Gabrille looks carefully to see if there's an unobtrusive way into the house.
Search Posts
Gabrielle stays inconspicuous and tries to pick up the bits of information people don't want to tell her.
Gabrielle tries to remember a shortcut she vaguely remembers through the market place to the Tower.
Gabrielle starts by asking what any of the bystanders saw about where the creature may have come from.
Gabrielle finally sees the opening she's been waiting for. Stepping towards the misty haunt, she sidesteps unexpectedly and jabs her dagger down hard.
"Thanks" Gabrielle flashes a smile at her friends.
Gabrielle shakes herself and momentarily contemplates crepes. The she ranges alongside Boxer. "You're going noplace, misty."
"It's a misty blob. I refuse to be obliterated by a misty blob." Gabrielle thinks hard about doughnuts to take her mind of the agonising pain.
Moving swiftly to flank with Boxer, Gabrielle hunts for a weakness and finds it.
Gabrielle waits, poised, for a better moment.
"Will you just get out of here?" Panting from her attempts to get down the stairs and vowing to lose a little weight soon, Gabrielle pauses to warn the bystanders that staying around is going to be a bad idea. As she speaks, her dagger flies from her hand and towards the mist.
"Get back and stay back. Well away from that mist," Gabrielle advises her potential customers, while drawing her still serviceable dagger and heading for the stairs.
"No. Not here."
Gabrielle waves at him. "All of us, then. Looks like Gurdang picked up a new nanny job." Then she falls silent, listening to the speeches.
"Prospered and learned to cook. It's good to see you too, Boxer. I think you're right. All of us, except Gurdang. I'd like to see him again."
"There's no need to look like that. I've learned to use ingredients now." Gabrielle whispers very quietly so as not to break the solemnity of the moment.
Gabrielle wipes her sticky hands clean and listens intently, curiously noting comrades from the past in the crowd. She tentatively greets them, while contemplating new recipes. Whatever Bren ir'Gadden's opinions, a lot of people have a sweet tooth and she's grateful for the chance to gain custom.
"What about your assistant?" Gabrielle abruptly remembers Bren ir'Gadden's stricken comrade. "He still needs help."
"Thanks. You're good people, Khashana. Strange, but good. Besides, where's he going to run to? I don't think anything out there is still alive." Gabrielle looks unusually serious as the horror of the mist finally sink in.
"I'm not killing you in cold blood." She turns away.
"Do you have a preference?" Gabrielle turns her attention to the Sergeant.
"Good. Can you get on with that then. I want you out of here." Gabrielle eats another lump of Turkish Delight.
"Khashana, can you read this idiot's mind before Amyrielle loses her patience?"
Spoiler: After the War, Gabrielle turned her sweet tooth to good use and now runs a small doughnut stand in Sharn. She's now very fat, but her old skills mean nobody gets away with theft. She overhears a lot of gossip.
Gabrielle nods her thanks at the runepriest before ducking under Boxer's arm, circling, and sinking her dagger into the oncoming man. "Doing my best..." she murmurs to Amyrielle as she passes.
"Well, I don't know do I? I'm not the one that beats people with with their own brains, I just hit stuff and eat sweets."
Khashana, the sky isn't anything to do with you, is it? Gabrielle risks a quick glance upwards as the battle unfolds.
"Ah. Do you think she might have shared her plan with the sergeants?, Gabrielle thinks back hopefully.
"Problem?" Gabrielle looks questioningly at Khashana for guidance.
Darting in and out of the fray, Gabrielle attempts to finish the first sergeant.
"I like that you mean what you say." Gabrielle nods approvingly as the woman falls at Amyrielle's feet.
"It doesn't look as though your companions are that willing to me." Gabrielle stows her sweet bag and strolls casually towards Mallora, spinning at the last second and sending an experimental dagger twirling through the air.
"Bad contract. No deal."
Gabrielle cleans her daggers and waits to find out what's happening. "Another sword arm won't hurt," she says indistinctly through a mouthful of boiled sweet.
"Prophecy is all very well, but leaving people tied up is just basically wrong." Gabrielle goes to work on the ropes. "By the way," she adds, "prove me wrong and I'll not worry about stabbing you." "Dragonmarked," she mutters to herself. "All the same. Propecy-obsessed. Maybe someone translated it wrong years ago."
"I don't think it's right leaving folks for kutchik and dolgrim bait. Khashana?"
"Have a sweet. They're very good for shock. I came because I'm protecting someone. Who are you?" Gabrielle offers her sticky bag of bullseyes.
"Oh yes. You're paying us. Your call."
"This way."
"Unless anyone needs a bit of a sit down first?"
"Eesh. Insects. They get into my sweet bags." Unfeasibly annoyed by the last Kuthrik, Gabrielle moves like a tiger on vaseline and strikes.
|