[The Quay] Reverse Banditry - The Plan

by **Fallon** on October 11th, 2014, 12:31 pm

50th Fall 514 AV

It was time to take things into her own hands, Fallon had decided. The city gnawed in its hunger, the people going from one extreme to the other in the attempts to find food. All the coin was offered, all the potential other articles were offered in hopes that it would be good enough to buy scraps. But it fell on deaf ears, gold lost its value and the economy seemed to tip upon its head. There was a chew upon her lip, the mind beginning its slow descent through ideas, plans and tactics to create an inevitable answer. Take the fight to those who caused it, raise up blade and shield to those who started this issue - a raid upon the bandits.

Of course, she knew it would not just be a solo mission, to do it alone would no doubt cause her demise - and the wrath of a woman to rain down upon her. A twitch of the lip, her brow gave a knit as she looked upon the map, her eyes flickering about to the various points and then finally onto the southern farms of the city. It was an easy rumour to hear, even in the days of her addled state. The fingers gave a small tap, her tongue clicking as she gave it a circle and then proceeded to pull away. The notes and messages had gone out, the small, subtle fliers put up in the early hours whilst the city was mostly dead. For others it was words, true forward invitations for such a venture.

A warning, a rally, for those who paid attention at least. Her feet gave a pace of the entrance room, her thumb and forefinger pinching her brow as she tried to focus - she needed a group to make this successful, enough force to hit, distract and gather. A true smash and grab. A glance down once more to one of the spare notes, the internal sigh of what was to come reaching her. Who knew who would turn up? She just hoped it was people who were was capable - not some greenhorn who would prove to be a liability.

Hungry? Want something to feed you? Don't want to step down to that of an animal?

Willing to raise arms and take back what is ours? Want to put smash some skulls and seek revenge?

It's eat or be eaten. Come if you want to guarantee its eat.

The Quay, Sixteenth Bell, Sundown the Fiftieth,

Bitzer Redwulf

Soon it would begin, it had to as the chimes ticked on into bells. Time begun its arc round, fingers writhed within their gloves as the first few of the faces came in, readying themselves for what was to come. She dressed for war, and when the sun finally begin to set did she begin to the small audience in the entrance room. Fallon cleared her throat, the rough working tone of Bitzer escaping out, "Friends, allies... and strangers," she gave a nod to the few familiar faces around the room, whilst the eyes gave a narrow to the not so familiar, "I appreciate your prescience here, and are pleased to see that you have heard the call. For those who do not know of I, I am Bitzer Redwulf and the one to spear head this venture."

A blink around, an inhale as she held the composure and squared her shoulders up, "As we know, bandits - or whatever you may wish to call them - have taken the farms and stopped our food supplies. In response, we go hungry. Now, I propose we correct that." Hands clapped together, a flicker as she made sure that they were still all attentive, "A raid, on one of the southern farms close to the city. A true, go in, grab as much as possible and leave again. Whilst it would be rewarding to be able to liberate, we do not have the power for such a task. Unless, of course... the bandits are a lot weaker than we first anticipated," A small smirk, an attempt to humour in the seriousness of the situation, "We can live in hope."

She moved swiftly on after that, "The plan is presently as so. Firstly scouting will be required, knowing the lay of the land and the way, where the enemy is and where the likely store is. Upon approaching the farm proper, we will break into two teams. One team - team Smash - will serve to distract and look to bring engagement with the enemy, distract and bring them away from their post. It will no doubt be hard and bloody, there will be little breaks for tending. For that I will require the truly capable and not only holding their own but working in a team." Her expression was serious, there was little room for humour in this, "Unless anyone speaks against it, I will be in this team."

"The other team - team Grab -, will take the advantage of the distraction. Exploit it. The aim will be to break into the stores, gather as much supplies as you can carry and load, up. Of course should the opportunity arise where you can lighten the offensive of the bandits, or cause some inconveniences without drawing too much attention to yourself, that will be appreciated," she looked once more to the people, the faces, picking out attempting to weigh up who would be best suited for what. She also hoped some would at least nominate themselves for roles too. Sucking in the air she continued, "When you have gathered as much as you can, leave. When you are out of range make a signal, a loud one. It will then allow the attacking team to know that you are done and thus, we will pull back and rally to you."

One last look around the room, one last check to see if there was any hesitation in joining this. It was now or never, "Any objections or questions?"

OOC About :

by **Kechaiya** on October 11th, 2014, 5:43 pm

Kechaiya tired of the gnawing pain she felt from hunger. She wasn't as bad off as many others, for she had come to an arrangement with the fisherman that lived a few apartments down, Nellie. But that food wasn't constant nor fully reliable, just enough so she wouldn't die. In days she couldn't maintain, she found herself making "stews" of the few herbs she had just to get something warm and with a little taste and nutrition into her system. And she needed the food to maintain her energy, for this season, work was good. There had been so much fighting among the gangs, among the starving, that she was constantly patching those up with gold that couldn't be spent on food that wasn't there.

If this continued to get worse, Kechaiya feared the city would turn to cannibalism. And that, would be really bad for business. When people fought, she flourished, when they died, she did not. She had just begun her daily rounds, deciding to start with the orphanages in Sunset Quarter. These were her only charity cases, for she still felt that she owed Jillene for bringing her into the Sunset fold when she was a young, dumb, foreigner in the maelstrom that is Sunberth.

Arriving at the first of them, she could see the worry in Jillene's eyes, they way her face seemed stretched and gaunt from a long time of hunger. Being the woman she was, Jillene was probably giving whatever food she could get her hands on to the children at the expense of herself. Kechaiya approached, tongue thick with her Tawna accent, "How children?"

The woman's eyes seemed to glaze over as the tears filled it, "We lost two of them last night. Mikael ran off to who knows where. But Leania died in her sleep. There just wasn't enough food to go around. I tried, I really did. We had to bury her two bells ago. There are no injuries or sick kids though, just hungry, so very hungry."

Kechaiya nodded, not sure what to say, or even if she should say anything. Turning to leave, a small boy ran in excitedly, flier in hand. "Jilli, Jilli, look at this! We are going to be saved!" He handed the flier to the woman, who read it out loud. Kechaiya stayed, just to see what this surprise would be. She thought that she'd heard the name Bitzer before, but couldn't honestly recall as to what context. Perhaps this person was at the center of some rumor or other. They called people to arms at The Quay, at Sundown. She'd heard of the Quay, belonging to one of the gangs she believed. The child looked as if he were expecting reward for bringing the info, but Jillene just shook her head. The child slumped away pouting in his hunger. Kechaiya decided she would check this offer out, and if somehow accepted, somehow successful in retrieving food, she would help out this orphanage. Yes, she herself was hungry, but she was surviving. These children were not. She quickly returned home, to save her energy for this upcoming offer.

~~~Sixteenth Bell~~~

Kechaiya found herself standing around with others in The Quay, watching and listening, as the person named Blitzer introduced herself. She nodded as the woman mentioned the bandits that had raided the farms, everyone in Sunberth had heard the tale of those farmers in some fashion or other. Listening to the leader describe the roles of the two teams, Kechaiya knew she would be much more suited for Team Grab. She wasn't much of a fighter, there was no point in lying to herself or others about this, for doing so what just get herself, and others, killed.

She thought about the pack on her back that had her medical supplies in it. She had her healer's kit, sewing kit, and dangling from the outside, the three waterskins, one with fresh water, one with saltwater, and one with cheap wine. She had also brought her three empty sacks, just to help carry the food and supplies. This would all be used in healing people one way or another, but if she were on Team Grab, she assumed she'd need more carrying ability, to get as much food as she could. She decided that she would have to stash her pack somewhere outside of the farm, a point of safety. She would not be able to heal someone that was injured during the raid anyways, it would be too hectic and dangerous. Satisfied with her plan, she would wait for the teams to begin forming, and she would side with Team Grab. She had no questions, for she didn't know what questions would be best to ask, that wouldn't make her look utterly useless.

by **Noven** on October 12th, 2014, 1:13 am

The good doctor couldn't see him--and neither could Jillene, for that matter, though she seemed to always know where he was anyway--but Nov was there on the other side of the kitchen door, listening.

They were all starving. More than half of the season had passed and still no signs of things looking up. Between the Isur and himself, it was an endless process of delegation. Just one hard choice after another and the decisions only growing harder. Who got what, how much of it, and who would get less or none at all. Old Hilda, the other cook that came on the days Noven had off, died in her sleep not too many nights ago. Sometimes the whale of a woman brought extra food with her that she'd planted in her modest garden. Now, without her infrequent but much needed charity, things looked even worse than they had last Winter.

And Leania...her death had left the somber atmosphere of Sunset Orphanage even grayer. Where it was once impossible to keep a decent amount of peace and quiet in the halls, now there was too much of it. Silence clamped down on the children with worrisome effect; Nov couldn't tell if it was the lack of nutrition or the thought of facing a slow, agonizing death. Probably both.

The cook leaned against those familiar, worn down walls of his tiny little kitchen. Thus far, he had fared better than the others. He was a fighter and a survivor--everything Nona had raised him to be. But the children...Mira, and Thomas...

A pattering of excited footsteps broke him from his reverie. What was this about? A flier, from Bitzer? Nov snapped to attention as the flier's contents were read. At first, he was afraid he hadn't heard right. The words rung too close to heart. Raise arms, take back what was theirs, eat or be eaten. Food.

The merc stood up from his brooding corner and found his resolve hardening. Long after the healer had left, he remained standing there, thinking.

"I won't stop you," came Jillene's uncharacteristically soft voice from the other side of the door. She was just as weakened as the rest, having denied most of her meals and claiming each time her kind didn't need as much sustenance. Nov smelled her lie outright, still able to remember his brief time with Mae, though he said nothing of it. "You know we need this food...though I will risk no others. Just be safe and come back whole. That is all I ask."

"Just a couple bandits to bash and I'll be back in no time," he responded casually. "There's nothing you need to worry about, Boss."

Then he was gone, off to prepare what little he required for the upcoming raid.

------------------------------

Arms folded and rust colored eyes staring out amongst a handful of mostly familiar faces, Nov listened as Businesswoman Bitzer spoke. He'd heard a couple of her speeches before and found them as potent as any merchant's or captain's. Hence, the cheeky nickname. But all jokes aside, it was a grave matter with even graver consequences, should any of them fail to do their part.

The cook had worked with Wolf Girl in the past; he knew how vital it was going to be for them to function as a team. Which was saying a lot, given his usual preferences of lone wolfing the bulk of his jobs. Someone told him once he didn't play well with others, and it hadn't been in reference to any part of his childhood.

When it came down to teams, there was no question which Noven would choose. He was good at one thing and one thing only: smashing.

There were other factors in his decision too, of course. With Eleaz there, he knew who'd be better off doing the grabbing, and Nov felt less hesitant diving straight into violence, knowing the good doctor was joining them in this raid. Not to mention the Myrian was present as well. Though he had no way of saying for certain where anyone would go, his imagination got just a little carried away, images of blood-soaked wolves, Myrians, and mercenaries dancing in his head.

"I only got one question," Nov answered once Bitzher had finished. "When do we start?"

by **Sh'Ky Naes** on October 12th, 2014, 1:31 am

The Man in Crimson

Sh'Ky saw the flyer, placed subtly on the wall, near his alleyway. Hell, how could he not? The idiot had hammered on his damn wall. Even though his walls were fairly thick, by Sunberth's standards, he couldn't not hear someone whacking away at his wall. He had gotten up, half dressed, and run out into the street, waving his sword about like an idiot. Grumbling, he slammed his door and locked it, going back to sleep, having seen no one in the street.
---
The next morning, he went outside, to take a look at the flier. Ripping it off of the wall, he chewed on a tuber root. Koruma had come through. He was still hungry, like the rest of the city, but it was enough to keep him from weakening or acting irrationally. Waiting until sundown, he headed out to the Quay, not knowing what to expect. The Scars owned the Quay, and Sh'Ky had made it a point to not get involved with gangs. However, hopefully he could break off any connections with them afterwords. On the other hand, if he had access to the resources of the Scars... he could do so much more. Bigger heists, and greater gains. Maybe he could find a way to gain their trust, after this.

He had put on a disguise, light ash making his face slightly darker, and clay his hair lighter than it actually was. Not the best disguise, but he didn't have time to prepare. Reaching the Quay, he stood around with a few others, waiting for the Blitzer woman to appear. When she did, Sh'Ky gasped in shock. It was the psycho bitch. Why didn't he make the connection before? Redwulf-Redwolf. Even though he was surprised beyond belief, he still listened to her plan. It was solid, but lacking in a few aspects, in his eyes. Like what farms they would target, what hour they would start, and who would lead the teams. Before he could voice these objections, a bulky man spoke up eagerly, asking when they started.

Cutting him off with a scowl, visible above his scarf and below his hat, Sh'Ky said, "Are you mad? That's the only question you have for this psycho?" Gesturing at 'Blitzer Redwulf', he continued, in a gruffy, growling voice, similar to all of the street toughs and rough men, found throughout Sunberth, "I'd at least try and find out where we're going, and who's leading each individual team, anyway? You're obviously leading 'Smash', but who's leading 'Grab'? I'm not, and this strongman of yours isn't. So who is?" His frustrated tirade over, he added, almost as an afterthought, "Oh, and I'm on team 'Grab'. If you couldn't tell, I'm not one for fighting."

by **Kaie** on October 13th, 2014, 8:04 pm

Hunger did strange things to a person. The entire city smelled of desperation, well, apart from the ever present stench of rotting cadavers and gods only knew what else. The streets were more hazardous than ever, that was for sure. Men and women alike flashed steel and shed blood for even the most meager of scraps. The impoverished that often lay slumped against the alleyways begging for coin, were reduced to deteriorating carcasses littering walkways. Those that continued to survive appeared gaunt; their cheeks sucked in and flesh around their ribs tight enough to count each bone. Even their clothes seemed to hang off them wrong as if too big.

Unable to acquire the resources to continue their business and fend off looters, bakeries, butchers, and the like had boarded their windows and shut down. Fishermen lucky enough to return with filled nets bartered for other food, a commodity most no longer possessed. From her room in Ruby's brothel, the young Myrian woman was subject to hear the cries of despair lingering outside. She was far from immune to the plague of starvation that rocked even her life as one of Ruby's guards. When the emptiness of her stomach failed to cease, the copper-skinned foreigner merely opted to fill it with wine.

Once even her employer found it near impossible to provide for her, Kaie took to the streets like a stray dog. Her pacing was just as confused. Should I sit at a tavern? She asked herself hopelessly, navigating away from a growing, angry crowd of the hungry. What about the thieves? Should I pillage with them for a shot at finding something? Days like these were when the savage in her stirred, reminding her of her race's inclination toward cannibalism. She shook her head and cursed violently to herself. Word of the captured farms outside Sunberth and the vise-like grip the bandits seemed to hold over the food supply had spread quickly. Copper fingers gave a tug upon the hilt of her gladius. Given the opportunity I'd love nothing more than to bury my blade in their bellies. That's when she spied the two men gathered around a tattered flier. She shoved her way over toward them. If only she could read...

"What's it say?" Kaie asked suddenly, scowling up at the letters upon the abused paper. Sadly, she didn't find any familiar words like "tavern" or "smith". The taller and more rugged looking of the two gave her a glance and scratched at his beard.
"Just some bitch trying to get herself killed is all."
The younger, scrawnier man beside him shot him a look and shook his head.
"More like someone that's fed up wit' all tha' pissin' and moanin' in these streets. There's a' meetin' at The Quay, sundown the fiftieth. Sounds like this Bitzer Redwulf's fixin' to raid those bastards at the farms. 'Bout time someone stepped up to do somethin' 'bout it all."
The Myrian paused at the name. Her brow furrowed and she wedged her way between the two to study the letters of the signature for herself, memorizing the pattern that formed the name. She set her jaw then, turned on her heels, and headed back for Ruby's.

I'll be needing more wine for this...

---------------------------------------------------------

The sun-kissed warrior made her appearance when the water outside The Quay turned a brilliant orange with the setting of the sun. Unsure of what exactly to expect, the Myrian had come battle ready. Her ever-present gladius was strapped to her left hip, twin kukri harnessed upon her back, and wrist blade hidden beneath the sleeve of her cloak she adorned to ward off the chill of night. Hopefully she'd find herself in a position she could be utilized best: team Smash. A nod of acknowledgement was offered toward the familiar faces in the room, and then she found herself leaned along the shadows of the back wall. Between listening to Bitzer's pragmatic directions, amber eyes swept their distrustful gaze toward new faces. Final judgement would be suspended until the battlefield. When the time for questions came, she had few. By now she trusted the woman leading the fray and would do her bidding willingly. But what of the others?

At Noven's enthusiasm, the foreigner couldn't help but likewise grin from the shadows. That is until the stranger with the piercing blue eyes voiced his criticism. His tone and utter lack of respect toward her superior and comrade had the savage upright and edging away from the wall in a tick. She lingered closer to him, lip curling in distaste. The only mind she had about her was to keep her hand away from the handles of her weapons.
"Not one for fighting? You certainly have a tongue like you think you are," The Myrian growled from behind him, fingers itching to ball themselves into tight fists. The laws of the jungle dictated insubordination be addressed, and with her hunger now combined with irritation, the savage's intentions seemed to be leaning far closer to belligerence.

by **Eleazar Victor Syroin** on October 15th, 2014, 4:50 pm

The city was now desperate and that was never a good way for it to be. The markets were near bare and the competition to rob one crumb from another was too high for the teen to even get a chance. Recently he had been far too preoccupied with Caela's request to bother with stealing, some how scraping together enough food every few days at the Disappearing Drunk. But now it seemed even Red's mysterious source of food was drying up and that when it did stumble Alley would be hit hard. Heck, Eleazar wasn't even sure if any one had been bothering to get food to Doler as it was.

His head shock at the thought as he meandered back to his home, ignoring the sounds of the street dogs fighting over what might have once been a person. Someone had to do something and soon, things were getting even worse than they had been last winter. Oh shyke, winter was on it's way too, he had nearly forgotten. If it was still like this when the snow hit, the thought of what would happen was something the thief could not bare to think on. Shuddering, the soft sound of crying snapped the thief from his worries. It sounded like a child crying? Maybe they had gotten lost? If it was on of Jillene's lot, he would certainly help them out if only to get the Isur off his back

“'Ello? Ya alright?”

The sobbing turned into the heavy disrupted breathing of someone who didn't want the world to know they were crying. Edging closed to the sound keeping a weary look out for trouble, Eleazar almost tripped over the small bundle of boy. He was thin and dirt, one knee was bleeding but overall he seemed to be fairly uninjured. Wide eyes glistened with fear at the tall figure who had discovered his hiding place. Taking it slow and steady, Eleazar smoothly crouched down to the kid's level in hopes that it would reassure him. He was dressed like an orphan with clothes that looked like like they had been resized multiple times for multiple bodies. They only got like that if they had been passed down through a large family, a rarity in Sunberth, or had been circling the orphanage for a few years. Taking all this in carefully, the teen tried to keep from letting his tone become patronising.

“Ya one of Jillene's bunch?”

“N-no, no, I, I just.....” The kid eyes and nose exploded into stream of tears and snot as he began full out brawling. “I just couldn't take et any more. 'Ere's no food and I just 'ough et would be better to just.... to just.....”

“Runaway.” he helpfully finished for the near hysterical lad. Hunger did that people, they became reckless and lost control of their emotions. Oh boy. Seems it wasn't only Stumble that was getting hit hard. Leaning forward, an arm hooked under the boy's legs and after curled around his back. One heavy and Eleazar was up right caring the boy, despite his weak muscles feebly screaming at the weight of the small body. Readjusting his grip, the pair set off again.

“Come on, let's get ya home, kid.”

After a long chimes as the shoulder of Eleazar's coat was duly sniffled on, they reached the orphanage. The teen's knee bashed off the door a few times until it was opened by none other that the landlady herself. She wasn't looking to good, skeletal almost, and had the tell-tale signs of crying. Near immediately the Isur recognised the owner of the pathetic whimpering and had snatched him from the thief's arms with an exclamation of 'Mikael'. Following inside, the teen's gazed lazily about coming to focus on some sort of flier.

A quick read of it had him confused. Hadn't the men down by the docks been going on about how the Redwulf had drowned early in the season? If so then this Bitzer was have a very productive afterlife. At the Quay no less. That was the place that had recently been done up, right? Hmm, it sounded violent and exactly like something Nov would throw himself in for. Petch.

“Please tell mi Nov isn't goin' in fer 'is.”

He made sure to rustle the paper so the blind woman knew what he was on about. Expression soured by the realisation of who now stood in her establish meant, his landlady looked up from Mikael and gave him a long hard look. They had never quite seen eye to eye, maybe it was her cold nature or his snarky back chat but they each somehow managed to get on the other's nerves. The reply he got was expectingly cold and condemning.

“He left barely half a bell ago to get ready. Eleazar, you better not be thinking of doing what I think you are thinking of doing.”

“Ay'm 'inkin' o' doin' exactly what ya 'ink Ay'm 'inkin' o' doin'.”

“Heh, I think I liked you better as a cowardly gutter rat. You were more.. predictable then. Why the sudden heroic streak?”

“Friends are 'ard ta come by, besides, can't 'ave ya losing yer cook jist yet, Jillene.”

Getting a glare in return, it didn't seem to hold the same heat as before. Talking his leave, Eleazar made sure to shut the orphanage door behind him. What the petch had Nov got him pulled into?

----------

Upon reaching the Quay, Eleazar found that both he and Noven were not the only ones to take the Red wolf up on her invitation. There was at least eight of them in total amongst; a wide range of people from which he could vaguely place a few faces. Noven was the most obvious of these, along with the older woman from when the Rotten Mansion had collapsed and then surprisingly, Bitzer herself looked faintly familiar. Knowing from past experience figuring out where he knew her from would be highly advantageous, if not face saving, in this situation the teen still struggled to accurately address the familiarity. It was annoying and very odd.

Another strangely odd thing that had struck Eleazar after a few chimes was the respect that lingered in the glazes of those in the group towards their not-so-drowned-after-all leader as she started her speech. Noven and a dark skinned woman, Myrian his brain helpfully retrieved form his days spent reading, both were taller, brawnier and overall looked like they could take down the blonde in a matter of ticks. However they seemed to fall in line like eager dogs at the woman's commands. Even Senghor- heck, even Jillene didn't get this much respect from Noven. Faked her own death, is well respected and seemed to have a good bit of knowledge behind those eyes; it looked that this Bitzer was shaping up to be a rather interesting individual, one he would be keeping an eye on in future.

As the speech came to a close; Eleazar already knew which team he would end up on. There was no way he was going to last long in a head to head fight; fast and sneaky being more his style. But a grab and run was right up his Alley, he had lived off grab and run for the last twelve years. However from what was described there was no way he would be able to keep an eye of Nov for Jillene from the other team. Gah,decisions, decisions. His train of thought was broken by a blue eyed man insulting, not only Redwulf but much to his annoyance Noven too. The Myrian from before looked ready to rip the man's throat out right there and then. Quick to spot an opportunity, the brief silence following her threat marked the beginning of his turn to talk.

“Ay'm not to 'ot in a full on fist fight so Ay'll would like ta go fer 'Team Grab' please. And Nov 'ere can back up 'at Ay'm no tae shabby a runner. Al'ough Ay do 'ave a question, Miss Redwulf. Let's say 'is all goes smoothly, yer plan goes off wi' no problems, we 'ave 'e food and nobody dies; 'Ow are we dividing up 'e food 'at 'e Grab team got? Cause Ay'm not gonna risk mi neck fer less 'an mi fair share in 'e loot, you know.”

Readjusting the strap of the bag he brought, the only form of carrying things he owned, Eleazar waited for an answer or for someone else to throw out a question.

by **Zandelia** on October 15th, 2014, 4:51 pm

It was a wonderful idea, she had to admit it, even if it was both dangerous and overt. When the idea had been broached she had listened intently, Fallon never went about with such plans without prior thought. Of course there had been holes, things to consider and the relevant level of manpower that would be required. She had been happy to help with the formulation, or rather the refining – the idea was Fallon’s alone. Yet it rang true with so many of Sunberth’s citizens at present, they were starving as the food became either too scarce or too expensive. Already she had resorted to stealing to get by – not that they couldn’t afford food. They had luckily stockpiled when the original signs of food terrorism had emerged. Mostly she stole because she found it a challenge, especially in her current condition after captivity – her body still bore the pains of the time there, brief though it had been. True combat was not impossible but she was laying low for a while, getting used to the new additions to her wardrobe.

Sat within the Quay House now, she watched fire flicker off of the steel, both gauntlets and boots also. They were well made, steel protective plats interlocked to provide the fullest of protection whilst protecting as wide a range of movement as possible. Comfortable too considering that at their core they were leather with a nice wool interior for padding. The gauntlets were the same, comfortable and that was the priority when it came to her fingers now – the ripped out nails still throbbed and any measure of protective comfort she could give them was of immediate concern. Nothing could damage them further through the steel, the slight pressure from the gloves strangely providing some relief. She was not a medical woman but she felt sure there was potential for study there, the concept of pressure assisting with wound pain.

“Good thing too, petching bastards. Hungry, pained and surrounded by vagiks. If I didn’t think this city could do better I’d burn it down and start over” she growled to herself with a touch of bitterness.

It would take time to recover from the experience she was sure but for now she was certainly more surly and less tolerant than before, those were the larger changes that had been noted. She couldn’t help it, she tried but it was impossible. It was difficult to separate the figures of scum from the average citizen of Sunberth now, they all seemed to be just as likely to try to harm her and the one she cared about. They wouldn’t get their chance again, never again. She was alive, they were dead and she was biding her time. Healing as she contemplated the darkness of the city and how best to cut it from existence. The more she pondered upon such dingy things the more she was coming to the conclusion that it was time for the vigilante aspect of the city to be revived.

Robern is dead after all, that woman…Raven? Hasn’t been seen in a year or more maybe. Who else fought for people the way only a pure force of retribution could? Anyone? No…no one but me. Us. I promised before I would fight for what was right and what have I done towards that end? Little indeed. Perhaps it was the punishment reserved to push me toward what is right… she wondered to herself as she watched the last portions of the fire peter out, falling into embers.

There was a growing cacophony from the other room, she had watched the others arrive. Some were recognized with nods the others she didn’t look at beyond a cursory assessment via observation. Looks were of little importance this time, there were no seductions to be completed. No negotiations for those whom allowed a city to starve. No mercy for such minds, such dark hearts. She picked up the sack with her own little present within and made her way towards the gathered group, she required nothing else for now as she had prepared her things to be picked up on the way out of the building. She heard the opening gambits of verbiage, a grim smile coming across her lips as the faint clicking she was getting use to accompanied her tread.

“Madness is a point of definition…psycho,” she stated in firm tones, “if you wish to starve, to go back to picking crumbs from the mud whilst people claw at you for them then go ahead. Sometimes survival requires more effort than sitting on your arse” she continued as she looked at the young lad, a glistening emerald gaze now stripped of part of its usual warmth of greeting.

“And save the fighting for the bastards who want to see us scratch and starve whilst they wait…wait for us to grow too weak. You think they just want food? No, this is a war of attrition. They will try to take more, take the city itself. You all could be the vanguard, the ones who first stood up and said ‘no…more’. Economic slavery is still slavery, as is slavery of nutrition” she spoke smoothly, there was an intensity to her feelings on this matter now, more perhaps than there would have been before.

“Noven, Kaie. Welcome and well met,” she managed a half-smile then for them, “Kechaiya…didn’t expect to see you here but well met also. Which brings me to…the boy. I did not hear your name spoken but allow me to introduce myself. I am Web. I will be making sure you lot doing the grabbing don’t get killed,” she glanced at Fallon then and handed the bag over, it would be useful on this trip she knew, “a present for the leader. My leader. If anyone endangers her with their foolishness they will suffer” she looked for a longer time at the lad before turning to lean her shoulder against the wall and wait for the proceedings to unfold further.

“As for shares…Elea I believe? We don’t cheat those who put in the work here, Bitzer will see you get what you deserve” she left it open to interpretation as to what that meant, it was fun sometimes to tease people, but most definitely she knew he would be happy with whatever share he was given.

The city starves and he haggles, clever…but headstrong. One day it will bite him back if he is not careful she mused as she watched the latest newcomer with a weighing gaze, he could be useful to her if he proved his mettle was sound.

“Team ‘Grab’ Bitzer, I’ll make sure we get enough to serve many” she said with a slightly warmer smile for her lover, if the depth was restricted to her singular eye rather than her countenance.

oocPurchase – Armoured Boots and Gauntlets (Steel) – 50gm total for both.
Claw Gauntlet (Fallon):
Gauntlets - 2gm
Gloves - 0.5 x (2+1.5+10) = 6.75gm
Leather (x2)
dyed red (x1.5)
Buckles and chains, simple (x10)
Arm, Vambrace - 50gm /5 = 10 x1.5= 15gm
Leather (/5)
Dyed Red (x1.5)
Total = 2 + 6.75 + 15gm = 23.75gm

Total Ledger Deduction – 73.75gm

by **Markus Andres** on October 15th, 2014, 6:15 pm

"I think it is time. Soon the riff-raff of the city will be flooding in hoping she can be their saviour. I think we should get dressed before that happens." Kvist said in a low tone, barely above a whisper, before he slid a bare leg out of bed. He sat up and made a gentle oo sound as his feet touched the floor. The knight spent several long ticks just sitting. Trying to clear his thoughts of what he needed to do. Dressed. Armed. Look halfway presentable. And... hmm, attend the meeting. Should be it. Gonna be interesting seeing Fallon lead a meeting. Kvist got out of the bed and started to go through the motions. Finding pieces of clothing to cover the bare parts of his body. He put the mail over his head and let the heavy metal drop by itself. He smoothed it out a little as pieces got stuck against his clothes and folded upon itself. He found his belt and tightened it, relieving his shoulders of a large part of the mail's weight. It made it much more comfortable to wear. Over it he pulled a simple piece of cloth to hide the mail. No reason to look overly antagonistic at a meeting.

"You should probably prepare your medical supplies for our return. Oh, and do you have any bandages you could spare?" Kvist spoke as he found his breastplate. Only piece of plate he had brought from Syliras and most of the time he didn't bother with it, combat was rare and it was more cumbersome to wear than his mail alone. And it offered enough protection against the kind of concealed weapons that might catch him by surprise. He placed it against the wall. Ready for when he came by later. He strapped the belt with both his weapons to his waist. He removed the peacekeeper, no use bringing a bastard sword to a meeting. Would be very out of place and he could do with the dagger. Shield he wouldn't bother with either. He'd come and get it once the meeting was over. He looked to S'Essy and saw the worry in her eyes and he flashed her a confident smile. "Don't worry, I'll be fine." He said as he neared his lover and pressed his lips to hers. "If you see Pulren, ask him to help you prepare for our return. Take care dear, I'll drop in before we go to get the rest of my gear. I'll give you a proper goodbye then." Kvist said with a small wink before leaving the room. Made his way through the Quay, one day he would have to ask for the reason behind the peculiar name. Into the room where the meeting would take place he found a free spot to stand.

Perhaps I was mistaken. Sure some of them seem like riff-raff. But Kech is here- will calm S'Essy to know we got a doctor with us out there. This guy however, looks like a psycho... Kvist did not know his name, nor did he feel any particular need to know it, guy seemed like a brigand. A thug or enforcer for one of the countless Sunberthian gangs. And seemed like he was a thug for Scars tonight. At least he is with us and not against us. His calm observing gaze continued around the room. Watching the people as Fallon spoke. It was easy to distinguish fighters from thieves - though in Sunberth the difference was razor thin. Most, if not all, were most likely both, dependent on the situation. He knew a good chunk of the people in the room. Some closer than others, some barely at all. One of those he did not know was the woman in the back. Emerald gaze was kept on her for several ticks, something about her reminded him of Anders. He wouldn't be able to put his finger on it until after one of the strangers decided this was the appropriate time to call Fallon a psycho. Clearly not one for thinking either. And clearly he doesn't know Fallon and Web. Of course Web is in charge of the second group. Fallon wouldn't let the position out of her immediate grasp. - though how this man came by Web's vetting surprises me.... or did she forget to vet them? Two people stepped in to defend Fallon, Web, as Kvist had expected, looking out for her significant other. The copper skinned woman on the other hand, surprised Kvist. Despite his annoyance with the loud mouthed man, he couldn't help smiling at the copper skinned woman's reaction.

Ah, there it is. I wonder if she's Myrian, or only half perhaps. Doesn't look tall enough.

If she reminded him of Anders, the next to speak reminded him of Ball. The thick and heavy accent which at times turned utterly incomprehensible for the sergeant – also appearance wise, he was the riff-raff of this group and covered in mud and dirt – pretty much a person sized version of Kvist's squire. Even looked like he had been going hungry since before the famine started. One of the days, provided they survived tonight, he would drag the man to the hot springs and introduce him to soap.

”Hmm.” Kvist gazed in the direction of Kech for a brief tick. She'd place herself on team grab. Didn't seem like a straight up fighter. Which put Web, Elea, Kech and 'lad' on grab thus far. Web and the lad seemed like the only two who could carry enough food to make it worth their time. Unless Web and Fallon knew the farm in question had a wagon they could 'borrow'. He was tempted to offer himself to team grab, merely for the reason he knew he could carry two or perhaps three times more than any of those who had volunteered thus far. But he knew his position was in team smash. Fallon could fight, the thug looked more at home in a bar brawl, the copper skinned woman... An image of Anders appeared again and he didn't have to put words to his thoughts.

”I'll be on whichever team you need me on.” He said. Letting Fallon decide whether she needed a fighter on her side or if she'd rather use his strength carrying more food from the farm. In the end it didn't matter much to him, as long as he and S'Essy got something to eat and lessened the stranglehold these pathetic shykes held over the city's food supply.

by **Fallon** on October 15th, 2014, 8:22 pm

Faces, there was so many faces. The lips gave a flicker of a curl, the gentle hum of words and steps filtering through the air as she looked. New faces, familiar faces, old faces - it gave her a sense of warming that there was at least enough interest for people to try and see this through. Success, the chance at it even - if it was more greed driven for some - seemed all so closer now. Some were prepared of course, the carrying of packs ready to fill with whatever supplies they could get their hands on. The grabbers and the smashers seemed clear, the line dividing them with ease. Fallon gave only a nod, and a low chuckle to the enthusiasm of Noven, "Always up for a punch up, eh, Little Red? We begin soon, within the bell I hope. The aim is to get there on the cusp nightfall, use the low light to our advantage, the long shadows to hide and watch their movement with ease. And then strik-"

A stranger spoke up, cutting her off before she could finish. There was no rise up to retaliate, no need to raise her voice to speak out against him or his words that attempted to cut at her. Shoulders simply rolled back, the expression remaining neutral and unflinching. There was no need to lower herself to a level of immediate snapping and snarling - she was confident that no doubt someone else would speak up. Which, lo and behold, two of them did. The Myrian was the first, her own tongue sharp like a blade and straight to the point. There was only a respectful

"And then strike them fast and hard. Not knowing what hit them," she completed her sentence. Her gaze turned to Kaie, a respectful nod in thanks, "Time Kaie, time and patience. Fists and blades will come soon, as will judgement," Her gaze flickered to the stranger - though his features seemed familiar, somewhere -, a gentle burning of the gaze before she turned back to the room. Zandelia was the other speaker, entering with all the grace she could muster with the lead weights she now donned on her feet. That clink of movement, firm tone designed to put the man in his place without the thought of mercy. Lips twitched, the hum of noise escaping, "Well spoken and a true point if I ever heard one."

The greetings went on, the firm laying down of the law of the Scars by her partner and the promise hanging in the air to the onlookers. The Urchin spoke up - known as Elea - and the accent that seemed thick enough to cut came burbling forth. There was a long moment of silence, her mind attempting to translate what exactly was said but was beaten to an answer by Zandelia once more. There was only a nod in agreement. Taking the bag she gave a rummage in the depth, her own tenderised fingertips scrapping about until she found what was within. True and proper gratitude would come later, for now there was only the return of the smile and the exchange of the gloves into the clawed gauntlets - metals and leathers, designed to protect the hand and fore arm - "Just what the doctor ordered. Excellent. So, where were we?"

Her gaze swept the group once more, a flicker to the knight as he finally entered and gave a look about, checking almost that everyone was here. She was grateful however that he had turned up, she certainly could use his sword arm in this. Clearing her throat, she gathered their attention once more and begun the process once more.
"Lion," She looked to Markus then, and gave a mocking rub of her chin in gesture to his stubble - little more than a playful poke, "I would like you with the smashers. We need to be able to hold the attention of the bandits long enough to draw them away from their stores. Kaie and Noven. On me as well." Her hand gave a point, the claw tip signalling them two out, "They're good fighters. Kaie knows her blade, and Noven is good with his hands," her head cocked to one side then, brow raising, "At least, that is what I've heard from Brega."

Poor humour before something that could potentially kill them all, "Web, I want you to lead team grab with the others, Elea, Kechaiya and whoever the stranger is. Make sure everyone has a sack that won't fall apart at the first moment. And don't do anything stupid. If it gets too hot for you, pull out. If you want to take Javil, if you want to take the chance of a pack horse." There was a firm gaze, the voice level and the expression serious. "Remember these faces everyone. Remember who they are and their names. For tonight they are your allies. They are your siblings in arms, be it with blade or with fingers." Her hand clenched, the lips peeling back into a wolfish grin, "So stand together shoulder to shoulder and work as a team, for alone you will have no chance. Do I make myself clear?" Her gaze swept, "Warriors? Thieves? Spies? Doctors? You hear me?" Hands clasped behind her back, the gaze forward on to the target, the beginning of the plans coming together all too neatly, "Let's give some bandits a taste of Sunberth's first vangards."

by **Kechaiya** on October 16th, 2014, 4:14 pm

Kechaiya was surprised at the amount of faces she recognized. She stitched up Noven at the beginning of the season. She actually enjoyed him as a patient, making jokes rather than being fearful or forceful. Web she'd met at Tall Johnny's watching the fights. Markus, or Lion as he seemed to be known as, had saved her from a rather unruly customer when the gangs had burst out into war. The rest she hadn't met before, and Web was the only one she knew in the slightest that was on her team. She walked over to Web, ebony eyes seeking out her team leader's. She then pulled her three largest sacks from her pack, and tucked them into the waist of her skirt.

"When leave, need hide healing supplies before steal food. Can't fix on farm, too dangerous. Need meeting place. Can do?"

The various speeches, small arguments, had not really had much of an effect on the ebony eyed doctor. She knew her job, and knew now who to work with. Get the food, flee, fix anyone up who was injured. But she'd never done this before, and assumed the others on her teams were more experienced in the field of stealing. She'd need their help to know what to do, and would certainly have to listen to them. She approached the one that Bitzer referred to as Elea, with the very terrible accent. "I Kechaiya, on Team Grab. I heal." She decided to not approach Sh'ky quite yet. He appeared to be a bit hostile and not well liked by pretty much everyone else there. Maybe he was just nervous or scared. At least she didn't have to worry about payment for fixing people up, if they were successful.

After a while, she approached Noven, "How heal your knife wound? You still alive, that good." She knew he worked for Jillene and the orphanage, and wondered how he was taking the recent losses. In a rare moment for the woman, she placed a comforting hand on his arm, "I sorry for Leania. Very too soon. Find Mikael?" She stayed by him for a while, hoping this raid would help put a stop to the losses of the orphanage. She would stick with him until the teams needed to split up and head out, hoping to find and provide some comfort from the fighting cook.

Closed [The Quay] Reverse Banditry - The Plan