Uncomfortable with the prospect of 'keeps', Gristav offers, "Lurrera sudurra! Erruki bada aurkitzen!", even as he wills wyrding weft to the wood of his grey stave.
From where he stands, clear of the hostiles, he conjures a bolt of frost at the man staggering from Braddon's bastard sword, hoping both to end his threat to them, and Braddon's burgeoning probability of cleaving the man in twain...
Stepping toward the target, Gristav spins his staff in the feint of a lemniscate lunge as he closes, before taking the staff in both hands, for a batlike bash...
The thug who disarmed Snake has barely had time to grin unpleasantly at his triumph before Braddon's blade cuts a deep furrow into his side. Gaping down at the spurting blood, he looks back up uncomprehendingly just in time to catch Gristav's ray full in the face. His beard frosting over with arcane hoar on the warm summer night, he collapses to the ground beside Snake's still-glowing staff.
Completing his offensive, Gris directs the more mundane portion of his attack at the fallen thug's companion, his strike true but the strength behind it somewhat diminished by his last-second change of direction.
Phillip smooths his mustache with his free hand before replying "Words are chosen based on how the speaker thinks the listener will view them... I'm sure that Olin would speak words that he would think would engender the whore's favor, and Taffy would respond with phrases chosen to cultivate further visitation."
"Marce carries a weight with him that is heavier than that an itinerant woodworker should bear... of that I am fairly certain. As far as I can discern though his intent is pure and care sincere."
She smirks. "I suppose I'd never considered that Olin might have hidden depths." Exiting the ferry on the west bank of the river, the pair allow themselves to be carried along by the rest of the crowd toward the glittering lights of Free-Coin. "Marce, on the other hand...," she trails off. "Do you suppose he has a girl on the side as well? A family out in the country somewhere that he's working to support? I don't know why he wouldn't tell us ... I mean, since he's apparently not looking to play the bachelor in town."
Snake curses from the stabbing pain within his arm as he reaches for the blade. Feeling activity within his backpack, Lucky rises out to see what's happening. "Oh so now you decide to get moving," he mutters through the pain. "Don't worry, buddy... I got this. Get down and behind me... prepare to run if you have to. Just like last...," he stops, not real sure where that came from as his attention is immediately taken by Braddon striking the thug nearest him just before Gristav unleashes some form of "ice" ray at him, dropping him like a rock. Snake recovers in enough time to pull the blade out, take a step back, and bring his own magic to bear.
Wrenching the blade out of his own bloody shoulder with a grimace, Snake steps away from the fray and casts a spell of protection.
The leader of the thugs steps out from behind the foot of the arch and throws his second dagger after the first one, but this missile goes whistling by the witch's ear. As the second blade disappears from his hand, he quickly draws a sap like the others.
The other man tries to lay his sap aside Gristav's ear but is distracted by the nearness of Braddon and the demonstrated lethality of his oversized blade. The half-elf easily ducks away from the arc of the blow, and the thug backs off nervously.
Braddon charges forward to meet the leader and keep his nervous companion distracted from Gristav.
The large blade firmly gripped in both Braddon's hands lashes out at the leader.
Brraddon charges forward, blade first, and drives his sword deep into the Varisian's chest beneath his arm. The man grunts, blinks a few times, then slides slowly backward off the blade, the sap falling from his hand as he crumples to the ground.
Gristav winces at the iklwa sound, perhaps the first to mourn the mangled moronic mastermind of the muggers. For all he knew, the last as well. But the mortal game progressed, and he knighted his path toward a merciful mate...
"Bakea eta errukia, eskaintzen dira.", he said.
"Eta berriro ere, eskaintzen dira."
"Hau da, azken aldiz, eskaintzen dira."
And again, offered.
This is, the last time, offered."
The terror is as clear in the man's eyes as the beads of sweat on his brow in the arcane light. His eyes dart from Braddon blocking one path of escape to Gris on the other side, then over his shoulder to the road leading to Devil's Fork and the Gendarmes. Indecision coalesces into commitment to a desperate gambit ... but Gristav is ready in that split-second.
"Marce, on the other hand...," she trails off. "Do you suppose he has a girl on the side as well? A family out in the country somewhere that he's working to support? I don't know why he wouldn't tell us ... I mean, since he's apparently not looking to play the bachelor in town."
Keeping a half eye on their surrounds now that Free-Coin had swallowed them within it's midsts Phillip purses lips in thought before shaking his head "I wouldn't think so... he strikes me as a more moral halfling than that. I do not doubt he has secrets... but I don't believe that that is one of them... but on to matters of import. Now that we are within the throng... what eatery calls?"
The terror is as clear in the man's eyes as the beads of sweat on his brow in the arcane light. His eyes dart from Braddon blocking one path of escape to Gris on the other side, then over his shoulder to the road leading to Devil's Fork and the Gendarmes. Indecision coalesces into commitment to a desperate gambit ... but Gristav is ready in that split-second.
"Did you not observe, we've magics and bows?", Gristav asks the swooning street-agent.
"These city Varisi, they aren't as clever as the Caravari who taught me the language...", Gristav says, hoping to catch Snake's eye, and guide it to the fallen, still hoping Mercy might be found, among the Nights Graces.
As the last attacker begins to make his desperate break, Gristav's staff intercedes with a resounding crack against his skull. Nerveless, the Varisian's limbs buckle beneath him, leaving him an inelegant heap beside his companions on the dirt of the road.
Snake catches Gristav's motion and doesn't catch on or just flat out doesn't care - difficult to tell for one such as he - as he moves over to the one who threw the knife and impaled him. He bends at the knees, places the knife at his throat, letting it remain there a moment before simply dropping it on the man's chest. Rising, he moves to gather his staff before addressing the others. "I say we let 'em bleed. They brought this upon themselves. They sure as heck won't be bothering anyone else if we do. Unless you two have a reason as to why I shouldn't. And you'd better make it quick... that one doesn't have a lot of time." He motions to the dagger thrower before looking to them both, curious if there is any reason as to why he should not just let them die.
Braddon shrugs.
"Let 'em live. Sure, they deserved it, but it's probably better if we don't have the guard after us asking too many questions even if we can convince them we're in the right."
Braddon kneels down to the nearest body, cuts away a pants leg and clumsily ties it around the wound.
"Also gives us a chance to go through their pockets," he jokes, wiping the blood from his hands.
"Why surrender them to dark Powers, when you might show them Light?", Gristav asks. "None can learn, if none will teach.", he says, and it's clear to Snake, this is a conversation Gristav has had before. At least with himself.
Gristav does what he might, without training or Arts, unless and until his companions evidence or act in proof of a contrary opinion.
"Not every trio waylaying travelers deserves death.", Gristav says from over his hopeful healer's hands. "Find the Mercy in your heart, and wake, a better man."
"Mercy? Manage to wake up in a pool of your own blood caused by thugs like this, and then maybe you can tell me more about mercy." He narrows his eyes as if concentrating on something far away, finding himself becoming angry at the conversation. Snake then moves to tend to another of the thugs so as to change the subject. "I can heal them; but you better get them tied up or restrained. We don't want 'em getting up and tryin' to kill us again."
"This one had had his spirit broken. Awaken him, and he's already chosen to be no threat to us. Whether he'd take on the burden of care for his fellows, is unknown. But he'd listen to what we might teach. The others, awakened from what they might have thought death, with evidence of magical healing? Braddon opened one's belly, and another's heart. Perhaps we might find them open of mind, as well."
"Here, wake the least worn, and we'll charge him with the care of the others. He can witness magics to prove them out-classed, and by his witness help calm the others. We still need Lubbertown's good grace. We've proven strength, now let us prove good will."
Braddon drops to a knee to check the injuries of the thug he ran through but finds that the wound was a clean one and the blood has already begun to clot against the cloth of his shirt. Snake rolls the one who disarmed him off of his still-glowing staff and stuffs the homespun fabric of his shirt into the jagged gash cut beneath his arm by Braddon's sword. Gristav similarly tends to the man whose skull he cracked, but shifting the man's head to bandage it only causes the blood to flow more freely; he wraps it anyway, hoping the swaddling will make up for the jostling.
Snake nods to Gristav but not before he checks the pockets of the thug he's tending to -- mainly checking for concealed weapons but not hesitant about removing anything else they might possess that may prove of interest. Once done with that, he'll move over to the one spoken about and remove any such objects from him as well if Gristav hasn't already. "Once you're done checking that one for weapons or whatever else, Braddon, I'll mend this one." As soon as Braddon gives the okay, he lays a healing hand upon the unconscious thug, his eyes glowing that familiar bluish white as the power flows through him.
In addition to their weapons and armor, the men each carry a small money pouch. The man Gristav felled has 9 silver pieces; the one with the frosty beard has 17 silver coins and a well-worn gold piece. The leader whom Braddon ran through has 14 silver coins in his purse; in another pocket Braddon finds a small vial and a handkerchief knotted around three small gems that sparkle in the light: one dark and metallic, one a spotted blue, and the third and largest a milky white.
Pockets emptied, Snake turns his attention to the third thug, calling on his uncanny abilities to heal him. The man groans and opens his eyes, at first blearily, then widely with alarm as he finds himself prone and surrounded by enemies. "What-- what do you want?" he asks in fear, trying to inch away on his elbows.
As the thug stirs awake, Snake rises and the pain in his shoulder reminds him it's still there. Grimacing, he places a hand upon the injury and allows the healing to flow once again.
As the pain subsides, he looks down at the squirming thug. "You know, you were a lot tougher a moment ago. Funny how attitudes change when the circumstances do. Just be glad we didn't let you die, punk."
"It was debated.", Gristav admits, extending a hand to caution the thug from flight. "Witness, you're alive, and your fellows too, even the one who threw that dagger." Gristav is distracted from his point-making by Snake's repeated blue-eyed healing, but he recovers, and continues, "He's the talker, so probably imagines himself the leader? Biggest share, starts the fight from safe behind you fellows? Gems in his pockets, silver in yours... not even a whole gold. He's a fool, picking a fight with even odds, and better arms. But you're whatever followed that fool. Tonight. Tomorrow, follow your own path. And if you see any of us again, remember, you started the fight, we ended the fight, and could have ended you. Approach us next time with an empty hand...", Gristav extends his own hand, as though to help the thug up. "And you'll find you do better."
Ethel leads Phillip past The Lone Hippocampus where they ate last, its sign depicting a sea-green creature like an aquatic horse, further up into the heart of Free-Coin to a restaurant called The Cabin Boy. "They serve exotic dishes," she explains, "made from ingredients brought in from far-off lands." Sure enough, the menu offers such delicacies as reindeer meatballs from Kalsgard, Chelish cassoulet,
A smile resting lightly upon his lips and a twinkle in his eye Phillip raises an eyebrow "In a mind for more exotic fare this evening then? Lead on Ms Braum, lead on... I'll be more than happy led astray."
Once within he searches out something light and not borne of the sea to quell his hunger, and seeks a stout glass of port to quell his thirst.
After looting the fallen, Braddon has no qualms about treading on their captive's hand as he tries to shuffle backwards.
"Did Zincher send you to kill us? If so, tell him we're prepared to kill every thug he sends our way until no one will ever work for him again."
Braddon begins to grind the man's hand under the boot then stops suddenly.
"Or are you just a pack of idiots trying to mug professional mercenaries for some of the biggest crime lords this side of Cheliax? Tell me everything. No rush."
He grins.
Gristav chuckles at Braddon's byplay. "He's cranky, he thought his gram was dead. That's why we're here, seeing after her."
"These aren't Zincher's", Gris says to Snake, "This one's too smart by half. The idiot was the one threw the dagger. After that, long habit and good loyalty can make a fool of a man, and not a less of a man. Unless it makes nothing of him at all, by sword, stave, or spell. And witness, they used coshes. Nothing lethal, after the dagger. Those two, at least, I'd see at liberty, with their saps in hand. I have faint hope they'll alter their profession, good hope they'll choose targets and leaders more carefully, and no hope at all, that they change their weapons of choice."
"Unless you see them in your cousin's place, and your gram back in her own?", Gristav asks of Braddon. "Oh, and one more thing, that other crimelord? Supposed to be a secret."
Leaving Braddon to his questions, and leaving that half an ear, Gristav asks Snake quietly, "How do yo do that?", his expression an honest mask of wonder.
Snake simply stares at the magus and shrugs. "I have no idea. I've been meaning to talk to that lady friend of yours about it - Samantha was it? - maybe she can tell me. Now what do we do about these two? That one I'm gonna make sure he's got nowhere to run if he wakes," he nods toward the dagger-thrower. "You can restrain that one before I mend him up. Unless you don't think he's a threat. 'Course, odds are, he'll just get up and run."
"I think the leader might well prove the lightest, and as I had offered, and he appears to have agreed, he's to be delivered to the General. You each have a veto, of course, but it does seem a flavor of justice. Yes, I'll surely attend to the securing while you... well, I've no term for it, it's quite extraordinary... while you heal them."
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A smile resting lightly upon his lips and a twinkle in his eye Phillip raises an eyebrow "In a mind for more exotic fare this evening then? Lead on Ms Braum, lead on... I'll be more than happy led astray."
She blushes slightly at his insinuation. "I've never been there," she confesses, "but I've always kind of wanted to try it. The others never understood why anyone would want to try something strange and different when you can have the same old familiar foods for every meal for the rest of your life." She rolls her eyes.
Inside, the restaurant is decorated with exotic masks and paraphernalia, presumably from far-flung locales; it reminds Phillip of ali-Haqim's shop writ large. He orders tenderloin of auroch from the Storval Plateau while Ethel opts for the reindeer meatballs 'as served to the Linnorm Kings.'
After looting the fallen, Braddon has no qualms about treading on their captive's hand as he tries to shuffle backwards.
"Did Zincher send you to kill us? If so, tell him we're prepared to kill every thug he sends our way until no one will ever work for him again."
Braddon begins to grind the man's hand under the boot then stops suddenly.
"Or are you just a pack of idiots trying to mug professional mercenaries for some of the biggest crime lords this side of Cheliax? Tell me everything. No rush."
He grins.
"Z-Zincher? I don't know who that is," he stammers desperately. "This was all just a mistake. Fane," he glances at the prone body of the man who threw the dagger, "he said we should roll some gadjo ... I mean, some-- some sailors, some townies," he struggles for a non-derogatory term to describe the men at whose mercy he now is. "We just wanted some coin for drinks, maybe some women. He said you'd pay to avoid trouble."
"He's engaina- stupid, then? He really should have asked us, first.", Gristav says, translating for Braddon, but speaking to the younger thug. "Fane could have had coins. With a different approach. The bawd act would have had coin in his hand, but the curfew lie was a bad start, and the thrown knife... worse. It looks like we'll let you go, but your weapons and coin we'll take as fair spoils of the victor. We've no use for your saps; you may take yours. And I ulertu- I understand, no Varisi man should be without a knife, so, I'd give you one of those back, as well. And my share of your coins... two coins, close enough. And in return, tonight, you'll tell me who would miss Fane, if Shore Leave had him. And tomorrow, you'll double your money by finding vardos and dancers that might be hired. I know a gadjo who wants a Varisi theme for a party; help me get what I need, and you'll do better than working for Fane." Gristav pauses, and adds smiling, "I can probably even get the erde-duende to stop standing on your hand."
Braddon lifts his foot and takes a step back.
"See."
He looks across to Gristav. "Is this going to take long? We're kinda busy."
As soon as the crushing pressure of Braddon's shiny new boot is removed from his hand, the man snatches it up, flexing his bruised fingers, so as not to give the half-elf a chance to change his mind and put his foot back. "Miss him? Besides us, you mean? I ... I can't think of anyone. Not right away, anyway. I guess, if people see Mel and me without him, they might ask us where he is. What should we say?"
"Tell 'em the truth. Tell them he messed with the wrong bunch and they took care of him. And when these folks ask who this 'bunch' are... you answer 'em honestly. A tall man who possesses a measure of demonic power, a pretty boy who speaks little and carries a nasty blade, and another who uses a great many words to keep the pretty boy from killing everyone that gets in his way from finding his grandmother. That's what you should say." He stares at the thug impassively, allowing him to sweat for a moment or two as it gets deathly quiet. Then turning to the others, "I think we're done with that one. You fellas ready for me to heal these others?"
"Say 'He crossed the Goblin', if all that's too long", Gristav suggests to the young thug. "Then give us your name, and lie back down, and make not a sound. We'll wake Mel next, and hear his answers to the same questions you've had. Maybe you and he make another coin as stevedores, carrying Fane to Shoreleave?"
"When you're ready", Gristav says to Snake, taking watch in reach of Mel, for his awakening. Looking up at Braddon, ready to glower from behind his lethal blade, Gris says, "I'd rather you here, as a reminder. But you've a right to go there, instead. Our odds are well enough, and we'll catch up. Family is important. Your choice. But my thinking is, one Varisi might replace another. I wouldn't just pressgang, but we offered, and it seems, he accepted."
Phillip and Ethel enjoy a leisurely dinner. While the Cabin Boy doesn't offer the people-watching opportunities that the outdoor dining at the Lone Hippocampus did, the eclectic decor is a conversation starter in and of itself, as they try to guess the provenance of the various knickknacks and gewgaws on display. After a dessert of fried bread soaked in syrup and served with honey and cream, supposedly a traditional Galtan delicacy, Ethel suggests a visit to the Watercress. "We needn't stay; you can always beg off with work to do. But we ought to make an appearance at least. Poor Win: Desna alone knows how long he'll be away."
At Gristav's cue, Snake performs his healing magic on the second Varisian, the one who took a face full of frost from Gristav's ray. He moans, as his eyes open and then quickly close again, as if stung by the light on Snake's staff. "Zer arraio...?" he mutters weakly. "Zer minik niri?"
Braddon folds his arms and glowers.
"Fine, I'll wait."
At Gristav's cue, Snake performs his healing magic on the second Varisian, the one who took a face full of frost from Gristav's ray. He moans, as his eyes open and then quickly close again, as if stung by the light on Snake's staff. "Zer arraio...?" he mutters weakly. "Zer minik niri?"
" 'What hit you?' ", Gristav translates for Braddon. "A spell from the second magician among those you attacked. It might have blinded you, but that was not my intent. Just as the sword might have killed you... I can't speak to that intent. Why did you attack us? Who are you working for?"
"The men you were working with, are they important to you? What if they are dead? The younger one, the knife-thrower? What are their names. What's yours?"
"Open your eyes, Mel. Let's see what that spell did..."
Mel appears to understand the spoken Taldane but replies in his native tongue. "Fane ... esan lapurtzen genuke hurrengo gadjo ikusi genuen ... horiek irakasten dugu ez oinez joan Lubbertown ilun ondoren...."
Gris peers into the man's bleary eyes. They seem to have sustained no particular damage from the blast of cold, but the Varisian is groggy and weak.
"Hiru Gadjo... Three Gadjo, all at once? Great swords, bows? Foolish, Ergela. And you, foolish to follow him. Sutara egurra erretzen, ergela eskua erretzen. He lit the fire, but you put your hand in it. Emadazu eskua, give me your hand. Zuri laguntzeko dut, I will help you up."
Gristav helps Mel to his feet. "Can you and the younger, get you home?"
If Mel agrees, Gristav waves the younger thug in, to support Mel. "It is very bad luck", Gristav says, "...to follow fools into battle. But it was very good luck, to battle men who would heal you."
Gristav calls the youngest by name, passing him a handful of silver coins. "See that he is well. And meet me near the Three-Billed Duck, in the tenth hour, tomorrow."
Braddon rolls his eyes.
Boiko anxiously accepts the return of a few of his coins and a knife . Accepting the burden of Mel's arm around his shoulder, he quickly staggers away before the men can change their minds, leaving the trio with a single prone body to dispose of.
"Now that we're finished with those two, let's see if ol' shiny tooth wakes."
As the blue-white glow of Snake's healing hex fades, Fane sputters a phelgmy cough and spits a mouthful of blood on the dirt. Opening his eyes, he quickly takes stock of the situation. "Zer? Nirekin esnatu zara eskean nire bizitza niretzat egiteko?" he asks with a sneer.
"We wake you to ask who you work for, and why you attack us, who have even numbers, and better weapons. Because I'm surprised that any Varisi would be so foolish. At first I thought you were making a Sczarni introduction. Until you throw the dagger. So now, I just want to know, who you are, and who you work for, and why you attack us, before we give you to the General. He'll be interested in your curfew idea, I'm sure."
Phillip and Ethel enjoy a leisurely dinner. While the Cabin Boy doesn't offer the people-watching opportunities that the outdoor dining at the Lone Hippocampus did, the eclectic decor is a conversation starter in and of itself, as they try to guess the provenance of the various knickknacks and gewgaws on display. After a dessert of fried bread soaked in syrup and served with honey and cream, supposedly a traditional Galtan delicacy, Ethel suggests a visit to the Watercress. "We needn't stay; you can always beg off with work to do. But we ought to make an appearance at least. Poor Win: Desna alone knows how long he'll be away."
Perception:
Phillip finds the interior of the Hippocampus quaint enough and while the conversation is well spent in idleness, he does miss the transient spectacle of those walking idly past. At Ethel's suggestion of the 'Cress he nods "Aye, a short time at the least... and I'd imagine Win's used to it by now. Besides, we can idle away our time at Skiffs if conversation drags."
"Poor Almah, then," she amends as they walk out into the night. "She hasn't grown accustomed to him being away, not knowing if he's coming back or if he's been shipwrecked on some island or drowned at the bottom of the sea or taken by pirates." Between the nearly-full moon and the many twinkling street lamps, the open plaza of Free-Coin District is well-lit as they cross it, heading back south toward the Watercress.
"We wake you to ask who you work for, and why you attack us, who have even numbers, and better weapons. Because I'm surprised that any Varisi would be so foolish. At first I thought you were making a Sczarni introduction. Until you throw the dagger. So now, I just want to know, who you are, and who you work for, and why you attack us, before we give you to the General. He'll be interested in your curfew idea, I'm sure."
"Caravari libre bat naiz," the man spits, unrepentant. "Neu lan egiten dut. Inork ez du ematen dit aginduak. Prezio bat gure artean oinez ordainduko da. Ez duzu hustu zure zure kabuz poltsikoetan, beraz, horiek hustu genuke zuretzat. Nahiago dut zure esku hiltzera zure irainak jasaten baino."