[Rotting Mansion] Those are my people (Open)

[Bob Barton]

76th day of Fall 511 AV

It is actually a normal thing for a poor, unfortunate soul to make their way to the gallows and it was kind of a sport for the people of Sunberth to come with a few things to have a fling of their own. Robern was a smart man. If there was anything else which would satisfy the people of Sunberth that Robern was delivering his initial promise when he began to rise to power, it was allowing them the opportunity to feel that they are empowered over others. Bob normally ignored these sort of things seeing that he already knew that he was better than anyone else but he had been following the progression of how the Zeltivan crew were doing ever since they had been captured. It was not concern but more of a patriotic pride. Every Zeltivan knew that they owned the Sunberth scum in every way and one day they will take back what is theirs which is why Bob would scoff at their pathetic attempts to try and show their dominance here, if he was not already surrounded by so many of the same people who would gut him as soon as they found out his reasons.

So here Bob found himself admist the gathering crowd each taking a turn at pelting them with whatever they brought. With this many people around he did not expect anyone to be stupid enough to try anything so he just watched as some of the crew members begged or defied everyone else if they had not already given up. He stood that way for quite some time until someone came up to him asking for the kid to throw a half eaten banana to show how Sunberth he was. "No, I am not a kid" Bob said staring at the man angrily and forcibly slamming the banana into the man's hand, a big mistake since it made a big mess he told the man that "I am not going to waste my time throwing your damned banana either. Throw it yourself!" and moved away after shaking some banana off his hand. Bob made his way through the crowd by pushing away some of the spectators more interested in the crew than some random midget and was just about to leave until a hand held on to his shoulder with a deep voice telling him that if he was not going to join in with the fruits, he might as well join in as a target.

"Just who do you think-!" Bob said as he turned around abruptly stopping when he saw that there were two other men along with the one which had his hand on the shoulder looking expectantly at him. He was expecting that weasel in human skin and not three gorillas and he nervously opened up his hands to show them that "I don't have any fruits my friends so why don't you let me go home and get some for me and you?" slowly backing away now that the hand was off him. Before he could take more steps the other two men went to his sides and held him by the arms while the leader said they had plenty of fruits to go around and even bricks if they were his fancy. Bob really did not want to throw anything and tried his best to give any excuse he could think of to get out of it including pointing out that "we are just too far away to get a good throw. You don't expect me to be that strong with my little arms do you?" As much as Bob detested to admit his disadvantages, there were times that they could be used to get other people to do what he wanted them to do including just ignoring him and going away.

But not only these people think that they are big enough to push Bob around, they think that they are big enough to push around just about everyone else and they did. Lifting up Bob by the arms between them they carried him until the group was just about six rows of people away from the hanged crew and put an orange in his hands. Bob tried another excuse saying that "these people are just too tall. I wouldn't want to hit anyone else by accident so why don't we wait until I get back? At least then there might be less people" especially since Bob decided already that he would not come back. The annoyance was seen in the mens face and one got dangerously close to Bob with his outstretched arms. "Fine! I'll do it!" Bob shouted, cracking under the pressure and he heard the leader saying that of course he would. The next moment he felt the usual feeling he had whenever Antar decided to give him a "help" joining in on any action and he was above the sea of people. The leader told him rather happily to give those Zeltivans, especially the captain a little something from all of them and Bob feeling the eyes on him lifted up his hands and took aim before throwing it straight at the people.

It totally missed of course at that distance and the group handed over to Bob another fruit telling him to aim better or they will be here until the end of the day. Reluctantly, Bob had no choice but to hold the fruit to his shoulder to stabilize it and lined it up so that on launch it will hit at least one of them.It barely hit this time and those men below him cheered telling him that this was a last one. Bob just stared intently at his last target and only felt his arm suddenly being dragged down by something heavy. "What the...a brick? I am not the one who is supposed to do them in you halfwits!" but that did not stop them for repeating that they will not let Bob down until he threw it. "Well, I will just let myself down then" he said swinging the brick at the head of one of the men and knocking him in the head and then twisting himself at the waist so that the brick will continue travelling at the head of the man on the other side to knock him down as well. Before the one carrying him knew what was going on, Bob held the brick up and dropped it smashing into his support's head and when he fell, Bob had a nice landing on the man's back.

Before they had a chance to recover, Bob was back on his feet collecting his cane which was lying on the ground which smacked on the head of the second man which was coming up. Then he turned and ran pushing through the people yet again until he reached the end with a satisfied laugh of victory completely missing the banana peel until it was too late. One foot skidding on the peel propelled him forward a little more further from the people before it stopped and made Bob trip landing on the ground.

[Valorae]

Lovely Sunberth…the scent of rotting fruit, the sounds of madness, and of course the sights of social decline…abundant. Valorae recognized she’d be stuck here for a while longer, and if that were to go on peacefully some things would have to be done. The technical term for this step might be called surveying the land, learning the terrain, gaining that home field advantage. She had tracked her way back to the harbor, sure to avoid Malum’s residence and the surrounding blocks. Now she came before some other unsightly crowd at the gallows. She was cloaked and armed; sure to pull her hood further over – the damn thing still reeked. Her black figure stood tall and proud, a deceiving presentation of her current state. Taking in a deep breath she went forth into the crowd among other Sunberth residents taking advantage of the gallows. Walking calmly at a distance, just far enough from the chaos within firing range, Valorae observed the activity. It was a curious thing really. She wondered what they had done to earn their places in that dreadful line, to be pelted with things, to be treated worse than some animals. The feeling was… Some sort of ruckus was forming a bit over. She dared to venture, cautiously.

[Darian]

Blood songs, whispers of retribution all rang loud in his mind. It was death that was to mark this day, and in that death a liberation of sorts for the many groveling masses of Sunberth. The wind whispered across his bare knuckles and drew a shiver from him as he continued to crouch on the window sill looking out into the cobblestone streets with feigned interests. Blood dripped down his scabbed up right hand to splash on the street below, and a bitter smile found it's way to his face. It had been a strange yet not boring season for him, and the phantom pain that haunted his body, the state of ruin of the skin covering his entire body, and his latest dragging cut that so decorated his right hand marked just another sequence of days on the streets and alleys. His smile was full of oddly clean teeth, the only mark of a heritage long buried. It was quick to disappear as people came to mill about below him and as silent as he could he disappeared back within the home. There was still much to be done, there always seemed to be.

* * * * *

More than one reason found him in the crowd gathering around the gallows only a few bells later, but it was no mere misdirection that brought him here. Whispered words and hasty footsteps had drawn him and the words the common peoples so readily plied into open air were of no small interest to him. So much could be garnered if someone simply relaxed in the comfortable shade and listened and so he did, listening to beggar and thief alike spin tales of the origins of the men, and why they found themselves so unlucky on this day. Most of it was hardly worth the lives of the very men who spoke such grand tells but a small sliver of truth could be hand in any lie if one new where to look. One such man, a aging older one wearing only a sackcloth spouted words saying the men hailed from Zeltiva, and stole grand treasures on their circumnavigation of all that was until they stole from Robern and lost their ship, and soon their very lives because of it. Another, just but a boy told tales that spoke of the men having been famed spiritists having originated in far off lands covered in sand and had come to the mansion in hopes of making it their own after displacing it's current occupant of course.

FInally he turned his ear away from the budding conversations after a bell or so of listening to the mindless dribble and emerged from the shadows to dive into the press of bodies that was the crowd. Many had spoken of such a city, Zeltiva they called it but he knew not where such a place was found as his own eyes had never rested on a map. The majority spoke of it however so leading him to believe that is where these men originated despite the few long tales that suggested otherwise. What that meant for him however was another story for what could one do with such information. It was hardly of worth in and of itself unless used to warm the 'Zeltivans' up to him as the common folk and guard referred to them as. They were as sure as dead on those ropes though and it meant nothing to him for them to come to their end in this wretched place. With loose tongues though, much could be gained.

His train of thought was stopped as a short figure skidded into view only to land on the ground in a heap. A familiar face he caught in but a glimpse was enough to set him shouldering through the people to make a line for the man he presumed to be a lad who caused no small amount of annoyances for him, but had a way with information that made him useful for the moment. He was over the form a chime later and would attempt to reach down and grasp Bob by his hair and pull him to his feet should the man not have tried to snake away from him or get up in some other way. Either way when the short man came to his feet he would see the fully cloaked Darian with only his hazel eyes peering at him from the shadows, his cruel grin hidden by the dirty black cloth that covered most of his face.

"It's been a while Tale Peddler"

[Finesse]

Finesse had to see the commotion. It was a busy day out at the gallows, and she was awake for it. There was a strange attraction towards the methodical slaughter of hanging someone, and she had a different reason entirely to be there. The black-winged woman had flown swiftly from rooftop to roof top and perched herself out of view from the crowds. The shouting and scuffling of the people equipped with varying produce and throwable objects was not what the winged one came for. She came to sympathize.
Sitting upon the roof of a nearby building, she lay herself out in the sunlight, enjoying its warmth, since that was the only thing she really could enjoy about it. Strong ears listened into the crowd. Conversations about various topics sprung up, and she collected only a small portion of what may or may not be going on. The sympathizer spoke out loud to herself, softly.
"I know how you feel, dead man," she started, "Hunted down and brought to be viewed in front of hundreds of others... People trying to kill you for what you are... Being hated for being who you are, instead of playing for someone. I don't know what you did... I probably never will... I'll probably never get to meet you, or hunt you myself." She paused to lament for the poor soul who is the target for all the people's shouting and cheering. The zith adjusted the belt that hung normally about her hips.
"If they keep you there long enough, I might just visit you tonight. Who knows what help you can bring me," concluded the, apparently, day walking zith. She rolled over and folded her arms, resting her head on them, laying chest down. Her wings draped over her like a small blanket, as she watched the events as best she could in the daylight. She could make out a small bit of what was going on with the blurred vision she had in the day. She did notice a small dip in the blob that was the crowd, and a vaguely familiar voice, but aside from smile at that fact, she decided to close her eyes once more. She listened to the background sound, and began to lament once more.

[Bob Barton]

Bob thought that those three stooges have come for him. They should have just stayed where they were instead. Even without the brick Bob would be able to take them down with his trusty cane sword! When Bob felt the rough fingers running through his hair and about to grasp them into a lump, he shook his head trying to get the hand off and waved the cane above his head to try and beat off the hand as hard as possible. Pity he did not have a whip or that rat skull would have made it an even more painful experience should the wild attack hit the hand. Once he was released, Bob rolled to the side to look at the face of this brute fully prepared to knock him with his cane and on his back he extended his arm and cane forward in a straight line towards where he assumed the torso would be given the position of the hand earlier but because again Bob was just sending the blow blindly, "Craevan, you stinker!" would have no problem evading it if it ever was able to hit him to begin with and that would be a very good thing because the only Bob wanted to get at are "those three petchers. Are they around?" which he asked for after the man revealed himself as he moved his head to look past his...friend? Ally? Bob would put the man around acquaintance since in fact, he did not even know his real name.

Grabbing his hat which flew a little away and getting back to his feet, Bob asked a very important question as he dusted himself which was not "enjoying the foolish game I see?" because it could only come after "since when am I known as a Tale Peddler?" Peddler was a bit of a negative way to refer to him and Bob would prefer if Darian would "call me by my name unless it is a title like High Roller" which sounded very good because it speaks of the one thing Bob was good at and made him forget the fact that he was short. Speaking of games, "perhaps you might want to try a proper game for yourself" he offered because gods know that "a hanging in Sunberth is just about as new and exciting as Darik getting into trouble even if the people are the crew from the captured Zeltiva ship a few days back" which although it was always funny with Darik each time, it was starting to lose Bob's interest because it was just too predictable. They needed a new toy to play with and "that...would...be..." looking around the crowded location of everyone which was throwing insults and objects "...her!" Even under a cloak, Bob could recognize the shapely body of the fairer sex he had grown accustomed to look for and the long...

"Blonde hair" adding to the description. As they say, blondes and dumb and the dumber they are the easier they should be. Without waiting for Darian's response Bob announced to him that "the winner gets something from the loser not exceeding three gold alright?" and if Darian did not have enough stones to follow Bob's lead then it would only mean less competition for him. Either way, Bob wins in the end and that was the way he liked his odds. The more Bob looked at her the more confident he felt. She reminded him of one of those lost kittens in Killroy's because all she did was look around the place and the people as if deciding what to do next. How could she not know that "the main attraction is the crew hung over there but I can see that you are a woman with some taste and a mind which is more I can say about the others" and having said his piece the introductions were made that "I am Bob Barton and who is this I might be speaking to?" tipping his hat forward to hide the fact that he was getting a better look at the woman to see what treasures lay hidden beneath the cloak.

OOCHope you don't mind Darian, I was supposed to have Bob meet Valorae too XD If it helps I think you wanted to ask what is going on right so I tried to answer it

[Valorae]

She hadn’t been fully aware of her surroundings. Little did she know, that despite all signs pointing in the direction that she was well, she was truly being deprived of mundane needs she often overlooked in slumber. There was more she’d overlooked, for the seasons had turned and still her hair glowed like the noon sun. She had lost faith, unbeknown to her. Further loss of attention afflicted her now. She had not realized there was a noise until perhaps half way through his statement. She glanced back and forth in her narrow field of vision for the source of that noise. After her flickering eyes, she soon noticed the teller man looking at her as well, as if he were escorted by…that. She looked down as Bob introduced himself. Her dagger eyes sunk into her target as some sly grin came across her face. It was the compliment, perhaps. This moment was ideal. She used that dark art which had known all too well now to her own advantage, though she kept her hands clutched tight under her cloak on Plan B. Her large, blue eyes fluttered lightly as she looked down at him. The smudges on her face and bruised eyes were excusable from the angle of the sun of her cloak. Those lips of hers parted slightly. Her tongue slithered between them to moisten her lips as subtly as she could and then retracted. She spoke in her softer voice, “Valorae.” It was certainly a simple answer, though she tried to come across as…charmed, by Bob…somehow. Surely there was something he could have that she’d want. She went on, “I had not had the chance to see what was ahead. Perhaps it might indeed be of my…taste.” Those pearls from the heavens above glimmered in the outline of her soft lips. “Could you show me around, then?” Her glance shifted from Bob for but a moment. She gave Darian a coy look. She sealed her lips together and spread them to a smirk. She reached her hand up from her cloak and pushed back a bit of hair that hung in her face behind her ear, but only the end of it. She was careful to conceal her horns. Her final remark, “Well…? What do you two think?”

[Darian]

In the bat of a cane, he skipped backwards, narrowly avoiding what would have proved to have been a stinging hit to his exposed wrist. The man had some fight in him, but that wasn't really surprising given where there where and neither was the fact that this one seemed to have gotten in trouble again, something he seemed almost prone to. There he stood though, drawn up to full light and made all the more defined by the sun that beat down on his form only to be seemingly absorbed partially by the dark, bonded silk of his armor and cloak. His eyes showed no kindness to the man's continued words, but he choose to not speak, or at least not do so hastily. At his side his fist clenched reflexively as he tested out the movement of each of his splayed fingers before allowing his forearm to rest casually on the hilt of his longsword, ever eager to draw it and so spread around the sweet bloodletting.

"You speak in circles and way too much but everyone and a while something worthwhile comes from your lips to save that hide of yours, I'll have nothing of such sport for gold. Here we barter words tale spinner, and that is what the stakes shall be on your life" Darian said slowly and deliberately, his eyes cutting into Bob's own before he spun around to let his cloak flare in his wake as he started off towards the woman Bob had so errantly pointed him towards. He may have not have had his looks after the deadly experience with that mage, but he wasn't so much interested in such base interests as he suspected the man he walked with was. His interests were beyond such primal simplicity.

"Craevan" He spoke simply, his voice crisp and cool as his eyes stayed on hers, seemingly focused on only them but out of the corners of his eyes he watched Bob, and the hands of the woman, looking for even a the slightest glint that might betray a dagger being drawn. He saw nothing, not yet anyways, and his focus once more shifted towards the woman before him.

"I could show you around easily enough"

[Bob Barton]

Hide, life, these people in Sunberth all talk as if they could take out Bob at any given moment just because he seemed a little bit weaker but they forget that fighting was not the only means of survival here. Bob could run, Bob could hide and he could even lie. Anything would do but at that point it looked like his companion was content with taking him up on his little game. A game that Bob knew that he was going to win. Compared to a lot of other men Bob might seem to come up short but compared to the burned and scarred Craevan he would be the best looking person in the world unless of course the taste of Sunberth women were truly different thanks to the environment that they have chose to live in. Dangerous and vicious in an ugly, drab old mining town.

A bad sign when she was said she might be a woman with a taste for a hanging? That was a turn-off but on closer inspection Bob's fears were true finding another battered soul of Sunberth would like. The messy make-up of smudge on the face, the grand tattoo at vulnerable places like at the eye and the lovely smell of the disgusting cloak he looked on told him that the woman already would know the more dominant qualities of Sunberth but here she was acting as if she was a stranger to these parts. Maybe she was trying to set him up for something if that sly grin was going to tell him anything. Bob would have tried to get out of this if he did not already put himself in the challenge against Craevan and since the man already chose to follow through as well, Bob might be able to rely on his help in case anything happened...or he could just yell. There were enough people around whose attention he might get to be easily diverted to any woman alone on the streets for their very horrible intentions.

"Bob-Valorae-Craevan" Bob said as he gestured to each owner of the name ending with a clap since "it is good that we are all not acquainted." Not so good since Craevan seemed like he has dropped his guard with the woman by giving the offer. Bob might have relied on the wrong companion this time but "where do you have in mind Valorae? Do you still want to go and see what is ahead or if you just want to see what other Sunberth people like to do..." as hinted by her interest in the event "then we should just see what Craevan suggests since I am not too familiar with this place myself" and why would he be if the most exciting event of the season is nothing more than the hanging of a Zeltivan crew? It was just disgusting especially since chances were it might have been him if he had followed one of the popular ambitions of the other Zeltivan kids back home but as the gambler he was he knew that luck had nothing to do with it because otherwise he would know what to blame for the shit hand that was life.

[Valorae]

She seemingly itched her back while she put the dagger back. It fit snuggly in a band of cloth or bow on the dress. She looked back between the two as they argued or commented to each other. The idea of them knowing each other was a bit unsettling, especially in this town. She hadn’t much to say herself, which was nice. She really didn’t know what to say; she didn’t intend to be approached. Many things she had not intended occurred though… “That sounds wonderful. Her voice was rich and alluring with its enthusiasm. She even gave a bit of a smile – well kept teeth for a Sunberth resident…unheard of, she certainly was not from these parts. She gave Craeven that look again, and nodded. She hoped he’d take the hint and lead them on. A hanging was certainly not the most appetizing thought at the moment. She checked on Bob again, the smidgen. What a peculiar thing…not a Pycon though, surprisingly. The whole while she tried to flutter those eyes and glance around them. They had her back covered for the most part. No one was coming for her it seemed. This was more false good news. The events she predicted were just delayed, for sure. Should they have stopped or paused in hesitation, she only meant to encourage them, “Lead the way…” She felt the muscles in her eyes wave over again, inside and out, as she let her eye lids shutter and flutter in an almost slow motion. Guys seemed to like that. It was like playing peek-a-boo with those big, shining eyes of hers. She must have certainly been a sight on these two visual sores…stripes and stubby. Now that thought was entertaining.

[Darian]

"I said I could, not that I necessarily would" He stated flatly, his eyes quite unamused with the whole situation. Certainly it was a little displeasing that Bob took it upon himself to announce his false identity so freely but it was not his real title and he'd suffer the slight for now. The woman before him almost seemed worse than the tale peddler, batting her eyes as if she was in a city with laws and morality. Her looks wouldn't save her from a stabbing, something she needed to learn if she was going to survive on these streets with such a look about her.

"I suggest we stay a bit, and enjoy the spectacle of those men dead men, though if you don't like that you can always stumble along by yourself, absent of guide or knowledge to get you by" Darian added, turning to the side to accentuate the comment, and gain a better view of the men on the stage, though he still watched his 'companions' just as carefully. In truth he didn't to much care for watching men doomed to hang, but neither did it bring him grief. It was simply a waste of his time, time that was valuable for it meant lives where being spared that ought not to be, and that his training was going to waste.

"For coin though, I can be persuaded to be such a guide" He remarked offhandedly, his eyes never leaving the view before him, though underneath the filthy cowl covering his mouth he bit his lip in anticipation whether it be a blade drawn on him, or words.