DKMortals/SessionFiftyFour

[ST] The Haslanti Airboat Second-Class Forthright Arrow moves west, drifting north as it rides the prevailing winds. Below, the Haslanti coast stretches along, a seemingly limitless expanse of desolate, frost-covered rock. The White Sea nestles against it, frozen solid by this time of year, seamless. From time to time, the airboat has passes over the cities of the League. Icehome and Tuskstaad are leagues behind, but occasionally an emerald or an isolated Greenfield appears below, a slightly darker patch of color.

[ST] The airboat is small, overcrowded with almost the entirety of the Fourth Scale. Soldas, his thin form shrouded in a heavy coat, stands at the railing, gripping it tightly. Others mill around him. The sailors say that Sunset Greenfield, the westernmost bastion of the League, will be in sight soon. Of course, those same sailors claim to see Iceberg eaters on a regular basis.

[ST] The deck mills with activity. Too much activity for such a small boat, but all the large ones are carrying troops south, where vicious fighting is said to still be raging in the Chain.

[ST] The League's enemies are far from idle. Even now, scouts from the Sunset Greenfield have encountered the lead elements of an army of the Fellai. It is uncertain how many might advance towards the city.

[ST] In the absence of any real forces to spare, the Once Dead have been sent to help bolster a doomed defense.

[ST] At least, that is Morta's theory, which she has been regaling Avir with for the last few minutes. She does not sound particularly bothered about it.

[Avir] Avir stands at the railing, looking out into the cold expanse. Somewhere out there, he knows, is the Wolf Bitch herself. He rubs the aching stump at his wrist with his other hand. "We'll find a way to win," he says, though he sounds more indifferent than confident.

[ST] "That," she says, "Is an inevitability I have yet to accept. Miruna did fight well in the last battle, I suppose." Morta adjusts her thick gloves, worrying them with her teeth.

[Avir] "So he did." Avir glances around with reflexive caution. He had Miruna to thank for his chipped tooth; the man knew more of him than he liked. "Do you think there's anything to the rumor that Rabbit's Fellai?" he asks idly, turning his gaze back to the snowfields passing beneath.

[ST] "I try to avoid Rabbit. She seems to dislike me." So do most, for that matter. "At least they left Ragged Red in Icehome."

[Wheel] Wheel arrives at the rail, previously unseen, slappign Avcir in the back. "Hurts still, does it? Yours still feel like the hand's there? Feels like my arm's burning in a forge fire, it does." He grins, charmingly, although with a sbctle hint of uincertainty.

[Avir] Avir's wince and gritted teeth turns into a forced smile. "Oh, yes." This is what he had to look forward t, if he survived it all: being an old cripple. It made him want to throw himself from the airship then and there. "Feels good to be back in the game, eh?"

[Wheel] "Oh yes. Oh yes. Seems like they're desperate, keeping a pair like us around," he says, still smiling. "Seems like things'll get properly exciting then.

[ST] Behind the pair, there is a loud thunk as Chokes on Mirth slams Vulgar Oda's hand against the deck. A wave of jeers rises.

[ST] "You pay me now, fat man," she says evenly. Another laugh erupts.

[Avir] "No doubt," Avir smiles back. You will be the first to be sacrificed if things get desperate, old man. He glances over Whee's head at the outcome of the match, and calls out. "Oda, I had four bits riding on you, man!"

[Avir] "Bet we could give them a show- right, Wheel?" He raises his stump.

[Wheel] "Oi, need challengers?" Always eager to prove himself, no matter how trivially. "Too right," he adds, to Avir. "I'll win you your coin back if they let me."

[ST] Oda shrugs and spits a stream of something black on the deck, as charming as usual. Spritely Otter steps over it uneasily. The crowd dissolves. It is a testament to the Haslanti and Once Dead character that one is even capable of thinking of gambling on this frigid, windswept deck.

[ST] Chokes on Mirth steps back, raising a hand in conciliation, but Oda gives one of his braying laughs. "A challenge? Sure? You know where one is, old man?"

[Wheel] He flexes his one arm, though the muscles were all hidden below layers of wool and fur. "Right here, and you can choke on the laughter," he jokes awkwardly.

[ST] "I would not lightly mock a man who lived through being a member of the Once Dead," Chokes on Mirth says, stepping back to make room for Wheel.

[ST] "What about one dumb enough to come back for more?" Oda chortles.

[Avir] Avir scratches his stump and leans against the railing, watching.

[Wheel] "Oh, sure. You heavily mock him," he says more easily, moving to his spot in the competition. His hair was cut shorter than it had been, short enough to show the new raven tattood black above the old, still fresh and raw, but blessedly not struck through.

[ST] Oda is a big man, though it is difficult to tell how much of it is muscle and how much of it is fat. He rests his elbow on the deck, extending a mittened hand for Wheel to clasp. His other scratches at his flank, and he belches softly. "Let's get this over with."

[Wheel] "I ever tell you? I wrestled a bear once. Out on a long patrol, nothing to do, and one came lumbering at our camp, starving from hibernation. Well, long story short, lot of food gambled on that." He sets himself, leaning a bit lower as he had to use his stump to brace with instead of another arm.

[ST] At Avir's side, Morta fiddles with some totem hanging around her neck. It looks like a crudely carved wooden soldier. Its sharp little legs are covered in a rusty, flaking substance.

[ST] "They say you were Selza's friend," she says. "They say she died bravely. I never understood that. Dead is dead. It doesn't matter to you."

[Wheel] RETCON He lays down awkwardly, in stages, not wanting to lower himself on his stump. Still, soon enough he is set, gripping Oda's hand. "Ruining my glove, this." Oda was truly foul. It brought back good memories of his old comrades. Insanebrutes, most of them, and him among them.

[Wheel] "On your time," he adds, waiting for the man to, predictably, jump his own gun.

[Avir] Avir's jaw tightens. He hadn't wanted to think of Selza; he was the one who had brought her into this. "Doesn't it? The priests say that a full life and a brave death bring prosperity in the next life. It is...comforting to believe it so."

[Avir] He reaches out and gently lifts the totem with one finger, examining it. "They say you grew up among the dead. Doesn't it matter to them?"

[ST] "I ain't no bear," Oda snarls, suddenly lunging, throwing his full strength against Wheel's grip.

[Avir] He drops the totem back against her chest. "She was my friend," he says shortly, gripping the railing.

[ST] Morta shakes her head. "Many strange things matter to the dead. But what matters most is that they are dead. They can never change that. It makes them mad." Noticing his reaction, she looks down. "I am sorry," she says, although she does not sound particularly regretful.

[Wheel] The instant he feels Oda start to move, he tightens all the muscles built through long days at the forge, earlier long days killing. Oda's wrist bends back awkwardly, then his arm crunches down on the deck, harder than Wheel had ever intended. He'd remembered his old friends being stronger. He surely hadn't expected to win, not after years of being out of things. Oda is mewling, something clearly broken.

[Wheel] He scrambles up, momentarily forgettign and trying to put weight where his hand felt like it was. Where it wasn't. Well, he couldn't look more a fool.

[ST] "Y-you old b-b-bastard!" Oda yelps, tears springing to his eyes. "I- I- I-" He trails off in a loud, sudden sob.

[ST] "Told you, Fat Man," Chokes on Mirth says, with a bit of relish in her voice. Oda cradles his injured wrist.

[Avir] Avir sighs. "Nevermind." He watches the contest, smiling a little as his fellow cripple bested Vular Oda. "What do the dead concern themselves with, then? Love for those they lost? Revenge on those who betrayed them?"

[Wheel] If he appologized, they'd all think he was weak. Those that didn't already. He straightens. "Ain't no bear, you."

[ST] "They concern themselves with the same things as the living, I suppose. They feel more. They feel less. They wish most of all to be alive. They are afraid. Not of death, but of the worse things that lie beyond." She shrugs.

[ST] A round of raucous laughter breaks out behind Wheel. Someone slaps him on the back. Oda glares up at him murderously.

[Avir] "Mmm." Avir hoped that Thunder Wisdom's spirit had other things to concern himself with. He looks at Morta. "What about you? What are you doing here?"

[ST] "Living," Morta says, blowing a puff of air out over her upper lip. "For a little while."

[Avir] "Ah." He supposed he had no better answer. "Care to have a go with me?" he yells out to Oda, raising his stump. More oil on the fire. He had not quite forgiven his champion.

[ST] Oda does not respond to Avir's sally, still glaring at Wheel. His other hand fumbles behind him, as if of its own volition, for his heavy warclub. Fresh shouts break out.

[ST] "Shut the FUCK UP!" Soldas suddenly snarls, and the crowd does, mostly out of shock. Sailors stop in their tasks, one tripping over a coil of rope. The other disturbances they were used to, but this...

[Avir] Avir's eyes widen, his hand frozen over his swordhilt.

[ST] Soldas steps foward, cords standing out in his neck, his red-rimmed eyes livid and alive. "Look alive, all of you! We're about to land. F-form- form ranks. Five by five. NOW!"

[ST] "Iscal..." He addresses his pet. Even the curly-headed man looks shocked by this. "Tend to Oda, then get him in... get him in ranks. Move it."

[ST] "Well..." Morta says softly. "That's something."

[Wheel] He gets to it, sharp. He was here on tenuous grounds, and didn't want to get on Soldas' bad side. That would ahve burned, years ago.

[Avir] "Possessed by a fucking demon when my back was turned, maybe," Avir says, only-half joking. "I suppose we get into rank now, eh?" He slaps Oda on the shoulder as Iscal hurries to him, then moves to the plank.

[ST] Oda manages to get his blubbering under control as Iscal hurriedly binds the injury, but the glance he shoots Wheel promises that this is far from over.

[ST] "Wonder what crawled up his ass?" Jek says as Avir and Wheel settle in on either side of him. "Besides Iscal, I mean."

[Avir] Avir shrugs. "Maybe he crawled through the abyss of fear and out the other side. Who the fuck knows?"

[ST] "Remain- remain in ranks," Soldas manages. "We will land soon."

[Avir] He glances at the silent land below. It didn't look like a land at war, from so far above. "Maybe he's just a patriot."

[Wheel] He stands silent and trying to loom a bit, at the end of the line in the back rank. His place, now. Still, he could see over the heads in front, see the ground approaching. He saw what the ravens saw, was a raven again. It was enough.

[ST] The airboat begins to descend slowly, turning the customary wide, easy turns that will spiral it down to its landing spot. "You ever wonder what'd happen if all the ropes on one side just, y'know, WENT during all this?" Jonah the Lad asks. No one humors him. The crew is skilled, or perhaps just in a hurry to divest themselves of the Once Dead. The craft sets down with only a small jolt. Only

[ST] a few of the Once Dead lose their feet as it comes to rest on the landing field outside Sunset.

[ST] Sailors hustle, quickly lowering the ramp, and Soldas nods, gesturing. "Once Dead! March!"

[Avir] Avir moves out with his fang of five, lifting his head to breath in the smell of sea and salt.

[ST] The training received at the Tomb has an effect, even on the rowdy members of the Once Dead. They might mutter imprecations about Soldas, but they follow his orders well enough, filing off the ship smartly and evenly as he brings up the rear. No soon are the Once Dead clear of the ship than ground crew begin to race up to unload the cargo. There seems to be almost a desperation to their movements.

[ST] Ahead, the village of Sunset looms. It is constructed of a number of two-storied, thatched roof structures, almost all of them made of wood. A modest network of arcades and summer streets extends over the center of the town, but the vast majority of the streets are open. A foot or more of snow stands there. On a low hill over the homes and the warehouses of the docks is a large manor house,

[ST] its bottom story girded with stone and heavily fortified.

[Avir] "Expecting trouble soon?" Avir calls to Soldas, jerking his chin at the crew moving frantically through their procedures.

[ST] "Remain s-silent!" Soldas snaps, moving past Avir without even looking to stand at the head of the ranks.

[ST] An older woman wearing scuffed but serviceable mail marches up, delivering a salute to the assembled troops.

[ST] "Greetings," she says. "And welcome to Sunset Greenfield. I am Mara, head of the Greenfield Militia. I take it you are the commander of the- Soldas? Is that-?"

[Avir] Avir raises an eyebrow and turns to the newcomer. His is one of a flurry of half-hearted returned salutes.

[ST] "Thank you for your w-welcome," Soldas manages. "Where should we report for duty?"

[ST] "So much has happened," she says, forgetting herself for a moment. "Serion's dead- and-"

[ST] "Are my m-men free to find lodging?" Soldas says again, cutting across her explanation. She blinks.

[ST] "Yes, yes. Of course."

[ST] "Very well. Fourth Scale!" Soldas rounds on them. His entire body seems to be minutely vibrating, as if all his effort is going towards holding himself back. "Disperse. Into the town and as you will. Find lodging among the populace. Failing that, report to the Lodge." He cocks his head at the manor. "They will have suggestions. Here, noon tomorrow. N-now go!"

[ST] With that, he turns, taking Mara's arm and all but running away with her.

[Wheel] He heads off, hesitating for a second, then splitting off on his own when no one seemed inclined to go with him. He didn't want to ask and be rejected. There were forges somewhere, had to be in a town this size, hell in a town expecting attack. Lodging near there'd be cheap, from all the noise, and he'd grown used to it.

[Avir] "Well," Avir says, turning to Morta. "That was strange. Shall we look for a lovely war widow to take pity on us?"

[ST] She shrugs. "Better you than Oda. I think he has fleas."

[Avir] The demon's skin ripples under Avir's clothing, an eye peaking out from under his collar. "No. No fleas here," he assures her.

[Wheel] Even near the forges things are tight, the town was so full of soldiers, but he goes and talks to one of the smiths. He should be able to trade some time off at a forge, along with money, for room and board. Good to keep his hand in, anyways. Not that he was going to let himself go back to that life anytime soon.

[Avir] Morta and Avir do eventually find a berth with a war widow- a war widow with four children, a brother-in-law considered too valuable as a blacksmith to go to war, and one large room full of straw. It was better than many had managed- at least the rushes were sweet, and the widow a good cook. Avir gently boots the youngest boy off a woven mat to sleep with his sisters, curls himself up in his cloak, and goes to sleep. Morta picks a chair, leans back and begins snoring lightly.

[Wheel] WHeel's 'room' was a crowded attic, the roof slope stopping him from even standing anywhere but the centerline, and there stooped. Still, it was his, he could push stuff up near the trapdoor in to block it a bit, and the window letting smoke out at one end wasn't glassed over. A quick exit if things got hair. Well worth the cold breeze. Old instincts felt happy with it.

[ST] Next morning, the widow bustles around the house, preparing a perfunctory breakfast for her guests, and grousing all the while in a most un-Haslanti way. Were it not for the tattoos marking her skin, one could easily doubt her ancestry.

[ST] "Things used to be different, when we was ruled by the Greenbloods," she explains earnestly to Avir, shoving a plate of pinkish deer meat at him. Bread from the evening before perches on the rim. "Ever since the Stone took over, it's been one misfortune after another."

[ST] Wheel spends the night rather chilled, and sleeping lightly, but wakes up in the morning with nothing but a slight ache in his back.

[Avir] "The Stone?" Avir asks absently, more truly interested in dipping piece his hunk of the bread in the meat's juices.He had to lay his stump atop the loaf and tear with his other hand to get a piece. "What have they done?" There was naught to complain about her cooking, he decides. The bread was good even half-stale.

[ST] "Higher taxes, not enough digging at the quarry, and they let the Guild get away with murder. What's the use of winning a war against them like the ancestors when the Families choose to deal with them later, anyway?" She bustles along, prodding Morta in the shoulder.

"Eat, dear, you look sickly."

[Avir] "No helping her, been ill since she was a chlid," Avir says, swiping a slab of Morta's meat while the widow is distracted. He winks at his comrade as he stuffs it in his mouth. "Then why do the Stone rule now, not the Greenbloods? Don't the elders have some say?"

[ST] She laughs. "At the founding, our peoples agreed to live here as one tribe, under the leadership of the Three Families. Stone are the only ones left. The Running River family is gone into disgrace. The Greenblood family is dead. All of 'em killed in that Fair Folk raid those years ago except the son. And they say Soldas went to Icehome."

[Avir] He stops chewing, his mouth hanging open. "Soldas?" He says, half-unbelieving. Well, he supposed that explained the man's sudden interest.

[ST] "Yes. The Stone family fostered him for a number of years. He was close to all of them. Now look at what happened. Serion dead, Soldas gone, Lady Amaya about to be wedded to a Guildsman..." she shudders, pulling away Morta's now empty plate. The pale woman munches slowly and thoughtfully at a piece of bread, and this seems to satisfy the widow.

[Avir] "Huh." Well, the man's blueblood was supposed to explain his promotion, after all. "A foolish wedding then. The Guild cares for profits, not alliances. Or is it a love match?"

[ST] "For her sake, I hope it is a love match. Be sure both sides stand to benefit. Now, shoo, both of you. I have things to do." The vehemence with which she says this suggests otherwise. "I will hold your lodgings for one evening, no more."

[Avir] "Two evenings?" Avir suggests, rolling a thick silver coin along the table to her. "Know why Soldas ended up in Icehome? Seems he had interests o' plenty here." Choice gossip, this was.

[ST] "None know," the woman takes the silver coin, looks at it as if she wants to bite it, then refrains, giving it a quick wipe on her apron before stowing it away. "But they do talk. A family problem, they say. Varik had been like a father to Soldas, but it is said he cast him out."

[Avir] "Is Varik still in town, then?"

[ST] She laughs, wiping the crumb-covered face of one of her many children with the corner of her apron. "He's only the bloody Patriarch."

[Avir] Avir's grin splits his face. "Thank you for the breakfast, good madam...." He elbows Morta, who is still thoughtfully chewing on her rind of bread, staring dreamily into space. "It is time for us to leave."

[Avir] His smiles fades slightly as he heads into the streets. Who would he share the news with? Two-Bits, Selza... everyone was dying.Or knew enough to despise him, like Miruna. Well, Savage Bear-Daughter would enjoy it. Silently, no doubt, but at least his gossip might stay exclusive a while longer.

[Avir] He sees someone ahead, and hurries to catch up. "Wheel, you'll never guess I what I heard..."

[Wheel] He turns, brightening. "Oh? Whats that, now?"

[ST] The streets of the Emerald are, at least in theory, pebbled, but the snow has produced nothing but a slushy mud. As the two members of the Once Dead make their way through the chill muck, the Emerald bustles around them, the streets thronging with clumps of militia and Fyrd soldiers moving this way and that. Merchants set up their wares on corners and cry for sales, and some soldiers are

[ST] stupid enough to follow them. This is the most business Sunset has done in some time.

[Avir] Avir dishes, liberaly mixed with his own scandalous speculation.

[Wheel] He reacts appropriately, muttering about how the Once Dead would never have allowed it in his day. Nevermind that it was manifest bullshit.

[ST] The two men pass a pair of buildings whose roofs tilt slightly at an angle, casting deep shadows into the muddy little alley that runs between them. Within the alley, a pair of wormeaten wooden doors are thrown open to reveal a muddy flight of steps leading downward. As the trio pass, a muffled cry emerges from the alley. Wheel can pick out a few words-

[ST] "PLEASE! DON'T!"

[ST] "Shhhhh..."

[ST] The first voice sounds like a man, the second is higher, feminine, soft.

[Wheel] Wheel walks casually past the alley, then stops Avir with his hand when they'd passed the angle they could be seen at. "Sounds like trouble mate," he tells him quietly, nodding his head at the alley. He hadn't been paying atention to his grip and it was painfully tight on Avir's shoulder with excitement. "Lets have a look-see."

[Wheel] He moves back, hugging the building's wall to keep out of view.

[ST] "We'll be late," Morta points out, bumping into Wheel as he stops suddenly.

[Avir] Avir frowns at him, then nods. Trouble, maybe. None of their business, likely. He puts his hand to his swordhilt as he creeps behind Wheel.

[Wheel] "Won't take no time at all."

[Avir] You couldn't let a Raven go alone. Or so they always insisted to their commanders, usually at the end of a disreputable series of actions inevitably leading to the Icehome drunktank.

[Wheel] He has his hammer out. A smith's thing, but large and very heavy. It'd mold steel, so it did a good enough job on bones and men.

[Wheel] He goes to kneel at the corner to glance around - people tended to look at eye level, so it was safer to look lower. Of course, in his excitement, he tried to prop himself on the hand that wasn't. He fell to the ground, rolling through the back of Avir's legs, taking him down into a heap with him.

[Wheel] He hadn't done that in years, had thought he'd gotten used to ignoring the taunting limb. Old things brought back old ways, old idiocy, it appeared. Instinct stopped him from cursing, pointless after all that clatter.

[Avir] "Clumsy fool!" The snarl bursts through Avir's lips as he fell, his stump glancing hard against the cold icy street. He scambles to his feet, stealth forgotten, his cheeks red at his outburst. He glares wildly around for whatever it was that had roused Wheel's interest.

[ST] Wheel and Avir crash into a heap on the floor, driving the breath from the pair of them as they lie there. The perronelle writhes uncomfortably against Avir's skin, jostled awake by the disturbance. The scene in the basement is strange, and for a moment it does not seem to make sense.

[ST] Only the daylight shining from above illuminates the basement. A woman in triplicate stands there. She(they) is short, with dark hair, colorless lips, and slate grey eyes. One of her holds a man against the wall by the throat. Another one stands slightly to the side. Another reclines against the wall. Three gloved fists hold three truncheons. The second woman's truncheon is wet with blood.

[ST] The man pinned against the wall is more of a boy, eighteen or nineteen at the oldest, with a pinched, ugly face. His left hand is a smashed ruin, doubtless the work of the bloody truncheon.

[Wheel] "The hell?" he asks the world, scrambling to his feet, still holding his hammer, and using it to prop himself.

[ST] "Now, Weasel," the woman holding him against the wall is saying. "I would find the drugs or the money very quickly, or the rest of you is going to be as pretty as your face and your hand. Alla isn't very patient, you- WHAT?" as Wheel and Avir crash to the bottom of the stairs, all three women turn to look at them.

[Avir] Avir soothes his wild hair with his hand, then drops it down to his swordhilt. "Not very discreet, ladies."

[ST] "We've been discovered by the Crippled Legion, sisters," the one leaning against the wall jeers.

[ST] "Discretion isn't our purpose," the one holding the man against the wall says. "Now run along and find some other hole to shit in, or you'll be as sorry as this one."

[ST] Weasel gives a high moan of dismay, fixing Avir and Wheel with his gaze. "Please," he gasps, "They're gonna kill me-"

[ST] "We're not going to kill you, Weasel," the one holding the truncheon whispers. "We're just going to make you wish we would. And if these two don't go, we'll make them wish the same."

[Wheel] She, they, was much smaller than him. If one of them was standing in front of him with two friends, he wouldn't have worried. But three all the same, well that wasn't somethign to take lightly. Specially not three. And besides, they were strong enough to crush a man's hand. "What're you?"

[Avir] Avir may have been willing to let them try, at that- he didn't normally rescue petty criminals from the consequences of their folly- but he bristles a being called a cripple.' "No real point to that. Even if you could, our fellows would cut you apart and swallow the pieces. Not very civilized, alas."

[ST] "What are we? You must be new around here." the woman holding Weasel against the wall squeezes his throat. He gurgles. "I am Shalla River."

[ST] "Dalla," the woman leaning against the wall says. "And that's Alla. She doesn't talk much. I'm going to give you some advice. You don't want our family as your enemies. I don't know who your fellows are, but they're not as scary as mine."

[Avir] "Oh, I doubt it. I wasn't kidding about cannibals," Avir says, thinking of Chokes on Mirth.

[ST] "And who are you?" Shalla asks, "To talk to us in such a way?"

[Wheel] He grins wide. "We're the worst thing in this town."

[Avir] "I am Avir Corpseman." He bows. "Are you the ..Running River family? My host mentioned you. Alongside the word 'disgrace.' " He edges away from Morta and Wheel, so that they would be able to swing blades effectively, if the need arose.

[ST] "I'll have to get your host's name, so I can cut his or her tongue out," Shalla says. "In any case, gentlemen, whoever you are, this is your last chance to back out gracefully. This man has stolen from my family, you see. Haven't you, Weasel?"

[ST] He squeals in terror. "I told you, Sh-shalla, someone stole the opium from me, I don't know. I don't KNOW-"

[ST] There is a sharp crack as Alla smashes the truncheon down on his hand again. His words become screams.

[ST] "Now," Dalla says. "Are you gentlemen going to leave, or are we going to have to make you live up to your name?"

[Avir] "Now, now..." Avir says, moved to compassion. "A man only has two hands, after all." He draws his sword. "Stop it, or I cut one of your's off."

[ST] Shalla slams her knee into Weasel's groin. He gives a cry and pitches forward as she steps away from the wall, reaching for the blade in her belt. "Well, if that's the way it's gonna be..."

[Wheel] It was a bit of a quandry. No need to interfere with them and their junkie thief. But he didn't like the disrespect. He hefts his hammer silently, letting Avir hold his non-arm flank.

[ST] "You dumb shits don't even realize what you just got yourselves into," Dalla adds, moving away from the wall. A straight sword appears in her hand.

[Avir] "Maybe," Avir concedes. His saber whips forward, clashing noisily against her sword. He leans to the side to avoid her riptose, then kicks a spray of dirt into her eyes and dives in for the kill.

[Avir] He looks a trifle paler as she twists her wrist and smashes his saber away again.

[ST] Morta crouches in the stairwell, unseen, fumbling in her pack for her crossbow. She draws it out, sighting in a shot at Dalla, who still fails to notice her.

[ST] Shalla knocks aside Avir's attack, then springs back at him, locking her weapon with his, barking out at her sisters. "Dalla! Left! Alla, right! Don't worry about the old man, we're going to take this pretty boy to pieces!"

[Wheel] He yells wordlessly, bringing his hammer around and down onto the sister lockign swords with Avir. Force her to retreat, and it gave Avir's sword an advantage. Of course, if she didn't retreat, then his hammer would correct that mistake.

[Wheel] She didn't dodge. Her choice, but the wrong one. The hammer crashed down on her shoulder, slamming her to the floor, a cripple now as much as he, if she didn't bleed out from those ribs poking out.

[Avir] Avir begins to smile, stepping over the bleeding body. "I'd surrender, were I you," he tells the ...twins.

[ST] Dalla seems shaken, but Alla, the quiet one, only looks back at him with murderous rage. Neither moves to surrender.

[Wheel] Thats right, let Avir take the lead. He had reach, but he didn't want to let them in close. A knife in close, no way you could defend yourself with one arm. Then he'd have to count on the plate he'd made, reinforced on his off side, and luck found holes, always, when you trusted it.

[Avir] He lunges towards Alla, stumpy arm extended to slam into her. She rocks back from his heavier weight, and as she struggles to keep from falling, he stabs at her.

[Avir] He doesn't have enough leverage to do more than jab at her, and with a snarl of disgust he leaps away.

[ST] Unseen on the stairwell, Morta finishes lining up her shot. As Avir leaps away, she fires through the space he had occupied, sending a bolt whistling through the air at Dalla.

[ST] Dalla gives a scream as she staggers back, a bolt sprouting from her thigh. This battle has gone south quickly.

[ST] But no one ever said the River girls knew when to stop. Especially not Alla. She staggers forward past Avir, stepping over the cringing Weasel. She doesn't even notice as her heavy boots tread on the fingers of his other hand, breaking them. She is focusing on the old man who cut down her sister, a savage cry tearing from her throat as she springs at him, blade flashing.

[ST] As Alla falls upon Wheel, Dalla faces down Avir. She steps forward into a beam of sunlight, angling her blade so that it reflects the beam into his eyes, then springs, sword slashing across his belly.

[Wheel] SHe's inside his hammer in an instant, and then its to the armor. He grunts in pain as she finds a joint near the hip, scraping the tip of her sword across the balde of his hip.

[Avir] But Avir had anticipated the attack, narrowing his eyes as her blade reflects the sunlight and throwing himself backwards. He drives her swordarm up with his handless forearm, and angles his own saber steeply upwards, through her shoulder.

[Avir] He tears a long wragged scratch in her shoulder. "It's two on three, now," he pants. "How will you gamble when it's you alone facing the rest of us?"

[ST] She grunts, batting his blade aside again. Blood runs down her left side from shoulder to knee now. "It's not over yet."

[Avir] "My dear, it was over the moment we walked- well, fell- down the stairs."

[Wheel] He pulls his arm back around over her head and sweeps her away with a long backhand, trying to drive her into the wall. The only way she could escape was away. Good enough.

[ST] "You're dead," Dalla gasps back, fending off another of Avir's strikes. "Even if you win. Even if you kill us. You're dead, dead, dead."

[Wheel] Alla crunches against the wall with the hammer's head in the pit of her stomach. Nothing but blood coming from her mouth now.

[Avir] "That, too, has been true for a long time." Avir shrugs. "You'll have to do better. But now there's only one left."

[ST] Dalla gives an anguished scream as her sister falls, springing away from Avir as she attempts to bolt from the basement.

[ST] As she races up the stairs, Morta lunges for her knees in a tackle, crossbow skittering away down the steps

[Avir] Avir leaps after her, yanking her back by her shirt-sleeve as Morta appears in the stairway. "Kill her?" he queries the others. She was worth a demon, he can't help but think, but of course he had promised he was done with summoning. And unless the others just LEFT....

[Wheel] "We can ask the boy what she was after," he says harshly, angry at the pain in his hip. At least it was honestly earned, not from age.

[ST] Morta grunts, her face slamming hard into a step as Dalla slips out behind her, racing onto the street.

[ST] "She's gonna... get... away..." she gasps.

[Wheel] He races after her, but it took a moment for the stair to clear big enough for him to get through

[Avir] "Fuck," Avir says comprehensively. "I'll get her." He moves past Morta, all but pushing aside, and hurtles into the street. If he lost sight of her, he would lose her- she knew this city better than he, by knowing it at all.

[Wheel] "Keep the kid!" he yells back to Morta as he runs after Dalla.

[ST] Dalla rushes ahead, limping as she goes, through the crowded streets. A cry rises up after her as she goes, her blood staining the snow. She's leaving quite a trail for Avir to follow, if he is so inclined.

[Wheel] He keeps pace with her, close enough to help when Avir catches up.

[Avir] "Damn it." He hesitates. Too many witnesses. Little point now, perhaps, except to weaken his case for self-defense. He grabs Wheel's shoulder. "Too late now."

[ST] As a hue and cry rises along the street, Dalla lunges into a side street, battering away the attention of a young man there. The crowd begins to murmur. "Quick! Call the watch!"

[Wheel] He pulls the man along a few steps, then stops with him. He grunts agreement, but stares after her. It was worth something to make her run for her life. She would remember that, as she should. Not worth the burning pain at his hip, though.

[Wheel] "Lets go collect our justification. Best not to be too late."

[Wheel] He tears a strip off his padded arming shirt, trying to use it to bandage his wound crudely.

[Wheel] "Hey, hard to get this with one arm. Can you hold my armor out of the way?" He was practiced, used to it. When he was thinking about it anyway. BUt nothing helped that much.

[ST] The crowd has mostly failed to notice Wheel and Avir, rushing off after the injured woman.

[Avir] Avir eyes him a moment. "Let me do it, dammit. Between the two of us, we have two hands." While Wheel helps hold the wound closed, Avir puts a thick wad of clean cloth over it and wraps a long strap of cloth from his satchel around the man's waist to hold it tight.

[Avir] He almost screams when he can't get it tight enough. "Damn it!" What useless cripples they were- able to kill, but too stupidly clumsy to stitch themselves together afterward.

[Wheel] Avir fumbles and he tries to press the thing back, only interfering really. He doesn't let himself react to the pain. "One more time."

[Avir] A few more minutes of fumbling and cursing, as blood drained slowly from Wheel's face, and the bleeding stops. "Fuck, fuck fuck..." Avir mutters, standing at last. "Would you believe I used to be good at that?" he says bitterly, banging his stump against the wall.

[Wheel] There were splatters of blood all over his armor, but most of that wasn't his, or was at least mixed with other's. It was the soaked leg of his leggings that he was more worried about.

[Wheel] "I can walk," he says harshly. "Lets go."

[Avir] "Need to collect Morta first," Avir reminds him as they head back to the basement together. "Remember this is your fault when we report it." He ducks his head as he walks- carefully- down the stairs. "She got away, he announces. "Are they alive?"

[ST] Morta is sitting on Weasel's legs, as he weakly thrashes behind her. She rifles through Shalla's posessions. "I don't think this one is. The other one, maybe. Wow." She holds up a bag almost overflowing with silver. "They were loaded."

[Avir] "Huh. They might be politically important. Maybe we should bind them up. Look gracious." He looks dubiously at the bleeders.

[ST] "Oh gods, you gotta let me out of here," Weasel whines. "You gotta- they're gonna. They're gonna KILL me and they're gonna kill you WORSE. They-"

[Wheel] The other man had swung first, him last, but he wasn't going to tell that to anyone asking. "Want me to carry the kid? I don't think we should leave him here."

[Wheel] "Who were they, and what are they going to try to do?"

[Avir] "I don't think we can do it, though." He waves his handless arm. And he didn't want to embarass himself again. But he thought it likely the bug could save their lives. "Do you think it'd help if we didn't kill them?" he adds.

[ST] "They're the RIVER daughters," Weasel moans. "Don't you know anything?"

[Avir] "Obviously not. Speak, oh fount of wisdom."

[ST] "The Guild can't... can't come in the Emerald. So they need someone to... sell for them. The River family does it. And they pay people to do it for them. They pay Thard River, and his daughters. You just... you just killed the daughters of the biggest drug kingpin between here and Tuskstaad."

[ST] "Oh gods they're going to kill me. Autumn Frost preserve me. Lady Chimney Draft preserve me. Father Winter preserve me. Snowshoe Hare preserve me. Horned Owl preserve me-" He sobs.

[ST] "They were anyway." Morta adds.

[Avir] "Don't be so panicked," Avir says with gruesome cheer. "The Fellai may get to you first." He strokes his chin. "I, er, know a high-ranking guildswoman. She might have some pull. And they can't be all that important. Or they'd be in Tuskstaad."

[ST] "Oh gods. They were gonna kill me over some opium and now they're dead, they're DEAD. Oh gods." Weasel gives another helpless whimper.

[Avir] Oh well. He finishes the other two daughters. "We're late. Maybe you should join up with a militia. One heading out of town."

[ST] "You- you-" he blubbers helplessly as Morta gets up. "You can't just l-luh-leave me here!"

[Wheel] He shrugs. "The guild can find someone else if they need to." Not that they would be happy in changing plans. But the principle remained. These riverfolk had been well above themselves tangling with the Once Dead.

[Wheel] "Why not?" He turns to leave.

[ST] "CAUSE YOU GOT ME INTO THIS!" he shrieks, shaking his broken hands at them for emphasis.

[Wheel] "You were getting killed before we came down this alley."

[ST] He has no response to this, going back to shivering softly. "Oh gods... I wasn't even lying. Someone DID take the opium."

[Avir] "You're alive- hardly worse off." Avir shrugs. "If you're serious about rather being dead, the option remains available." That makes him mildly curious. "Who?"

[ST] "I don't know. It was missing. Anybody could've come in the house. They don't care. And I was a good seller. I was. I was. I never done them wrong before, but one lost stash and they were gonna kill me. N-now they're gonna, they're g-gonna... I dunno what to do."

[Avir] Avir tosses the sack of silver onto his lap. "Well, maybe you'll outrun them."

[Wheel] "Hey now, some of thats ours." He picks the sack up, taking a generous cut for himself. Avir could give away his.

[Wheel] His pension and what they'd paid him as a smith paled to an active salary.

[ST] Greed cuts through Weasel's terror for a moment. After Wheel takes his cut, he awkwardly grasps the sack between thumb and unbroken forefinger. He gulps miserably. "Then- th-that's it? You're gonna let me leave?"

[Avir] Avir rolls his eyes. He hardly spent what he made, between the low costs of his own shithole of a place and Caddia's generous financing of other entertainment.

[Avir] "Why not? What do I care?"

[ST] "I'd move fast," Morta says laconically. Weasel doesn't need any further telling. He springs to his feet, bolting forward so fast that he trips over the outstretched legs of Shalla's corpse. He gives another half-shriek, half-sob, scrambling up the stairs and into the light on all fours.

[Wheel] "You're pretty pathetic, you know? Maybe you should start a life begging. Have enough practice by now, have the tools of the trade." He waves non-handedly as the man's new hands. "We're going."

[ST] Morta looks at Wheel's stump. "There were a lot of crippled hands in this room." She flexes her own, her fingers long, milk pale. The cold doesn't seem to bother them much. "I feel left out."

[Avir] Avir grins at her, swiping a hand and raising it to his lips. "Don't. You'd miss it when it was gone."

[Avir] He releases her, and his smile fades. "Wonder if the Fellai spies are trying to destabilize the place." He didn't see a way to avoid unwittingly contributing to that end, though- not once Wheel had dragged them into it.

[Wheel] "Theres losing a hand, and theres being a crippled piece of shit." He tries to shrug it off, not entirely successfully.

[ST] Morta shrugs. "The Fellai don't seem smart enough for spies to me." She pauses for a moment, as if in deep thought. "It is said that they find pimples attractive."

[Avir] "Just think. We're one hand and an angry druglord away from realizing that ambition." He wiggles the fingers of his remaining hand in Wheel's face. "Nothing to do here. I suppose we tell Soldas when we get a chance."

[Avir] "Who knows? Maybe they'll be his childhood playmates. Then we'll really be up a shitcreek."

[Wheel] He laughs. "He's dead now. Doesn't seem to like much about his old home, from what I saw. Shit, they expect us to do as much."

[Wheel] A nervous laugh, though.

[Wheel] He starts for the stairs. It wasn't the time to be more late. Is this somethign they'd take him off the rolls for? Not when he'd been active. He was again, but it wasn't the same. He wasn't really one of them,yet. Maybe not again.

[Avir] "Well, Trembleshanks isn't so tough. Just don't let Iscal get his needles into you if you upset him, eh?"

[ST] By the time Avir and Wheel arrive on the parade ground, it is empty. That is, save for Soldas, who waits with arms crossed, collar turned up against the chill. Behind him, another airboat is unloading, sailors carrying folded up gliders off alongside members of the Fyrd.

[Avir] Avir didn't have oceans of respect for Soldas, but still he cringes a little internally. "Sorry, sir. Got held up."

[ST] "Should I ask why?" He cocks his head at Wheel. "What's wrong with his leg?"

[Avir] "There's blood coming out of it," Avir answeres blandly. "We came upon the River sisters torturing some thug. Then they insulted us and, uh, we were forced to defend ourselves. Killed two of them, one limped off."

[Wheel] He nods, stolidly. Trying not to look nervous. Hell, he knew what he'd have done to two of his men if they'd done this on his watch. Back when he'd had rank.

[Wheel] "Just a cut, sir. I can still fight."

[ST] Soldas gives a deep sigh, closing his eyes, his face in his hands. He makes a strangled sound of dismay, his entire body shuddering. Is he weeping?

[ST] "I don't need this," he manages. "I do not need this. You killed the River sisters? Which ones?"

[Avir] "The triplets. I think, ah, Dalla made it out. Left a bit of a blood trail."

[Wheel] "Uh, Alla and the other one, sir. Not Dalla. I think. Seems like it makes no real difference to anyone."

[ST] Soldas groans, taking a step back. "I c-can't believe this. I can't BELIEVE this! They attacked you, you say? It w-was self defense?"

[Wheel] "They attacked first," he says stolidly, though if he remembered it had been Avir. But, you know, he was Once Dead. Faster. Just reacting to her slower attak and hitting home first.

[Avir] "Basically, sir. We may have objected to their ...activities, and they took offense." Some small, spiteful part of Avir enjoys his commander's discomfiture.

[ST] "I can't-" He blinks. "What- what activities?"

[Avir] "Hope they weren't childhood friends. They had a man pinned up, breaking his hands as they asked questions about some missing opium."

[ST] "Childhood...." he looks up, fixing Avir with a murderous glare. "What do you know? WHAT DO YOU KNOW?"

[Wheel] He stays quiet. Expereince, that was.

[Avir] Avir raises his arms placatingly. "Just common gossip, sir." Obviously there was something even better at the bottom of it. "They say you're the last of the Greenbloods, and fostered under Patriarch Varick until, er, you had a falling out. Understand it may make things awkward."

[Avir] Avir doesn't bother hiding his curiosity.

[ST] "You... you...." Soldas looks as angry as Avir has ever seen him. "You are not to speak of this to me again. O-or to anyone. Anyone." His shoulders sag. "You think I don't know what they say? What they call me? They say I'm gutless, a coward. You think it too. But I promise you, Avir. I'm not so m-much a coward as you think. Tread carefully."

[ST] "I've heard enough. If- if you expect me to protect you from the River family after this bit of idiocy, you will find yourself disappointed. But reporting it would only r-reflect badly on me, as well. We never had this conversation."

[Wheel] He didn't really expect to need protection. They'd be in battle soon enough anyway. ANd besides, the other Once Dead would have their backs. Unofficial like. No need for Soldas to be involved at all.

[Avir] Avir glances at Wheel. "What, would you kill me yourself, sir? Or send your dog after me?" It was open gossip that Iscal had murdered Shale Hound after the man had made a bit too many jokes at Soldas's expense. Not that Avir had much liked Shale Hound himself.

[ST] "I might not need to kill you, Avir." Soldas says quietly. He shakes, but for once he does not blink. "I know what's in your file."

[ST] Before Avir can respond, he looks away, coughing slightly.

[ST] "In any case, I think it best to have the two of you away from this source of suspicion for a while. And I intended on assigning a mission as punishment, regardless. I have a job for you."

[Avir] Avir stills, well and truly chilled. Did they know? Had they known all along?

[Avir] "What job?" Avir says cautiously.

[ST] "There's been a disturbance down south, at the Quiet Emerald." He laughs, without humor. "Well. There will be. So says a Dreamseer. He won't stop making reports to the local council. The Once Dead get the job of proving his visions false. Or preventing them from happening." He shrugs. "The Dreamseer and his escorts are waiting at the Blue Nag. You'll set off there immediately."

[Avir] "Why not send Obligatory Sunshine? He's not much use in any fighting, and he knows how to talk to those people. Or so I assume."

[Wheel] "They let the Quiet have an Emerald? Sir?." He adds it belatedly.

[ST] "Obligatory Sunshine cannot be trusted to deal with the Quiet in an honest manner," Soldas says. He sighs at Wheel's question. "Yes. They were the only ones who wanted this one. It lies in the very lee of a Shadowland."

[Wheel] "And we need a Dreamseer to tell us its trouble? Well, it'll get done as you say."

[ST] "Good," Soldas snaps. "Away with you, then. I wish I could say things would be better when you return."

[Avir] That sounded half-wise, and half-foolish. What did it matter if he were honest, so long as the Quiet stayed ..quiet? He nods. "Yes, sir."

[Wheel] "Sir, can I check in with the medics first? Or do we move out immediately?"

[ST] "Go to them if you must. Just don't mention where you go the injury." Soldas sighs again. "Gods."

[Wheel] "Cut myslef shaving, sir," he says with a grin, turning to go ask around about Iscal and, perhaps, one of the other medics less liable to be angry at him. Or with a better teputation.

[Avir] Avir eyes Trembleshanks for a moment more, then turns to trail off his companion-of-the-moment.

[ST] Soldas watches them go for long moments. Only when he is sure they are gone does he turn around, scrubbing at suddenly wet eyes. One thing after another. Amaya getting married to some fat guildsman. His adopted brother dead, and his own men starting a war with the Running River family. And the Fellai invading, ready to kill all of them.

[ST] "What am I going to do?" he whispers to himself. No answer is forthcoming.