"Indeed, pain can prove to be quite the counter-argument if one knows how to handle it." Drake grinned, knowing that she could tell he was no stranger to pain - suffering and inflicting it. There were degrees of respect a blade could demand, a broken nose might be enough to command the respect of a lesser man, and more permanent mutilation can sway the minds of the bravest fool. Neither case was what Drake meant when he posed his question, and yet Ruby graciously dodged it. There was a tale there for those willing to dig long enough.
It was not his case.
If the fortune teller's magicks were telling fate from the briefest analysis of a soul, his was tracking blood from where it spurted, and this table reeked not only due to his blades.
"If I find your readings to be wrong and our paths ever cross again, Ruby." He folded his arms. "You would better be willing to buy me one night's dinner." The mercenary smirked, setting aside his empty plate and glass to give her more space for her bearings. "I believe I am sufficiently dry now, a good talk makes time fly by." He begun, pipe on his mouth, hands beating some dust from his coat. "I would hate to bother you more than I have tonight. Besides, the storm has probably calmed enough by now. It was my pleasure to share some words with you, Ms. Ruby. It is not often you find a sharp mind living among simpletons."
A pair of solid boots crashed their footsteps into mud and puddles outside in the storm, and it echoed through the door before those steps became frantic against the cobblestone road and up the wooden steps to the tavern. The door would slam open by the force of a shoulder crashing into it before a figure would turn around and throw the door to a close with a pair of gloved hands. Those same hands worked quickly to throw down the large wooden latch to lock it shut before taking a few moments to breath, heavy and fast.
Rubbing the back of his hand across his brow before turning around and leaning against the door, the elf took a few moments to take a breath as his eyes closed by large, circular and colored glasses. His ears lowered a little in pause and respite, almost following up and down rhythmically with his breathing. A small wave from the hand, gloved yet a few fingers as blue as his skin could be seen not covered in the material. Sweat and rain mixed themselves slowly dripping across his face under a featherless and folded wide-brimmed hat. His clothes simply frayed at the edges and well-worn, put through much use to be seen at anyone's first glace.
"Hola," the drow stranger spoke, accent as natural and strange as his way of speaking. His blue eyes scanned the room, flickering onto and past the patrons near the corner of the room, before falling upon the owner of the tavern. A brief pause before standing up straight and fixing the lapels of his coat. The drow coughed into his fist once before standing in a more presentable manner.
"Senorita Stench, you wouldn't happen to have a bottle to go? I could use a-."
Wood splintered and cracked in the blink of an eye before shrapnel of wood flew into the tavern as a large grey fist punched it's way through the side of the door, grasping and grabbing at air before slamming its hand down to grab at someone before reaching for something. The latch. The drow could only turn his head around and yell in surprise at the large fist being where his head use to be at before immediately running towards the counter of the bar.
Large hands the size of a full-grown head wrapped around the large crude lock. The latch lifted suddenly to the point of nearly breaking before the door kicked open, splintering the door and cracking it down the middle while one of the hinges snapped loose. The drow leapt and slid across the counter before falling behind it, hiding and pressed up against the side of the counter.
Bending its frame under the doorway before resuming it's full height, far larger and more imposing than Miss Stench or most of the miner ilk, a large, sandy-grey ogre stepped through before sniffing the air around the tavern. As the door swung haphazardly to a whining close, the brute slowly walked around the tavern, casting eyes everywhere.
Footstep after footstep it stalked about the tavern.
The drow kept his breathing quiet. Not moving an inch. Before a choke gasped from his throat. Large fingers wrapped around his throat and head in its entirety before lifting him up from behind the counter. Dangling his legs from the air, the elf desperately clawing at the grip on his neck with one hand as the ogre leaned in and pulled the elf closer.
"Nowhere to run now."
Steam from its very breath buffeting the drow's face, forcing the stranger to close his eyes to the onslaught and nearly blowing his hat off.
The drow grimaced before lifting up a nicked bottle in one hand and smashing it right across the brute's face, straight for the eye. The glass and its contents shattered, searing into the eye with both shards and liquid fire, typically an ogre favorite. Only the sudden whiplash of the air as the ogre lifted him up before swinging and letting go. The drow's body forced to contort midair. All of his limbs flailing.
And heading straight for the pair over in the corner. His body upended midair and his back rapidly flew. He could not see but certainly felt the impact. Several. The brush of shoulder and limb before slamming into a small table as it crumpled under the force and weight before mangling himself in a few feathers. His body almost bounced off the small table before slamming sideways into a wall.
Before falling completely onto his chest, splayed out and groaning in pain as his ears heard the faint ring of metal and wood sliding against one another. His eyes peered up before spotting a small silver bracelet with an emerald jewel fastened on it, markings on its side and, as the fire glowed upon it, it too seemed to glow almost ethereally. He leaned to the side, gritting his teeth and straining before flickering a glance at his satchel. One of the latches for the buckles were undone.
Perfect. Just . . . perfect.
His eyes looked up once more before seeing shards of . . . glass and cards in a mess before him. A confused look followed before his senses fully returned to him. Devoid of his glasses and hat and the fathers above only knew where his scarf was or how it wrapped around his neck now, his limbs and chest ached trying to slowly shift himself in a position to at least try to get up. His hands could still feet his sword and knife strapped to his side, so he was not completely on his ass then.
The drow elf could only look up before a flash of pain followed, bringing his eyes to a near close. The two patrons. Did he-? Peering past them, his eyes widened at a different sight than their fates. The ogre wiped a hand across it's eyes before staring straight down at the three before it's bloodied red eye fell upon the small piece of jewelry. A mix between a smile and a look of irritation followed before it started walking its way over. The ogre growled,
"Anyone touches that, and I'll kill you," the ogre gestured forward, pointing with his hand, "But I will be killing that little elf."
The drow could only groan in response, "Oh, come on. I'm a . . . drow. Eurgh . . . "
One limb stretched out before dragging it back. It only brought him an inch closer to his target.
"I'm too tired for this."
His eyes looked ahead of himself before his forehead fell to the warm floor by the fire and sat there. He just needed a minute to gather his strength. He's had worse landings, right?
. . . right. His head turned to the side before looking towards the other patrons. Maybe his flying stunt bludgeoned them all. He hoped not. He did not need more fights nor the competition. Not today, not ever. A hand tried to lift himself off the ground before another just reached and grasped for something, anything. A wall, a hand, a limb. A dead carcass for all it mattered.
Just something to get himself up and closer to the fireplace.
Last Edit: Apr 30, 2023 23:13:44 GMT by Paperbag Fill
Ruby would have been content to let him go. The mercenary had murderous business to return to, and the "witch" had charts to resume. The night was fairly young, after all. She nodded her agreement to his terms with gravity, and he might even have noticed a smile as she accepted his compliment on her competence. There was even a second coin left on the table where he had been seated. Overall, the conversation had served its purposes, and she personally cared not where he tracked mud and blood next so long as it was far from her.
It would seem, however, that fate had different plans for them.
A man stood in the doorway. Elven judging by his ears, his skin dark blue. Ruby did not need to look in his direction to notice that trouble would follow. As she arced her cards to return the three to their place, she addressed Drake once more. "You flatter a humble fortune-teller, but I predict that our time together is not yet over."
Had she spoken a moment later, the words would have been drowned out by the door breaking down. Miss Stench would have much to say about that once her intruder had his quarry and departed, Ruby was sure. And a predator indeed the pursuer was, pacing careful as a cat upon a mouse's trail. But even she could hear the soft and panicked breath of the prey behind the counter if she tilted her head to hear it. Violence was soon to follow.
And it did.
There was no time to react as the Drow man crashed through Ruby and the table. She was knocked onto her back on the floor, and there was a terrible clatter of wood and an even more terrible shatter of glass. She did not lose her wits. She untangled herself from the mess around the table, and looked down to see her suspicion confirmed. The glass sphere she used as a crystal ball had been reduced to chunks and shards on the floor, having caught something in the boards just so. Her gaze followed slowly from the shattered glass to the Drow on the floor, dragging his dusty form closer to the fire.
Ruby was not soft by any means. She had no reason to be - could not afford to be. Fellow scavengers were competition at best, and dangerous folk at worst. They had to be on their own. There were several factors that nagged her, though. First: the ogre did not seem to be the sort to pay to replace her broken goods. His clothing was very traditional, adorned in furs and skulls, and his open eye now burned with fury. Second: a murder here, in the middle of Miss Stench's tavern, would draw all eyes toward those involved. While elves were not greatly loved by the native people of this town, its fairy occupants might have some hesitation about letting one of the ogres kill so blatantly, especially with the whispers of rebellion in the air.
And third. Having a thief owe her a favor didn't sound half bad.
Her talon slid out, but she did not give it a direction yet. Her cloak caught enough air for a billow as she took careful steps to stop between the Drow and the ogre, her face still, golden eyes unblinking, mouth soft. Her feathers, however, stood slightly on end. The great brow that adorned her face showed not fear, but frustration. She stopped just out of the thief's reach. Ruby cast her glare downward first, then turned it back toward the ogre.
"You will not be killing the elf." She gestured to the shattered remains of her crystal ball. "He owes me now. You have your trinket. Leave while you have fingers to wear it."
She did not pose, she did not threaten. She remained calm. Ruby now depended on two factors: the ogre having a superstitious bone somewhere in his body, as technically he had been responsible for what might have been a very valuable magic artifact; and the calm of her tone, neither weighed down nor sped up by either stubborn pride or tremulous fear. If he lifted a hand against her, all hesitation would fly before he could touch her. It didn't hurt to assume a creature would have reason, however. Just as long as you were faster when it revealed it didn't.
It was a scene he had seen a few times before, the cowardly rogue and their relentless pursuer. By the looks of the dark elf so abruptly interrupting their peace and quiet, the one doing the chase was not far behind. "Yes, I believe we have a few more minutes to go." He smiled, and just like an actor waiting for a cue, a single fist slammed through the locked door.
Another ogre, of course, in the town they made their home, what else could one expect? The elf seemed to know his limits, however, hiding behind the much larger Ms. Stench, who's facial expression mixed a pinch of anger with plenty fear. There would be some complaints directed at the law-enforcing officers, that was for sure, even if they fell in deaf ears.
It didn't take long before the amusing game of hide-n-seek was over, the elf's adrenaline-fueled endeavor betrayed him, and soon the gargantuan barbarian tossed him their way. Drake, who had been standing up for a while now, simply stepped out of the way of this humanoid projectile painfully flying his way, knowing by the following thuds and crashes to have broken more than a few bones.
His lip curled into a smile.
Normally he would not bother with such antics and be on his way, but as he made way for the viciously sluggish thug, the movements from a third - then unrelated - party caught his attention. That sharp hiss of a blade leaving it's scabbard a simple confirmation of the fact. Why, Ruby had decided to step in herself, and suddenly his brief mental notes and curiosity as to how she would bear in conflict were no longer mere hypotheticals.
A beast this size did not give in to threats, let alone believe fate was what made him, most likely choosing to trust in it's opposite truth.
No, there would be blood spilling.
Drake rolled the pipe from one corner to the other in his mouth, puffing in delight as he pulled a seat, eyes not leaving the action before him.
Ruby felt Drake's eyes on her as she took a stand. Despite the sword at his side, he did not seem at all inclined to assist Ruby. She felt the weight of appraisal, similar to their earlier conversation. She thought he must be very happy indeed to have his grim curiosity about her prowess with the sword satisfied, for the ogre's words only confirmed what she'd already suspected before she stepped in.
"The elf is mine." The creature bared its crooked, flat teeth again. "Your magic doesn't scare me, witch."
It would seem that simple superstition would not save her this time. Something stirred in her gut, however. He would not back down? Fine. But neither would she.
"If you truly know my reputation," Ruby answered in her same croon, "then you should know it's not my magic you should fear."
She unclasped the fur cloak from her throat and let it fall to the ground. She had no armor, just a low red dress that swayed about her legs and leather boots that had been rooted firmly to the floor. More importantly, the dress left her arms bare from the shoulder to the hand. Now fully visible, her feathers were relaxed, no longer puffed out in a display of anger or aggression. The short feathers that clung close to her skin were brown, but her longest plumage was white, and trailed somewhat longer than most most Folks' would. They protruded from her arms at a slight angle, and when pressed completely to her body, especially under the cloak, they would have been invisible before.
She felt the ogre studying her with its good eye, even as she assessed it with the same glare that often caught the desperate or the curious who sat across from her. In the same unmoving stare she saw the mammoth creature reach back for the largest of its three weapons, the greatsword on its back. It seemed her warning about his hands held some weight in his mind. And weight was what would give Ruby the advantage, for although the uppermost tips of her horns and ears did not reach the middle of the monster's chest, she was far lighter. She prided herself with the speed of her talon. She just had to hope it was enough, and if it wasn't - what then? Death? There were worse fates than death.
As she shifted her position, the ogre moved slowly, almost casually, with the sword. A common fear tactic. The sight of something so large, with a weapon almost as big as she was, would make a lesser spirit buckle. Better the elf than her. But it was in that same moment that Ruby saw something flicker in the ogre's eye. There was not just bloodlust there. The spark was cruelty. Even if the Drow's - and probably her own - death was fast, it would still hurt immensely. And the immense creature would take great pleasure in that knowledge.
The charlatan frowned, visibly, and her golden eyes moved for almost the first time to actually focus on that sword, then on the monster wielding it. On the rotten smile and hungry eye. Her plumage lost some of its volume, which made her seem very small indeed. She rocked gently from foot to foot, and leaned to one side as if she seriously considered the option to abandon the Drow to his fate.
The brute fell for it. The great strike came down over one shoulder in a blow Ruby would have seen from a mile away, but she waited until the last possible moment before fulfilling her feint maneuver. She stepped to the other side just as the blade came down, and then as it splintered the floor she was a sudden blur of movement.
There were rumors that the boldest of her folk, so distantly related as to be as alien to her as Drow or ogre or human, still used the feathers that graced their bodies to catch the wind in long glides, in defiance of the Imperial boot that reminded them what dirt tasted like. Ruby's people had never been too bold. But Ruby had learned from her father how to fight like a rush of wind. The same feathers that could be used in flight could also be controlled and arced. In addition, her longest feathers were fringed at the edges, rendering her movements absolutely silent - a rare gift even among the aos goatha.
Taken by surprise, the brute stepped back as a bird he'd thought trapped now turned her talon upon him. The sabre's edge caught the back of his hand as he went to uproot the great sword from the floor, and he was forced to let go as blood trickled from a thin cut. She harried him back with the tip of the blade always within inches of the hard flesh before he took another giant, crashing step away. With every attack and swing air caught under her arms. For fleeting seconds she was airborne, light as a feather and far more deadly.
But his hand was on the hilt of the second sword, smaller, sure, but no less lethal than the first. His first blow she hopped back from, the second she parried. His strength traveled down her blade and into her arm and shoulder, and even her feathers quivered from it. Her arm was shoved aside. She had to duck to avoid the blade's introduction to her neck.
There was a third sword on his belt, a dagger to him but wide and heavy for the smaller Ruby, who already knew she'd need something stronger than her talon for this. So as he came back with another telegraphed swing of the sword, she turned her corresponding duck into a rush toward his body. The sheer length of his stride would have saved him if it was a real attack, but she gripped the smallest handle firmly, and his own strength gave her a better blade than before. She did not cast the talon aside, it still served well, but now she had two weapons and had moved between the ogre and the door. If he turned back to the Drow, he would be putting his back to a dangerous enemy. Ruby showed no sign of backing down. He'd have to finish the job with her before he could have his kill.
With the roar of a cornered beast, the ogre came at her. Twice she had to parry, and used both blades to do so, but evasion was her best tactic. She circled him as a vulture would, waiting for him to succumb, and he moved without concern for damages. Ruby was going to owe Ms. Stench for the shattered tables, she was sure, and she was glad she'd garnered goodwill with the old ogre over her years in Grodrock. But that goodwill would mean nothing to a dead bird.
Then again, she wouldn't have to pay off the debt if she was dead, so maybe it wasn't so bad.
Her distraction almost caused Ruby to miss her opening. As she hopped - this time over - another too-wide swing from the longsword, she heard the heavy crack of wood. The blade lodged itself into the wall. The ogre's physical strength would have made that no problem at all had he not been fighting an opponent used to abusing such openings with incredible speeds.
Even as he pulled the blade free, Ruby darted to the ogre's sword-side, fitting between the wall and the creature. The ogre-sword went into his thigh and, as she'd hoped, cut through something important. The monster's weight now worked against it as the leg buckled. At the same time, however, the ogre's other hand caught Ruby by her loose hair and tore her back. She made a snarling sound of her own in pain as it let go to get a better grip, closer to the scalp to properly paralyze her. In that moment, Ruby reached back and cut upward. She felt some of her hair give under the sharp edge of the talon, and then after the far tougher skin of the monster's hand, which flinched back as the sensitive palm was opened.
With one last furious spin, it was over. Ruby stepped back as the spurt of red flowed from the ogre's throat, and its eye went wide as it realized, suddenly, that death was upon it. She backed away before it could collapse on her, her breath short and heavy. There was blood on her face and on her hands - but none of it was her own. She had been untouched by the creature's huge weapons. All she'd sustained was some bruising from the initial contact with the Drow man, and the sting on the back of her scalp where her hair had been pulled.
The price, however, was that she was now exhausted. She hadn't had to work like that for a kill in a long time, and as her feathers relaxed and she sheathed the talon, the heaving of her chest was visible. She didn't address Drake, or Stench, or the Drow, or even glance at the item the Drow had decided was worth more than his life. Instead she went to the remnants of the table, and used the toe of her boot to kick the nearest cards aside before the growing pool of blood could ruin the thick paper. Two steps later, she retrieved her cloak to protect it from the same fate, and with slightly tremulous hands began to fasten it around her shoulders once more to hide her true "wings" from prying eyes.
Spoken words of bravery and empty menaces meant little more than footnotes at a narcissist's tombstone. There are no words which speak louder than actions when blades clash, there is only your wit and skill. Both parties acknowledged the time for caution was long gone, and their lives were now part of a broader game. One with ultimate stakes. Beast against man. Brawn against brain. Interrupting now would be a disservice to Ruby, focused as she was, coordinating an assault often proved more difficult than not, there is no mind you know but your own. Besides, Drake never worked for free, a single interesting chat would never justify dirtying his hands over.
Instead, he would simply admire the dance.
The air stiffened around the scene, those precious seconds while two enemies subconsciously analyze their foe. Unfortunately for the larger brute, his preconceptions of the small, frail bird were quite off-mark, not all had a good eye for facial and bodily cues from a trained fighter, alas an almost eight foot palissade of hardened skin and flesh could be forgiven for making little of most foes, the aos gaotha's eyes never betrayed her utmost confidence, however. Unlike those born with natural might, Drake found those who had learnt from an unfair position of inferiority to be much more complex duelists - they could not afford to misjudge even once. Battling with minimal error tempered skill, it united mind and body far better than pure instinct.
Ruby's first move was a perfect example, coaxing her far larger foe into believing he had first blood, the slab of iron splintering the table in half. An outsider might find it astonishing, such absurd vigor behind each move, yet a focused mind could clearly tell power is no excuse for sloppy, dull motions. What use was earth-splitting strength if your target could simply move quicker. The ogre's dull-witted mind obscured by rage fell for the simplest of traps, quickly the gargantuan presence found himself on the backfoot of the fight. He allowed the mystic to set the pacing of combat, she led the dance while he simply played along.
A fatal mistake.
Although, of course, Ruby's lack of expertise would contribute to her own set of issues. Namely the stone-skinned creature before her not being swimmingly dispatched by your orthodox cuts and slashes. Drake could not fault her, killing was not her trade, despite impressive form and unique style, a killer's mind was an unbeknownst concept to her. Instead, the fortune teller would display adaptability, reimagine herself during the struggle, one more quintessential quality one does not naturally acquire.
She still had control of offense, no matter how many weapons her opponent grasped at, if he did not realize as much, if he decided to rely purely on the unpredictability of instinct, then he may as well swing pillows at her. Ruby closed in on her towering adversary, his mindless reaction being simply to snatch the petite frame before him and crush her under his grip. Perhaps he had forgotten she was still armed, perhaps he put too much trust on a body he seemingly had no concept of limitation for, or perhaps it was but a dying man's desperation as he crumbled under his own weight. The Twilight Blade briefly chuckled, a taciturn nod hidden behind a curtain of alabaster.
"Well fought, Ms. Ruby." He muttered, getting up from his seat as the bird of pray clawed her way out of the beast's clutches. Drake wiped the rogue specs and splinters from his coat. Wet splotches trickled to the floor, succeeded by a corpulent thud. He had no need of witnessing it, his companion in philosophy had found her answer to the dilemma presented before her.
The neck.
His curiosity sated, Drake nonchalantly moved to the back again, extending a hand towards Ruby, an amicable smirk plastered on his lips. If she would reach for it, he would then reveal his own three-pieced story as told by her, each card rolling out of his sleeve as they had been knocked his way during the scuffle. "It seems you were right after all, I am quite satisfied and with no dire consequences in sight."
Weary, she let the facade of distant mystic fall aside for her mouth to twist instead into a smile as wry as his own. She took the cards from his hands - even in the same order! - and nodded.
"It would seem I might've requested some dinner myself if I'd been the betting sort." A soft sound, almost even a laugh, escaped her lips. She glanced at the damages around her, however, and the joy faded back down to contentment at a battle well won. "Not here, though, it would seem. One moment."
She picked her way back to the item on the ground, a gold solid bracelet set with an emerald that seemed to glow in the firelight. If the Drow man moved to stop her, she'd cast him a bitter glare in warning. He still owed her for the crystal, after all, and now for saving his life. Two favors, if she cared to collect them. Right now she didn't think too hard about catching the rogue if he didn't want to pay up. Right now she turned the jewelry in her hands, unsure what a creature so big had ever done with an item so small. She then turned and swept up the rest of the cards - except in her sweep, she did not notice that one remained in the splinters of the table: the hermit, held upside-down above the ground. Invisible to her. Ruby turned back toward the bar, pulling loose the ogre-dagger along the way.
Poor Ms. Stench had taken on a somewhat lighter shade of green than before as she looked at the remnants of her establishment, and then at the corpse on the ground. Oh, a barfight gone awry was one thing, but a fight that had involved the local witch - aos gaotha, no less - was sure to turn someone's head in the city's Imperial Guard and bring their wrath down on those involved in disrupting the clockwork peace. Her eyes were trying to be stern as Ruby approached the counter, but the charlatan could see the waver of fear there. Fear of her, fear of the Imperials? It didn't matter. Ruby's talon was sheathed, the ogre sword held in a reverse grip. She set the stolen bracelet down on the counter, as well as both the gold she'd... somewhat honestly earned that night.
"I'm sorry for the disturbance, Miss Stench," she said softly, her feathers pulled close. "This should pay for the damages - it seems to be expensive. And perhaps it will pay off prying eyes and ears. If it does not - well, you know where to send them if they come around asking about me. They don't frighten me."
That last part was a blatant lie, but Ruby's face had resumed its mystically aloof expression. The light in her big, gold eyes seemed to calm Ms. Stench, and she'd at least been honest about the apparent expense of the bracelet and her willingness to accept consequences. The tavernkeeper rumbled something low in her dialect, but Ruby had stopped listening as soon as the ogre's hand fell on her payment. It helped to keep in favor of the locals, especially one who had been so generous to her so far. She'd miss the old ogre if the city Guard really did turn up at her doorstep over this. There was no staying around if the Imperials got stirred up. Now, it seemed, it was her turn to brace to leave unless some voice, event, or hand detained her.
Ruby tried to remain composed in the face of her adversity, he could tell with a single glance the facade begun to slip, it was not an extraordinary event to him - acting as someone else - and perhaps it played an important factor on his realization. Behind all the posturing, the veil of lies, and even the thin layer of fear and respect she fooled herself with, there was a lost soul - no better than a beast - clawing, gnawing and squirming to survive. There was a small glimmer in his eyes, not one of pity, much less one of compassion, but of comprehension. Drake could understand her, perhaps, better than anyone in this town had thus far. That unexplainable drive to keep going even when all else seems lost, he saw it in her in that brief exchange where the fortune teller left so the woman could come out.
"You could feasibly take betting as a third trade after tonight." He lightened the mood, it was not his place nor his interest to pry anything more from the aos gaotha, and evidently she had much else on her mind, and he much more important business to attend to. A few dead bodies downriver and a solid fifty gold coins for his trouble, a fair price per head, and the employer could certainly afford it. His next steps were as crystalline as they had ever been, take the gold, lay low for a while and jump to the next village where he could strike new deals. It wasn't that distinct from his days under Empire's control, and it had no need to be, it was a perfectly functional system and the lack of a proper place to return to meant tracing his steps fell beyond townsguard capabilities.
Legally, Drake Mintleaf had never existed. Beyond the laws for the rabble, Drake was a dead man. Removed from the scrutinizing eyes of king and kingdom, this man... This stringless puppet performed his shows to all those with coin, always on the road.
It was a chance happening, a fiery flicker of light like any other, however, that drew his eyes to the card poking from the rubble. Whilst Ruby reassured the distraught Ms. Stench and the common thief scurried from whichever rathole he emerged from, Drake bent his knees to closely examine the card. A lonesome old man, cane in hand, elongated robes of an unassuming color, unkempt beard, a pipe extending from his wrinkled lips and the distant stare he knew all too well. 'The Hermit' it read, but hermits choose that lifestyle. 'The Lost' is what it should have been, for in that picture for a split second Drake had found a kindred spirit. A man who's trade is to wander, and who wanders for it is his trade.
Nothing more, nothing less.
He pulled it from the debris, rubbing the dust from it's glossy surface, and made his way to the door as his fellow wandered did the same. "Seems the balance of fearful distance and fearful reprimand is about to be tipped." Drake remarked slyly. She had a few hours, a day at best before the ogrefolk demanded justice, and knowing the flimsy nature of superstition, it wouldn't be mere ogres craving revenge. If she was to stay, prison would most likely keep her the safest until a likely execution - such was the fate of many of her kin. Caged like pets. If she were to run, her swordsmanship may keep her breathing for longer, yet vengeful folk are not like lawmen, they care not for fancy words such as jurisdiction, even in the off-chance she could survive without the comforts of civilization, an aos gaotha would be far too simple to track, their purge haunting even the newest generations in previously unforeseen ways.
Logically speaking, it would not be unfair to believe Ruby's mind to be muddled with insecurity, fear, despair and every blotch of negativity clouding her sight. Where most saw only the pitch blackness of night, though, Drake saw opportunity. His lips curled into a wolfish grin - virtually friendly and vicious - as he handed the forgotten card to her, the elderly hermit no longer hanging by his feet, but standing upright as he looked on to the horizon. "It would seem you might need extra protection, Ms. Ruby. Luckily for you, I happen to know quite the specialist."
Behind the mask of her composure, Ruby's mind had not trailed into despair. Trouble was to come, she did not need to read the stars to see that, but depression was more worthless than dreams when danger lurked nearby. She must look ahead through the dark, begin to make arrangements before the anger of the Empire turned on her. She'd have to leave, of course. The more she thought about it the more her options led her to that conclusion. But she would need days to pack her possessions - much could be abandoned, but her books alone would need to be properly wrapped for transport, food collected, some furnishings would be best sold -
Drake's voice pulled her from her plans just as they reached the door. She paused. He seemed to come to the same conclusion she had, but he presented a different solution. Having sold her talon's talent in the past, she recognized the offer for what it was. But in the face of the wolf's grun, the owl narrowed her eyes just slightly.
"A generous offer, Mr. Drake," the charlatan replied, "but such... specialists tend to come at a steep cost."
She didn't turn him down outright. She knew that if there was an option to stay, this was it. But there was a chance such services could be offered elsewhere. She could of course call on the thief to take up that position, but that hardly seemed like a man who'd honor his deals. The question now was payment. Gold she might be able to scrape up, but for a man who paid fortune tellers with gold pieces? That was too much. Room and board would depend on whether she could still live in her house when this storm ended. And then there was the question of betrayal.
Her eyes lighted on the card she had missed. The Hermit. Ruby did not believe in her own snake oil. But it did bring to mind her own story: a Folk without flock, an outcast alone in a cottage at the edge of an ogre town. Perhaps it was time for a change from that. Whichever path she took, she doubted this card would apply to her for long.
"Indeed, they do." Drake nodded. Ruby was no fool to believe he did it from the goodness of his heart, it was a cold world out there, one who produced cold men. They were no different, pretending to have some form of connection beyond the simple coincidence of being at the same place, at the same time. Still, between dying in a ditch somewhere, finding another competent mercenary willing to risk his neck for an aos gaotha and taking the chance of trusting a man she barely knew, Drake trusted Ruby's capacity too connect the dots and realize there was little more than accepting his proposition. He had quite the monopoly on her safety, greedy man would have demanded far more than their price, lustful bastards would have their sickening eyes on ostensibly frail prey, not the Twilight Blade, though, before everything else he was a professional.
"Two gold coins." He lifted two fingers. "For two gold coins I can take you from this town to the nearest settlement." Drake knew full well he had just paid her the exact price, there was no catch to the offer, no sliver of mischief in his eyes or words, it was just as he said. "You cover your expenses, I cover mine. I was about to skip town myself, so you tagging along is no big issue. However, as soon as we arrive at your destination, it is back to my standard weekly fee."
Surely she knew she would have to be on the run for a while before wrath subsided, if they left a trail of their pursuers's bodies that bloodthirst would gradually increase, one town over would not make any difference, although it did give her extra time to sell her services and afford him for his usual price. Drake was not interested in her money, nor was he interested in her charms, nor her lies, he only did what he knew and charged what he was worth to the client at hand, nothing more, nothing less. If she decided it was a steep price to pay, he always found other soul requiring his particular set of abilities, if she wished to continue paying him, he would have less time to execute other contracts and that was just fine. An assignement was an assignement, and the Blade of Twilight was well renowned for completing his thoroughly.
He was obviously right. Ruby understood her position very well. She'd survived on her own before, on the run, on a road she didn't understand. But before the Empire had not been involved. Her worst concerns were traders of the same sort she'd escaped all those years ago. There was survival in numbers. And while Drake had stood aside while she took on the ogre for another living soul, she'd already recognized him for his prowess as a mercenary. He could, obviously, be waiting until someone offered to pay for her head and then collect in her sleep, and make a profit in the meantime. She could refuse him, go back and demand help from the thief - even less trustworthy - or fall in with whatever strangers she crossed on the road. She could even sell her own skills, as she did every so often here in Grodrock. But the past would catch her. She was not a fool who thought cutting ties and settling elsewhere would solve her problems.
There were options - but choice was an illusion here. So now came the logistics.
She'd already spent his two gold, but her savings at the cottage would cover it and more. Carrying the money she'd scraped together over the years wouldn't be too hard, either. She did regret not being able to take everything she could sell. She'd have to pack what she could carry, travel light. Perhaps purchase a horse down the road for speed. Had he demanded more she might have questioned, and she certainly would have questioned if he'd asked less. And if he'd asked for other, dirtier payment, she would have killed him on the spot without hesitation. But she could see in his face and eyes that he was in earnest. She wasn't sure why, exactly. Perhaps he was just scraping by, looking for business anywhere that he could find it. Stars knew she understood that.
Outside the splintered remains of the door, the rain had slowed but not quite stopped. From high above, between clouds, there was a low rumble of thunder. Any tracks left by a pair would be swallowed up in mud. The soft breeze ruffled her crest of feathers, but she felt the blood on her face becoming hard and crusted. She needed air to clear her head, and conversation to purchase time.
She glanced over her shoulder, at Ms. Stench and the thief. The stranger, especially, she fixed in her hard glare for a moment before she turned to walk out the door, arms folded under her shawl. She moved with the slow step of someone waiting to be followed, and would continue to talk more softly as Drake fell into line beside her.
"What would that weekly rate be?" she asked, as the rain began to soak through her plumage. Then she added, "And if we were to leave, when would you think best?"
Drake tossed his due towards the counter, just the exact price he had been charged the few times he had been at Ms. Stench's, and with a bow of his head, the assassin followed Ruby outside. Rain still poured from the clouds, not the violent cascade that drove people into their houses, but still significant enough for him to pull his collar up. "Bodyguard duty is 20 per month, so 5 each week. You miss the deadline, contract's up. You pay in time, I take care of protection, scouting and survival, I also take no other contracts from other employers that directly put you or our deal in jeopardy. You can finalize the contract at any point of your choosing and I'll be on my way, no hard feelings, no strings attached, no headaches." It was his usual pitch, the summary of services he could provide and rights of the contractor, standard business practice even if it sounds uncharacteristically more mechanic than his acting personality.
"I would advise you you to leave by dawn, not while it is still dark outside, but before the city awakes. Ride until nightfall, desperate folk may be desperate and ride into the night, but that thins their numbers moreso than it helps them." Advice even when particularly effecting the possibility of his contract was free, especially in a situation like this where he could tell she hadn't devised an escape scheme yet. "I have one more thing to take care of in Grodrock and can link up wherever, whenever. If you do not feel safe walking the streets on your own and are willing to close the deal, you may tag along too, it should be brief."
Ruby had a gift, beyond dreams. Maybe it wasn't a gift - maybe it was just a lesson, hard learned. In fact it was much more likely the hard lessons of her life. That lesson had taught her when to trust. It had taught her when not to trust, when a man had a hard glimmer in his eye, when a woman spoke too sweetly. It had taught her how to lie, how to weave the scars and histories of others into a tapestry that promised the facade of a bright future. And she could also tell in rare, glimmering moments when someone had decided to tell her the truth.
As the rain washed the blood from her feathers and skin, she listened to his pitch. He was a man of strict business. Presented as such. And yet... and yet. And yet he was telling her the truth. There was no note of deception in his voice. The deal was good, for both of them.
Better yet: she could afford him, for a while.
"I have some errands I must run myself," she answered, her mind back to the logistics of escape. Word would not have traveled yet, and probably would not have traveled by the time she retrieved some coin to make a large purchase. Even with the cost of horses these days, she'd have enough left over to pay him for some time even if she couldn't find work immediately. And it would make travel lighter. "You can ask anyone where I live. I'll be awake, and I'll have your payment there. Come anytime. I doubt I'll sleep tonight."
There was something else, something like a knot in her gut. No, no, not a knot. Like a knot that had been untied. She felt something familiar, something loose and bright. And she slowly exhaled into the rain, she glanced up at the sky and wondered what the stars looked like behind the clouds.
It had been a few hours since they had last spoken, in the meantime Drake himself had some preparations to attend. Collecting his payment for the previous job well done came first, he met a fance from his client, told them it would be a nice week to fish and received the man's compliments and "a little extra" for his troubles. Then he used his more convincing information gathering skills to learn the turns from the guards around the city's exits, exactly when the swaps happened and just how long each patrol took to pass by the gates. It was either southeast to Allegria, but word on the grapevine was chaos waited for them that direction, in other words, they would have to risk a boat to Leimor. Perhaps stick to the coast for a while and cross later? Then what? The Icy Peaks?
Regardless, north seemed the better choice for an escape.
The remaining free time he spent making sure his equipment was in proper condition for the trip and hardships that followed. It was the break of dawn when the aos gaotha would hear the knocking on her door, loud enough to awaken her, but not desperate nor forceful enough to scare her. Drake was clad in the same clothing, yet he seemed like a completely different person from the inn, those distant eyes now seemed to harbor an appalling coldness, his coat deformed around the chest and abdomen, the shape of knives very smoothly in relief, a weary scabbard poking from his side. What betrayed his true profession, however, was the atmosphere with which he carried himself.
It was not the intense aura of a fighter nor was it the cordial patron of earlier, in fact his presence seemed to utterly vanish from existence, was it not the gelid embrace of death encompassing his every step and the visual confirmation of those around him, it was as if he ceased to be in his entirety, absorbed into the morning mist and beads of rain.
"Have you made your preparations?" His tone was hushed and dry. "We will be taking the north gate, we should get going immediately."
Ruby had been preoccupied with preparations of her own. Her musty nest was a small, damp building in a largely abandoned part of town, which meant the nearest stable was some walk away. A horse was acquired, an old nag of a draft animal, but she seemed strong and healthy enough for the escapee's purposes. The cost was a bit more than the animal was worth, even after Ruby had haggled it down somewhat, but the haggling was more to shake suspicion before word spread to the merchant.
Then came the packing. Her remaining money mostly in a light sack, although with thieves about some coins were tucked away here and there. The two gold for Drake was set aside on the table as she began to sift through her remaining goods: star maps packed into one bag, mostly full notebooks but a few scrolls as well; other books, books about maps, books about the so-called "art" of divination, and brief histories of the Empire, were carefully wrapped. As much as Ruby hated the idea of leaving the rest to the potential mob, she knew she could only take what she could carry. At the very least she didn't have to worry about the magic ball. Then her bed, already a convenient hammock. She used it to roll up her other blankets and two down pillows she couldn't bring herself to part with, if only for their expense. Then a handful of crystals and candles. They might seem worthless now, sure, but there would be a time again when she'd need to cast an air of mystique, and those were the best methods of doing so.
Finally came food and a change of clothes. Her resources were already mainly dry goods, tough jerky, dried fruits, nuts. Anything to avoid interacting with people as often as she could. She had a few bags of different foods mixed together to create a mix of sorts. As for clothes, Ruby discarded the red dress entirely and unearthed an old set of leather armor, still well-oiled for situations such as this. It, too, left her arms bare, as the use of her plumage was so necessary to her style of fighting if it came to it. Light enough not to weigh her down, heavy enough to protect vital organs. To hide it she chose a long, flowing skirt and a light sweater to be worn under the fur shawl.
Before she changed, however, there was a sacrifice to be made. In the nine years she'd lived in Grodrock, Ruby had never cut her hair. She'd kept it short before, but had chosen for it to reach its full potential, well aware that it added to her air of mystery. But in combat, that had proven to be a mistake. Now she drew her talon from its scabbard and reached back behind her, where she'd tied her hair into a braid. A single clean cut did the job. She collected what she had lost and stored it in the same bag as her maps and cards, then donned the armor and disguise. The ogre sword was granted a simple sling on her back for its scabbard, where it could be hidden under her cloak until necessity called for it. The talon went, as always, at her side.
She had examined the maps from her time in Grodrock for some time, memorizing every constellation and line. She would have much preferred to travel by night and sleep by day, but time was of the essence. She didn't have a day to spare.
Drake's knock came at dawn, and she rolled up the latest map and returned it to her bag. Whichever direction they would go, she'd be prepared for. She cast one last look about the hovel that had been her home for so long, then sighed very softly and turned to the door with the coins in her hand. When it opened, any whisper of nostalgia was gone from it. All that remained was a face that showed a calm spirit and determined heart. The workings of her mind would once again be a mystery.
As he said North, she nodded once, curtly, and called up all the navigational knowledge at her disposal. She did not have any sort of experience with land maps, but she had watched seasons pass over this same sky for years. Her mind was full of stars, but not the dark skies of dream, for he might be able to tell in her face that she was drawn and weary. Even as she saw no hint if the wry man from the night before in his own features, in the cleanly outlined daggers and blades. And yet in his eyes there was no cruelty, no lie. She did not fear him.
"I am ready," she said, and crossed her threshold. She passed the two coins to him, then asked in her quiet, cooing tone, "Our destination?"