Ploughing thy shite up

Location: Random placeholder city's slums

There was a lot of shouting. Kadwyr frowned, he never really liked that style. It was loud and obnoxious. But hey, that's how intimidation worked, right? He stood in the background while the really violent people of his latest group went on to scare the living shit out of some poor citizens who were supposedly hiding someone they were looking for. Some kind of bloke who messed with the wrong people... some powerful people of the streets.

"Where?!"

Bones cracking. Another kick landed on an already downed man, thanks to one of Kadwyr's partners. The ugliest one out of the five of them. Kadwyr was biting his nails with his sad, bored expression. Messing up random citizens was not that difficult, but it was sort of boring. Sort of boring was good for survival, but gods, so miserable to work through it.

"I don't know!" The man on the ground screamed.

"He doesn't know." Kadwyr sighed.

"I can hear what he said, dipshit..."

"He doesn't look like he is ready to die for someone. He would have cracked already." He pointed it out.

"Just do your job Kadwyr and shut your mouth. You don't have guts for this shite, so stay in the back."

He shook his head. What a waste of time an energy. He really really wanted a beer instead or something... maybe some miracle would happen.

Miracles would never happen usually. Unless they came in the form of a weird drunkard trying to interrupt whatever was going there out on the street. Unlikely.

"Fuck off ya hag." The ugliest growled before taking his neverending frustration out partially on the man lying on the floor, with another kick. Kadwyr looked like he wanted to die there. More interruptions meant more time between this gig and the tavern... fuck.

"Now listen up you~"

"It's fine. I'm handling this." Kadwyr said and stepped in front of the drunkard. "Bad luck is awful." He nodded, thoughtfully, before looking over his shoulder. "He is not a nice guy. Let him kick the fool to death and not give him a reason to kick you too... huh?" The way he calmly explained it, almost felt like this was not some shady crime happening. Kadwyr stared, perhaps a bit awkwardly for a moment. "Nice moths."

Brow arched, spine whipped up with nose flicked out. "Hag?!" they called out. Bottle looped up like the lazy end of a cudgel at the end of their long lanky arm. "Who in the bleeding hells are you calling a hag?!"

Some guy stepped up and got between them. "...not a nice gy. Let him kick.... not give...kick you too... huh?" saw the man's eyes flit about the drape of their cloak. "Nice moths."

A raspberry blown out of their lips. A finger jabbed against the man's chest. "Moths," they said. "What'n you know about moths, mister sadeyes?" Peeked over. "Aye you, Not nice sod kicking bastard! Why don't you call me hag again!" they struck the air with the glass bottle still in hand. "See how you like what comes to ya!" wobble stepped. Pitched and yawed. Swiped the bottle down again.

"Sodding, fools, kicking, fools to death," hiccuped as they waggled like a piece of kelp, caught in the current.

The ugliest one had a way of talking for sure. A pure diplomatic genius. But if we gotta call him a gem, then this 'hag' seemed to be a diamond in the rough. With her interruption of a bunch of mercs beating up someone. Good ol' Kadwyr just wanted to be nice.

He stared down at the finger jabbed at him. Surely, it was provoking, on a certain level. It could be. "That they are on your clothes." He said, almost like the way someone would talk to a child that needed a lot of patience and they just ran out of it a while ago, but didn't have the energy required to deal with it.

"Shut up, hag!" The ugliest shouted back. "Kadwyr, didn't you just say that you would handle this?!"

"Aye." He responded over his shoulder, shaking his head, before he turned back to the drunkard. Trying to reach towards the arm to turn them around and push them gently in a direction. Well, as gently as it was possible. "So... you don't want the shit to be kicked out of you and your moths. Turn around. Do your thing and you live another day to get drunk again... how about that?"

"Well, aren't you an astute ass," Gwyn hissed. Coiled and ready as any viper worth their scales would be. Syllables clipped. Eyes narrowed with how they keened the scene.

Hag. HAG! That hag's eyes blew wide as keg barrel lids, and their long finger whipped out and pointed at the ugliest bastard with all the will of a wand.

"WHAT DID I SAY?!" They bellowed.

A hand tried to wrap around Gwyn's arm. Another person's hand. Fingers grasping. Arm trying to push and pull. Force. Directed in a direction Gwyn did not want to, or would go. They yanked their arm out of whatever semblance of grasp the man named Kadwyr had mustered. Finger pointed sure, and zipped straight up a line only Gwyn could see.

The leathers of the ugliest ones boots. The threads of their pants. The fibers of their shirt. All of it. Peeled off them like a banana skin being tossed to the side. Zipped right off and flopped up and down onto the ground with an authoritative thwump.

Gwyn's eyes were huge. Their smile wild. "You want I should peel your skin off next, you rumply ass faced frog fucker?!" They dared. Finger whipping and waving with the threat to stir the winds of the shroud to do more of their dastardly work.