Open The nous to avoid the noose

[Rafael Colebourne]

35th of Winter, 513AV

Rafael stood on his toes to try and peek over the crowd that had gathered at the gallows. There was a buzz in the crowd, like that of a beehive. Apparentely something out of the ordinary had happened, and Rafael was determined to find out what.

Shoving his way forward was probably a good way to end up with a black eye so instead, he carefully squeezed himself out of the thick of the crowd and stepped to the side to get a better look.

What he saw shocked him. Even for a native of Sunberth --who was used to the occasional display of violence, the sight before him was horrifying. The man hadn't been hung. Instead he was laying propped up against the stairs of the gallows. His mouth ajar, daggers poking through his ribs and eye sockets. On closer inspection, he noticed the man had his own eyeballs in his mouth.

Disgusted, het let his eyes slide to the man's lower body. A note was pinned to the man's chest. Still he didn't have the courage to step forward and read what it said. For a while, it seemed no one did.

Finally a broad-shouldered man, probably a sellsword, made his way through the crowd and yanked the note from the man's chest.

"What does it say?" an older man in the crowd ventured to ask.

The sellsword spun around and put the paper under the man's nose. "Read," he commanded. And so the old man did.

"...If you are skilled enough to follow the whispers, we will be in contact. Hound."

The words were still ringing in his ears as the crowd dissipated. He too turned away and, lost in his contemplations, mindlessly walked to a half-wrecked bench and say down on it.

He didn't know who the dead man was, or what he'd done, but even in this town, no one deserved to be maimed like that. Oh, if only he knew who the hound was, he'd have him hanged for his crimes.

[Gad]

Well this is pretty damn grim. Gad looked at the ritually desecrated corpse, and considered the message it kept. He wasn't the first one there but he was one of the first. Finding anybody knifed up and left looking gruesome wasn't much of an even in Sunberth but Rokan the Daggerhand wasn't just anybody. "Hmph, Daggerhand indeed, dagger hand in death." Covertly, Gad plucked the dagger from the man's tattooed hand, wiped it off on the corpse's clothes and pocketed the valuable looking blade in his jacket. Gad ruffled through the rest of the corpses belongings subtly as he could, slipping his hand in his pockets for valuables. He'd hoped to get something good before the superstitious sodded off and the more enterprising of Sunberth's residents decided to look for loot. No luck though, whoever his assailants were, they were pragmatic, or someone had found the body before the crowd gathered and left it otherwise intact. It was irrelevant now. There were a few others like Gad, desensitized to death, who had no problems being hunched right over the body, but for the most part they kept their distance, weary of mystic curses or more tangible retributions. A broad-shouldered tough guy yanked the note from the body and presented it to the crowd. Before long, most onlookers had dispersed and the only ones left around were those interested in the note, which they gathered around and passed from one another. Gad was more interested in the body, still. He noticed the gashes in the hands were much bigger than the width of the knives used to stab them. Furthermore, there were bruises wrapping around his limbs. Gad wondered if these were from a confrontation, or perhaps him being restrained. There'd be no telling without further investigation. Noting these details, Gad slunk away, taking a seat on a bench near a younger guy. He seemed to be lost in thought, perhaps even traumatized. "Hey, hey kid. Did you see what happened here?"

[Rafael Colebourne]

Rafael looked on in disgust as some lowlife looters started searching the corpse. He was wise enough not to intervene, he didn't like the idea of rotting six feet beneath the sod very much. Still, he couldn't keep his gaze from the vultures that shamelessly searched the man's pouches and sash. Though he had always enjoyed the freedom and independence that Sunberth enjoyed, he despised the heartless profiteers that earned their coin by leeching on corpses. Unable to look on any longer as they rolled the dishonored body over, he averted his gaze to the ground, feeling completely useless.

"Hey, hey kid. Did you see what happened here?"
Rafael flinched and quickly scooted aside. Like the shadow of the wind, a young man silently sat down next to him. On closer inspection, he didn't look all that dangerous. Looks could deceive however. Meditating the question, Rafael's distrustful frown deepened and he glanced down briefly at his hip. His dagger was still there. Looking back up, Rafael decided to answer the man.

"I saw the corpse," Rafael said, still weary of the man, "and the note. Why do you ask? I have nothing to do with it."

He crossed his arms and gazed into the distance, hoping the man would soon go away. If not, he could always bolt and make a run for it, but he hadn't been feeling his best lately and didn't really know where to run to either.

[Gad]

"Well par-don me, sir." Gad regarded the little urchin with suspicion. "Nobody said you had anything to do with it." Gad's brow twitched a little and his eyes narrowed. "It's just, people don't sprout daggers out of their chests and eat their own eyeballs, so excuse me if I'm a little curious as to what the Hai is going on around here." Gad pulled out a couple of green dice and began tumbling them around in his left hand, while extending the other for the boy to shake. "The name is Gad. Look, I don't want to harass you any longer, I just want to get to the bottom of all this. If there's something foul going on around here, I think we all have a right to know, don't you?" Gad shrugged. He couldn't be sure the guy knew anything, but, right or wrong, Gad thought the boy knew more than he was telling.

[Rafael Colebourne]

In spite of the Gad's pology, Rafael was still reluctant to trust him. Stranger danger was the first law of surival in Sunberth, and he wasn't prepared to risk what little he had just to satiate his curiosity. "You misunderstand," he retorted, "I'd like to know what happened, but I don't have a clue were to start. Maybe the hound is the one who set-" He cut off his sentence there and squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to think. Could it be?

"There have been a lot of dogs about today, more than usual. Perhaps this 'hound' is behind it?" He didn't so much adress Gad as he was talking to himself. The longer he pondered the possibility, the more convinved he became it was true. He eyed Gad one more time, trying to estimate if he would pose any threat to him. If it would come down to a fist fight, he still had his dagger, and a little bit of experience in dislocating jaws to deploy against Gad.

Rafael flared his nostrils and took the risk. He turned on the bench to face Gad and motioned for him to keep his voice down. "I agree, we have a right to know. Perhaps Brega knows a bit more, she's got taps on pretty much everyone."

[Gad]

"Hm, guess that's a good a place to start as anywhere." Gad stroked his chin. "And I have seen those dogs around. And a hound is a kind of dog. I see where you're going with this. But, where would someone even get a bunch of dogs?" Gad couldn't cull up an answer, so he directed his attention back to the runt."Yeah, maybe Brega does know something. Or maybe you do, and you're trying to through me off the real trail." Gad stood and crossed his arms. He looked at the ground from beneath low hanging eye-lids and pondered what he'd do. Snapping to punctuate it, he announced his decision. "Come on, we're going to the whorehouse." He sent a look of lightning at the kid that said "That wasn't really a question" "Oh yeah, and don't think I didn't notice; I gave you my name, you give me yours. That's how this works. You gotta give trust to get it kid."

[Rafael Colebourne]

Rafael clapped his hands and threw his head back in a fit of laughter. "Really?" He snickered, "you come to this place and talk about trust. Well I'll be damned if I were to trust anyone here." Shaking his head he rose from the bench and let out a final bubble of laugher. "Trust. You can call me trust," he stated pompously before briskly stepping away and heading towards the whorehouse. Ah, how he was looking forward to meet the illustrious 'Ladies of the Night', the 'Masters of Seduction', 'whores' in the common tongue, or has he called them; 'bloody swindlers'.

"Well come on," he called over his shoulder, "don't be shy. You look like you've been hit by a carriage, we're going on an adventure me flash mate!" All they way there he continued to call more such encouragements over his shoulder, "Wipe that glum look off your face, that's no way to charm a lady!" The closer they got, the greater Rafael's need to show off became. But what else could he do? He lived a shabby life in a shabby house in a shabby town, the only way he was going to impress anyone was through pretending to have great social circles.

"Ah we're here, I recognize the smell of roses and...fish?" Somewhat stumped by his own ramblings, Rafael pulled up short of the entrance to Brega's house of pleasure. All his panache quickly ebbed away and a slight blush found its way onto his cheeks. He prodded Gad in the side, "You might want to ring the bell. I-," he swallowed down his pride, "well, they won't let me in. Not alone at least."

[Gad]

Smart ass. Or maybe, just smarter than he looks. Heh, Trust, I gotta use that one. Gad's response was mostly inward, he didn't wipe the stern look off his face, and the whole way there Trust kept jibing him about it. However, Gad didn't care, as long as the kid stayed a few steps ahead of him. He'd noticed that treacherous looking blade on the boy's belt, and while Gad doubted he was much good with it, it didn't take any skill to slice someone who's guard was down. This boy was a shrewd character, a little too shrewd. "Ah, roses and fish. The stench of love." Gad wafted the air and took an exaggerated sniff. Now that they were standing right in front of the establishment, all of Trust's annoying bravado had evaporated and Gad wore a smirk and shot him a patronizing glance. "Hm, tried have you?" Gad rapped on the door with the back of his knuckles, a woman in a long dress wielding a feather fan slunk into the doorway. The blonde slid her leg up one side of the door frame, painted toes splayed across it. She leaned her back against the other side, so that her pale, long but juicy, leg barred their path. One might expect her voice to be lustrous and seductive, but it had a high-pitched coquettish twang "Gaaad." A beckoning coo that turned his name into two syllables. "Erhem. Darla. It's nice to see you again. Today. You know you're my favorite." "Mmm, you say that to all the girls." "And I mean it everytime!" Gad grinned. "Come on, let us in." Gad stepped forward, and she swung her leg over to him, and placed her foot on his chest. A notable feat of flexibility considering their differences in height. "What about him?" She pointed to Trust with the fan. "What about him?" "He looks young enough to nurse!" Gad looked over to Trust, grin growing every second, and then back to Darla. "He'd probably like that, actually." Gad reached up and slipped one of her dress straps off her shoulder, causing her considerable bust to spill out, and he stepped past her into the bordello as she leisurely readjusted her girls. "Come on, he'll have my usual. Wait." Gad pulled Trust in with him as they crossed the threshold. "Make that a deluxe. On me." He grinned more devilishly than before. "Come on, Trust, wipe that glum look off your face! That's no way to charm a lady." Leaning down, Gad whispered in his ear. "Pump her for information." He chuckled. "No pun intended. Once you get her going she never shuts up." Gad swaggered away from his companion, who was getting led to a backroom by Darla, and eyed the parlor, looking for a girl who looked chatty. Finding a young smiling thing, Gad slid over and slapped her cheeks. "Hey cutie, you look just like a broad my friend Dog was telling me about." He got the name wrong on purpose, seeing if she'd correct him.

[Nadia Belanare]

It was a day like any other. The whore house smelt of smoke and sex, fumes of both pleasure and noxious drugs permeated the air, the clothing and the skin of everyone present. It was a sickeningly sweet smell, a smell that Nadia had come to accept and at times even enjoy. She wore her usual attire this day. A simple dress that did not really fit, far too loose in the chest with nothing beneath. Her hair was free and flowing over her shoulders, her skin washed and perfumed as was fitting for work. She had only just arrived a few chimes before, so the stench of her work was not yet upon her. Her hands brushed shoulders, smiles graced her lips and eyes winked at passer byes in un worded expectation. A press of her chest against the arm of one man, eyes blinking up into his eyes with seduction coating her tongue as she was just about to whisper something in his ear, but then his attention was caught by another whore who fell free of what little clothing she wore and the client was lost. Releasing this captive she sighed, spinning on her heel and used two hands to brush her hair behind her ears. She walked with careful steps, stepping toe first like a dancer and a little hop to each movement, as if she were just about to burst to rhythm right in the middle of the floor. She looked up and around the room, searching for someone, anyone, who would whittle away their coin for a few bells with her despite the grievances of their life or the sour disposition of their wives and daughters. Nadia yelped somewhat as she felt the strike against her cheeks, and not the ones closes to her eyes. Some part of her felt an indignation, but as she turned around she smiled broadly, pressing both hands against the chest of the man who so callously summoned her attention, "Do I? Well a Dog would know the best Bitch in Brega's wouldn't he? I gave him the right treatment, just like he wanted, and I can do the same for you. We don't have to do it Doggy's Style." She winked up at the man, flipping her hair back over her shoulder and showing white teeth. Her her eyes rolled down from his face, over his slim shoulders and taking in his dark skin and hair. She hooked a finger in his collar, gently pulling at him to bring his much taller height down so that she could whisper softly in his ear, "Why don't we find a room, and I will give you a very special treat." She pulled back slightly, looking up into his eyes with a small, seductive smile, topping it off with with a wink and a bite on her lower lip. OOCHope you don't mind that I hopped right in! I look forward to threading with you

[Rafael Colebourne]

Rafael narrowed his eyes as Gad adviced him to 'wipe his glum look of his face'. Oh, how that smug Gad was going to regret turning his wit against him. If it hadn't been for Darla's gentle touch he'd have stomped the man for telling him what to do, like any decent Sunberthan would've. Disarmed by the presence of Darla's fingers wrapping themselves around his, and even more distracted by her blossoming bosom, Rafael surrender to her tugs.

Smiling sweetly at him all the while, Darla gently dragged Rafael into a small room with flowing red curtains hanging against one wall and a hearth fire crackling on the opposite side. There was a pluche carpet on the floor and a large bed, with pristine blankets and pillows positioned in the middle.

“Don't worry sweetheart,” Darla cooed as she sat him down on the edge of the bed.

“I-”

“Shh,” she whispered as she pressed her finger against his lips, then laughed. Whether it was all an act or if his befuzzled look was truly that amusing, he couldn't tell, but her laugh wasn't any less charming because of it.

She sat down on his lap, facing him directly, catching his knees between her thighs. With one hand she stroked his cheek and with the other she began undoing his shirt.

“W-what, no...wait,”

“I know,” she whispered, “just follow my lead.”

He was pushed down onto the bed, the air tickled his skin as she tossed his shirt aside and hovered over him. A volcano erupted inside of him and his face flushed a bright red as he stared straight at her dangling breasts. There was no way around them. Winking like only a trained whore could she undid her dress and confronted him with her bare skin. Rafael made a half-hearted attempt to slither away underneath her, but she pinned him down.

“There's no reason to be nervous, you're not a boy, not anymore, not after this.”

“Wait, just wait,” Rafael protested, though he felt like he was adressing Darla's tits more than the smooth-as-silk whore herself. He pushed himself upright and forced the girl into her previous position.

“What is it?” She asked, hiding her irritation well.

“I want to talk.”

“Talk? About what?”

“About the hound.”

Confused, Darla shuffled off his lap and sat down next to him. “The who?”

“The hound. There was a man murdered at the gallows. He had a note buried in his chest with a knive, it was signed by the hound.”

“So you suppose I am well acquainted with murderers?” She clicked her tongue and tugged her breasts back into her dress. That Gad's coin would be spend on a interrogation rather than half an hour of make-believe love had become clear to her now, and her shoulders slumped a bit at the notion. She couldn't deny that having such young flesh in her room made her feel like an adventurous girl again who still had to explore her sexual drive, and part of her yearned back to it.

“Well, no,” Rafael apologized. “I just- I suppose you get a lot of 'customers', perhaps you've heard of the name.”

“Perhaps the hound is just a hound,” she retorted.

“Have you ever seen a dog wield a knive and stuff a dead man's eyeballs in his own mouth?”

She shrugged, “no I haven't.”

“But have you heard of him?”

“It could be a she.”

Rafael rolled his eyes at her. She wasn't much taller than him, and though he presumed it was part of her job to appear young, he would've sworn she hadn't passed her twenties yet. “Could be,” he admitted, “but I don't think it is. Oh well.”

An uneasy silence settled between them. Perhaps someday later he could laugh at how he sat there, barechested next to a whore, talking about a notorious killer.

“What's your name?” Darla looked up at Rafael. There was a softening in her eyes that told him he wasn't speaking to Darla the whore anymore, but to the scarcely dressed girl next to him who happened to go by the same name.

“I am Rafael. You're Darla, right?”

She nodded.

“Why are you after this hound anyway?”

“I don't know. I guess, it feels like justice, we have so little of that here.”

Darla smiled a rare genuine smile at him. “We do,” she replied weakly. Fidgeting with her fingers and averting her gaze to the hearth she spoke again, “You might be better off casing the Pig's foot but-” her voice trailed off, “never mind.”

“But what?” Rafael pressed as he scooted closer to her. She looked up at him and give him a worried, motherly look. “Be careful, the place is crawled with shady types.”

“I know.” He stood up, grabbed his shirt and prepared to leave. But his hand hovered over the door handle. Darla caught his look and guessed the source of his hesitation.

“Oh right,” she said, jumped up from the bed, made her hair look a bit messy and flung an arm around his neck. Like a drunk she rested her head against his chest as they walked out. They sat down near on a pile of cushions to the side and Darla played her act really well, ocassionaly stroking his cheek, leaning against him and giggling. When Gad would return she'd tell him how incredible the boy had been. “Like a stallion,” she would say. She'd save the boy some embarassement and have her own fun as well by prodding Gad that his young companion was better in bed than he was.