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| − | [ST] Strong Sully's Tavern is located a scant few streets from the frigid waters of Icehome Bay itself, sandwiched between a pair of tightly locked and well-guarded warehouses. It tends to be busy at virtually all hours, especially in the winter - aside from an unlucky few left on watch, most sailors have nothing to do but spend time and money when the bay begins to ice over. Now, raucous
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| − | [ST] laughter emerges from behind tightly shuttered windows.
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| − | [ST] A kindly militia watchman leads off a mumbling drunk who would likely freeze in the streets otherwise.
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| − | [Kekkonen] He grimaced. Busier than he remembered it. Well, winter had always been a busy time for him. The authorities ebbed when the sailors stayed in, and didn't bother worrying about dog-sleded smugglers. He wouldn't be able to look in through windows, or lurk nearby with people coming in and out, let alone bouncers outside the door.
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| − | [Kekkonen] Well, first, to see if they were there. He took a long swig from a hip flask, to getting started on the night, and wandered into the tavern, shoving himself a place at the bar, and ordering a beer with a loud slap on the bar. Not time to look about yet.
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| − | [ST] Within, the bar is as raucous as ever - Kekkonen kicks a few loose teeth as he goes, sending them skittering across the floor. The air is thick with smoke and shouts and laughter. Even without looking around, past experience tells Kekkonen that the crowd here is mostly sailors, dockworkers, and the petty gangs that the militia can't ever seem to stamp out. Above the bar is the mounted head of
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| − | [ST] a moose with eight eyes, four spiked antlers, and a pair of spider-like mandibles. If the stories are to be believed, Sully killed it on the fringes of a Wyld zone when he was only a young tracker.
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| − | [ST] As Kekkonen sits down, the woman behind the plank bar, her body shaped like a stout keg itself, slaps a tankard down in front of him. The revelry continues around him unabated.
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| − | [Kekkonen] He flicks his payment towards her. This kind of place, they didn't want the money waiting on the bar for long, too many hands.
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| − | [Kekkonen] People, at least those near enough to give him problems, weren't giving him more trouble than hard looks. He was large enough, and obviously mean enough, for that. He grinned into his bear, and took a long pull.
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| − | [Kekkonen] It wasn't going to poison him, you had to give it that. Might make him nauseous, but there was too much alcohol for him to get sick from it.
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| − | [ST] A quick look lets Kekkonen survey the crowd well enough. A suspiciously clean young dockworker who is either an astoundingly bad spy or a slumming merchant's son chats up a young man in silk. A pair of the Rising Shrikes, a new gang, lean against the bar, staring across the floor at a few men in crimson bandannas. The Old Rats are perhaps Icehome's oldest gang, but time has not been kind to
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| − | [ST] them - the Shrikes are only one of many younger gangs which are chipping away at them.
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| − | [ST] Finally, he spies what he's looking for - several figures whose attire markes them as members of the Boars.
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| − | [ST] They sit in a quiet corner, drinking and dicing. There are three - a young woman with short, dark hair and a viciously scarred mouth, a bald man who seems little more than a slab of muscle, and a wiry young man with a ferretlike face. Kekkonen recognizes the last as Little Adder, one of the Boars' Lieutenants.
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| − | [Kekkonen] He smiles into his beer, taking in quick sharp glances over the top of his mug, his head pointed a different direction. Little Adder seemed like his man. So, not good to approach directly, not in a crowded place. Find a lure. He glanced about the taproom, looking for one of the circulating whores who looked desperate enough to take an obviously dangerous job, but less worn down than most.
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| − | [Kekkonen] A quick glance back at Adder - try a man or a woman? - before a touch on his arm made that a moot point.
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| − | [ST] "I don't know if Adder is your type," a jeering voice rings out. A woman stands there, but not the kind he was looking for - a black patch of cloth at her bicep marks her as one of the Boars. Her nose has obviously been broken many, many times, but her teeth border on white - a true rarity. "But I sure notice you looking."
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| − | [ST] It occurs to Kekkonen that she would've had to have been watching him pretty closely to notice.
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| − | [Kekkonen] He finishes his drink after a moment, and then turns, a slightly sick smile on his face. Tries to play drunker than he is yet. "Pretty boy like 'ims more my type than you honey." he shouldn't stand yet, not unless he was sure it would get physical. Four to one, he'd have to try to get the whole place into a brawl, and that wouldn't make for a productive night.
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| − | [ST] "I ain't here for business," she says flatly, leaning back against the bar. "Seems like you are. So the question is, whaddya want?"
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| − | [Kekkonen] He grins, and turns fully, standing up to lean on the bar, mirroring her stance. "Heard you boys got hired recently. Think you might want to think about that a bit harder."
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| − | [ST] "Nothing to think about," the woman says with a shrug. "Old guy was stupid as hell. Weird, too. What's it to you?"
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| − | [Kekkonen] His bulk was a promise, but he tried not to loom any more than necessary. He didn't want to provoke a fight. This was a hunt, not a fight for dominance. Differrent rules, and he hated being in the open with his prey.
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| − | [Kekkonen] He nods. "Smart. Old guy has a lot of enemies, made a lot of noise." If he could get anything out of the Boars, he could probably put a word to the brass, get the p[olice off their case in return. The Once Dead had done as much before, when necessary, and that'd be perfect in his book.
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| − | [ST] "Most people have when they come to us." She reaches behind her to retrieve a mug and takes a long drink, not bothering to wipe the froth off her lip. "Best talk to Adder about it, and best choose your words carefully." She gives a nod in the direction of the table; the woman sitting there returns it.
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| − | [Kekkonen] Nothing to do but go along for now. Running would be dangerous, and beneath him in any case. He strode, confident, more than he was feeling. He keeps a grin on his face, mind running "I hunt. I am the hunter. Not these, these are prey." perhaps his grin is strained when he reaches them, perhaps violent.
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| − | [Kekkonen] Nevertheless, he grabs a stool, no back less keeping him seated, and puts his beer on the table. "Friends. I have accepted your invitation."
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| − | [ST] The bald man stands up at a nod from Adder, pulling out his chair for Kekkonen almost cordially. The scarred woman fixes him with a cold, flat gaze. Adder waves a hand, not mincing words.
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| − | [ST] "Sit down and say your piece."
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| − | [Kekkonen] "I'll stay here, thank you." A widening of the smile, more teeth. A chair around back of the table, these men must think him a fool, or that he would be scared by them. Perhaps there was a reason they were such a cut rate band to be looking at jobs from deserters. Still, a wolf might not be a snow tiger, but they could kill you just as dead, and there tended to be more wolves.
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| − | [Kekkonen] "An idiot old man tried to hire you the other day. You can talk to me now, or more problems could happen first." He slipped a coin to his hand, then flipped it absently. Oops, a silver rather than a gold, should have felt the weight.
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| − | [Kekkonen] Nerves maybe, or thinking to the fight.
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| − | [ST] "Maybe you can't count as well as I can, my friend," Little Adder says quietly. "Maybe this man did hire us. Maybe you'd like to know more. Maybe it's going to cost you."
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| − | [ST] "More than this," the scarred woman adds, but she nevertheless palms the silver coin.
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| − | [Kekkonen] His hand tightens, not liking her snaking it from the air. "Theres more, for help. But the promise is less honey and more the knife." He flicks another coin up, this time reaching to catch it in the air, showing off the raven on the inside of his finger. He didn't want to, but making this official shouldn't bring any eyes that shouldn't be there. He was tracking Jondar, on orders. and if that was going to come round to
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| − | [Kekkonen] He was tracking Jondar, on orders. and if that was going to come round to these, he might as well bring it himself.
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| − | [ST] Alas for fate. As Kekkonen reaches to catch the coin, a patron jostles another into his back, spilling beer down his neck and throwing off his aim. The coin bounces across the table, rolling into the floor, and the trio burst into laughter. "Who taught you how to catch, an amputee?" the scarred woman blurts.
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| − | [ST] "Listen," Adder says, fighting back a smile. "I don't care about your threats. And I don't care about the old man. I'll give you the stupid piece of shit. But it's gonna cost you."
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| − | [ST] "Just don't throw any more of that shit around, you're gonna kill yourself."
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| − | [Kekkonen] His hand trembles slightly. They probably took it for fear. Foolish thugs, taunting men their better. But noise would be bad. And he had a mission to run on tomorrow, and a command to fight for. Couldn't afford a broken hand punching a worthless bastard in the face. Not right this moment. "There's money." he says, husky and short.
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| − | [Kekkonen] "You gonna name a price then? Or want to have a laugh first."
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| − | [ST] "Hundred bits, up front. My man Brixen will be waiting on the corner of Stone Street. Black gloves. You give it to him. He counts it, he takes you to the safehouse where the old man is. I don't know where that snot-nosed bitch he had with him went."
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| − | [Kekkonen] "You're telling me you have the man? 300 bits to the black gloves at the corner, then another 500 when I have him." He stares at them, beginning to smile a mite. The anger makes him add "course, you lie about it, the 300 won't save you."
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| − | [ST] "We have him. Not that he knows it." He inclines his head slightly. "Some men would call us dishonorable for giving him up, I guess. I call us pragmatic. Brixen will wait for you tonight. Be sure you don't make him wait long, my friend."
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| − | [Kekkonen] He nods, grinning. Pity it would be trouble to bring them in after the deal, he'd have to play them right. Still, see what that little priss would say when he landed one of the prey overnight. Thinks shes ready to lead the Dead, her just a fresh corpse? Set her right, he would.
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| − | [Kekkonen] "Black gloves, tonight, Stone Street. Tonight, yeah?" He gives them a sharp look. "You lot be careful, the old man, he's harder than you think. Think of the money, and don't give him a clue."
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| − | [ST] Little Adder's grin is not entirely unsarcastic. "You got it. Though that old guy... I mean... he ain't even got a beard." Adder scratches at his own sparse chin hair. "What kinda man don't have a beard?"
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| − | [Kekkonen] He grins a bit. "Its a southern thing." he gets up, time to leave, before banter made him kill one of them.
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| − | [ST] Four pairs of eyes track Kekkonen's every movement.
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| − | -----
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| − | [Kekkonen] Kekk saunters down the middle of the street, grinning over his shoulder at Otter. He hadn't told her the meeting place - good luck walking in front of him then! Still an eye for the street and its denizens. Run this clean, get the man, get the power.
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| − | [ST] Stone Street stands quiet under a night sky marked by only a few stars and the distant lights of an airboat drifting overhead. A weird luminous glow flickers over the streets here in the Dock district sometimes, from that mist-shrouded dock no one wants to speak of. Nightsnow is falling, though not thickly, and the wooden awnings and street sweepers keep the streets fairly free of
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| − | [ST] obstruction. Distant laughter from dockside taverns can be heard faintly.
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| − | [Otter] Otter keeps her chin lifted and her lips fixed in a faint sneer. She uses her short spear as though it were a walking stick, and tries to keep the gleam of excitement from her face. She changed into her least-favorite fur cloak for the expedition, a ratty old thing of beaverskins stitched together. "This is the place?" she says, not really asking.
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| − | [ST] Jonah trails behind Kekkonen, chatting quietly with Otter and blatantly coming onto her at least once or twice a minute no matter how she chooses to reply. Elk shadows the group from behind, slipping along adjoining alleys and side streets, a hunter in an urban landscape.
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| − | [ST] Kekkonen, out front, spots his man standing near a guttering nightfire. He is tall, well-muscled, with his dark hair in a single long braid that reaches halfway down his back. His face could be hewn of granite. It's not so much the pair of dark gloves he wears as the conscious suspicious glances he casts around that tip Kekkonen off.
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| − | [Kekkonen] A grin, and striding over. "Heres our man," he gives a friendly growl, feeling a bit triumphant. Father Winter might help these bastards if they'd messed up their end. More mercy there. "He holds up a pouch, overlarge and so rather thin looking. Something that he'd picked up over the years, bulges drew more attention.
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| − | [ST] The man reaches out for the pouch. "You said 30 up front," he says. "I'll take you once I see that. The three of you together?
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| − | [Otter] Otter's lip curls with distaste. "We are. Pay him his fee, Kekk."
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| − | [Kekkonen] "Thats not a problem," he tells the man firmly, "and learn to count money if you're going to get payed regular." He slings the pouch to the man, and waits impatiently for him to go through it.
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| − | [ST] The man sorts through the money clumsily, pulls a piece out, and tests it with his teeth before nodding in satisfaction and tucking the pouch away. No one looks for very long - such street-deals are common in this part of Icehome.
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| − | [ST] "All right," he says, already turning. "Follow me. And keep your eyes sharp, this ain't a good neighborhood."
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| − | [Kekkonen] "We're worse." He was still a bit annoyed at the laughter earlier.
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| − | [Otter] Otter licks her lips with anticipation. Unthinkingly, she glances back at Elk to share her excitement, and feels a sharp stab of disappointment when all she sees is Jonhar, who smirks at her in a way he no doubt believed was attractive. Her answering smile barely lifts the corner of her mouth, and she has to trot after Kekk to keep up.
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| − | [ST] The Boar probably takes a more circuitous route that is strictly necessary. Unseen by the others, Elk actually has to work a bit to keep pace. The man leads the Once Dead down a series of alleys, sometimes doubling back on his trail, and moving ever farther from the more civilized sections of town and toward the slums around Dock Four. Kekkonen finds himself rather closer to its faintly
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| − | [ST] luminous glow than he wished to get by the time the man stops before a broken down house that seems to slump like a tired old man.
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| − | [ST] it looks no different from the desolate wrecks on either side. Somewhere, the crying of a baby shows that people are actually living in this neighborhood, if not well.
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| − | [ST] "In there," the man says. "Up the stairs, through the door. He's armed, but there was nothin' we could do about that. I think the three of you should be able to take one old man."
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| − | [Kekkonen] He lays a hand on the mans shoulder. "We go in quiet. No need to knock and get our man all riled up. You get your money when we have him."
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| − | [ST] The man nods sagely, speaking quietly. "Ain't no lock. Not downstairs, at least."
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| − | [Kekkonen] "Now, which room" He flicks a hand at the sad windows above them. Easy enough to have one of them out one, come crashing it at the back if it dropped in the pot.
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| − | [ST] "Just one. At the end of the hall."
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| − | [Kekkonen] He waves a hand a bit more widely, so Elk could see, then got out his gloves, the ones made for violence, with spiky bits. It would be a fun night, or a short one.
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| − | [Kekkonen] "Lets go."
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| − | [ST] "Hell of a place to go to ground," Jonah grumbles. "Bet there's spiders n'shit in there."
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| − | [ST] "The least the ball-less old bastard could do was hide someplace nice."
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| − | [Otter] Otter didn't care about the spiders, but from what everyone had said, Jondar knew what he was doing. "Lead the way," she tells Kekk graciously.
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| − | [Otter] If he caught a sword in the gut, well, it would be Father Winter's judgment on him for attempting to rise above his station.
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| − | [Kekkonen] He opens the door, quiet like, and moves slow through the hall, rolling pressure on his feet slowly around their edges rather than placing it all down flat. If the floor was going to talk, it wouldn't be from him.
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| − | [Otter] She bites her lip and glances around as she follows him downward . The whole situation seemed sour, somehow. A deserter wouldn't stick around in Icehome unless he had good reason, she suspected. And lots of friends.
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| − | [ST] Once the Once Dead are a few steps into the forsaken house, it grows extremely dark. The weak light of the moonless night doesn't reach more than a few steps past the door. Enough to see that they stand in the desolate ruins of a common room. The stove that once stood in the corner is a rusted hunk of scrap now, and the hearth has been cold for a long, long time. Stairs lead upwards,
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| − | [ST] swiftly vanishing into utter darkness.
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| − | [ST] Jonah hangs back slightly, his hand alighting on Otter's elbow seemingly of its own volition.
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| − | [ST] Across the street, hidden in the shadows, Elk watches the Once Dead enter with a sense of vague trepidation.
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| − | [Kekkonen] Somehow the desolations of a town house got to him more than the woods at night. Familiar places, might be. Still, there was a prize at the end.
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| − | [Otter] It has to be a trap! Otter thinks triumphantly, as she peers through the gloom. They had not sold out their employer Jondar at all. That would steal any sweetness from Kekk's victory. She ignores the goosebumps shivering up her arm, untli she realizes it's Jonhar's touch.
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| − | [Otter] She bites down an angry rebuke. Let him squeeze her nervously if it would bring him courage.
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| − | [Kekkonen] "I hunt. I find him, I catch him." The whispered litany, barely breathed. He focuses on it up the stairs.
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| − | [ST] As Kekkonen ascends, he swiftly finds himself in complete darkness. His footing seems sure enough, but he can't see much of anything. No... wait... somewhere above, the faintest spot of light.
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| − | [Kekkonen] He wait, holding a hand out behind him, hopefully to stop those below. Wait for eyesight to adjust. Perfect place for a trap of course, if he wasn't the hunter.
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| − | [ST] Kekkonen continues onward as his eyes adjust, finding better footing on the steps. Jonah takes a heavy step below, cursing softly. Finally, Kekkonen pops his head up, finding the Once Dead at the end of a short, narrow hall. The spot of light on the wall above the stairs is coming from an open peephole in the door at the end of the hall.
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| − | [ST] It seems to be closed, if less so than the doors on either side of the hall, which have been nailed shut.
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| − | [Kekkonen] He waits, watches, till the light is running to his eyes. Nothing there. He smiles a cruel smile, and creeps upwards, opening and closing his hands. Fist and hand, different purposes in the same tool. To the door, quiet-like.
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| − | [ST] The hall stands quiet as Kekkonen creeps forward. Nothing stirs.
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| − | [Otter] Otter does her best to move as silently . She is blushingly conscious of the creak of her tread upon the steps and the low pant of her breath. Her flying squirrel is a warm fuzzy spot under her hood, and that helps. She follows Kekk, knowing better than to speak.
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| − | [Kekkonen] He makes the door, then grins back at Otter for a moment. Ha. He waits for her, and Jonah behind. Then the door, time for the excitement to start.
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| − | [ST] Jonah waits at the stairs, looking anxiously from side to side, where there is nothing to see but plaster walls. As Kekkonen advances in front of Otter, he blocks much of the light.
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| − | [ST] Kekkonen tries the door. The knob doesn't turn.
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| − | [Kekkonen] He curls his lip. Not a good time to curse. He glances at the other doors, nailed close sure, but how securely? Animal instinct satisfied, he gives the door his shoulder.
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| − | [ST] Kekkonen slams his shoulder into the door firmly. There's a deep, solid thump - and then a click on the other side as the lever braced against the door snaps and the counterweight swings into place. Balanced on the end of a tensed wooden arm, a steel spike three feet long tears through the air, and the door, and-
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| − | [ST] slams into his thigh, stabbing deeply into the meat there and slamming him against one of the side walls.
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| − | [Otter] Otter sucks in a sharp breath. "Fuck," she whispers.
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| − | [ST] At the same moment, there is a high, whistling sound, and a rusty metal portcullis crashes down from the ceiling at the end of the hall near the stairs. Jonah is separated from Otter and Kekkonen - but not neatly. He gives a sudden, shrill scream as he looks down and sees that one of the pointed tines of the portcullis has pierced his foot, pinning it to the floor.
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| − | [Kekkonen] "Aggh, fuck!" he yells. The most reaction he can manage, before the pain sets in and he can't really pronounce things.
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| − | [Otter] "Fox and Bear, I knew this was a trap!" Otter shouts, lowering the point of her spear and looking frantically around for something to should could stick it into.
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| − | [Kekkonen] Screaming takes something out of a man. He planned to empty a lot of bastards for this,
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| − | [ST] Heavy footfalls sound on the stairs below, and behind the door that Kekkonen triggered. It flies open, and a trio of Boar gangsters, each wearing patchwork armor and black armbands, swarm out.
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| − | [ST] "[[MotherFUCKER]]!" Jonah screams, trying uselessly to tug his foot free.
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| − | [Kekkonen] he jerks himself off the spike, time to worry about wounds and arteries later. "Fucking mistake!" he promises them, tasting blood in his mouth - bitten lip, tongue, or dying? He was at the door already, so he takes the first one to it, a large woman armed with long knives, swords maybe if she knew what she was doing, but knives to her fist.
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| − | [Kekkonen] he grasps at one with a hand, no-one expected you to grab a blade, a cut up hand, through a thick glove, was better than being dead. He twisted it to the side and planted a fist firm into her stomach, grinding the cestus in quickly and then sending another fist behind. Her guard to her stomach, he snaps her head up with a compact hook to her cheek.
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| − | [Kekkonen] Armor held enough for the stomach to escape, but momentary pain dropped her guard regardless. He didn't catch much of her cheek, mostly cosmetic damage. But she'd be turning eyes for the wrong reasons now, cheek all torn up.
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| − | [ST] Jonah draws his slashing blade with a free hand, looking wide eyed with terror down the stairs, where the footfalls of more approaching enemies can be heard.
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| − | [ST] Grimacing, he closes his eyes and jerks his leg back towards him as hard as he can.
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| − | [ST] His foot tears free with a sickening squelch, and the momentum carries him into the far wall. Blood sprays across the floor, soaking into dusty floorboards.
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| − | [Otter] "I knew it!" Otter chants, as she hops from foot to foot. "I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!" Her triumphant dance seems unhindered by the squat man with a heavy ax in front of her. He glares at her. His eyes are tiny and dim, set beneath a thick and heavy brow. By the manner of his garb, he might have been one of her own people, save that the People kept themselves clean.
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| − | [Otter] "Stop dancing," he growls at her through a thick Icewalker accent. She grins at him, calls him a fool in his own language. When he charges she pivots out of the way, letting him impale himself with his own momentum. She wrinkles her nose at the stale smell of beer that rises from his garments.
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| − | [Otter] He groans, hands groping uselessly at the spear sprouting from his chest. He chokes and spits out a mix of blood and bile all over her front. Otter's eyes widen and she kicks at him, jerking frantically to free her spear. It comes loose with a wet splurchy noise, and a scream. She backs away from the man still kicking and moaning on the floor, her face white and her spear clutched to her more as a doll than a weapon.
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| − | [Otter] She looks up.
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| − | [ST] The woman wounded by Kekkonen glowers at him through her mask of blood, sweeping her swords up in an intricate pattern. She springs, hacking away at him with the twin blades, loud grunts of breath rasping from her armored chest.
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| − | [ST] The last of the trio moves past where Kekkonen and the woman fight, shouting out in wordless rage at Otter. Unlike the other man, he is shorter, wiry, quick moving, his eyes bright and angry, the blade of his knife grimy with rust and dirt.
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| − | [ST] He feints to the left, and then lunges, knife slashing for Otter's guts.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Her aunt's lessons stand her in good stead. She catches it automatically on the haft of her spear and pushes him back.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] A pair of men charge up the stairs, squaring off with the cornered Jonah. One waves a vicious gaff hook, the other a chopping blade. Jonah's eyes flicker between the two nervously.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] he lurches to the side of the first sword, and tries to catch the followups on the backs of his hands - enough metal on the gloves to stop a sword without bad luck.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The ceiling shifts - there is the clattering of planks, and two holes suddenly appear. Murder holes. Kekkonen hears the harsh laugh of Little Adder.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "My friends, what fools you are. The Boars NEVER break their word."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "'I've done this as noisily as possible,' he said. 'They'll come to you. They'll ask. You'll finish them,' he said. Guess that old man ain't too fucking stupid after all, is he?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "I knew it," Otter whispers, looking at the dead man at her feet. Fire lights in her eyes. He had tried to kill her! "Not him, maybe." She says, looking upward. She hefts the spear, wipes blood off her face. "You? Absolutely."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] Holes in the ceiling. Can't get there yet. Have to trust Elk with that. He leans into the woman, letting a sword pass behind and starts throwing compact, hard punches into her body, mostly to distract her. Then a grinding fist into a thigh, and the push begins, rushing her, trying to get the two of them through the doorway. Can't stay under those holes.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] He manages to get her back, gasping at the pain of pushing off his ragged thigh, and then shifts throwing his weight and her to the side, onto the spike still jutting by the door.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] She stumbles, surprised by the deep tearing in her thigh, and that is all he needs to bull her to the door. They stagger into the frame together, and the spike shoots out almost spitting him in the chest. Of course, there wasn't much of it left, the rest passing through her. He sags into the room, leaning on the door for a moment.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Damn it!" Jonah screams, lunging at the two Boars menacing him. His slender blade darts out, slashing smoothly even as his foot leaves a ragged trail of blood behind him.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] One of the attackers falls back, nursing a cut on his cheek.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Kekk could handle himself. Jonah was an idiot, and his foot was wounded besides. She runs towards the portculis and thrusts her spear through the bars, letting momentum slide the spear through her fingers and into the side of one of Jonah's attackers. Just as the spear is about to escape her hand entirely, she tightens her fingers again, jerking back. A spray of blood follows the motion.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She grabs a javelin from her thigh and whips it through the bars at the head of the other one.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] The javelin clangs uselssly against the stone and falls. And the Boar begins to jeer; he jerks back and stutters to silence as his comrade sways, an arterial vein opened in her throat. She sinks silently to her knees and falls face forward.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Kekkonen looks up and finds his problems are just beginning. The room is desolate, covered with scattered crates and refuse and what looks like a deck of wooden cards. From the arrangement, the Boars had been having themselves one hell of a game of Jump the Moon - and it can only be played with five players.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] This thought occurs to him about the time he turns his head and sees the slender young woman leaning over one of the crates, and the barrel of the flame piece in her hand. The black hole seems a foot wide, and then it flares bright. A tongue of flame darts through the air, lighting the crates aflame, crisping the wooden cards to ash.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The remaining Boar facing Jonah cries out in rage, deciding to visit his anger for his fallen friend upon the man before him. He springs, swiping his hook at Jonah's face and chest.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Jonah grunts in pain, crimson running down his left side from a cut between his shoulder and neck.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The final Boar on the other side of the portcullis, the wiry man with the dirty knife, hisses in rage at Otter.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Gonna kill you, bitch," he whispers thinly. "Gonna kill you, kill you, KILL YOU!" He lunges, knife seeking her throat.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] A babble of voices ring out upstairs.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Do it!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter's eyes widen in alarm. More on instinct than anything else, she lunges backwards, pulling the spear with her. The knife skids along the haft and she takes another step back.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Rand's still down t-"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Fuck him!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] And a pearly sphere tumbles from the hole and rolls to a stop almost at Otter's feet.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] He heaves himself off the door, taking only the edge of the licking flame. Too far to reach her, and her up some boxes, hard to punch at an opponent above effectively. he grabs at his javelins instead, flicking them out one after another, trying to pin the bitch to the ceiling. He spares a moments though for closing the door behind, keep whatever was coming through the murder holes away from him. But Killing Otter was no
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] No way to lead a mission.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] He did pin her to the ceiling, somewhat. The second javelin went fight through a fatty part of the stomach and a half inch into the wood of the ceiling, even stayed for a half second before the weight of the body pulled it off. The third had gone through her chest, harder going and more effective.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Jonah, blood gushing down his side, staggers towards the last remaining Boar on his side of the gate, his blade sweeping up for a cut at the other's neck.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] But the handle of his weapon has grown slick with his blood, and the weapon flies from his grasp, clattering off the walls. The Boar hurriedly moves to cut Jonah off from the blade.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter looks curiously down at the stone at her feet. She leans down and picks it up. "What's this?" she asks curiously, staring upwards at the murder holes. When there's no answer, she shrugs, and tosses it through the portcullis and down the stairs.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She unslings another javelin, bites her lip, and throws it at Jonah. Foolish man. He was always in trouble.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] The javelin buries itself in the Boar's left eye. He staggers and collapses atop the Once Dead blade.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Jonah shoots Otter a grateful look. Above there is the crash of breaking glass, and a cry of alarm "What the-?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The entire building shakes as the stairwell explodes in a tower of flame. Shrapnel and splinters of wood whistle through the air, and the sudden rush of air snaps the portcullis.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Otter barely manages to dodge back as it crashes to the floor.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] A large splinter slams into Jonah's thigh - he collapses with a cry.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Alone, isolated, his companions slain before him, a saner man might flee. But the Boar facing down Otter has proven himself to be nowhere close. With a sharp cry, he hurls himself at her one last time, filthy blade slashing wildly.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Above, the screams and shouts continue
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She smacks in the stomach with the butt of her spear and lowers the point of it to his throat. "Surrender!" she shouts as the building shakes.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] Surrender. Idiocy. Hell, there were still enemies up the holes. He slid another javelin out of his quiver, and shot it past her, taking some time so as not to hit her. The enemy didn't see him, probably stunned from the blast, didn't realize he was going to die.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] It took him through the throat, ripping it out, and he had some time now to realize. The screaming was all from above now.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "Gross." Otter steps back involuntarliy.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] A body tumbles through the hole, the hilt of a hunting knife jutting from its eye.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] And then from above comes the voice of Little Adder, pleading
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Fuck! Fuck! Enough! I give up, I'll tell you anything... friends... just... stop... stop."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "What do you think?" Elk calls down from above, his voice muffled.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "We need the information!" Otter calls up.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] And she thought she might vomit if she got any more blood on her.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Jonah staggers away from the flames that still flicker around the staircase, slowly spreading.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She looks at him. This was her team. That meant his hurt was her fault, didn't it? "Lean on me," she says, with guilt-sharpened kindness. "We'll get out of here, and then we''ll look at that..those..wounds."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] Kekk is gathering his javelins, moving slower now, hobbling a bit, but still with haste. "We have to get out fast, before the fire spreads much." he glanced around for window - didn't much like the look of the stairs.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "Elk, can you help pull Jonah up?" They sure as damn hell couldn't take the stairs. She wondered which of the dead had been the witch to make hte flames.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Yeah," Elk calls down flatly. "You, on the floor. Don't move." A moment later, his face appears at the hole, his cut cheek bleeding freely.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter grimaces. "Climb up my back, Jonah. Then Kekk."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] Kekk staggers over to a window, looking down. might be easier to get himself out here rather then going up before down.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] After helping Jonah up - and getting more blood on herself in the process - Otter pulls herself up into the room above. The eaves of the roof meet about fifteen feet above her head, and the room is cool and close to uncomfortable, but is more well lit and appointed than the rest of the house. Feather mattresses, dirty but soft-looking, rest against the far wall. Another corpse is here, a
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] knife buried in its throat, and the man who surrendered lies face down in the corner, hardly daring to move. Near the three holes are three more of the curious exploding stones.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Kekkonen stares down on mostly empty streets. No figures are moving below. One good thing about the fire - if any of the Boars are waiting around down there, they'll have a hard time getting past it.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter looks at them. Looks at Elk. "I'll be VERY careful," she promises, and helps herself to them.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] Good, not too manny people out. He didn't much want to be seen around in this state. Especially in this area, where they were more likely to be jumped for their weapons than helped.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She keeps the witchstones carefully seperate.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "How hard is it going to be to get to another building?" she asks Elk, peering out a window.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "There's a way out up here," Elk calls down to Kekkonen. "Some summer streets go past the window - they're a- a little icy, though. Are you all - Autumn's tits, Jonah, you look like hell."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Back... at you..." Jonah grunts.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "Then lets go," Otter says sharply. "Kekk's near as bad." She supposed that was her fault too.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] "This window is god. We need to get clear now, no time for me to come up." He yells back. He thought he knew about where they'd come out. It was even almost on the way to the stockhouse. If he couldn't find them, he;'d make it there. Or die in the streets, but better than burning here.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "What about this... thing?" Elk asks, cocking his head at the prone Adder. For the moment, he seems not to notice the tension between them.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] He elbowed the shutter fully open, then gingerly pulled his wounded leg over the sill, and then followed with the other, catching the sill with his hands. He lowered himself as far as he could, then tried to find handholds to get closer to the street before he'd have to jump. The landing would mess up his thigh farther than he wanted.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "Fuck. I suppose we have to take her with us." She takes a deep breath. "All right. You go first, take Jonah. I'll bring the criminal mooserat."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] As Elk helps Jonah to the window, she levers up Adder, a knife at the mooserat's throat. "You give me any trouble, just remember- I've gotta pocket full of witchstones. Ask Elk if I'm ever afraid to be impulsive."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The little man narrows his eyes, but refrains from saying anything. Elk gives a brief chuckle. Jonah bleeds. The summer street outside is no proper avenue like one would find in the Old Market, but a rickety wooden catwalk, slick with ice, that winds between the upper floors of these hovels.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Kekkonen lands in the snow with a soft thud, nearly losing his footing.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Fortunately, the second story of the building hadn't been that high up, and he avoids injuring himself too badly. Steam billows from his mouth and the wound on his leg. Blood sprinkles the snow.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] As they gather in the snow a bare block away, Otter keeps her horror behind a stony face. She can see bits of bone when Jonah flexes his leg stumping down. "We need to bind up those wounds," she says pleasantly. "I know Elk's no medicine-maker, so that leaves unless either of you bruisers are a shaman whose been keeping it real quiet."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Not me," Elk says, keeping his eyes locked on the captive Adder. "Don't try to run, you've seen how I can throw these knives."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] kekkonen staggers around the block as fast as he can manage, trying to reach the others. He ignores the pulses of blood melting the snow around him.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Her hands are numb with cold, and mercifully steady as she cuts cloth away from the bottom of her shirt. She sprinkles a little bit of sweetflower leaf into Jonah's largest wound and sets to work.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Don't... need..." Jonah protests, gushing more blood as the group winds its way down to the street. "Annar... can..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "Not unless he can bring a corpse to life," she says, pushing him down.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She wraps the cloth painfully tight around his leg and shoulder.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Kekkonen is, blessedly, not pursued, and soon finds himself within sight of the others, who have stopped to tend Jonah's wounds.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] It wasn't enough. Blood still poured from his foot, and he'd lost so much already. She hurriedly cuts more cloth from her shirt and wraps it around his foot, keeping pressure on it until it stops bleeding. "Bet this isn't how you thought you'd get my shirt off," she says, then blushes.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] "Fucking me next," he gasps as he staggers to the others.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Disaster made her vulgur, she supposed.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She turns and pales. He'd left a trail of red flowers behind him in the snow. "Damn it-"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Jonah chuckles weakly as Otter binds him up. "Well... any... way... counts..." Only the wound on his thigh remains.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She grits her teeth. "I'll get back to you. I need to help Kekk." Abandoning modesty for the time being, she drops her cloak and shucks off her outer shirt. It was fine cotten, traded for from far outside the southern lands. Already much damaged, she shreds it further with her knife. She catches Kekk as he follows and helps him lean against the building.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "Damn it- damn it - damn it-" she wished she'd listened more to Old Grommit when he taught her.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The gushing wound in Kekkonen's thigh is among the worst. Otter has to actually sew it closed, clumsily, fumblingly. Annar will probably look at it later and gasp in horror, but the wound closes. She tends to Kekkonen's other wounds quickly, judging him the more severe case, before returning to Jonah. But by now she's grown tired, and her hands slip, and her knife sinks awkwardly into the
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] last wound, widening it.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] He sinks back against the building. "We fucking killed them at least. Most of them," he amends, noticing Adder. "Gonna have me some fun with you." He smiles bloody through the pain.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Guilt almost freezes her. She glances at Jonah's face. His eyes are shut and his teeth set against the pain. She's slower now, more careful, and the last wound is closed as neatly and perfectly as at a surgeon's table.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "L-listen, friends," Adder begins nervously. "All of you are alive. All my friends are dead. How angry can you... really be? Hells, we didn't think..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Jonah smiles thinly, barely clinging to consciousness.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] "Did a good job, eh, Otter," he flexes his leg, testing, and almost faints from the pain. Blood seeps through the stitches and stains the bandage red to match his pants. "Suits better than the other color," he tries to laugh.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] Nothing really says whether he was speaking of his own leadership, or her stitching. "All still alive."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] Except for the situation.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Unless they catch fever and die, Otter thinks. But not saying that aloud was part of being Chief. "So you are."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Her eyes shift to Adder. "You're going to the black cells beneath the tomb, you," she tells him. "Hope that's all that'll happen to you."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "Come on, back home now. You two need proper care."
| |
| − | | |
| − | -----
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter dallied outside the surgeon's office for a long while. She'd put on another shirt- roughspun this time, she learned- and was back in her sealpup coat. She'd scrubbed her hands and face as the surgeon worked on Johan and Kekk, scrubbed them until they were pink and even her nails were clean of blood.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] There's a crushed look that never quite leaves her eyes as she waited for news, like a hurt puppy.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] The surgeon doesn't think they're ready for visitors, but Otter had never let anyone say no to her if she could help it, and at last he throws up his hands and gets out of her way. Jonah is sleeping, so she leaves him be. It takes a bit of steeling herself to face Kekk, but she pushes open the door to his room and slides inside nevertheless.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She is unusually timorous.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] kekkonen is asleep as well, the odd spectacle of Beast lying across the bed, across Kekk, lengthwise since he wouldn't fit otherwise, seems not to bother the staff.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She hesitates. There was no particular reason for her to bother waking him up. No reason aside from her own impatience.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] He is snoring slightly - a good sign? Beast is laying over one of Kekkonens legs, and his stomach, but none of his weight is on the badly wounded thigh.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Her fingers it to shake him awake, but she masters herself. She approaches quietly and reaches out to pet the dog.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] He raises a shaggy head to look rather evill at her. His ears flatten slightly and his lip curls just slightly, showing some tooth. His dog apparently, doesn't respect her as a leader.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Her squirrel emerges from its hiding place to chitter angrily. "I'll come back later," she tells the dog coldly.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She speaks a little too loudly, as she always does.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] Kekkonen himself stirs slightly, apparently better enough to sleep lightly. "Waszat?" he mutters, groggy. Normally he'd be sitting up, all piercing eyes. But normally Beast didn't sleep on him.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "You're awake!" Otter says cheerily. She glares at the dog and moves to stand by Kekk's head. It surely wasn't her fault if he woke up because of the dog. "How are you feeling?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] "Bit cheerful, are you?" he asks, looking up at her. He is pale, drawn, and looks a weaker man than he had even hours before with his lifes-blood splashing out of him.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] "I'll live. Up and about soon, I'm sure." He doesn't look sure, more afraid of a long stay at the doctors, of his leg turning green and falling off. Death to an active man who lives by brawn and hasn't yet had time to make himself the leader he wants to be.
| |
| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "You're not dead, are you?" Otter says, but her tone isn't as resentful as her words. She takes a steadying breath and claspes her head in front of her. "I came to apologize."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] He moves a hand feebly, trying to wave or something. "Annar said your cack-handed stitching got me to him alive." He smiles thinly. "Not like the scar's gonna matter, it'll be hidden till its too late anyways."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "Oh, not about that. I'm not sorry to have saved your life." She waves it away dismissively. "It was my responsibility. But I was wrong not to have insisted we take more precautions when we met with the Boar. I knew it was a trap, but I recklessly allowed you to spring it. It was poor leadership, and you got hurt because it. I apologize."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She inclines her head to him slightly.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] His face livens slightly. "I led us into that." He seems almost proud of it, not willing to let go of even that moment of power. Not that his eyes are untroubled.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "You took us there," Otter agrees hesitantly, looking puzzled. "It's a shame you both nearly-" she coughs. Well. She takes another deep breath, and her hands twist together. "There is another matter I wish to...that is....I need advice," she blurts out finally.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] He settles back slightly, relieved at the conversation shift or too weak to protest. "What?" Not harshly said, but not as a friend either.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "I don't know who else to talk to," she says defensively, belatedly realizing how strange it was to ask a man almost on his deathbed. "I don't know anyone here, and anyway you're too weak right now to be of use to anyone."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "It's just...well....you're a man..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Not a promising beginning. She rushes out, "How would you react if the woman you were betrothed to - that is, used to be betrothed to- if she slept with someone else?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She collapses in the chair beside his bed and pulls up her legs up under her and looks at him moodily. "It's just El- I mean, someone- doesn't like me. And my cousin Swift Deer always said if your man didn't...well..., the thing to do is to- to make him jealous."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] He wheezes a chuckle. "yes . . still that, worried for a while, couldn't feel where the wound was. Trust Jondar to set the trap at that height."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] He sighs a long sigh. "If it were me, I'd probably kill one of them, whichever was nearest. T'other hand, I've never been 'betrothed.' My face isn't much luck for more than whores."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] "I don't know whats between you and your man, but you'd best be careful of what he might do if he's jealous."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter's face is cherry-red. She sighs. "What I WANT him to do is say he's sorry," she mutters. "And get on his knees and beg me to come back, and, and- stop talking to me about what's in the stupid packs!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] "Well, he isn't like to do that less he is sorry, so maybe you make him sorry."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Her eyes brighten. "So I SHOULD seduce Jek! He'll be sorry then!" she exclaims.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] "Jek . . Jek might not be the best idea." And wouldn't take much in the way of seduction, if he knew the man well as he thought.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Jonhar was badly wounded, Miruna was practically spotted with age, and the woman with the giant sword scared her. "Who, then?" she asks thoughtlessly. " I don't know any one else, who's not, well, gross."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] He settles back slightly. He knew, of course, but it was always hard to put down hope. Maybe he'd beat some sense into Elk for fun. Or maybe Elk had the right idea and he'd beat him anyway.
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| − | | |
| − | [Kekkonen] "How about Rabbit?" she'd always seemed well enough. He tried not to make a thing of it as he said it, might be embarassing. He knew with her, too.
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| − | [Otter] Otter makes a face. "I already ran her out of Elk's bed. It'd be awkward." She sighs. "Maybe I should just drink lots of grasswine and see what happens. That's how my cousin always..." she trails off. Her cousin had always been a little bit of an embarassment.
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| − | [Kekkonen] "Faster just to jump Jek, or Miruna I guess depending on how you are drunk, how drunk he is. If Elk wants no part of you, why do you want a part of him?" Not that he didn't understand that, he just didn't understand it with Elk.
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| − | [Otter] "It's hard to put into words. I just- We're perfect for each other. I can feel it in my bones. I loved him ever since I first laid eyes on him, when we were hardly more than children. He was hanging back from the others, shy, but when he looked at me with those eyes, I KNEW." She smiles a little mistily.
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| − | [Otter] "We were meant to be."
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| − | [Otter] "He has the most gorgeous eyes," she sighs.
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| − | [Kekkonen] "I know a bit about hunting. He seems to be running from you faster than you can catch 'im. So you want him to come to you, lure him, like. So you might not want to drive him away." He thought he could perhaps see Elk's problem. That was an aweful lot of expectation, and Elk hadn't seemed the lad to amount to it.
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| − | [Otter] "Like hunting juice-beetles..." Otter says thoughtfully, transferring her gaze from the distant horizon back to Kekk's face. Her eyes are brighter. "That's a good plan!" She feels a bit contrite, looking at him, so worn and still talking with her. Impulsively, she leans down to kiss his cheek. "Thank you! That's just what I'll do!"
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| − | [Otter] Once Elk relaxed a little bit, he'd be sure to fall in love with her. And hunting those two ravens who flew away was just the trip to make it happen on.
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| − | [Kekkonen] He looked a bit worried. Well, maybe he knew how to lead after all. He'd thought today had been a good plan too, but even the best made mistakes.
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| − | [Otter] She jumps to her feet. "Now rest and get better," she tells him sternly, just as she imagined her aunt would to one of her warriors. She practically floats away, cheeks flushed with anticipation.
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