Dmitri enjoyed the smile, wonderfully happy that someone inquired as to his prior works. However, he realizes that after he mentions what he knows, he'll come off as an Enigma.
Spike gauntlets will do even better. Hmm... Well, I certainly have my reasons for being here, but they're more for my own pleasure than for any grandiose bit of power. As for where I am from, I hail from the outskirts of Nidale.
He grinned a bit, knowing what was associated with the place.
I was raised there by a very loving mother, and I left about 2 years ago on a pilgrimage. I think I made it far, didn't I? It was a church of one of the lesser-known deities that I grew up in. I was taught to be disciplined and respectful to those of the fairer race. He says motioning to Destany.
The people here find me a mixture of savage, alienistic, and charming. What do you think of me?
His last question he delivered with notable interest, curious as to how the woman would swallow that amount of information.
Over a light lunch, during which Destany nibbles at a variety of foods, enjoying the tastes and textures of real food again for the first time in months, she chats casually with Dmitri.
"I'm not familiar with Nidale I'm afraid. Is it far from here? Your accent is quite exotic, but I fear I am not well-traveled myself, having only been here, in New Restov, and home, just over the border in the River Kingdoms, myself."
She looks Dmitri over carefully for a long moment, then shrugs and gives a soft musical laugh. "You must have been taught well, because you've been nothing but kind to me since we met, though I'm afraid I look a fright, even though they did allow me time to clean up. I find you very nice indeed. I can't thank you enough for this lunch. It's delicious. I'm not sure what you mean by alienistic, but savage? I have seen nothing savage about you at all, you seem kind and quite cultured to me. But then as I said, I am not well-traveled or experienced, so I guess you could say I am a little naive."
She gives a little shrug, and brushes back yet another stray strand of hair that keeps blowing as if in a breeze.
Dmitri might also notice that she seems a little clumsy with her utensils, being very slow and deliberate in how she picks them up off the table, though once she has a good grip on them, she seems quite facile with them.
When lunch is over, Destany leads Dmitri to a well-established smithy in town. Jehan's primarily deals in weapons and armor, though moreso in weapons than the latter.
The family makes much of Destany's sudden return and showers her with questions, which she seems quite reticent about answering, giving only the briefest of accounts. She is honest with them, just not overly talkative about it, saying simply that it must all have been a grave mistake. She does ask them repeatedly about someone named Regan and if he'd been here, looking for her, did he ask after her in her absence? and so forth.
Once she has collected her gear, which includes traveling clothing, which she takes the time to change into, she leaves her city clothes behind, not thinking she'll need them again. She also leaves behind her smith's apron, since she won't need it in the wild. Tearfully she bids the family goodbye and wishes them all well. She hands Jehan a short letter she penned, and softly bids him give it to Regan if ever comes looking for her.
After Dmitri has conducted his business with the smith, she waves them goodbye and leaves again with Dmitri, headed for the ferry.
As they walk, Dmitri simply nods his condolences for the compliments.
You may not be well-ventured yet, but I believe we'll all be when we're done with this business.
Afterwards, he stays quiet for the majority of the rest of the walk, taking in the view of the ferry and all the possible things that could happen. He regrets not finding the girl to return the handkerchief to, but he's sure she has plenty more.
Standing aloof, waiting on the others, he opens his book with the woman on it once more and reads.
At a moment when Dmitri seems less absorbed, Destany asks, "Do you mind if I ask what you're reading, Dmitri? It has a lovely picture on it."
Dmitri wasn't ashamed of his faith, as he was practically raised with it, but he did understand that towards those of good nature it was troublesome. Still, Destany seemed nice enough of a person to... oh, I don't know? Attempt to stab him seven times in an inn.
"This is "The Book of Lilith"... He said, pausing for a moment to let that sink in.
"It is the faith I follow to the letter. It details the laws and protocol of how one can better worship her. She is a Daemon lord, though exiled as the only orderly one by her sister, Zura. This tells her story..."
As he finished that sentence, he looked her in the eyes, gauging her reaction.
Holding hands and saying a prayer was very calming to him, although he didn't really change visibly, he felt better. He thanked Fyrek with a nod, and prepared to go his way. As Blake, Destany and Dmitri went off toward the smithy, something seemed to catch in his mind. He walked off several paces and he turned back to the druid.
"Would you walk with me? I have to return to the stables where my horse resides after I see if I can bring her with us on the boat. It is hard to say how big it is as of yet, and whether or not it is acceptable to bring her along. I have some questions for you." Throughout his speech he remains fairly wooden in his demeanor, which of course is not anything apart from how he had been acting earlier in the short time they had been together.
He turns and invites her to come along with a courtly wave of his arm, but gives her opportunity to turn him down if she has more pressing matters.
Destany purses her lips in thought as Dmitri answers her quite directly and honestly it seems. "I'm no expert on the greater powers, but a Daemon lord? Still, from what you told me, you were nurtured well under the auspices of her church. And I cannot fault the service to order. You have been nothing but kind and courteous to me, so I will take you at face value. Thank you for being honest with me. Many would have lied, you know, to hide their dedication to a power most would consider... unsavory." She gives Dmitri a little smile, even a warm one.
I hope his dedication to law is stronger than his service to evil. He seems a nice enough young man, though a bit strange. But being raised in a church to ANY faith I think would make someone seem a bit... different. I was raised in the wilderness with no one but my family for miles, so I know how it is to be alienated from the rest of society. Perhaps it was the same for him.
He smiles at the acceptance. Truly he had no love for the destruction of man-kind as would most worshipers of daemon deities, and he worshiped Lilith primarily for the sake there-of. He simply lived to serve women, is all. Help them, be nice to them, and submit almost entirely to those that were reasonable.
But... that was only for women.
"I admire your acceptance of the facts." Dmitri tosses a glance to Blake, knowing he'd overheard.
"I will tell you this, I find peace in the fact that at least one of you knows the dangers of me. I am a very respectful, lawful, man. I am religious, and seek happiness in my days. Should you wish to know more of Lilith, I will gladly tell you... Know that I worship the law of her, and that, contrary to most Daemon lords, she doesn't seek the destruction and subterfuge of the races. It's the reason she was exiled.
He sighs, though barely.
"It is actually against my religion to lie to those of the fairer gender, provided that doing so won't bring me immediate harm. I would request that you not inform the others of this fact, as, the less of the party that knows, the easier I will rest. 2 is plenty."
He finishes with that sentence and finds a nearby chair to sit and continue reading his bible. He has a smile on his face this time, however, as people are actually being tolerant of it. It's shallow, but... it's there.
Fyrek takes note of Dmitri removing himself from the prayer, but is not concerned, guessing at his reasons. I wouldn't want him to be foresworn. There will be other opportunities to help integrate him into the group.
"No, not cursed," she answered Destany's tentative question, "though my father would say otherwise. I am what's called a Sylph -- one or more of my recent ancestors was a djinn. It isn't wise to speculate exactly which ones those might be -- though I do have my suspicions, of course. The air that swirls around me is, strange as it sounds, part of my bloodstream. It moves in time with my pulse."
Fyrek has nothing in particular to do in New Stetven, having only just arrived, so when Daen invites her along to see to his horse she accepts.
"It would be good to get a chance to talk. I'm afraid I'm not much for conversation -- I've already said more today than I might in a week. The Silent Hunter teaches that we should let our actions speak more loudly than words. But ask away. I'd also enjoy learning a bit more about you."
Hearing that Dmitiri worshipped an evil daemon shattered the calm that Blake had previously acquired. He knew little of religion, but he wondered if he would be able to trust Dmitri if it came down to it.His thought process surprised him. 'Trust Dmitiri?' he wondered. He had never trusted anyone before.
Of course, he had never been in this kind of situation before, either. He supposed that trust would be necessary for survival.
Still, Dmitri seemed straightforward and honest enough. He had generally ignored Blake and Daen, but showed a strong interest in the females of the group. It occurred to Blake that, given the choice between being able to save one of them, and letting the other die, Dmitri would pick the women every time. He didn't like those odds. Blake thought, and not for the first time, that there was a stronger bond at work than mere utility. While his concoctions may have been useful in battle, there was a deeper connection at work.
Blake frowned as he thought, trying to pin it down, before it occurred to him that they were all outsiders. The girl with the djinn ancestor, the half-elf denied his birthright, and Destany, who had for whatever reason been imprisoned. Even Dmitri was something of an outsider. His hesitance to speak of himself stemmed from the fear that people would not understand.
"If you wouldn't mind indulging me for a moment, I'd be very interested in hearing more about your religion."
Dmitri raised his head from the book, raising an eyebrow at Blake. his face was a sight to behold, and he did not envy him. Still, Dmitri wasn't going to hide anything from these two, not after telling them that much already.
He turned a few pages to the start of the book rather rapidly, as if knowing exactly where the piece of scripture he needed was.
"My faith centers on women, as I've informed you. It teaches to take pleasure in all things that I do, and I was taught to do so for 20 years. They taught me about the other religions, how to choose my words, and...
He reached into the upper shoulder of his black and red coat with his left hand, and pulled it down. On his shoulder only, was an ocean of scars. None were bulbous and unseemly, but, there were just so many. Merely on his shoulder there were easily 16 cuts, or pierced scars.
How to handle, as well as inflict, pain...
He took a moment to enjoy the sight of his past experiences. Some cuts he'd given himself, and some had been inflicted by others. Throwing back on his coat, he looked over at blake.
There is nothing in this beautiful world that I enjoy more than worshiping Lilith, and she is very important to me. I can personally guarantee that, if anything, it will be a boon to the group. Though... a silent one.
He made sure to sound very stern when he made it a point to explain his relationship with his god.
Destany looks troubled when she sees the scars on Dmitri, a tiny scowl piercing her brow, though she says nothing about it, as there seemed nothing to say really.
How to tell him I feel sorry for his pain, when he seems rather proud of having received it? And inflicting it as well? I guess in my own way, I've done no less, though not as a practiced art. What an odd faith he has, but he does seem devoted to it. If he finds solace and inspiration in this, I guess that's something to be admired. Too few folk have enough real faith.
Her brow smooths after a moment and she flashes Dmitri an understanding smile.
"That's right, I do have you at a disadvantage. I'm not allowed to speak of my family, but you should be able to tell which house I belong to if you just look into my eyes." The facial structure really did nothing to betray his heritage except toward his elven half, but the robin's egg blue that peered through his almond shaped eyes did enough to convey he was a relative of the king.
As they walked, he continued to speak of himself in distant tones, as if he was speaking of someone else. "My mother claims to have been magically coerced into participating in my conception. She was unable to even tell who he might have been. He seems to have been a slippery character, even in magical inquiry. I hope I never meet him."
He paused for a while after that, partly because he didn't want to chat about it anymore, and partly because they arrived at the stable. He pulled out his horse, introducing her to the druid. "This is Chernila. She has taken me south before, I hope to be able to put her to pasture soon though, she is almost as old as I am."
The half elf was pretty quiet all the way to the docks, finding all the silence comforting. Spending time with a follower of the Silent Hunter didn't require many words. After they had gotten on the boat to wait for the others, he turned back to Fyrek who had been stroking the horse. "Thank you for taking the time to start to answer my questions."
The Water Nymph is a medium sized ferry with a crew of around two dozen and about as many passengers. Most of the passengers appear to be middle class merchants and a couple families of immigrants leaving toward the south, hoping to find better lives there. The captain is a burly man with a thin beard and thinner hair who pulls you aside before you can show him your royal writs. "I kno' who yearr, and I'd noot laik ya flashin' royal papers here." He whispers. "Yer fine on me boat but iffen yer gonna ride free yell be takin' a bit a' work." He assigns you all to a few menial tasks about the ferry, all easy to handle. The crew is amicable and the low-rent passengers are extremely welcoming. The middle class merchants are a bit stuffy, but not entirely rude. The journey is a fairly nice one, until one night three days into your ride.
Dmitri couldn't sleep. Something about the clerk's words the night before had nagged at him more than they should have. He didn't sleep that often, regardless.
Outside of the cabin, he was on the deck looking out to the water, watching it just flow by.
His thoughts turned his head to the skies, wondering what was in store for him. His group had plenty of admirable people on it. The chemist was respectful, though cautious. Destany was friendly, and Fyrek was devout to some deity. Daen was the only one he worried about.
Unlike Daen, Mavis didn't have to deal with birth rights. He considered them silly, actually. Politics and last names doesn't make you any better than anyone, especially in the moments they call on their titles. To consider one's self above women was arrogance in his eyes.
He walked toward the peak of the boat, enjoying the peace and quiet. He would read, but, he didn't trust the chances of losing his bible to the river. He looked over his new gauntlet, admiring the craftsmanship, but most importantly, the ones on his knuckles, grinning.
The water simply washed by in the night, but he was still worried. He got like this a lot, and plain and simply, it was probably the only reason he was alive. That's a good thing, right?
The only sound he hears is that of water hitting the ship as he stands there. Regardless, he still wasn't about to go rest.
Fyrek had never been on a boat before. Everything about it is fascinating -- the sounds, the smells, the way the crew is constantly busy with strange tasks. She spends most of her time observing, either listening to the conversations of the passengers, trying to figure out exactly what the crew is doing, or watching the shore and the horizon.
The cabin is nice enough, but confining, and so Fyrek spends as much time as possible outside on the deck. The first night there, she climbed the ladder onto the cabin roof where the air was freer and slept under the stars and the wandering moon. She spends most of the trip there, except for the times she is performing her assigned tasks, and mealtimes when she socializes with her companions and the other passengers.
The other passengers seem nice enough, and Fyrek has been freely telling all who asks that she is traveling down to Oleg's Trading Post on the business of the Arboreal Order. Having never been there before, she listens eagerly to any stories of the area that the others may tell.
Fyrek loves the night, and left to her own devices would lead a nocturnal existence. She moderates this for the sake of her nightblind companions, but until a day or two before arrival, when she makes an effort to reimpose a daylight schedule there is probably a 50/50 chance that she is awake at any particular time at night.
Having had what amounted to something of a long and exciting day, with meeting new people, being in the presence of royalty, and traveling through the city, Blake arrives to the boat already exhausted, and it isn't long before he takes leave of the others and retires to his cabin.
While he would ordinarily love to lie awake and consider the events of the day, he falls asleep nearly immediately.
A sudden strange silence fell over the deck, the sounds of the waves against the deck and the shore suddenly stopped. Dmitri hardly had time to notice such silence before a man tried to kill him.
The man's wild stab scraped from Dmitri's armor without a sound, the impact uncomfortable but without any bite through the breastplate. As Dmitri spun he saw one of the immigrants, his eyes wild over his trimmed beard wielding a dagger with obviously lethal intent.
Dmitri felt the dagger scrape across his backside, sliding across his armor. He span around, eyes wicked with glee. He knew something like this would happen, and he had a new playmate all to himself on an empty deck. He drew his scythe, eyeing the immigrant and swinging his blade to meet the block of a dagger.
"I knew it!"
He pulled his scythe away, angling it poorly and catching nothing but air, though the blade tore through silently, as if he wanted to go unnoticed for as long as possible.
As the scythe went past, missing him, a wicked grin shone through from Mavis's face.
At the sight of the grin and the happy light in his eyes as Dmitri mouthed silent words, the man looked rather frightened. Even more so as he compared the blade of the scythe to the much smaller dagger which was his only weapon. Dmitri could see the man's mouth work in a curse as he rushed forward, trying to push within the reach of the taller enemies scythe.
\
The man gritted his teeth in anger as Dmitri deflected him away with his spiked gauntlet, pushing him back to an effective fighting distance.
Sensing weakness, Dmitri raises his scythe above his head and brings it down, catching the man in his chest and cutting a clean, red swath through his clothing. He stood there for a moment as the man winced in pain, enjoying the slow, decadent, crimson beads that started to form under his attire.
The would-be assassin clutched his shirt with an inaudible gasp, his pain clear. With one hand over his shirt his eyes darted about, obviously seeking something he couldn't find.
Evidently deciding this fight too much for him, the man tried to dart for the railing and the river below.
Dmitri, sensing the man's resolve to get away, grinned wickedly as his hair parted in front of him. He dashed forward a bit, angling his scythe to catch the man. The scythe reached out like a maddeningly terrifying hand.
The scythe came around in a circle, catching the man at his neck, pulling back with as much force as Dmitri could muster.
"And just where in the abyss do you think you're going!?" He yells in delight as the man tries to flee, his wounds leaving blood on the floor. As he spoke his voice raised in gleeful volume.
Having been exhausted from the previous day's work, Daen was fast asleep when the shouting began on decks. He liked to sleep outside because some of the inhabitants of the cabin sawed logs in their sleep, and he really appreciated having his own space in such situations.
Despite the deep sleep that he had been in, he awoke to the unmistakable ring of battle, and rose from his respite to see Dmitri slice into one of the immigrants who was defending himself with a paltry dagger. He heard the exultant shout of the fanatic as he let blood spill on the deck. "What's going on here?", he shouted, not exactly sure which side he should take.
As the scythe catches the man at his neck he crumples, blood coming from him in a scarlet flood. He lives, but he's certainly bleeding out on the deck. The magical silence is lifted as he drops to the deck just in time for Dmitri's yell to be heard. Several of the crew and some of the passengers begin to shout and head toward the disturbance.
Hearing the shouting and the rush of folk to the deck, Destany rouses herself and heads out on deck. When she sees the tableau there, she pauses, wondering indeed what has happened. She kneels down by the dying man and checks his condition, then looks up at Dmitri with a questioning gaze and asks softly, "Do you want him alive?"
As Dmitri pulled the scythe back from that, he span it for a moment, savoring his pleasant victory. The blood span off his scythe, landing on his face a bit, but it was a sensation that he enjoyed merrily. He stopped spinning his scythe, walking up to the man as he bled out.
From what Dmitri could tell, the man had easily stabilized, but he was unconcious, which just wasn't any fun. He raised his left hand, feeling of his face and smudging some of the blood a bit, taking in all of the feelings he could. It was a shame he hadn't been wounded, but, if they were so eager to try.. well.. soon~
Dmitri knelt down to grab the dagger the man had, noticing the blade for a moment. He grinned, putting it at his side. A silenced field and an assassination attempt. The silence field was new, but the attempts weren't. He shot a quick look back at Daen, with a wicked glint in his eye and a smile. It wasn't out of happiness, or anything, it was just pure satisfaction...
"Oh man... We haven't even gotten to our destination yet, and I've already managed to bleed 2 people, haha! This is amazing... Truly.
He took out his handkerchief which he'd cleaned at some point and wiped his face of what blood he could, looking over at Destany. He reached down and grabbed the man by the back of his shirt, and started to walk over to them, although he suddenly slid the body toward them rather carelessly, leaving a trail from where he was bleeding to a spot at Daen's feet.
"If it's all the same to you, dear, stabilize the poor fool. I've got a few... questions... I'd like to ask him when he recovers!"
The amount of glee in his voice, followed by a hearty laughter was enough to send shivers up spines for those that didn't know him.
Destany smiles and nods to Dmitri. "Happy to oblige. I'll do the best I can.
She calls on her connection to the infinite and quickly incants the proper words for a cure light wounds.
As Dmitri watches the healing being done, a thought occurs to him. People tend to move around when they become conscious... That was no good. As such, he had a fun idea. Nothing quite like putting on a show, no? The passengers would no doubt be interested in the assailant, but, he wasn't just going to outright kill the man.
Unfortunately, he had no rope, as his kit was back in the cabin. The man was about to come back to him any moment, and he'd probably just make a bee-line for the deck, so... he made do with what he had.
He raised his scythe, more than ready to swing it down on the man if he made so much as an attempt to run when he regained consciousness.
The man stabilizes but doesn't awaken at the help of Destany. The Captain comes up from belowdecks with five of his men, all brandishing various weapons. "Everyone drop yer weapons or I'll slit all yer throats and let the Gods sort ye out." The men with him seem like they're not new to the weapons and seem ready to use them if anyone disagrees with their boss.
Dmitri stood above the man, scythe high in the air eager for him to get back on his feat. He saw his wounds healing, and he could feel that he had stabilized. It was about this time that the captain came up, obviously furious. He looked at them, and then back down at the man who had just recently attempted to murder him. His blood was on fire, but he knew when to stand down.
He dropped his scythe to the floor and turned to look at the captain whom he'd never had the opportunity to get fully acquainted with. Fortunately, he remembered his face, which was rare.
He walked away from his weapon, and looked over at the captain. Then he remembered his newly acquired weapon as well.
You didn't tell us that assailants had decided to tag along." He said, wagging the dagger back and forth, then tossing it to where the scythe was.
Fyrek is standing on the roof of the cabin, looking up at the stars and out at the water, when she hears Dmitri cry out, ""And just where in the abyss do you think you're going!?" from the side deck.
She springs into action, drawing her sling and running to the side of the roof. Destany is kneeling over a crumpled passenger, while Dmitri stands over him twirling his bloody scythe in satisfaction.
"Meycho's silver fangs! What is going on?" The air churns around Fyrek in agitation. She squelches her first thought, "Did Dmitri just attack an unarmed passenger?" as unfair. They would know soon enough what had happened.
As crew swarms onto the deck, Fyrek stows her sling at her belt. "No need for that," she says loudly from above. "We can figure this out. Destany, what happened here?"
The sounds of feet rushing across the boat with voices shouting wakes up a very irritated Blake. He jumps out of bed, grabbing his alchemy pouch and moves quickly but quietly up to the top deck. He arrives just in time to hear the Captain shouting at everyone to drop their weapons.
Unsure of which side to take, Blake decides to see what happens next, and tries to stay hidden in the shadows.
Having recognized the assailant as an immigrant, the possible scenarios went through Daen's head. He looked at Dmitri. What did he know of him? He loved blood, that much was obvious from the cover of that book he always carried around, but he also seemed to have some sort of principles he lived by, and had seemed somewhat honorable in his dealings with people. He also didn't seem to care about men in any notable way. He probably wouldn't do this on his own without provocation.
They all had enemies in the court, Daen and Fyrek due to racism, Destany for some unknown reason, Blake, probably just for the way he looked, and Dmitri for his beliefs, most likely. Bribing an immigrant is an easy thing, because ten to fifteen gold pieces worth of supplies can mean the difference between life and death for their entire family. Settling in a new area can be quite difficult.
Also very few knew they were coming this way, but there were really only a couple of roads to the Greenbelt that were somewhat direct. They could also have been followed. Also, it was possible that others who had received a charter could have sabotaged their efforts so that they would have more opportunity in the new land.
Yes, it was very unlikely that his new coworker would do such a thing without being attacked first. He spoke up to try to help Dmitri in his mollification of the captain. The half elf unclipped his sword belt and placed the weapon on the floor. He didn't bother with the sling tucked in his pocket, he didn't even have a stone to throw with it.
"Captain, it seems that this would be thief has attacked one of our members in the night. You have nothing to fear from us."
The Captain looks over the area with a keen eye, then motions for each of you to come below. He locks you in his cabin, "Jess long enough to look things over."
The Captain returns about 15 minutes later with a grim expression, holding your weapons awkwardly. He passes them back out to you with quick motions. "Sorry about the inconvenience. One of my men saw the man try to stab yer friend first. I'll na' have that sort o' thuggery on my boat." The Captain roots in a small chest for a moment and comes out with several rough cups and a bottle, which he begins pouring. "My man searched the assassin, and found coins equal to 75 gold kings. If what he tells me is correct about the way assassins are paid that would make the price on yer haeed about 150 Gold Kings. Enough to make any man a little nervous." The Captain begins to pass out the cups. "I'm glad you weren't startin' things. But I gotta ask... who hates you enough to put that kinda price on yer head?"
Dmitri stopped to think on that. There were plenty before this little excursion that most likely didn't like him. He'd killed a man just before he got to the palace, and he'd just almost killed a second one on an immigrant ship.
That aside, he believed it would probably be someone, probably one of the house names, that wanted them dead. Politicians will be politicians... after all. He thought of Daen on that moment, but they wanted him just as dead.
Well, if I had to make assumptions, it would be one of the higher ups... probably someone with a house name. A clerk told us that not everyone approved of this little excursion, so, there we have it.
He thought of the man unconscious on the upper deck.
However, if we want answers, why not ask the messenger? He said with a delighted grin, picking up his scythe and dagger.
he inspected it for a moment, interested, the dagger. He looked at it, curious about why the choice of weapon? He glided his finger across it, well-versed on poisons. This dagger could have some kind of venom on it, but it never pierced him so he couldn't be sure. He wasn't about to stab himself to find out, at least, not with the captain directly in front of him. He simply sheathed it back into a side-sheath.
It's also possible that the price is perhaps even double that or more, especially if this one wasn't working alone. He could have spent some of the first half. But the half elf kept all that to himself. If the crew knew that the price on one of their heads was so much, they may wish to try to collect on their own. Of course, if one assassin failed, it just meant that the price for such an endeavor went up as of late.
Daen took his sword back with a careful look, making sure it wasn't sullied in anyway. It was a precision instrument meant for those who knew how to use one, not some common thing that anyone should be touching. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and examined the blade quickly, then slid it back in to it's sheath.
Instead of chiding the captain on his suspicion, which he believed himself above, he said, "Yes, let us talk to the prisoner. I'd like to know who sent him." It was obvious that Dmitri didn't know who he had offended, the list could have been long, or he didn't keep one. Daen's hunch was the latter, but it may include the former as well.
Dmitri stood there for a moment, noting Daen's eagerness to meet the assailant with words.
I hope you're not just planning to use words. Mind you, I myself can be rather... convincing... but, an assailant like that? They've obviously been paid to stay quiet. Capture probably wasn't even in their plans, though. He gave a bit of stifled laughter.[/b]
I'm not saying to torture the boy for info but... [i]He said as he pulled the dagger out of it's sheathe again. Analyzing it. ...That's entirely up to you, isn't it? [i]As he said that, he cocked his head toward Daen, only showing him that 1 single wicked red eye. It was like a 10 year old asking for a coloring book.
Fyrek was relieved to discover that Dmitri had not begun the fight, and a bit ashamed the thought had crossed her mind. He deserves better of me than that. But even so, she was uneasy at the direction the conversation was headed.
"I'm sure they paid for silence," Fyrek replies, "But that doesn't mean they'll get it. He doesn't even have the money, anymore."
Fyrek gazes steadily at Dmitri.
"And of course we use words. We have been given a charge to clear the Greenbelt of bandits. Our reputation starts here, my friend. What do you want those bandits to believe of us? If we treat them fairly there is a chance that they will surrender when overmatched or that they will be willing to give us information for a price.But if they fear ever falling into our hands, we will have a much harder time dealing with them."
"Captain, who is the law here? Is it you, on your boat? Is the man to be hanged? Perhaps he would trade information for his life. And then we could keep an eye on him, see who he talks to."
A look of amusement passed over Fyrek's face, then she shook her head. I can't believe I'm about to say this. There must be more Orlovsky in me than I thought.
"As my uncle used to say -- A corpse is just a corpse. But a favor is an investment."
Dmitri certainly heeds Fyrek's words, as even female bandits fall under his religious code. Hmm...
Dmitri's gauntleted hand reaches his lower chin as he paces for a moment, thinking rather hard on the decision. Torturing the man would certainly send a message, but at the same time he would lose female favor among the ranks of the bandits, which would ultimately lead to having to grudingly purge the ladder.
They could either torture the man or... do something much... much more interesting. The only question is how ruthless were these bandits, and did they have a leader, or something? Perhaps the man wasn't even a bandit, and rather, just his original idea of an assassin. Regardless, would sending the man back be a bad decision that would cost him his life?
He didn't envy the bandit that was certain, though he was highly amused at his predicament.
There are many variables to this situation... We've already bested him, and he's most likely been detained. The problem is... is who sent him, and what kind of person are they, and why did they send them?
I do know the answer to the last one, of course, they were sent to kill us. ... The bandits aren't aware that we're coming, I believe. The figureheads we just left in ruby palace, however, know where we're going...
Hmm... I don't believe this man is affiliated with bandits. No, he was most likely sent by a lord of sorts, or something involving politicians... His voice trailed off, sort of laughing, looking at Daen.
Obviously the man won't want to go back empty handed... so... why don't we give him a little something to... bluff with? Maybe keep them off us for a while. It doesn't matter to me, of course, as I'll bleed every little bugger they send my way! he laughed, satisfied with his prior performance.
A lock of hair, some blood... whatever we send back, the more dire it is, the better chance he'll have of keeping them off our back. He can just collect and disappear and then he's out of our hair for a few days, weeks, if we're lucky. What do you think? He says, looking around the room, rather pleased with his plan.
Blake is surprised again by Fyrek. While previously it had been her compassion that piqued his interest, he was now impressed by her cunning. And she was right. The kinds of people who would surrender in the face of certain death wouldn't be brigands in the first place. 'I should know' he thought with a grim smile.
His thoughts were interrupted by Dmitri's talk of torture. Blake observed that the man practically licked his lips every time he brought the subject up. Blake made a mental note not to get on his bad side.
"Sending him back with something certainly could lower the attention we're getting. If we cut a deal with him, such that he tells us everything he knows, and we give him ample proof to collect the reward, this whole thing could work out quite nicely." Blake mused.
"I am not sure it was royalty, however. I hate to say that we gave them better opportunities, but we spent much of the afternoon split up. They wait until we're on the boat and then send a single assassin? It doesn't feel right."
"What we need is information, and for that your plan has potential. If the man can tell us nothing, I do not see that he has any value to us. If he does, we can see that he is rewarded, or at the very least allowed to live."
Destany looks from one to another of her new companions, learning a bit about each of them in their reactions to this new quandary of what to do with the assassin. She stays mostly silent on the matter herself, listening to the others, but she does nod when Fyrek mentions trading his life for information.
"I have to agree that questioning him and offering to trade his life for information might inform us as to who might have sent him and why. It would be good to know."
The Captain nodded. "Lairds and their politics." He spit impolitely into a corner. "Ta the hells with all of 'em." He sat for a moment, apparently thinking. "Well a captain's his own ruler on a ship so you can interrogate the man. I plan to hang him after though." The captains stands and leads you to another part of the ship, inside what seems to be a cargo quarters, where the assailant, still unconscious, sits tied to a post.
Dmitri places his hand on the captain's shoulder as he begins to leave, knowing full well that if the inmate is to be hanged, gathering information will be... difficult.
My good man, as little as I care for the lemming's well-being, he was my assailant. I care not whether he hangs or drowns, but, what say we leave his demise up to the value of the information he gives us? An even trade, if you ask me...
The worlds rolled off his tongue, though a tad bit of uncertainty clang to the back of his mind.
The half elf had a couple of things to ponder concerning the last exchange. These things he had to file away for further consideration. First of all, Dmitri's longing for torture. While unsettling, he could definitely see the possibility for use down the line. Any pragmatic person needed to keep all options open for emergencies. He thought of his own "eccentricities", and the "evil" spells he could cast as well, and he wondered if others might balk at them as much as his own family did. Time will tell.
Secondly, Daen was a bit taken aback at being lumped in with "politicians" in Dmitri's words. He had never considered himself part of the system that had sent them out here. Of course, he was half Surtovan, so it didn't take him long to consider the ramifications of that. It surely was obvious to everyone by now. He didn't really think about it much, but if the right twenty one people died, then he would be considered next in line for the kingship of Brevoy. Of course, there would be civil war before then, because other nobles would sooner die than see a half elf on the throne.
Thirdly, Fyrek seemed to have some sort of power over Dmitri, although he didn't know quite why yet. And why wasn't as terribly important as the fact that it worked. He changed his tune faster than a bard in an unhappy tavern. The half elf made a special note to talk with her later, out of earshot about that very thing.
When he heard Dmitri change his offer with his silver tongue, Daen nodded in agreement. He couldn't care less with petty revenge when better information could be achieved.
"Fine. The man's fate will be yours to decide. Suppose that's fair enough." The captain seemed annoyed at the choice, but he made it easy enough.
Dmitri removes his hand and nods, then walks up to the deck, curious about his new friend. He beckons Fyrek and Daen to follow. "If you want me to conduct the interrogations, I'll be glad to, but... if he's disagreeable, I'm afraid I won't be very kind. I'll leave the... good impressions to you, no? he said to Daen.
I'd imagine he'll be interested in spilling his guts. Whether it's literally or metaphorically, well... that's your call isn't it?
The words were dark, but he was nice enough to let them know of his nature, dark as it was. He was friendly to those who respected his religion and beliefs, but was ruthless all the same.