"Hey boyo, Hawke's got an assignment for ya,"
Murko Muelton heard the summons in the distance, the Sanctum ringing with the voices of the Bad Brothers. Murko himself was just stopping by, trying with varying degrees of success to rope in some boys to go out to sea with. However, immediately his plans went out the window and he moved towards a much taller and broader human messenger.
"What is it, then?"
"We've got a lady who ain't payin' her rent on time. Go rough the place up a bit. Get the money and come back," he answered. Then, he handed Murko a slip before making his way off without another word. The galdor knew that people didn't love being around him. Almost 10 years in the Bad Brothers had the galdor's reputation secured, but people still hated gollies. They took out their frustration by being short with him. As far as he was concerned, it didn't matter. The golly made bread for the rest of them at the end of the day and that was that.
"Understood," Murko said to no one in particular before making his way out of the underground fortress and back into the Harbor proper. Closing the grate that led towards the Sanctum, Murko rose up and brushed away the excess of dust that sprinkled his shoulders and along his shirt. The sorcerer allowed his pitch gaze to fall forward, getting himself re-acquainted with where he was before looking to the slip of paper.
The paper featured and address and the name of his quarry, and he committed it to memory before a quick syllable in Monite ignited the slip in the middle. He held it by and end as it began to burn, then let it fall towards the floor. He persisted in the spell's upkeep, monitoring the fire. Once the name crumbled into nothingness, he pulled the oxygen from the vicinity of the flame. It sputtered out, leaving ash in its wake and with that, the galdor went off.
The shop Murko was pointed towards defied expectations. Listed in the slip as 'Isa's Interests' he'd expected some sort of fixed location. Instead, he was at a wick's kint modified to have glass displays with numerous baubles and curiosities for the eye to feast upon. Clearly, 'Isa' was a talented glassworker. Murko almost felt bad, knowing just how easy it might be to grease this woman for her money given the fragile nature of her wares. He shrugged and went on with it, pushing the inkling doubt aside in favor of a more direct approach.
"Oi, Isa. Why aren't ye payin' your due to the King, hm?"
"Excuse me?" she mustered, the wick's features clearly twisted up in panic. The galdor allowed himself to caprise her field, and he felt the anxiety welling up within her. It was clear a moment later that she felt the galdor's probing, and she furrowed her arms in distaste, pulling back on her own field as she said,
"What's a golly doin' working for a human, anyway?"
"Lady, I'm not here to answer questions. I'm here to get what ya owe and leave it at that. How bout we cooperate?" he asked, almost beseeching in his tone. He really didn't want to break her shit, but he placed his hand at the hilt of his cutlass and drew it in a swift, practiced motion. He tapped at the nearest display with the point, forming the tiniest crack in the surface as he said,
"Or, if ye insist on it... we can get inta' some aggressive negotiating."
Wide eyes grew wider still, and a sob escaped the woman's lips as he begged, "Please, I don't have the money right now!"
"I bet you do," he assured her, applying more pressure to the display until the glass ruptured, sending it crashing down on her wares. None of the denser glass would break apart, but the message was clear.
Don't lie to a Bad Brother.