The beginnings of Cicada calls ghosted through the alleys of Sunberth, future wails of summer fast on the hell of Spring as it progressed. Sunberth was the stagnating corpse it always was, blowflys and scorpions crawling through stone bones, crushing the remains of the fallen. To an outsider, this place, this scene, by the scathing light of day may have seemed brutish, savage in comparison to the soaring towers of Lhavit or the twisting streets of Alvadas...but to those who made their homes squatting along ancient walls or in what was left behind by time and storm...this was home, and it was an average day.
I[color=#FFFF00]"You haven't the coin for that kind of information," the contact drawled lazily, fanning his sweating skin with a languid arm, "You're fairly new to all this aren't you?" A gap-toothed grin framed Shroud in the baking spring heat, a perpetual frown at home along his lips. The contact was not the best, but for his skill level and patience with the roundabout method of communication itself, it was the best he could take on such short notice.
"Very well," the murderer muttered, drawing his index finger across the stubble on his chin, "I want the names and general member count of the two smallest gangs in the Wolf's Den. Would this be possible?" There was a silence between them, the thin man Shroud was speaking to pausing his relentless fanning to think over the request. After a moment he nodded and held out his hand.
Shroud stared at it, then back to the gap-toothed grin, then back to the hand. Price. The contact wanted him to name the price. Petch. Shroud dug a handful of gold rimmed mizas from his clothes and counted out eight gold mizas and five silvers. After a moment of reconisderation, he upped the total of gold mizas to nine and dropped the contents into the proffered hand.
The contact closed his calloused fingers over the coins and chuckled, slipping them into his clothes before pushing off the wall he'd been leaning against. "You're green, boy," He chided, the same unabashed mirth both mocking and comforting in strange tandem, "Half what you paid would have been coin enough for what you want, hell, I'd even go to a quarter of what you gave me...just because you're cute."
Shroud scowled, but did not ask for the money back. The transaction had been made and to ruin his relationship with this man was to welcome a black mark on his name for all of Sunberth. "Tell you what, kid," the contact said after a moment of hesitation, swinging around and clapping Shroud on the shoulder, "I'll give you this next bit of advice for free, way of evening the price a bit. No hard feelings for beginner dealings, you'll get better in time."
"I'll have to hope I'll still have coin by then." Shroud muttered darkly. But the contact only laughed.
"The Crimson Edge weren't worth mentioning last season or before, but word in the Den is that your recruitment sprees are making you at least worth worrying about. I'd be careful where you go alone from now on," He winked at Shroud lewdly, cracking his right fist into his left palm"I reckon some violence will take a friend or comrade before too long, and then you'll need me to point the finger to the culprit."
Shroud nodded, stomaching the shameless necessity of the contact's continued service with news he had already come to expect. Nothing had happened yet, but Cade should be at least warned that they were under unscrupulous scrutiny. "What should I call you...and where should I find you?"
"Shucks," the man said, resuming his stiff fanning, "Call me Bloodhound, and you can find my kennel in the corner of the Pig's Foot Tavern...mighty fine place to scoot up a chair and listen for a spell." Winking, Bloodhound jaunted down the street, an eerily woman-like sway to his gait. Shroud let him go, sighed and shook his head. The Pig's Foot...of course. The Crimson Edge practically treated the establishment like a home...had they ever really paid attention to the other regulars before?
He had reason to now.
From the corner of his eye, a shape blurred across his field of vision, a shape large enough to draw his eyes to the hulking figure of Cade entering the Hot springs. Sighing, Shroud double checked the dagger at his side and jogged into the establishment, following behind the massive man as he emerged into the steam and sun. He couldn't help but feel small in comparison to the giant, a rare breed in most of Sunberth. It was rare to top six feet in Sunberth without gaining notice, rarer still they were nearly a half foot beyond that as well.
The Myrian paused, sunlight gleaming hollowly off the bleached white skulls on his arm. Personally, Shroud found the whole tattooing process eerily suicidal. Should the worst befall and the Crimson Edge be routed, should they be hunted for their marks...was it really wise to so permanently imprint the design upon ones skin?
It wasn't a subject he'd breach to the barbarian, lacking the proper way to express his reservations without possibly insulting Cade's sense of family. For now, there was no issue.
The other two members of the springs made themselves known in the moments that followed. A lithe woman, small with an impish smile and sunkissed skin, Shishi...one of Cade's favorites...but not a woman Shroud had much interaction with. The other...
A giant, slightly larger than Cade even, which was a feat to itself. Water speckled his a well built physique...terrifyingly well built. In fact, it was almost familiar. A shield and two swords emblazoned one arm, a small detail to log for later, and beneath the shaggy and unkempt appearance, the puckering of scars barely peeked through rough hair on his face.
Yes, Shroud had seen him before...but where? He'd certainly have remembered such a man. While the storyteller weighed theories of identity, Cade spoke and the larger man returned conversation, but with a lilt of gibberish Shroud did not understand. The stranger looked over Cade, his gaze taking in all of the man. It lingered for a moment on his face and his crotch...comparing sizes or homosexually inclined? It made no difference.
Backing away from the barbarian, maintaining a set stare, the stranger took a seat farther into the hot springs, even as Shishi optimistically encouraged their meeting. Ximal. So the stranger was named Ximal.
What was it about him?
Shroud cut a thin figure beside the barbarian, holding back from the water and feeling distinctly out of place as the only completely clothed individual. He scrutinized the mans face, openly, without disguise or tact. There was something...familiar in those scars, that unique size.
If only he hadn't such a ludicrous amount of facial hair...
Wait. That's it!
Shroud grinned and clapped his hands together sharply, pulling a current of Djed up to his eyes, seething energy beneath a level gaze just in case the distant Ximal took sudden action. He strode around the Spring to the far side of Cade and the slave rescuer, chuckling.
"Yes, Cade, meet Shishi's new friend...I'm sure he's a man you'd be interested in hearing about." Smiles, all smiles, bright and wide on his face. The day was looking up already. "How about it Ximal? Come shake hands? You retreat...are you afraid? How strange. Is it that you can only muster bravery when failing to save the enslaved? Or...is it that you won't attack someone unless they're unaware of your presence or...abilities?"
Hand on his dagger, caressing the hilt.
"Ware well, Cade," Shroud murmured, his dark eyes bright with mischief, "I have seen this man perform feats of ability no human should perform...I'm not sure if there is magic or something else at work within him, but he seems to fight best unarmed."
Steam rose between them all, columns of obscurity that wrapped delicate hands around their bodies.
The fractured storyteller, the Kelvic, the Barbarian, and the Liberator.
What an interesting collage of characters.
Shroud grinned, unable to cease. Who could have known that such a foolish fellow had lived to long in Sunberth! He must have Ovek's own luck for odds, that one...or perhaps he was simply skilled in evading capture. In any case, Shroud had confidence in Cade's ability...besides, if things got dicey it wasn't as though the mage couldn't lend a hidden hand here or there.
Cade's pride would have to accept the blow. In a battle of magic and skill, it was the craftiest opponent, not the most honorable, who won. It seemed fitting both qualities rarely coincided. [/color] |
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