. You brandish the vial melodramatically, suppressing the urge to laugh sinisterly. "You give me ... ruk serum."

Yohsl licks his lips, perspiration on his brow. "Wait, perhaps we can talk about this?"

"You had your chance for that," you say. He is stalling. You know with little doubt that being ruked will make him more pliable than the mere threat of being ruked. After all, this was the common fate

You watch the fear in the man's eyes grow as you approach. "Last chance... mwahahaha," you laugh as you raise the syringe.

He glares at you and you inject it. The serum enters Yohsl's arm. His eyes glaze over as the sleeping you combined robs him of consciousness.