Ārwulf finds another grassblade of destiny and, placing it deftly between his teeth, does his best to “look natural”. By lurking at the woman’s cottage gate and, fully armed, lurking lurkily.
What in all the hells are they talking about?!? he wonders, hoping Sly can extract the necessary information without relying on Woy to get…physical.
Ārwulf notices a small group of men approaching in the distance - they are talking loudly and being generally boisterous.
Sly's eyes narrow;
"The man came here? Sought your husband out or was invited? Did he enter, or leave anything of note behind?"
"Yes, he came here. I was asleep, and woke up when they were conversing. So I do not know how or why they met. I don't think he left anything behind, except for the payment..." - she replied - "I should go, my husband might be back at any moment"
Sly smiles knowingly;
"Of course we are not here to cause you trouble. Quite the contrary..."
He fetches a gold coin from his belt and hands it to the woman;
"Speaking of payments. For your time and words..."
The assassin pauses, leaning in closer, rictus smile hardening;
"The Pater mentioned your husband is ill-tempered. Know that you can be released from his shadow. All it would cost... A single. Gold. Coin..."
Slygol steps back head bowed; his hand that offered the coin now inverted to potentially receive one.
Ahoy, says Woyzeck to Arwulf, drawing his attention to the group. New crew on the horizon.
”Sly! Company’s en route. Finish yer business!”
Ārwulf prepares for violence, dropping his halberd to his side, and leans on it nonchalantly, grassblade depending insouciantly from his lips.
Hope there’s not a storm coming’… I don’t think real good when it blows a gale. And my hands ache like hells when it’s over.
"The Pater mentioned your husband is ill-tempered. Know that you can be released from his shadow. All it would cost... A single. Gold. Coin..."
Slygol steps back head bowed; his hand that offered the coin now inverted to potentially receive one.
The woman seems to hesitate momentarily, eyes wide open and filled with tears... Then she nods slowly, places the coin back in Sly's open palm, and closes the door immediately.
The small group continues approaching, but they are still some distance away - do you want to leave, or wait for them?
Sly accepts the coin, marking it with his dagger point as he turns toward Woy with a wicked grin;
"Woy lad... You are the storm..."
Clapping the big man's meaty shoulder he wanders to where Ārwulf stands vigil;
"So Chief. Got some interesting details. Also got a little sideline..."
The assassin displays the marked gold coin to the big warrior;
"...Her husband's now a marked man as we say in the trade."
Slygol pockets the scoured coin with a shrug and a hard smile.
Storm indeed.” Ārwulf mutters darkly. He looks at Slygol and nods meaningfully.
”Well…that coin better sing three ways when this is over.” Spitting on one hand after the other and running them along the worn haft of his halberd he speaks while looking at the oncoming inclemency.
”If it’s him, we lull them, surprise them and take ‘em now; or wait and do it…sly, Sly?”
Slygol eyes the incoming trio and smirks;
"Best we wait. See what's what and whose who."
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Ārwulf nods.
”Stand ready Woy. If I…or Sly…give the word, let blood rain.”
Looking over at Sly, Ārwulf adds:
”By the way, the “word” is “squirrel”.”
As the group approaches, you can see they are armed and armored - the man in the middle is the largest one of them, with jet black hair and moustache and a threatening look. The glint of chainmail is visible under his overcoat - "Halt and be identified strangers!" - he barks in a strong voice, as soon as they get closer - "And keep that halberd well to the side son, by the order of the Sheriff of Grimmsgate!" - he added directly at Ārwulf, hand on his own weapons.
Similarly, the two brutes to his side frown at the group, and drop their hands to their weapons, one of them holding a loaded crossbow.
At the Sheriff's hail Sly's smile widens, and he seems, like the two warriors beside him, unphased by the implication of violence;
"Well met Shire-Reeve. We're Rayne's men, so lower that flatbow eh? Been sent into town for supplies... odd stuff at that... We was told you would handle any credit we needed..."
The assassin's long fingers tap the twin pommels as his waist - sword and dagger.
"The Boss don't like to be kept waiting. Says he needs what he needs quick sharpish..."
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The three man's faces scrunch up almost at the same time - "Are you out of your mind, you half-wit?" - the man replied - "Why are you talking about this out here?" - he looked around, weapons still poised, and paused for a second, looking you up and down several times. The other two shifted uncomfortably.
"Tell your boss we have agreed all we needed to agree on. You don't come here for supplies, you don't come here for any reason at all. Much less on my coin" - he seems on the verge of exploding - "So now we will escort you 'troublemakers' out of Grimmsgate quiet like, and if I ever see you back here again, you will regret it" - the man added - "Get moving" - he nods toward the edge of the village.
Sly raises his hands in mock defence;
"Don't shiv the messenger Mr Shire-Reeve! We we're sent, so we came. You know our Boss - not a man to trifle with..."
He sighs, and looks to the edge of the village;
"Best we do this nice and quite like. Don't want the tattlers dining out. Come on lads... Let the good Shire-Reeve an' his hencheejits march us back empty handed..."
The assassin claps the board shoulders of his companions, then trudges reluctantly to the outskirts of the village, mindful of making a show of dragging his heels but keeping the Sheriff and his men close.
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You better not say anything about squirrels!, Woyzeck throws into the conversation unhelpfully. Not if you know what’s good for you!.
Ārwulf nods mock-mournfully as the troupe begins to march out of Grimmsgate. He clasps Woyzeck on the shoulder companionably.
”I don’t see any critters around here Woy, best you don’t get nervous…” Ārwulf looks off to the middle distance. ”Monkeys in the rigging and all that…” he adds cryptically, squeezing Woy again for good measure.
As you move along, several people watch you with curiosity. Fingers are pointed and comments are made in hushed tones.
Eventually, you reach the 'edge' of the village - "Now get the heck out, and don't come back" - the sheriff growls.
Steady as she goes then.
At the edge of the village Sly halts, then turns to the Sheriff;
"I would say its been a pleasure, but your little arse-of the-world village isn't even worth burning down... though my friend here might disagree. Least your wildlife is interesting..."
He nods to himself, cruel grin widening as he surreptitiously attempts to draw a dagger...
"Foxes, two headed calves... oh and
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Sly steps back drawing one of his daggers, and accurately flings it at the one with the crossbow. The Sheriff roars in response - "What are you doing, you bastard?! You'll regret that!"
>
Ārwulf, Woy, Sheriff and deputies
>
Sly
____________________________________________
Ārwulf growls at the onset of bad language.
”Here’s some manners!” he cries, swinging the halberd in a not exactly deadly arc at the crossbowman.
Ārwulf's swing misses the crossbowman by an inch!
Woyzeck doesn’t even bother drawing steel. He charges in, gauntleted fists swinging.
for (Non lethal dmg by habit)…
Woyzeck's punch is well aimed, and hits the second goon on the side of his face, the swelling almost immediately beginning to show.
The man with the crossbow, drops it and instead goes for his handaxe, swinging at Ārwulf, but missing his mark.
Likewise the sheriff draws steel and swings at the large warrior, cutting a large gash across his chest - "What the hell are you doing? Why are you attacking us?" - he growled - "We had a deal!"
The last deputy tries to swing his hammer at Woyzeck, but his aim is poor.
> CLOSE (within 5 feet)
Ārwulf, Woy, Sheriff and deputies (3, 6)
> NEAR (within 30 feet)
Sly
____________________________________________
Almost felled by the hit, Ārwulf has little time to panic, or question. He just…swings. Again. His training carries the swing true, but his strength is failing and the blow is weak.
Lewill eagerly awaits the arrival of the vinegar and once it arrives he quickly grabs an old rag and quickly dipping it into the jar of vinegar (his nose wrinkling at the pungent aroma) and proceeds to wipe away the remaining dirt and grime from the mysterious stone.
Woyzeck punches the guy who shanked his friend.
for
Give up now or we beat th’ tar outta ya!
Still wearing his rictus smile Sly draws another dagger and his short sword.
"Deals? We have made many deals... Others made are more... binding..."
Seeing things get messy Sly hefts both blades and moves toward the Shire-reeve to even things up in melee...
Ārwulf swings hard, and guts the sheriff deputy where he stands - the man goes down in a heap with a horrible scream.
Woy hits the sheriff hard in his gut, but the man seems to be an experienced fighter and recovers quickly, swinging at Ārwulf again - "You will pay for that with your life" - he growled, taking the fighter down with a cross slice across his stomach.
The second deputy stands his ground and swings at Woy, missing again.
> CLOSE (within 5 feet)
Woy, Sly, Sheriff (7) and deputy (3)
____________________________________________
Seeing one of his meatshields brave companions get dropped spurs Sly into action. He brings both of his blades to bear on the Sheriff, attempting to gut the lawman;
”Klpth…..kkklpppb….glgggg….”
[dice=Death Rattle, DC 10]1d20
”Klpth…..kkklpppb….glgggg….”
You killed Arwulf yer bastard!
Draws great sword and cuts down sheriff.
for
The sheriff goes down horribly wounded by Woy's mighty swing, and remains motionless.
The deputy runs off as fast as his legs can carry him - "They murdered the sheriff!! Help!" - he screams at the top of his lungs.
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The big man rushes to his friends side and starts shaking him.
Yer alrigh’ matey?
”Gnnnnn……spt…plbbbsh”
Ārwulf appears to not be dying. But he’s not exactly up for conversation. Or even…up.
Sly watches the deputy bolt with a bemused look upon his sallow face.
As Woy tends to Ārwulf the lanky assassin moves to where the Sheriff lies. He sheaths his longer blade, then kneels beside the downed lawman.