Closed A Leaf in the Wind [Zandelia]

[Markus Andres]

Markus instinctively looked at her broken eye when she said she had bleed enough in the city. It was an involuntary action. No doubt her perceptive eyes spotted the flicker. Markus had no move to hide the action. Hiding it would only make it worse as he focused on her good eye again. The woman was probably used to people looking at the injury. Markus did wonder how the woman managed to be so observant when she had lost a good chunk of her vision. Didn't matter, she must have other talents that did not rely on her eyes. No doubt her hearing was up to standards.

I have heard about blind people having their other senses get better... I wonder if Web has 50 percent better sense of hearing. Markus managed, somehow, to keep a straight face as that absurd notion entered his mind. Markus was glad the weapon was packed away. Meant he didn't have to worry about her making a stupid move. Markus also noticed she didn't bother counting the coin. Though if she had experience with gold, she could probably determine from weight alone if there was a significant amount missing. She spoke again. To leave the place. Bring him to the jungle as she so eloquently put it. Markus had no idea what a real jungle looked like so he was a bit curious as what Web considered 'the jungle'. He did not offer a reply to her words. Followed her silently. There was little to contribute as she spoke of the jungle of the harbour. Wooden ships. A different sort of jungle than Markus anticipated. The way she spoke of the place, almost in reverence to the death that happened. The chaos in which it came. Markus felt a little disgusted at her easy tone of voice at such a subject. Then again, would he be much different if he truly knew everything that transpired at the harbour. Markus offered her a shrug in response. No smile crossed his lips. Only a thin angry line.

"I suppose." The woman had an odd sense of freedom. He did momentarily ponder if the woman was positively mad. There were certain indicators. One would have to be mad to live here willingly. The tone and smile told Markus that this woman was capable of many things. An expert in getting information and Markus knew of several methods. Some were peaceful. The right location the right time. Others required rougher methods and something told Kvist that this woman had done her fair share of the latter. But the question he pondered next was a far darker one. Had she enjoyed it? Those words seemed to indicate as much.

I don't care. If she finds my family, I can overlook certain... character flaws.

The woman spoke again. Offering more advice. In this case, it was advice wasted on him. He wasn't a man about to kill strangers for no good reason. Both his emerald eyes looked at her annoyed as she wasted time telling him things he perfectly knew. He was perhaps not a spy or whatever dishonourable term one could conjure for her profession, but he had not been dropped on a rock from birth. Usually he enjoyed a chatty companion, today he had not the mood for such things. He wanted results.

"Wait. You tell me that people are naturally intimidated by large burly men." He said with a sarcastic undertone that made it quite clear to him that she needed not waste words explaining obvious things to him. The merry tone, only disturbed him a little more. "And don't worry, I am not in the habit of killing people without a good reason." Markus followed the one-eyed woman through the streets. Keeping both his eyes wary on any potential attackers. The city had seemed less stable that he had assumed. Everyone seemed on edge. Especially the person Web approached. His reaction to her was one of fear. Fear and respect perhaps. The latter he was unsure of the, the former was obvious to anyone. He was curious about the sentence which Web had cut off before it could be spoken. He wondered if Web even knew what had been about to be said. Perhaps. But it didn't matter. If Web had wanted a scowl on his face, it came naturally when the man called Kvist her friend. The anger that seethed inside of him made it easy for him to ignore many morally questionable things. But threatening a man in the manner Web did, that was crossing a line he did not like. The glance in his direction and the roll of her eye did make him ponder the accuracy of her threat. Did the man visit a brothel. Or did he not. Markus felt disgusted by the ease with which she told her lies. Made them sound so believable.

As expected of anyone living in this cursed city. Markus bit down his honour. At least he was not telling the lies himself. They might be at his behalf, but she was the expert and he was not about to argue with her in front of her informant. The slap on his shoulder turned his gaze quite surly as he took half a step closer to Ballack. Which was enough to break his courage and make him squeal out a name for the two to pursue. Follow up questions were barked at the man and Markus was not surprised when they were answered. Looks like a beggar. What a useless description. Half this petching city looks like beggars. Web's last threat did not go unnoticed by Markus. Not the threat it self, that bothered him, but it was deserved if the man lied. It was that Web herself said she'd make him uncomfortable. Not that her 'friend' would. The woman certainly was confident she could break kneecaps. Or that she had build up a reputation that she didn't have to do it anymore.

The two continued. She spoke and Markus found himself at odds with her desire for him to knock our this Farald guy. Not because the shykehole probably didn't deserve it, primarily because it would get quite messy. All they had was that he alledgedly worked under someone with that name. He considered her question. He could most likely handle a single scoundrel without much trouble, but all he offered her in response was another of his shrugs.

”We'll see. I don't know where to find the warehouses. And I do havea pair of questions, was it true? About Ballack visiting brothels.” The answer could ease his mind a lot. If the man was an adulterer, unfaithful in the eyes of the gods, Markus would have an easier time handling the direct threats to the man's life for simple information. ”I would rather have sent you up with a bottle of wine and seen you work your charms on him. Gotten him drunk to a point where he couldn't stand and your 'friend' miracolously comes to help carry him... home.” Markus shrugged at the alternative plan. But time was not a luxury they could afford to spend freely. Others might get to Ballack or he might willingly sell them out and then they would know someone was looking for Farald and Simonsen. Seemed like Markus would have to punch an unsuspecting man right in the kisser. ”But that'd take too long. I want this done with.” Markus said impatiently.

Didn't bother him that much. If he worked with slavers, it was deserved. If he was innocent. Well. Markus did have a healer and plenty of gold to make up for any disagreements. Though anyone in Sunberth being innocent was almost laughable to him. The bridge. Or A bridge. Markus had no clue how many bridges Sunberth sported. But unless Web had led him to the wrong bridge, this would be the one. Near the railing keeping people from 'accidentally' spilling into the water below, Markus saw a man standing. Left arm resting on the railing. Other hand holding on to a bottle of what he assumed was wine. Even from this distance, Markus could see the large red beard. One could have considered it mighty, especially compared to Markus' own smaller beard. But dirt and grime marred the beard in a way Markus found disgusting. But the man looked like he leaned on the railing a bit too much for a man. The bottle hardly remained still. Man involuntarily shook a little as a breeze came in from the sea. Markus sent a glance around. Looking for anyone gazing at him or their target. After several long ticks, Markus lost patience.

”Shouldn't take long.” Markus said under his breath as he walked on to the bridge. A simple plan formulating in his mind as he walked past the man. Threw a disgusted glance in the direction of the man as he passed him. Took a quick step to the side. A hand upon the arm he was leaning on. The other the back of his head. Pull one take away his balance, push the other give him a headache. There was a wonderful sound as Markus smacked the man's head into the railing. In his drunkeness he had probably not even noticed what happened before his head exploded in pain. To Markus' surprise, the man slumped immediately. There was a loud sound of a bottle being smashed into a thousand pieces. ”What are you doing you drunken sod!” Markus growled loudly as he went down and looked like he was checking the man if he was alright. In fact he was frisking the most obvious places one would carry weapons. He felt the outline of a dagger. It was quickly taken from the man and pushed under the railing and into the sea. ”Come, let us get you home. Missus won't be happy if you come home late... again.” Markus growled once more, anger letting loose as he picked up the sod and threw him over his right shoulder and went in the direction Web had pointed him at. No time to lose. He only wondered how convincing his little act had been.

[Zandelia]

The questions were to be expected, she had met many whom claimed to need her services but ultimately they never truly appreciated what such services entailed. People always concentrated upon the information, that trail and the trace, they never really considered the journey over that path of razors. She owndred if he were as naieve as she had presumed, he did present a viable alternative though it was one she discounted mentally quickly enough. She had her methods and she knew they worked well enough without needing to change them. It was a matter of perspective truly, she did use softer methods often enough but she was on a frame of time too short for her liking - she needed answers this day quickly and with as little resistance as possible. She paused and looked at him in silence for a time, assessing him anew.

“No, you are right to question methodology. If is you as my employer then you have a say in the way things are done. Though few enough care these days to talk about such things,” she slowed her pace, she doubted the man was going anywhere whilst getting drunk so they had some small portions of time at their disposal, “very well…let’s assess. You mentioned time and that was the major consideration. I am playing catch up, each second gained through short cuts puts me closer to the goal” she began simply as she clasped her hands at the small of her back and looked at him intermittently.

“Wine would have worked but taken time, not to mention Ballack is suspicious of being treated well. He appreciates threat more than coercion I have found. But let’s say I had used wine. He would have been drunk. Drunkards are given to boasts and embellishments. I don’t want to chase ghosts. As to whether he was accused correctly….”

“Does it matter? He is guilty of many things. I picked one which I knew he had done in the past, was not sure it was a current issue. I gambled, it’s what I do. With informants at least. Had that threat not worked I’d have used another. He is guilty of many things - profiteering, aiding of many shady characters and he is not above selling you out if he is not afraid of you. As it is he will reconsider any desire to rat us out, knowing I will kill him if he does. Or ruin his life. So…does it matter?” she asked rhetorically as they continued at their steady pace.

It was then that they parted ways, she made her way to the meeting place quickly enough and from there leant casually against a wall and watched in the distance how the plan unfolded before her. It was a simple one, one which anyone with half a mind and a bit of strength could achieve easily enough. Still she did like to know the capabilities of those she was working with or for - in this case both. You could tell a lot about someone if you simply watched them, tried to understand why they did things the way they chose to. She was not surprised when there was no physicality to the snatch, no punch or roughing up really. That was of interest, he was a man who knew what he wanted but obviously had his own way of getting it. He was not above going his own way, an independent mind and she respected that. It was a quality so rarely found these days. She watched him approach and it was quickly that she ushered them down an alley way and pointed ahead and then left and right to a nice quiet spot. She took a moment to glance about and found no one following them before slipping in behind.

Pays to be cautious after all, even if we are hunting those as know not they are hunted she told herself, it was a good method to keep in mind at all times - caution saved countless.

“So…Farald is it? I imagine that you are wondering why you are here. Please don’t shout or scream, we are civilized people. We like not alerting people to our presence. I’m afraid,” she stated, coming very close to him indeed then, “that the un-cooperative tend to suffer. So, here is the deal offered. We will ask questions, you will answer truthfully” she continued smoothly as she pulled out a dagger slowly from her thigh, “if you lie, or I think you are lying, then regrettably there will be…un-pleasantries. If you tell the truth in what you know then you will be freed. I will give you gold enough to drink yourself stupid for a good many days. We will froget we ever knew you, disappear and never reappear. You have my word”

“And..and you are?”

“Unimportant. And you do not ask the questions. Suffice to say I have a long and very detailed memory. For those who are not obedient at least. Now…Simonsen. Where is he? What is the name of his ship? How long until he departs? Oh yes…I know he is here in the city”

“Wh-What do you want with him?”

“Do you really want to know?” she gave him a wicked smile as she held the point close to his bobbing Adam’s apple.

“Now, answer the questions. My associate will likely have more to ask. Please be a dear and be quick so that we can leave you to your…festivities”

[Markus Andres]

And in this case, your goal is a big fat pouch full of gold. Of course you want to take all the short cuts you can, missus.

Kvist was not accustomed to thinking the worst about people. He came from a city of relative peace and honesty was important in the city. Was not used to people threatening people with violence to get what they wanted. Sure, he had met the occasional black sheep, or the occasional flock of black sheep outside of the city. There they roamed, but he had rarely engaged that scum in conversation. Now he regretted not having spent more time guarding the people thrown in the Tank. There her might have honed his ability to tell lies from the truth. For although he didn't doubt Web's sincerity when it came to finding his family, he could not determine whether or not she just kept feeding him lies in order to cloak her true self in darkness. Kvist pondered why he even cared, he was not here to do a character study, she was employed to do a certain job, not to tell him her life story - but his own interest in great stories however, disagreed with him there. Undoubtedly she had great tales to tell him. But if she only fed him the lies, assuming they were lies, to placate his questions, then there was a problem.

That man was a piece of shyke though. Sleazy enough that he would have done such a thing - Yahal curse him for being unfaithful. Web poked a hole in his alternative plan, but Kvist was entirely convinced if a concussion was better than him being drunk. If Web was not interested in playing her part in the plan, however, he had no choice but follow hers. Which required physical violence to be exerted.

With the man carried on a strong armoured shoulder Kvist saw Web poke her body out and usher him in her direction. He followed the directions and soon stood in a back alley sheltered from immediate view and if they kept the conversation quiet enough no one would hear them either. He wondered briefly if the location had been known to Web or if she had just improvised. Either case she had done a good job. Kvist placed the man on the ground and he groaned as he came about again. Web did not waste any time asking her questions. The man reacted as Kvist had expected of anyone in his position. The knight took several steps back. To give the man room. The knight didn't want to tempt himself needlessly. For having a man responsible, even if only on the outskirts of their organization, this close was quite the temptation. He wanted to throttle the man to death. Kvist had no intention of honouring Web's promise, luckily for her, she had only referred to herself. She did say we, unfortunately, but Markus would have an easy time forgetting the man either way. It would be interesting seeing Web interrogate the man. The first promise was an obvious one, give an easy way out. Kvist would have postponed that a little, but then again, he often dealt with people who were bound together my family ties. Bandits - Inbred petchs. Then the threat of a dagger to the neck. A simple, but immensely effective threat. Then a glance to Kvist who only looked at him with barely contained fury. Much of it real, but the apparent lack of control, was faked. There was a flicker of lightning in his eyes as he scowled at the man. Farald looked away and spied a possible exit, if not for the dagger at his throat. He was smart enough to not go for it.

"I'll break your legs if you try to run." Markus said deceptively calmly. "Answer her questions. Her offer will only stand as long as she is the one questioning you. If you waste enough of my time with useless questions, I will break your fingers until you give me a satisfactory answer." For a moment he doubted it was his own voice, it was surprisingly calm even to himself. Calm yet with a cold edge to it. "Make it easy on yourself and answer her question." - Kvist was big enough and looked menacingly enough to put a little extra dread into the situation.

"He- he sleeps either on the ship, yes - or sometimes, sometimes he spends the night with one of the slave whores in the fish." Kvist almost reached out and punched the man for that comment about slave whores. But he kept his distance. Kept his cool. "I don't know when he leaves! When his boss tells him to! I don't know who he works for!"

"The lady asked what the ship was called. And who is this boss?" Markus pointed out.

"The amber wave! She's is called the amber wave! And I don't know the captain's name. Alan works with him, I only help with the goods when he's in town!" Farald exclaimed a little terrified. Kvist nodded satisfied. The man had answered her questions, but she had neglected to ask the most important question.

"Where do you bring the... goods you transport on this, Amber Wave? Where is the warehouse? I have a couple of questions I'd like to ask your boss face to face." There was a long pause from Farald, too long for Kvist's liking. He took a step forward before he crouched his massive body down. There was a hand raised to try and stop him. Only helped Kvist as he grabbed the arm and held it securely. His other hand grabbed the little finger and the knight ignored the pleading from the man. Kvist wouldn't enjoy this, he told himself, but it was necessary. "Where?" He asked once more, calmly.

"A warehouse close to the water! Please don't!" Kvist glared at him grimly. "Close to the bridge! I swear, between the third and fourth warehouse! There's a smaller one tugged between the two, that's where they bring the slaves. That's all I know!"

Only a middle man. Kvist felt sick. He barely heard the crunch as he bent the man's finger out of the joint. There was a loud scream of pain from the man. It was to be expected. Kvist ignored the shiver going down his spine. Punishing such a piece of shyke was good. In the service of the good gods he would smite this man. Put an end to his despicable trade in humans and other races. Kvist had only mentioned goods, Farald himself spoke of slaves. He could not feign ignorance at his own hand in this deal. Kvist twisted the finger sideways. Tearing it clear of the joint. Kvist hated slavers and this one knew where he kept his family.

"Where are they brought from the warehouse? Where do they take them?" Tell me! Kvist spoke angrily. Struggling to maintain a semblance of control over himself. He wanted to break the entire hand piece by piece.

"I don't know-" Farald stammered through sobs. "I only bring them to the warehouse, others... others hand it from there. Please... let go of my finger." Kvist looked to Web for confirmation.

"Is he telling the truth?"

[Zandelia]

It was not with enjoyment that she watched Farald squirm, writhing internally as he sought for a way out of his predicament that meant he did not have to betray those who would likely kill him or get a blade to his jugular right then and there. She didn’t like the forcing for information, she enjoyed the game in its wider context. She did what she had to do in terms of interactions, many of them were not so enjoyable as others. She would have liked to stalk, to watch and slip a net around the man but they had no time for such niceties and as such the resorting to more direct means was paramount. He was so afraid though that she did have a concern that he would tell them whatever he could think up in order to avoid retribution, even if it was a lie.

Force usually means less reliable data. Oh for the days of being able to bribe a whore to sex the man out of what he knows she told herself internally as she kept up her sweet little smile and pinned him with her gaze.

Thankfully there as no way out for their incumbent and a darker side to her new employer rippled up from within his bulk. She tried not to show her surprise though she doubted Farald would notice any given his state of mind. She kept the blade ready but was able to step back slightly as the physical interrogation and intimidating threats were uttered. She actually believed them, there was likely much wrath within him for what had been done to him and his family. She wondered how controlled Kvist truly was, he seemed calm enough but the business like way in which he set about squeezing their mark for information seemed a fragile veneer when she looked into his eyes and at the set of his jaw. The thought did cross her mind that her word meant little to him and he would strike the wretch down once he had ceased his usefulness.

“Truth?” she asked towards the end in response to the question.

She sifted through her mind quickly, seeking clues or the odd throw away fragment of data that she had absorbed over the years. It was always surprising how much she knew without actually knowing it. Small whispers from various birds about slaving activity, the exchanging of various cargo and the bragging of drunken smugglers appeared audibly within her memory. She searched through them, dismissing much and accepting some others as probable - if not linked directly. It was a question of mental spheres. There was the sphere of dockland economics - all things that the city imported in a neat list, slaves were a major resource for importing. The sphere of the city and its slave groups was more problematic but it was well known that they had links through the shipping lanes. It was a logical law of efficiency - it was easier to transport by boat than by land routes. Then there was the logical deduction that there would be a warehouse down in the docks proper to store cargo - this was well known and slaves were cargo.

“Sadly for the breaking, he is, I believe. His words make sense, given the information and the way Sunberth works. It is well know the warehouses there store much, slaves would be a certainty given their value. Secure locations are few and far between in the city. Old Legs keeps the docks secure and safe for his…clients” she spat at the ground, they were worse then scum, “how often are they sold and shifted?” she asked Farald directly.

“Every ten days unless a buyer is found earlier! Honestly that’s all I know!”

“Whenever someone says that to me I doubt they tell the truth, you know more. Break the finger” she stated with feigned resignation and the scream came along with the sickening sound of mangled finger

“Have all of the slaves been sold?”

“YES!” he shouted with clear breaking of sanity and thought.

“Well that means they aren’t there Kvist…but…that we know who sold them. Which means we can press them to get further towards the goal. Good Farald, good. Break another finger”

“NO! Nooooo-” it was cut off with another snapping sound and it sounded like his throat was raw and likely bleeding now.

“Last question and I will not kill you if you tell it right. The Amber Wave…I know that name. Do you know if they do more than slave?”

“They have mercenaries! Bounty hunters! They kill people others want dead and can’t”

“Who?!” she shouted at him.

“Red Wolf!”

She nodded to herself, so they were one and the same. This presented an opportunity to wipe out two enemies at once and free both herself and Fallon from their yoke of oppression. They would be able to move on then and get back to furthering their own agendas. She slipped her dagger back into its sheath and placed her hands upon her hips. She looked at Kvist then and nodded.

“That’s probably about all we will get. Enough to stage a little coup for ourselves and gives me something to focus on with more…clandestine means. I think we are done here, no further leads to pursue directly. I’ll have to pay a visit to the damned Slave Markets. That’s where they would have been taken to be sold, unless sold to a private party. Either way will only know who that was with another method or two. Bastard slavers” she muttered the last to herself.

[Markus Andres]

Web confirmed that he was speaking the truth, or at least, that she determined that he was so too. But Web was not satisfied. Asked further questions. Demanded to know more and she was not above torture. The knight wondered if she enjoyed it, if she got a kick out of her position of power. For Kvist damn well knew he was not above such carnal pleasures. This piece of shyke was the first real lead he had gotten for over half a season on the prowl for his family - and he was a slaver scum to boot. Syliran law was quite clear. Death. But Markus had not intended for his breaking finger to be torture, it was punishment for being a slaver. Despicable trade. Web saw it differently, saw it as the first step in a series of broken fingers to further her agenda. A part of Kvist refused to do such a cruel treatment of another human being. Not one where false promises and empty hope had been given in exchange for information - adding pain to that equation made him feel uncomfortable. More uncomfortable than Sunberth itself, as if he was way out of his boundaries.

Won't be the first time, Markus.

When another broken finger was called for, Kvist crushed his hand around the already broken one sent another tidalwave of pain through the arm of the mighty-bearded man. Kvist would not mangle further fingers, he was a knight, perhaps executioner, but not a torturer. He would not willfully engage in the torture without a reason to. I would rather slit his throat and be done with it, see him die quickly and bring a measure of justice to this world. The man spoke when the torture continued. Gave the replies that Web sought, but she asked for another broken finger, Kvist knew not why. The man had answered her question fully. Undoubtedly Web would notice, unless that eye of hers was focused elsewhere, that Markus did not break fingers as promised. Only further mangled the already broken one. Pain worked all the same. Loosened his lip and Kvist looked to Web as she asked her final questions, the woman sheathed her dagger in response - saw her nod as if something had been confirmed to her. The knight was curious. Very curious as to what was going on there. Red Wolf? A possible ally? Or a competitor of the Wave and thus another blight on the world? He listened to Web claim that was all they would get. So she knew who the Red Wolf was - that or she was a lousy interrogator. The way she spoke, left Kvist without a doubt that he would have to do the justice of Tyveth, or Farald would warn his friends of their coming. Something Kvist could not allow - first he had more questions - for he had noticed Web had shouted at Farald, something he had not expected the spy to do. He could not claim he knew her well enough to determine that was out of the ordinary, but it seemed there was more than a lust of knowledge behind that shout.

"Just a second Web - Who is the Red Wolf?" Kvist had produced his own dagger. His question was directed at Farald. His tone of voice and hand still around his mangled finger left no doubt that he was ready to continue the torture for however long it took. Fact was he was feeling queasy about the whole ordeal. "Why are you hunting this Red Wolf? And where can I find him?"

[Zandelia]

She had hoped that there would be no questions, deeply and profoundly hoped it but had not believed for one second that there would not be. She didn’t answer at first, merely stared at the man they had tortured and his mangled fingers. He was sobbing at this point, broken mentally beyond any true coherence of thought. She didn’t like doing it but there were times such things were required, or even necessary. There was a strange enjoyment to be found, though, in the fact that if they had not taken this path together then this information would likely have stayed buried inside Farald’s mind until it was deprived of what pathetic life it currently possessed. She frowned slightly as se wondered what to answer with. She knew he didn’t trust her, not really. He was using her and paying her, such things did not cultivate much trust.

No…but there is a way to begin that bridge building I suppose. To tell him something. Not everything, definitely not everything,…but something at least. He won’t ever trust me at all if I don’t answer she told herself sadly, she did so enjoy living inside the minds of others but it could be a depressing place at times - it was often dark and full of terrors.

It was not an overly dangerous thing to reveal to him truthfully, he knew nothing about Sunberth and the people in it. Unless he was a liar of course but she could smell a liar well enough to be certain he was not one of them. He had morals, though it seemed they were layered more than she had assumed. He was a foreigner here and that ruled out much of the dangers associated with local intrigue. If anything he was closer to her cause than any other simply by virtue of working with her and not getting stabbed in the spine neatly. Few others would have given him the courtesy. She tilted her head and looked at him directly, it was time to take a chance. A small chance.

“Red Wolf is an associate of mine, mercenary and friend,” she took a moment to glare at Farald darkly before continuing, “we have enemies that you probably don’t know of. Until the beginning of Summer we weren’t aware of this enemy ourselves. It seems we have…inconvenienced…the slavers too much. They want Red Wolf dead. Have been hunting us all season. It seems…that we have a common enemy Kvist” she looked into the distance.

“Web? Web! Ohnooo, nononon. Petch me! You’re her guard!” Farald was moaning aloud from within his sobbing and grumbling pains.

“Yes…guard. Or rather we guard each other. I’m sorry Kvist but I don’t know you enough to tell you more. Suffice to say finding these slavers of yours is now apparently the same goal as we had, just for different reasons. You are more an ally now than an employer. Be thankful you broke it out of him” she shrugged at that, the state of the wretch was immaterial.

“Damn! Spider…spider! You’re that vagik he was always on about…knows things. Could see things coming a mile off. Had to…find…ways to…then get in and kill. But couldn’t find. Please….oh gods you’re going to kill me. You don’t leave people alive” she slipped into panicked chanting, repeating the last phrase over and over in mantra.

She punched him in the ribs with all of her strength and felt them give, creaking and finally cracking, as satisfaction rippled through her. He had said too much and she had made the mistake of not killing him sooner. She grabbed him by the throat and squeezed ever so slightly, depriving him of what little oxygen his damaged ribcage could now take in. She looked directly into his eye, shoulder to shoulder with Kvist now and almost nose to nose with Farald. He was too dangerous to leave alive now, he clearly knew about her and Fallon and if it was found she had been ehre and learnt what she had elarnt from him…well any chance at a surprise assault would be lost forever.

Time grows short, the web thrown now closing around us all. Trapping us together inside its construct. Only the stronger and more cunning will walk out when it opens again. We must make sure it is us that walks. Him alive…too risky she thought as she let go of him them.

“Yes, I leave none of my enemies alive. Bodies of dozens litter the path behind me as I step upwards and above the common folk. Treading a path of daggers cloaked only in a gossamer web and intelligence,” she was not sure she was actually speaking properly, her tone had taken on a deeper and more deadly tone than before, “but not for myself. So that people who do want to earn a living without being troubled can do so. You chose your side, the side of misery and exploitation. Don’t you dare beg for mercy now just because you met someone better at it than you all are” she hissed at the end, fists clenched.

“I agve my word I wouldn’t kill him. My word is law to me. I didn’t promise no one else wouldn’t kill him. Not by name. ‘We’ could mean anything. He is too dangerous alive, we need to surprise them and he could give things away…kill him” she stated without empathy or remorse.

She didn’t even look at Kvist, she was already looking into the future and trying to divine their successful survival.

[Markus Andres]

The one-eyed woman responded first of the two people Kvist directed his questions to. Her response was superficial at best, one of her friends and for some reason that did make a lot of sense that one of Webs friends had such a name. He pondered briefly if anyone in the town went by their real name, judging by the mangled finger and grown man on the verge of tears, perhaps there was a very good reason to go by cover names if one dabbled on the wrong side of the moral compass. Kvist knew already now that his actions today were on the border of what his superiors in Syliras would find acceptable behaviour of a knight. But Kvist could rest easy despite his queasiness at the moment. The action was just and warranted. Farald chimed in, used the female prefix and Kvist only got a little more curious about this Red Wolf character. To his surprise however, Web apologised to him for not revealing more about the woman and their relationship. Based on a lack of trust. Though perhaps he could trust the woman a little more now, if she and the scum told the truth, she had more reason to help him now. He would not divulge any information he didn't find trivial without a very good reason.

"Mm, something tells me I will still be paying you, though." There was a hint of humour before the wretch cut in and Kvist was quite surprised by his reaction. Strong reaction. Fear. Honest to the gods fear. Web had quite a reputation it seemed- the woman moved quickly and the man was silenced with several cracked ribs. Quite the opposite of what they had been trying to do thus far. Web was protecting something. Something this man might reveal if he had been allowed to speak. Made it harder for the knight to trust her.

Eyes narrowed at her order. Focused upon the female in the company and he was very much inclined to let the man live despite previous decisions to do otherwise. Only to prove a point to this woman. But as he had reached the same conclusion as she just stated, he couldn't leave him alive. He was too dangerous for their further operations in the area. Kvist frowned as he rose to his full height and took a step away from the broken man.

"Don't dishonour yourself, Web. Ordering someone to take a life, is the same as taking it yourself." Kvist spoke as he put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her aside gently, but firmly. "But I had no intention of leaving a slaver scum breathing - he already incriminated himself beyond any redemption that might be offered." There was a slight shrug of pity. "May Dira guide your path, Farald." He knelt and the dagger slid up between his ribs and into the heart. A quick death. A merciful death. Better than such scum deserved, but Kvist was a firm believer that death should be quick if possible - put them back in the circle .

"The justice of Tyveth has been done." He whispered softly to himself as the act of getting something done made him a little less agitated. "I expect you to keep an eye on the warehouse - when people arrive, notify me and I'll deal with the place. But unless you have more work for us, then I will be going." Kvist wiped his dagger on the dead man's clothes and sheathed it as he rose to his full height again and turned from Web with a courteous nod and then began leaving the alley. Wondering if anyone would care enough to investigate the screams they might have heard from in there. He found that he didn't really care.

[Orion Michaels]

Yousa

Wantsa

GRADE?!

 

Markus

Experience

Interrogation	+3
Negotiation	+1
Rhetoric	+5
Acting	+1
Intimidation	+3
Intelligence	+2
Weapon: Dagger	+1

Lores.

• Needing an Informant
• Web: An Informant
• Uncertainty In Pricing
• Web's Sincerity Through Pain
• Location: Seaside Market
• Farald: Working on Simonsen's Ship
• A Lack of Honor in Sunberth
• Simonsen's Ship: The Amber Wave
• Red Wolf: Involved In Slaving

-25 GM

 

Zand

Experience

Interrogation	+4
Negotiation	+1
Rhetoric	+5
Intimidation	+3
Intelligence	+1
Unarmed Combat	+1

Lores.

• Kvist: A Stranger In Need
• Names and Description of Kvist's Missing Family
• Alan Simonsen involved in Kvist's Family Problems
• Signing an Agreement in Blood and Gold
• Farald: Working on Simonsen's Ship
• Kvist Takes Issue With My Methods
• Red Wolf: Involved In Slaving

+25 GM

 

Notes

Great thread , you guys. Let me know if you have any questions.