And the Body Count Rises... (Gale)

[Ray]

Ray smirked. “Thought so,” he said softly. “Listen, I’ve had my fair share of common bar brawls. Hit out a good amount of common bar brawlers. Been hit out a lot, too. And I’ve seen men twice your size that’d run screaming from a fight like the one back there. I admit, I was expecting you to do the same. I mean, you look frail the first time someone sees you.” He held one hand up in a slightly placating gesture. “No offense meant.” Ray sighed and stepped back again to lean against the wall, eyes flicking upward to scan the cloudy sky. “But I saw you fight. You’ve got an instinct for this, Bloodeye. Now I haven’t been in this town long, but from what I hear taking on a Wave Guard and staying conscious afterward isn’t something to scoff at. Neither is fighting two men at the same time.” He leveled his gaze with Gale’s, cerulean orbs smoldering and all traces of amusement gone. “You took on a Wave Guard tonight. By yourself. Nearly poked his eye out. But you’re standing here in one piece, and that thug you made do the splits ain’t gonna be walking too far anytime soon. Look me in the eye and tell me that doesn’t make you proud.”

[Gale Austin McCenry]

Gale listened silent to the man's words as his tone went from joyous and amused to a soft state. Ray mentioned men bigger then him running away from the fight. Being reminded of the terror he endured during the chaos, Gale would say that his statement wasn't entirely true. Through out the whole fight, all Gale wanted to do was run. He wanted to leave, not caring if he was a coward. So what if he was? He hasn't ever been anything more then an artist. He didn't have a reputation to keep up when it came to a rumble. The only thing that kept Gale there was the fact that he couldn't manage to stay off his rear or knees the whole time.

When the blonde moved on, gliding to a different position, Gale wanted to protest against his statement saying he had a knack for it. If he did have a knack for it, it clearly didn't show up from his perspective. But he remained quiet when he mentioned his knew nickname and continued on with his sincere speech of sorts.

After mentioning the known fact of how tough Wave Guards were, images of the men he fought flashed at him. Bringing a smile of sorts to his lips, Gale wouldn't be forgetting the look on any of their faces for a while. His personal favorite was the cringed look of the man who managed to the splits.

When the final question rung through his head, Gale's hint of a smile faded. Proud?

Thinking for several moments, Gale realized that if the crowd hadn't gotten involved, he would have probably had his lights knocked out by Henry. As of the temporarily blind man, he didn't think he used much skill at all. Now for his favorite man? Just a sudden burst of genius he supposed. Rerunning the event in his mind, Gale thought his strategy was more frantic, like a kid getting picked on bu bullies then anything.

Gale only gave Rayes thoughtful silence.

[Ray]

A smile returned to Ray’s face, an easy and content smile. “Think about it. And let yourself be proud. In the mean time, though,” he looked at the Kelp Bar’s back door worriedly. “We should probably skedaddle. I ducked us out ‘cause there were some other Wave Guards coming to break it up, and I wouldn’t be surprise if they throw someone behind bars tonight. Don’t think it’d be good being caught out back.” His body was already beginning to stiffen, but it wasn’t hurting quite yet. That would set in tomorrow. Still, Ray had a slight limp as he moved from the wall and onto his own feet, and his face was tired as he walked towards the mouth of the alley, but in a good way.

[Gale Austin McCenry]

Gale looked at Ray as he headed out, noting his limp. Gale sighed softly and looked at the Kelp Bar once more before following the blonde out. He wasn't going to go to the Bar anytime soon.

Gale thought about the fight more and about what Ray said. He wasn't sure if he was proud. He wasn't really sure about anything that happened tonight except for the fact that he made it out in one piece and not in jail. Yet. Now doubt about him finding Henry or Jonas in the future. Then he would either be locked up or pounded again.

Gale looked at the brawler again and said,"You didn't answer my question yet. It wasn't meant to be a rhetorical question."

[Wrenmae]

Happy coincidence is rarely something orchestrated by fate and fate alone. No fool who believed in wishing on stars and miracles ever read the patterns of conflict, ever deigned to ponder the grand design of Mizahar. After all, more than 500 years after apocalypse and still they clung to their little bastion towns. Trade had resumed, but it was as if everyone was content to be their own little sovereigns, their own city on the sea, their own walled fortress. Damn the consequences and damn those who suffered. Progress was inched to a crawl and now barely twitched. And so conflict would always exist as a means to circumvent the obvious. That no one on all of petching Mizahar was concerned about rebuilding. In the Kelp bar, Shroud was wearing his colors, but well hidden toward the back of the room. He was ringed by concerned tavern denizens, drinking and talking to each other in hushed tones. he sat in with a few and listened, offering his own murmured assent or commiseration as necessary. It helped to build reputation with the town. When the fight began, Shroud remained in his seat and watched. He wasn't familiar with the two Wave guards currently fighting, but he'd seen their faces. Lots of rage in each of them, the sort of hatred of circumstance that led them to pick the blue in the first place. Thugs and heroes, the Waveguard was not specific on who it needed, simply the will to fight and protect...by whatever means necessary. In truth, he wasn't all that impressed with the organization he served. Distracted, his companions did not notice him drain a mug of Kelp Ale not his own. Nor did anyone notice as he stood and slipped along the side of the growing fray. What are we doing? Some underhanded recruitment. For? My own purposes. Are you going to fight them? Hardly a fair brawl, and an employer never gets his hands dirty...unless he has to. Alright, I'll sit out this round. When the two brawlers pushed out of the tavern, Shroud followed, keeping to the edged corners of alleyways, the shadows, and only stepping when their clatteirng footsteps were loudest. It took him a bit longer to come upon them than he anticipated, but the brutish laughter of the first was more than enough of an indication. Drawing his rapier, slowly, keeping the kiss of steel quiet, he stepped around the alleyway where they rested. "No, no, do continue," He said, holding the end of the blade out toward them, moonlight glittering off its slender edge, "What was it you were saying about not being caught out back?" He smiled, disarmingly, but no less intimidating with a blade between them. "I do believe you're the two responsible for assaulting the Waveguard. Really, that sort of behavior is punishable by the Dungeon." Another smile, a glance over his shoulder, and a step forward again. "Of course, I doubt either of us want to go through the details of locking you both up or the languishing that follows, I think you two deserve a second chance." Up came the blade and back into the sheath, sliding till metal met metal. "Off the record chances, of course, but I can help your opponents conveniently forget who so solidly handed them their own asses, but I'll need a favor in return." A chuckle rolled from his stomach, rocking his body. "Which will it be, boys...redemption in the shadows or imprisonment in the light?"

[Ray]

Rayes snorted. “What, why did I…” He trailed off. Something was wrong. He sped his pace. A voice rippled through the night air, sending shivers down the wayward brawler’s spine and bidding him to halt by asking him to continue. He stopped. Someone had followed them, and slowly Rayes turned. It was a man, young, at least seeming younger that Ray himself. His dress was casual and meant for ease, but on top he wore the unmistakable matte glint of treated leather. He was prepared for a fight, not roughhousing in a crowded tavern as the two now-companions had but true battle. Rayes trusted his instincts, and all told him that this man did not belong here. If his clothing did not indicate that, his unsheathed weapon certainly did. A few of his cautions were discarded when the man marked them as the ones that had started the brawl. His half-bent position had been made in laughter, turned to caution and now disappeared completely. He stood straight, a cocky smirk returning to his face as he took the accusation more as a compliment than anything else. A second chance? Rayes arched a scarred eyebrow. What was this man playing at? Impossible. Could he do that? Truly erase memories? The battered man frowned in thought. The options seemed equal, one in unpleasantness and one in unknown. He had been in prison before and had no desire to return, but a favor could mean anything. “This… favor,” Rayes started cautiously, “would it be the type you ask for now, or the standing, owe you one call it in later deal?” He had no reason to trust this man and greatly desired not to, distrustful of his dress, his arms and his smile, but if he could do what he said than Rayes didn’t really care if he was a piano playing flamingo. He was not particularly interested in finding himself behind another set of bars.

[Gale Austin McCenry]

Gale watched Rayes curiously, watching him as he sped up slightly, but not speeding uphis own. He wanted an answer but when the voice of another man made its way to his ears, he figured he would never get an answer.

Startled by the sudden appearance of Wrenmae, Gale wiped around holding his breath. He had a blade to Gale's dismay. The sight of another blade terrified him thanks to Tock at their last encounter. He hoped he hadn't planned on using it, for if Gale engaged in such an uneven fight, Gale's sarcastic thought of survival wouldn't be sarcastic any longer.

Having the man state he was that beginning of it all, along with the blonde next to him, Gale frowned and furrowed his eyebrows. Gale didn't start anything! If Rayes hadn't had chosen him to set off a fight, Gale wouldn't even be in this predicament. He would probably be home by now without a scratch. It was all this petching Vyke's fault, not his. He was merely a victim.

But after the blade was put back in it's sheath, Gale let out his breath. Only relaxing slightly, the artist listened to the proposition.

Redemption in the shadows or imprisonment in the light?

Oh boy, what was Gale going to do? Gale was a man of integrity in his own mind and didn't want that to change. But he didn't want to see what it was like on the other side of the bars. He also didn't particularly like handing out favors to strangers who don't look too friendly. Or sound very friendly either.

Gladly the man he was blaming for all of this spoke first, questioning the favor and when it would be needed. Gale decided not to respond until the question had been answered.

[Wrenmae]

Murdock took a step back from them, weighing his options. He didn’t have a job at the moment, but he ran the risk of them leaving town if he let them go. For a brief time, he simply observed them, the blood on their skin, the angry bruises, the mismatched clothes and different demeanors. One was obviously the real brawler, the other some unfortunate man who’d gotten caught up in the chaos. Unfortunate for them, of course, but two would suite his plans far better than one. “Why so nervous?” he asked with a smile, nodding at Gale, “The job is later, when you boys have a chance to be on the mend. I’ll need your locations though, how to find you. I’ll check up on those places tomorrow and if I don’t find you there…” he left the threat hanging and shrugged. “In any case, gentlemen, there will be ample reward in it for you. Not only can I guarantee your friends at the bar won’t come after you, but I’ll find a way to compensate you for your services.” Tell them you’ll get them death! Make sure you mention the prize is death. What? Isn’t that what you usually get your companions? Framing and death? I figured that was the exchange rate. Sarcasm, Zan? From you? It grew on me. What a charming development Like a fungus. You’re made of water A resilient fungus. He held out his right hand, all hints of menace vanishing from his face with an eerie display of sincerity. “Murdock, Waveguard,” he started, “And you are?”

[Gale Austin McCenry]

Gale rolled his eyes when the man questioned his nervousness. Was there a reason not to be nervous? A random stranger wanted to help them for a favor in return. Which one would be worse; Doing a random man a favor later or try and escape the Waveguard’s hands himself? He wasn’t a fan of either but of course he didn’t have the third option of not choosing.

It was choose help or to not at this point. The “help” didn’t look very trustworthy, but that might just Gale being paranoid. He could be honest chap just trying to help or some insane criminal looking for partners. But the Waveguards were one thing. Angry and on the hunt for them. It was either mystery or the known. Once again, Gale didn’t like either.

A talk of a reward was mentioned, meaning that this favor was more likely one of the more exotic or difficult tasks. Unless it was a small reward but that wouldn’t be worth mentioning. So mysterious help along with some secret favor and an unidentified reward or furious Waveguards ready to throw him in jail. After all, the fellow was a Waveguard himself, if he refused, he could lock him up himself. Wouldn’t be hard since Gale wasn’t armed and wouldn’t be able to run (or walk) very fast. Unless Rayes was going to pick him up. Ha! Picture that.

Murdock, seeing he introduced himself, held out his hand as if expecting them to shake it. It wasn’t exactly very comforting. Not offering his own, the artist spoke,” Gale.” Simply with a raised eyebrow and sort of glare of skepticism. The rage from the brawl poking its way into his deep voice,” You’ll see me more often than not at the docks or by that tree outside the market.”

Gale didn’t lie about it. He’s always sitting and drawing under the willow tree or sitting in the sand. If he wasn’t in either of those places, it would be hard to see him walking around the city aimlessly. After all, those were two of the only three things he did all day except the basics.

[Ray]

The man—Murdock—was calm. Calm in confidence. Something for Rayes to respect, to be sure, but the slick lilting of his words were nevertheless unnerving. Still, with the two choices before him, he knew that his selection would be inevitable. He knew what he would choose. The man continued, and the burn of curiosity started at the mention of a reward. Rewards were good. Usually. Gale spoke first, and Ray couldn’t help but notice the hard edge that had crept into the small man’s voice. Perhaps a result of the fight? When the artist was finished, there seemed to be no reason to delay his answer farther. “Ray,” he said. There was no need to give his full name; he didn’t go by it nowadays. “Don’t have myself anywhere to lay my head just yet, but if you’re looking to find me check around East Street.” His eyes remained on Murdock; the unease had not dissipated with the offer or its acceptance. He would not be the first one to turn his back.