Solo [Stumble Alley] Ratcatcher (Job Thread)

[Pulren Marsh]

29th of Fall, AV 514

Stumble Alley. An innocuous sounding place, hinting of those who drank too long or too soon. Nothing too ill or deadly. Yet when Pulren had applied for the job, he found that unlike many other places, there was a stark shortage of able bodied guards for the area. Meaning he was the only one to sign up. This, in itself, brought much curiosity to the Zeltivan as it seemed like a lack of drudgery and the capacity for adventure was possible.Guarding, in essence, was dull. You could literally watch grass grow in a boring enough location. The jobs nobody wanted were usually terribly dangerous and most did not want to risk their lives or livelihoods on fun. What did they know?

Wearing his studded leather, carrying his shield and trident, he felt almost like a Wave Guard again, walking the beat. Of course, his uniform was no more and the shield was wooden and of his own purchasing, not the heavier metallic shield given him for his Trial and achievement. It would still block weapons, however, if need be. Rarely had he run into someone of a caliber which would require more than a shield bash. So far. The twists and turns of the alleys and streets prior brought an idea that perhaps Stumble Alley was simply something that the locals used as a name for many places. This idea ended abruptly when he saw the small sign sticking from the side of the building which made the left hand wall of the alley.

Stepping in, it did seem more bare than not only a Sunberth alley, but any alley. Zeltiva's alleys had more life in them, counting the wharf rats. There were a few people lying about, some begging, most sleeping. Pulren also noticed a preternatural amount of shade, most likely some kind of optical trick from the spacing of the buildings. It did make things rather dank and dark, though. Seeing the sign for the bar of the alley, which gave it the only life it had, his mind began to chew further.

"The Disappearing Drunk."

[Pulren Marsh]

Stepping inside the small door, he was surprised to find little more than a closet as far as bars went. there was a bar, sure, perhaps some room in the back for a brewery or kitchen, he guessed. There were seven stools along the bar but no tables, the remaining floor space not much larger than a standard cottage. Shrugging, he looked on as an older ginger haired man stepped out from the room. The elder's eyes scanned over Pulren. "What are you supposed to be? Customer or troublemaker?"

Looking down at himself as well, Pulren looked up and at the man. "Neither, actually. I came looking for work. I'm an experienced guard and thought this place and the alley might do good to have someone walking it." That was his pitch and he was sticking to it, his trident placed next to him and his shield lifted to look as impressive as the Zeltivan could muster an image. The man laughed out loud and actually slapped the bar, taking the wind out of Pulren's sails. "Sorry, friend. Yes, I could probably do with a guard to keep the vandals at bay. Excuse my laughter, but I've never seen anyone so anxious to watch Stumble. You're not local, are ya?"

Pulren felt a little better, turning windward to raise his main a bit. "No, Sir. I'm Zeltivan. Used to be a Wave Guard. Now I'm just a Guard." it sounded pretty sad and immediately brought the pain of memory to him. He longed for his old home grounds and would return to them someday. Somehow. Looking back, the man came out from behind the bar, his wiry but strong frame approaching Pulren, a hand extending. "Name's Red. Some call me the Elder, I would appreciate just Red. You have the qualifications, so I'll give you a go. there's just one thing that is very important to remember. One thing that cannot be forgotten. No. Matter. What."

The air was thick with the tension of the dramatic words spoken by Red. Pulren waited to hear what was going to come next, anticipating it. "Never linger by midnight. When you hear the twenty fourth bell, be out of the alley by its end. No one who remains as ever survived beyond that bell." Pulren just stared at the older man, waiting for the punchline and laughter. It never came. "They die?", the Zeltivan asked, his voice full of incredulity. Red made a noncommittal movement with his head. "Well, they never appear again.Keep that in mind and we'll be right as rain." Pulren could only shrug and nod.

[Pulren Marsh]

Red had gone on to explain that the Alley had its own life cycle. Other than the Codger, a venerable beggar who was the only person to ever remain at night without injury, the stalls and abandoned homes were mostly cycled through by young upstart gangs that either didn't know any better or didn't care as long as their name got out. Pulren could sympathize to a point, but it was his job to keep these and other strays from trying to settle. For some reason, Red also wanted the Codger watched and protected. It was his coin, so whatever worked.

So the next thing he knew, he was being escorted out of the Disappearing Drunk and out into the narrow alley. In his gear with his arm and armor, he was quite clearly a presence among the quiet denizens of Stumble. First things first, it would be time to get a good look at the alley itself and figure it out, if such a thing was even possible. He kept his eyes open for the Codger, but the man was either invisible or just out somewhere else in Sunberth while Pulren was looking about. The first thing of real interest that he came across was a burned out building.

It wasn't much to begin with, a single level, flat roofed shanty of sorts. Looking through the hole in the front of the building, however, he could see what appeared to be a few figures seated at a table inside. If anything screamed investigation, this was the sort of thing indeed. Standing tall, he moved up to the door and placed his trident next to it, his free hand then taking the door and pulling at it. Thing was, it just pulled a few inches, but no more. It was clearly barred from the inside. The commotion caused the figures inside to mumble at first, then a voice rang out.

"Petch off, we're busy. You don't want anything we have to offer in here, you big vagik!" Pulren stepped back, nodding at the door as if the barrier itself had insulted him. "Vagik, eh? No problem." Stepping over to the hole, he found it to be about two feet in diameter. Crouching a little, he looked inside to see three young teenage males sitting at a table in what remained of the structure. A slew of obscene hand gestures came up at Pulren and the trio laughed and continued to play cards. The guard nodded and moved to the left, sticking his head in and seeing that it was a bar on the door, probably the original. Strong on its own, it looked like it had taken some of the initial fire. He stepped to the side and retrieved his trident, maneuvering it through the hole so as to hook the bar with its tines. Once he found purchase, he simply lifted it up off the hook it was in and it fell to the floor with a thud.

The three stopped playing cards and looked up again, their faces a mix of anger, shock and surprise. Pulren smiled. "I'll be right in to talk about this vagik situation."

[Pulren Marsh]

When the door swung open, only Pulren's battle instincts saved him as something came sailing toward his head. His shield popped up but he didn't have his shield braced for the impact. Whatever it was fell at his feet and made a tumultuous clanging. Looking down as he shook the pain from his shield arm, he could see it was a small but solid hammer, maybe one used for smithing. Looking back up, they were all on their feet. The three were stocky, mostly in the arms. His attention was on their hands, a hammer in each hand of the two on each side, a large sledge in the hands of the middle assailant.

"Yeah, better think again, vagik! You will be smashed to death by we, the Bloody Hammers, so that you will..." The right hammer seemed to be annoyed, lost in his train of thought. The left hammer corrected him, "Smashed by our unrelenting force, pummeled by our crushing--" Pulren had more than enough and took the moment of their own distraction to come down with a vicious downward stab, his tines finding the unarmored feet of the right hammer. A blood curling scream came from the lad's mouth as Pulren's shield smashed out to the left into the oncoming hammer attack of the left.

This left Pulren open, however as the central man was bringing the sledge forward, the heavy end hitting the guard in the chest. His grip would fail to one thing or the other so he let the shield go, his free hand going to the trident as his wooden shield clattered on the blackened wood floor. He was thankful for the resilience of his studded leather armor. His chest was sore and his breathing stunted, but he would have no long term injury, unlike the guy who was lying in the floor, gripping his foot, his hands slick and wet with his own pumping blood. Pulren stepped back into the entrance, the trident up and out in both hands as he watched the other pair. The sledge was still coming, empowered by his attack and maybe the injury of his ally.

Stepping back, he let the man charge through the door, the sledge being held high near the head to hit Pulren quick. Blocking it with his own weapon's shaft, he reached out with his leg and kicked the sledge firmly in the hip, sending his movement sideways and turning him away from Pulren for a moment. He took that moment to send a quick stab of his own into the back of the sledge, who cried out and kneeled, feeling around to his wound behind him. Turning to face the final combatant, Pulren was surprised to see him behind , wielding his own shield and swinging down with a hammer, the tool catching him in the shoulder though he tried to avoid it. Now he was angry.

[Pulren Marsh]

First day on the job. Petch that. First bell of the job and here he was, defending against his own weapon, a throbbing shoulder slowing his own weapon work. Spit wanted to fly out of rage at the opponent. He could hear some kind of vague hollering nearby, but his ears were going quiet, his breathing being the primary noise. No more guard, only Pulren the man. Pulren who had learned in a military setting how to face weapon wielders. Pulren who had charged fear first into certain death. No way would he be taken out by these hammer holding babies!

The trident was turned in hand so that the tines were vertical, a fast sliding stab hitting the hammer shoulder. The shaft slid back slightly before being pumped forward again into the same area in quick succession. The hammer dropped with a clang, the opponent shrieking and falling back. Pulren, recently remembering his shoulder jumped backward toward the wall, expecting the sledge to come down at his unprotected back. But nothing. Looking down the alley, the sledge was lying on the dirt of the alley unmanned. His breathing was still there, a great ragged beast in a blood stew. Blinking slowly, the sounds of the world began to rush back in.

To his left, the boy -- boy?[ was lying on the dirt, holding his shoulder. Pulren reached down and looked at him, getting his shield back. All he did was flinch, looking at him in terror. Rolling his shoulder slowly in its socket, Pulren stepped to the building's entrance, looking in to discover the sledge wrapping the right hammer's foot with his own shirt. Both became silent and still, staring at Pulren. The foot bleeder was maybe fourteen, the sledge older but not much. Looking back out into the alley, the other was gone, some blood trail being his only remnant. "Bloody Hammers. Makes sense."

"Are you going to kill us? Riley needs to get to the healer. His foot is bleeding a lot." he felt a wave of remorse, but nothing like he would have in Zeltiva. Killing had become easier. He would feel regret later, probably. With a sigh, he shook his head, waving at the door. "Take your friend and your cards. Don't come back to Stumble. Tell your friends." Nodding and lifting the small, weak boy, Pulren could really see how young he was as he was being nearly carried through the alley. The job was done. He was left with his thoughts and the returning silence of Stumble Alley.

[Jashkataal]

“Heroes know that things must happen when it is time for them to happen. A quest may not simply be abandoned; unicorns may go unrescued for a long time, but not forever; a happy ending cannot come in the middle of the story.” ― Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn

 

Pulren Marsh

Experience

• Intelligence +1
• Intimidation +1
• Negotiation +1
• Observation +5
• Persuasion +1
• Rhetoric +1
• Tactics +1
• Unarmed Combat +1
• Weapon: Trident +2
• Weapon: Shield +1

Lores

• Location: Stumble Alley
• Location: The Disappearing Drunk
• Red/Elder the Owner of Disappearing Drunk
• No return at the 24th Bell, Stumble Alley
• Codger, the beggar of Stumble Alley (hearsay)
• Tactics: 3 assailants
• Trident technique: Blocking
• The calm of battle

Miscellaneous

• Moderate bruising: a fortnight to 21 days to heal - or a rank 2 Healer.

Nice thread, with good pacing. Found myself caught up in the story line. Well done.

If you have any concerns, please do not hesitate to send a PM. Please remember to delete your grade request. The pleasure was all mine.

Regards,
~Jashkataal