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[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

As Seng walked backed to the fire and sat down, he could only sigh as he looked up at the ceiling, decrepit and slowly but surly falling in on itself due to the hail outside. For a couple of ticks he listened to Nov start explaining the situation, this caused him to shift his gaze towards the little devil when he asked for her name, the look in her eyes caused Senghor to slightly smirk, she truly embodied all over Sunberth's rich culture. And she didn't like orphanages, what child in Sunberth did when they thought they could strive out there on their own?, it was a laughable thought but when one looked at the numbers of deaths caused by that ideology, it wasn't so laughable... It didn't take too long for Garret to add his two miza's and beget spitting nonsense towards the little girl, Senghor turned and looked at her before speaking. "Don't mind him, he has a stick so far up his ass that shyke keeps leaking out his mouth..." he said in a look voice, though he was against using vulgar language around kids it seemed to work when she giggled and smiled, not minding that he'd spat at her feet. When Garret uttered more nonsense in Seng's personal opinion it didn't take long for his perception to change when he stepped back into the stables, the giggles from the little girl turned to mocking laughter as Seng chuckled. When the man returned and said they'd to wait out the hail, Seng only shook his head and sighed, he said something else before a unfamiliar voice chimed in. His motion was swift, it didn't take long for Seng to stand and hold onto the hilt of his longsword, Lhex!, it was only than the his body sent a personal reminder causing the dark skinned man's body to throb, damnit!... As Senghor observed the would be thieves it didn't take long for him to realise that they were something of their counterparts, the Vilhjalmr stood in front of the guy and turned his head towards Noven. "Hey, you take the loud mouth and I'll take the lovely lady lacking feminine parts..." he said in something of a mocking tone towards the only female in the group, though he was against fighting women he found himself intrigued by the muscular looking woman, in his mind, if she looked like a man, she fought like a man...

[Noven]

Noven visibly brightened at Seng's division of gifts. And oh, such scrumptious gifts they were. The headache that he had originally feared would arrive at any moment would now safely be held at bay for another day. Soon as he got one good hit on this loudmouth amateur.

"I like how you think Seng," he smirked, eyes focused on his delegated responsibility. It was time to release his festering frustrations on the poor sods who had just signed themselves onto an early funeral.

Well, assuming rats had funerals.

He was just about to begin maneuvering himself for a better position when something pricked his ears. It was the slithering sound of a blade sliding out of its sheath, and it forced him to glance backwards. What the gods...

"The shyke do you think you're doing, runt?" he hissed at the girl. She was now standing on her bare, grubby little feet, a small knife in her hands and a look of grim determination in her eyes. "Put that thing away before you poke your eye out."

She snarled. The nasty little thing actually snarled and bared her teeth at him. "I'm not going to die here," Mira spat.

Krysus, he had picked himself up a nut job. Before Noven could asure her, however, that no one but these fool headed, wannabe thieves were going to die, the fight exploded into action.

Without further incentive, Nov charged straight for his prey. If the man was any good with that rapier of his, the cook was doomed. So, the first thing he did was sock the man square in the eyes. Temporarily blinded, the thief leader failed to see his opponent had stepped beside him, away from the deadly flailing of his sword hand, to grab his wrist.

Nov had every intention to break his fragile bones and toss the rapier into a bale of hay. But the man was wilier than anyone could give him credit for at first glance. He twisted himself out of reach with a tumble to the ground, and when he rolled back to his feet his vision was more or less cleared.

An image of the rapier piercing his belly invaded Nov's mind when the thief's eyes suddenly bugged in their sockets. He gave a little wheeze of pain and turned around to find a small, dark skinned orphan backing away from him, empty handed.

A hilt was protruding from his back.

The next thing the thief saw was the outline of an enormous blur as Nov plowed into him, knocking them both to the ground. The thief landed on the knife and cried out in pain. Giving him no time to recuperate, Nov slammed his fist into the man's wrist, forcing him to let go of the rapier. Then he held him down by the throat and growled in his face, "Are there more of you out there? Tell me, or I'll make you wish I'd killed you much, much sooner."

The thief gurgled something, his eyes wide with panic. His fingers were still inching toward his rapier. Nov promptly broke them. All of them. Out of sheer habit, he called on his mark as soon as he pulled back the man's fingers with a sickening snap. Then the thief choked under his weight and his eyes closed, face falling limp to one side.

"Dammit." He looked up to find his fellow mercenaries still locked in furious battle. Wait a tick. Shyke, where was the driver? He asked the girl, who was staring at him, face an impenetrable facade of stoicness. She pointed behind her.

Huddled to the very back of the stables was the cowardly driver, most of his frame hidden behind the cargo. He was watching the chaotic scene with panic and a quivering lip. And...what was he trying to do now? Little, petching bastard, Nov leered in his head, No you don't. Not on my watch.

He got up, abandoning the body of the thief, and stalked toward the driver, Mira trailing close behind him. The sniveling fool was trying to untie the chestnut horse. "Where you goin', old pal?"

The man's face snapped up as he finally noticed Noven's approach. "W-wait, um, don't hurt me. It's not--"

Nov punched the man's lights out without a second thought. Then he hauled his heavy, unconscious form onto his shoulders and tossed him back on the wagon. Fortunately, the man hadn't actually succeeded in undoing the reigns of the horse. His fingers were probably too slick with cowardly sweat.

"You're going no where," Nov growled, then turned to Mira. "Runt, watch him and make sure he doesn't run."

The girl nodded curtly, gluing her dark eyes to the unconscious man. Nov gave her an approving look before diving back into the fray.

[Garret Sawyer]

The flash of steel glistened for moment as the spear dived forward, striking with incredible speed and force. His opponent had wasted no time in diving into the fight as soon as it became apparent that Garret refused to stand down, he didn't even wait to see if the other mercenaries were going to stand down, too eager for bloodshed he had stepped forward and thrust his spear with as much strength as his arms would allow. Fortunately for Garret, it appeared that while the short man had brute force, he paid little attention to aim as the spearhead went wide, missing Garret's torso by a couple of inches.

When it became apparent he had missed the thief merely snarled, revealing a mouth full of dark yellow teeth and black gaps, before quickly yanking back on his spear, it's deadly point vanishing into the darkness though that made it all the more dangerous as Garret struggled to keep track of it as events unfolded around him. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the gloomy mercenary called Noven plough the leader of the thieves into the ground, "Well, at least they haven't turned against me" he thought, but that hardly made him like them anymore and he had more pressing concerns right now as his opponent adjusted his stance, his grip on the spear and his position before striking at Garret once more.

This time Garret managed to raise his shield up, it wasn't a particularly large or cumbersome thing but Garret was no expert with the thing so he had barely manage to block the blow, let alone adjust his stance so when the spearhead smacked against the wood it sent him stumbling backwards as the spearman pressed on grinning, as he struck out again, the spearhead slicing dangerously close to his face. As it was pulled back a sudden burn flashed across his face as hot blood ran down his right cheek, dripping from a long smooth cut stretching across his upper cheek.

The thief merely hissed at him, excited by the sight of blood as much as Garret would be if it was the spearman's and not his own blood leaking from a painful wound. "Well that's a new scar to add to the collection" he thought as he raised his shield again as the spear came hurtling toward him with all the man's brute strength behind it. Placing his foot backwards he felt the force of the blow resonate through his body, his back foot fighting it to stop him stumbling backwards. With a sudden jolt as his shield arm was pulled forward he realised that the spearhead was jammed in his shield. And thus begun the contest of strength, and as Garret stand down at his opponent he was feeling confident.

"By the gods this bugger is strong" he reflected as he felt his back smash against wooden wall, the contest had ended far quicker than he anticipated with the result he certainly wouldn't have put money on. But now they were in a deadlock, With the strength of the wall behind him Garret could push back against the spear, stopping him chest from being caved in by his own shield but couldn't push the spar away entirely to move off the wall. And the spearman couldn't adjust his own position to strike harder because his spear was still stuck in Garret's shield.

Garret place his right foot up against the wall and with a sudden burst of strength he charged forward, using his foot to propel him away from the wall as he pushed away with him shield armed, sending the man stumbling backwards as his grip slackened. Garret pushed forward again, using his shield to send him sprawling into a pile of hay as he lost all grip on the spear. Garret kicked it too one side, as he approach the thief, the fight wasn't over but Garret had already won.

[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

The swing of her battleaxe bouncing off the steel of his blade as he parried caused both figures to stagger back slightly, it didn't take long before both they were on each other again. As the female bandit brought down her savage weapon the Vilhjalmr, Seng dodged to the side by diving to the side, rolling on it before grasping the hilt of sword and sweeping the weapon to the back of her knees, as if instinctively she leapt and dropped her entire weight on the longsword. Senghor didn't even waste time letting go and going on the offense, he turned back swiftly and pounced by wrapping his arms around her in a bear hug, he began to squeeze and heard as she grunted and yelp in pain. Her grip on the malicious battleaxe loosened slightly, whilst Senghor was utilizing his strength to soften her up, she was using her wit to counter by butting the back of her head into Senghor nose, it wasn't the pain that caused him to loosen his grasp yet if he was asked, her hair may have played a key role in him doing so. Seng let go and staggered back, he shook his head to bring back his senses to him and slowly he looked up whilst holding his nose, luckily no blood yet, the woman did indeed fight like a man, more grunts than groans came from her lips and her muscular nature gave her an edge over most opponents it seemed. 'Huh, if she wasn't doing this nonsense, she'd make a pretty decent warrior' he thought as he looked her over before realising that he might be screwed, he was in pain, without a weapon and wasn't taking this as seriously as he would have. As he turned and spat on the ground, he spoke "You're standing on my blade..." he said before inclining his head back to her, his ears captured the sounds of each fight going on and it seemed each man was enjoying himself. "'nd what're'ya goin' to do about it whelp... You ain'' gonna do nothin' but die, whore-son..." she taunted by unknowingly saying that word, that one word that everybody dared call him by, a misconception about his mother... From the unrelenting seas of golden brown deserts to the cold deadly nightly brown of the sands during the winter night, that's how his eyes would have portrayed his rage as he looked at her, woman or not, he was going to break her, break every single bone within her body for daring to call him, a whoreson... And so she charged with her axe held high prepared to bring down her the wrath she believed she possessed, Seng watched as she swung wildly to split him in two. When the blade of the axe descent, Seng did the unthinkable and dived to the side, too let her momentum pull her down. As she bent slightly when her weapon hit the ground, Seng quickly marched and sharply inlodged his boot into her rib cage, the anger-driven force delivered pushed her away as her delicate bones snapped, and a roar of pain sung from her... With one arm slowly going to her side to inspect the wound, it didn't take long for the brawler to destroy her will again, Seng charged into her and somewhat leapt forward, she felt as his hands grasp her hair and pull her into the velocity of his knee. She bellowed in pain as her jaw dislocated from the blow, and surprisingly she thought it was over yet Seng didn't let go of her locks, he began again, a vicious assault to her face with his knee as his anger overrode all possible concern. And than he let go and watched her crumble to the floor, Senghor didn't take long to go retrieve his blade as the battered and bruised woman staggered in a daze back to her feet... "Lay down or Die..." she heard him spit angrily, at that moment the desert skinned warrior was too conflicted to think, morals against rage, he wanted to go over there, merely swing his blade down and like a guillotine in work her dead would simply fall off. And to think, he only really ever wanted to fight her because he thought she'd be an easily fight, a simple grab by the her and she'd be begging to leave but no, she had to spit out nonsense, nonsense that was met by the wrath of the Vilhjalmr...

[Noven]

By the time Noven returned to the fight, his fellow mercenaries more or less had the thieves subdued. The little fellow he had lying unconscious on the ground was still out cold. Lucky, to have passed out so soon. Many tended to die after so much prolonged pain.

"What do we do with them?" Nov growled, peeved. Killing a person in a fight was one thing, but slicing someone's throat while they were unconscious felt just a wee bit unsavory, even for him. Unfortunately for all of them, the three thieves were alive, albeit barely so, and the mercenaries didn't exactly have an abundance of rope to string them all up with.

The cook sighed, rifling through his damp hair in frustration. "Guess the simplest thing to do would be to gut them all and leave them for the crows."

"No, wait!" one of the cried. It was the squat, stubby one with the spear, who was now on his back and cowering before Garret's approaching presence. "Y-you still have to deliver that cargo, right? I--"

Nov didn't even bother questioning how the man knew their business. Those three thieves must have been following them this whole time. Hell, they could have been tipped off from the get go and were waiting right from the start for an opportunity to ambush them. He hoped they were fervently regretting their worse than idiotic plan. "This better be good," he spat, "Or I'm going to strap your head on the wagon as a warning to the rest of your ilk."

The thief gulped, "I-It is, if you want to avoid the h-hail. I know a s-short cut."

Nov gave a meaningful look at the others, gauging their reactions. Sure, the rat was about the last living thing he wanted to trust. But this just might be worth considering...

"What do you gents think?"

[Garret Sawyer]

Unlike Noven, Garret had no such problem with killing them while they were unconscious, especially considering that they would do the same to them if there places were reversed. And as the short, squatty man begged for his life as Garret loomed over him, ready to smash his skull in at any given moment he couldn't help but remember his eagerness to stick a spear through his throat as soon as Garret refused to surrender.

"I-It is, if you want to avoid the h-hail. I know a s-short cut."

"Liar!" Garret accused his accent starting to thicken as he spat at the man before sending his boot hurtling into the man's testicles.
"It's the truth I swear" He said as he writhed around on the floor, clutching his manhood as he groaned in pain "You have to believe me I swear" He said pleadingly as Garret stepped closer, his morning star ready to kill as he considered his options "I either get to smash in that ugly face of his and have to wait out the hail with this lot, or I spare his pathetic life and get paid a lot quicker..." He thought carefully, either option sounded good to him but in the end his morning star dropped to his side before he turned away "Fine, we'll let him live. Let's make sure the other s are dead first though then we'll bring the driver around" he said as he walked away, but not before giving the spearman another sharp kick in the balls "If I found out you lied to us" he muttered to him "You'll wish I smashed your face in right now"

As the man continued to groan as he walked over to the leader of the group and unstrapped his shield "Not bad" he said, prodding the unconscious man, admiring the swollen broken fingers, before bending down to yank his head back to expose his throat "Shame, It's more fun when they struggle" he thought before slamming his weapon down on his throat. Blood erupted from the wound as his throat was crushed inwards, he tore the morningstar out, sending the crimson liquid spraying over the floor, the walls, and even Garret. As the body attempted to breath it gargled on the blood that filled the dark, jagged wound as stretched across his throat. His eyes opened wide and his pupils constricted, the look of realization and acceptance across his face as he attempted to speak, only rewarded with gargled nonsense as more blood shoot out from his throat, dripping down his blood soaked clothes as his consciousness faded once more, while his breath faltered, never to resume again.

Garret stood back up from the body and ran a cold hand across his face, wiping the hot blood of his face, though failing to remove the salty, metallic taste that filled his mouth, and still remnants of the blood remained smeared around his face. He causally picked his shield back up and slung it over his back, massaging his arm as he looked back at the group "We ready?"

[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

Seng's face twisted in rage before her eyes flattered erratically before they shut and she collapsed in a heap of of defeat. He rolled his shoulder and heard the thud and knew that he'd already won, Seng sheathed his blade and he allowed his anger to cool down by breathing in and out, slowly and steadily the aggression washed away as if he was mediating. As Seng walked about the stable, he looked at the unconscious driver, from the looks of it it was easily Noven's work because he had the girl guarding the snoring man, poking his side with the tip of her little blade. Senghor could only think of how sadistic and bloody the child's future would be, when Seng walked into the group he turned his head and looked down towards the unconscious bandit leader, and back at the pleading one, Senghor turned his head back to the unconscious woman and shrugged it off. It was than that he listened to the battered man, he was talking about a shortcut through the hail, Seng thought on this and his brain grasped two very critical things, one: it'd avoid a long wait and two: most likely a cave in from the stables roof, it was starting to groan where the nails held it together and Seng was concerned about that. He sighed slightly as he turned towards the older mercenary and watched as he began to mutilated the leader of the group, shaking his head at the brutality of the man the Vilhjalmr turned and looked at Noven, stomping and beating down one man to only shift and kill another. His words even brought the mercenary to sigh to himself when he spoke, the gurgling sounds of the dying man fell to the deafening sounds of the hail outside and than he finally died. When he was done he even had the casual nature to ask whether they were done... "Yeah... Nov, get the kid and wake up the driver. We're leaving this crapheap..."

[Noven]

The cook almost protested when Garret bashed in his former opponent's throat. But, the man had essentially done him a favor, and he wasn't one to be called ungrateful.

"Thanks," he said rather congenially. "Aye, I'm ready. Someone get the rat to start leading the way while I wake up our courageous driver. We should figure out how to make him talk without leading us into some kind of trap."

"Oh, no, oh mighty ones," the remaining thief sniveled, "I'd never dream of it."

Nov snorted as he stomped towards their cargo. The rat was going to betray them first chance he got, with or without threats to mount his head on their wagon. Only thing they could do was be prepared for it. At least it wouldn't be hard to tell if the thief was leading them astray; they were all too familiar with the streets of Sunberth, and as useless as their driver turned out to be, he was still a driver.

"Oy, Runt," Nov called out to Mira. The dark little orphan turned around, her expression ever serious. "Wake up the pig, will ya? We're about to head out."

He wasn't entirely sure what she would do, but he wasn't surprised either when she took her open palm and slapped the man clear across his face.

The driver jerked violently as he came to, flailing a bit as he muttered incoherent gibberish. "Get the horses ready," Nov barked, giving Mira an amused smirk. "And do it fast, or our little Runt here will give you a beating you won't forget." To further emphasize his threat, he picked up the girl and placed her right next to the driver. Her dark eyes immediately locked onto her charge, little dagger held firmly in her small fists. Good gods, she was like a miniature blood hound.

The man stared at Mira and gulped, then promptly went to work. No doubt he'd seen what she'd done to the thief leader, and that slap certainly wasn't the gentlest of wake up calls. Soon, the wagon's wheels creaked into motion again, and they were ready to go.

"Ready when you folks are," Nov announced.

[Garret Sawyer]

Garret reached down and picked up the spear, still stained with Garret's dried brown blood, he gripped either end of the shaft and snapped in over his knee, glaring at the thief as he did so. The whip cracked as the horse started moving once more, if not more uneasily this time round. Garret pushed the thief to the front, with his weapon out and ready to kill him if he thief gave the slightest indication of running.
"If you run" he said before point at Senghor "He kills you, we clear?"
"Yes" He said, stepping outside into the hail as he led the driver on.

"Around here" The thief said, turning round into a tight alleyway that the cart could only just squeeze through, but the high walls and steep roofs meant that they were sheltered from the most of the hail, and the strong wind that whistled over head. It was vulnerable to ambush though, if the walls came any closer together the cart would be stuck, thus dividing the two groups that patrolled the cart, since when they had entered the alleyway Garret had stayed up in front of it with the thief while the other two had been forced to stay at the back while that little runt stared at the driver with a sadistic grin.

Still, he didn't agree with Noven's idea of a trap. Nearly every delivery that came into Sunberth had to be taken to the Storage Houses else it'll be robbed by sunrise, it had been a lucky guess that's all. And they had lit a fire in the stable, practically alerting everyone nearby that someone was inside and by the gods' those horses had made a lot of noise, it all fit together. No inside knowledge and no ambush, it was just a simpler job that had been complicated by the bloody weather.

"It's not far" he said, turning another corner as the wheel scrapped against the walls "Let's hope that cart fits through it, this should take five ticks max"
"It better be" Garret thought, he had spent plenty of time in Sunberth, but in these parts of it the streets changed often, these houses were designed to be built quickly, not to last throughout the ages "It's your neck on the line if it isn't"
Suddenly a excruciating screech echoed throughout the alleyway as the cart ground to a halt, sending the horses stumbling as they were yanked backwards by their harnesses.
"Dammit! The wheels have jammed" The driver cried out, nervous that the runt next to him would assume it was his fault "I can fix it, I can fix it!" he protested as she held up a wicked little knife up against his chest.

This fact didn't seem to matter to the thief who used distraction to flee, Garret looked on incredulously as the man clambered over the cart, clearly eager to be out of reach of his morning star as he vanished from Garret's line of sight.
"Catch that bastard!" He shouted, hoping one of them had noticed the disruption.

[Noven]

One moment, he was wincing as the horses neighed in irritation and their wagon screeched to a halt, its wheels stuck against the walls. Surprisingly quick to react, the driver leaped into the task of fixing it without hesitation. No doubt Mira was taking her job quite seriously.

The next, Garret's surly voice broke into a shout and the distinct sounds of someone scrambling over the cargo erupted. A pair of legs popped into view as they pedaled in the air, sailing over the rear guard's heads.

Idiot.

Nov reached out with one hand, grabbed the man by the ankle, and let the laws of physics do their work. He didn't even need to call on his mark as the rat slammed face first into the cold ground, nose and teeth shattering upon impact. Oh, how the little, spineless worm howled.

The cook's foot connected with the thief's stomach and replaced his pathetic, angry sobs with quieter groans of pain. Normally, Nov wasn't the type to kick a man when he's down--unless it was a Daggerhand, of course. But the amateur criminal's whining was just too petching annoying.

"Fixed!" the driver called out with amplified relief. Nov heard a little sniff. No doubt Mira's less than impressed approval. "Let's go, I don't want to stay here a tick longer. Hey, where's that other fellow?"

"Leave him," Nov spat, his voice echoing off the narrow walls. "We should be close. Let the dogs take care of the rest."