Hawkflesh had managed a single swig before the whistles started and he knew the Watch or some such would be in there taking him away from his precious booze in no time so he up ended the bottle and turned a sip into a prolonged chug.

The absurd noises he made brought shame to all Elf kind. Glugging that a Dwarf might be impressed by was eeked from his throat as he drank with the kind of obsessive need that only the truly self destructive possessed.

Maybe he'd choak, maybe that would be good. Please, please let him choke before it stops.

The drink which was strong as a kick from a horse reeked so hard you could probably light lamps from it and it burned. It burned all the way down as he swallowed it in heaving obscenities that made it look as if his slim throat might rupture and leak onto the floor, not that that would stop him.

He drank his way to sweet oblivion and could not wait to greet it even as the burnt brown liquid spilled all over his chin and ran down his cheeks.

The chaos about him only got worse but he ignored it, trapped by his need to keep drinking.
 
1753312685395.webpAdelard thumped the counter at the call of the whistles coming from the street. "Time to go, Tils!" he laughed. Looked to the weird fucker behind the bar. "Easy now, killer, before you go and drink yourself into the grave," A sharp whistle from the mustachioed Knight. "Let's go!" Looked to Redbeard as a knife tumbled end over end and sunk into the backwall. Thrummed like a spring still set to shake. "Back way still work?"

Redbeard nod nod, still well under cover.

The whistles grew closer. Louder.

Anything else I should know about her?

Caught the tankard. "Ask her your bloody self, Xen," the older man laughed, set the tankard down. And motioned them to follow and made for the back way. "Probably be a bit though," he said as he side stepped the charge of a bloodied bastard.

Tilda felt someone grab for her sword. "No you fucking don't!" she growled, and slammed armored fist in to the fucker's face. Felt the crunch of bone beneath. Saw the teeth fly, and the blood spittle. Piece of shit was out cold. Xenovia came in close, used her great-sword to make way.

Another sharp whistle from Adelard caught her attention.

The whistles blared louder.

Tilda grabbed at the Deva's shoulder and pointed toward the older knight and the exit. "Lets go!" she called out, and hurried off toward the hole in the wall in which the old man disappeared.
 
'Aye,' replied the Deva, scooping up her pack as the call came to hightail it. There would be time to talk, assuming the Watch didn't pick them up on the way out. 'You good, Beard?' Xen asked, pausing to peer over the bar. 'Listen, if you need help in the morning-' The dwarf cut her off, a simple headshake enough to quiet her, despite the chaotic cacophony engulfing them.

'Jus' go, lassie!' Redbeard grumbled gruffly. 'I'll be fine, as'll the Keel, once the Crown's men come!'

The sharp shrill of whistles was enough to persuade Xen. Nodding, she clapped Tilda on the shoulder as they hurried out the back, passing through smoky kitchens and out into the cold dark beyond.

A shroudlantern lit the exit a dull green. Adelard's cloak shared much the same hue, though even in the shadows, Xen spied his red tash twitching nervously. 'Addy? What's wrong?' Boots pounded past the mouth of the alley, heading for the waterfront. Xenovia could hear shouting and swearing just around the corner. Orders being bellowed. The thwack and thud of bodies being bodied.

'Okay, now we go!' Syr Adelard nodded, gesturing to Tilda to follow suit. Xen didn't much fancy being left behind. Spending a night in the cells was not on her to-do list. No Syr! 'Mind if I mosey on with you?' She whispered in Tilda's ear, her feet already taken to the task. 'I'll behave myself. Maiden's honour!'
 
Stumbling a crash out the back door and into the alley, red cloak wrapped so tight about him it all but bound him up, Hawkflesh fell against the wall, leaning hard on his shoulder for balance.

An unwelcome burp sent the bile to the tip of his throat.
"Scuse me but..."
But the knights and the horned woman were already leaving.

"Heh. fuck, I hate running!"
Behind him the sound of justice beatings drummed in his ears. He hated the Watch more though.

So he started running after them, untangling his lanky form as he went. The cape turned blue under the green light then orange as the regular glow of yellow lamps lit the streets.
At the juncture he stopped and turned to watch the Watch proceed to abuse their power. It was not as if the fight was all that big or bad. Nobody so much as drew a knife that he saw.

"Stinking booters. BOOOTERS!!!!" he yelled, drawing their attention to himself and the others as well. A fact which quickly made his body suddenly void of all bravado.

"Oh hells!"

"STOP THOSE PEOPLE!" A voice from the group said and a few turned about to come back after them.

Hawkflesh began to run again, now much faster after the small group from the bar.
 
Tilda raised a brow at Xenovia's plea. "I mean, why yes, of course," she said through rosied cheeks.

Come the shout of the red cloak, and Adelard groaned. "You yell like that again, Killer, and I'll cap your knees myself!" he half laughed beneath his winged mustache. Lead the group down a path opposite of the Watch and all their goonery. "Dump the crates!"

Tilda waited for the others to pass before she grabbed the tallest of a two stack and hauled it down with a crack against the cobble stone floor of the alley. Hurried after the other two as the Watch hurried up the street to try and catch them.

"They are heading for Pickledpepper road!" some guard cried out. "Hurry men, cut them off!"

The silver trill of guard whistles ripped through the air of the river docks.
 
Everything was fine and dandy until the Killer decided to run his mouth. Maybe it was the booze talking, or maybe he just really disliked "booters". Xen knew from experience that the Watch weren't all bad. That didn't stop some of them from being right bastards, though.

Taking to their heels, the devahni chased the knights whilst the Killer chased her. Behind them, men in red cloaks could be heard hooting and hollering, clubs raised and rotating like shroud-propellers. Ready to chop the back of an unsuspecting skull.

A stack of crates thwarted their pursuit, buying precious seconds. Xen reckoned she could turn seconds to minutes, fate and fools favouring.

'Hope you've got a plan, Addy!' Rolling through alleys, up stone stairs and down darkened streets, Xenovia focused on making sense of her surroundings, the echoes following behind. 'Once we hit Pickledpepper road, it's a straight shot to Brambleberry boardwalk.' After that was the Wendway itself, and Xen didn't fancy taking her chances out on the ice. Too much gear and too few pairs of skates.

'As for you,' she turned mid-stride, shot the pale-haired skeleton a look. 'Try to keep shtum. Otherwise these arseholes will be crawling up ours all night.'

'Hey, I 'eard that!'

'Fuck, just keep running!'
 
He couldn't talk, not while running, not while listening to the chatter.
At least not very well.

"Me?"
Indignation was in his throat.

"I'm not... telling them... where we're... going!"

He wasn't sure if the booters could hear them but he thought it daft to declare the plan, just running was good enough. Find somewhere to hide and stay there till they go but he wasn't in breath enough to say it.

Still the idea was sound enough. Just had to stay ahead of them a bit longer.

He felt like throwing up again.

They passed the Pickledpepper and onward to the boardwalk. Boots stomping on the wooden boards.

"You wanna live forever?"

He managed to hold in the puke as they approached the walks edge and the frozen river beyond.
 
They stole away in an alleyway. All fishbarrels full of old catch kept fresh by the winter air.

"Hurry on then," Addy whispered through his mist covered stache. "Hide about, we've put enough ground between us," the veteran Mum ordered hushed as he took cover in the darkness. Green cloak, made to look like a tarp over some rubbish.

You wanna live forever?

Tilda snatched up the gangler, rough, and pushed him up against the wall with a gloved and steeled hand pressed over his mouth. Hard. Steel in her eyes as her lips pursed and she hissed a shush. A knee shoved hard against his midline to send the message home.

Keep making noise. Get silenced. The pair of them hidden behind a tall stack.

The rabble of Booters rolled on by as the quartet of miscreants stole away. Lingering about the mouth of the hiding place. Eyes peering up the wet way. Noses repelled by the stink of fish left out. Much, for too long. Didn't look like they wanted to step any closer to the stink as their sergeant ordered the bulk of the bodies to move forward. Said they couldn't've gone far. Hand all wave and snap.
 
'Neither... am I!' I hope. Breathing hard, Xen thrust the thought aside as Addy hooked a left, breaking line of sight before disappearing down a dark alley. The Deva followed him, her feet making the decision for her.

Then, came the hush, the fraying of nerves not yet worn down by time's ceaseless march.

Closing her eyes so as to hide their glow, Xenovia forced her breath to slow, pounding heart sure to betray her as the first of their pursuers thundered on by, blind to the spot the fugitives sheltered in. Retreating into the folds of her cloak, Xen listened: footsteps and shouts, the rattle of armour, ragged breathing, and voices that weren't friendly. Some questioning, another commanding.

Sooner than she perhaps realised, the booters moved on, taking their talk with them. Opening her eyes, Xen peered out from behind the barrels, hair draped across the right, so the left had to do all the work.

They're gone! Phew!

Taking a moment to relax, the devahni pressed to her feet, rousing Adelard with a kick to his shit flickers. 'All clear,' she whispered, patting herself down, the quayside stink nothing a good bath wouldn't fix.

'You can let him go now,' she told Tilda, fixing the knight and her buddy with a look and a shrug. 'Or not. You two like kinda cosy, all pressed up like ya are.' Addy huffed a small laugh. I'll take it!
 
*Gods below please let her kill me!*

She just thudded him and held him tight up against the wall, mind you she looked sturdy enough to break his bones if she wanted.

They listened as the booters left and the alley fell quiet and the insinuation followed.
Not that the scars didn't work for him but he felt too drunk to do anything but wriggle and even then not very much.

His dull eyes rested on the one who held him.
Waiting.

Maybe she'd finish him, maybe he'd take her with him.
There was so little to care about in the moment.
It was all drunken numb bluster of course, deep down he didn't want to die at all but he'd quite forgotten that so when he locked eyes with her again it was with a silent dare to hold him against the wall forever, force him into the bricks to be forgotten.

He wouldn't struggle but any more of the lingering fish stink and he might throw up into her gauntlet.
 
A shimmer of something sharp glint across Tilda's eye. Lip twitched, hardly restraining a snarl. She shoved the sack of waste against the bricks and moved off of him.

"Pathetic," she muttered, and stepped out of the shadow, snapped her cloak over her shoulder, as if to shield herself from the man's intentions. Or whatever sickness stirred in his guts.

View attachment 854Adelard popped out from under his cloak, all pinecone popped free from the brush. "Well then," he scanned the three about him. "All's well that end's well, as the saying goes," eyed the Gangler. "Best give this one a clear way though," angled towards the back way, away from the main fare. "Looks green to the gills, even in the moons' light," made his way across the alley.

Tilda looked over to Xenovia. Halfway to impressed. "Handled yourself well enough through all that," she said, soft as she marched after her senior Sworn.

"Got some good chowder, just waiting to heat up, back at the Planter," the mustachioed man seemed none bothered by any of what they had all run through. "You lot are welcome to it, of course,"

Tilda's brow arched. Lips quirked. But when Adelard's blue eyes fell on her, all keen and wizened, she held her protest. Nod.

They would make their way back to their hideout. A shabby little barracks compound with a high tower. An ancient remnant from the long past days where the Dustpan was at the edge of a fledgling Hold.
 
'True enough.' All ended but ended well? Only the morning would tell. Hawking up blood and spittle, Xen probed at her teeth with her tongue, pleased to find she still retained all her gnashers. 'I could go for some chowder,' she smiled, stuffing her hands into her pockets as she fell into step alongside Tilda. 'Never heard of this Planter place, though. That where you two shack up?'

Figures the question was leaning a bit on the personal side. Xen didn't mean nothing by it.

'Don't s'pose there's a room goin' free? Only, well, I've been out of town awhile, and... y'know.' No house or home or friends willing to put her up for the night. None she had reconnected with, anyhow. Of course, weren't no shortage of flophouses in the Hold, but life on the Road had taught her to save her money for when it mattered. That, and the fact blood was more valuable than silver.

Especially when spent helping strangers. Armed strangers at that.

Looking over her shoulder at the Gangler, Xen jutted out her chin, something like a you coming? Sure, he seemed fit for nothing 'cept drawing more trouble, but the guy was part of the gang now. Or rather for now.
 
It took him a whole twelve agonising seconds to stand in between muttered swearing and the most pathetic half-hearted laughter anyone had ever heard.

"Yeah, that's me..."
The words came in late reply to whoever was listening and as soon as they passed his lips he'd forgotten what was said to him.

Thankfully he didn't throw up, only wretched a bit at the smell which he was thankful to get away from.
At some point his sword had ended up between his legs which made his exit from the little shaded cover look almost comical as he stumble-hopped his way after them for a moment. Guided by some primal instinct to not be abandoned.

His mouth hurt but he did not remember why even as his own thin hand worked the jaw.
It was then he got a good look at his companions and he laughed a short and mean spirited rasp.

"Oh shit... wait, who are *hic* who are you peoples?"
For a second he appeared resolut, even firm in his stance before he began to gently sway as if teasing a topple before, by some miracle of self balance, avoiding complete collapse.
It would be clear to all that Hawkflesh had spent a lot of time drunk to compensate for it so.

"Fuck, have I been kidnapped again?"
Palm impacted forehead in an attempt to shake sense from the haze of his mind which swam in poison so potent he suspected he'd kill a vampire if it fed on him at that moment.
 
View attachment 857Adelard raised a brow at the drunkard and his question. "We're your dear aunt's Fanny for now," no use in telling a blackguard about the cause. No telling what a man so lost in his cups could do with any bit of leverage given. Think he was getting kidnapped, for instance.

"No, certainly not," he said flatly. Smiled, large wings of his mustache bobbing up at the sides. "You, my odd circumstance, are welcome to fuck right off whenever you would like," he said it almost like it was a privilege to do so. Stopped right there on the spot and eyed the odd fellow sharpish. "If you so choose," a little bow of the head and bob of the feather there upon he rim of his cap.

Tilda glared at the gangler, all sharp eyed and wholly unimpressed. Arms crossed. Wouldn't say a word till the drunk made clear the right state of his mind.

Looked to Xen a moment. Recalled how she had asked about the lodgings. "We've beds a plenty," she offered. Looked back to the wobbling mess. "Though I ain't cleaning up after no drunk too washed to keep his guts in," looked back to Adelard.

Leave him to bricks.

The older man gave the slightest shrug. Let's just see.

Tilda huffed.
 
Xen turned at the harsh peal of laughter, wide-eyed surprise giving way to a deep frown as the two syrs rounded on the pale-haired stray. Adelard took the lead, laying it out straight for the drunkard, hackles up, feathers ruffled. At least there was no grappling this time.

Didn't make the moment any less tense. Or awkward.

'He's done a good job of keepin' it down so far,' said Xen, trying to restore equilibrium. 'Ain't slurring his words... Give the guy a chance, I say. If he fucks up, throws up, that's on him. Quite literally, where the latter's concerned.'

Winter's cold breath had a sobering effect. And if the gangler wasn't back to his usual dour self by the time they reached the Planter, they could always find a trough to dunk his head in. Let the shock work its magic. 'Assumin' you wanna come?' Turning, the devahni eyeballed the drink-addled stick of a man, lips drawn tight, hands threading the straps of her pack, as if seeking something to hold that wasn't the hilt of a sword.

Another gust of wind had the devahni hunkering down, and she sniffed, not willing to wait a second longer.

'Can we get this over with?' She asked, horns poking through slits in the material of her hood. 'Freezin' my tits off over here!'
 
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