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Post by Humble Chris on Apr 4, 2022 14:13:32 GMT
While the unlikely trio conversed, a quartet of dockworkers made their way into the Last Refuge. At first, the group was too busy sharing stories and laughing among themselves to notice what was going on in the room, until a pause made them all stop and stare at the table where Lav, Cyrus and Korruk were having their discussion.
The dockworkers had the physiques one would expect from a life of hard labor and hard drinking. Equal parts burly and corpulent, with short bushy hair, patchwork beards, and reddish brown leathery skin. The largest one led the pack - an orc sporting a red and gold headwrap and a brass hoop earring in his left ear, gave the trio a nod and led his group over to the bar, where he ordered a round of the coldest beer the barkeep had on tap.
"And keep them coming until we're passed out!" the orc demanded, before adding, "And then bring us one more!"
The other dockworkers - an elf, a human, and a dwarf, all laughed at their leader's order. It was the sort of laughter born from respect, amusement and possibly fear. Each one took their drinks in turn and toasted among each other, wishing each other a happy Deliverance Day.
With his flagon in hand, the orc turned and leaned up against the bar, getting a chance to size up the sitting trio. The tip of his blackened finger ran along the rim of his mug, as if mulling something over. Finally, he raised his mug in their direction and added, "And a round for these three too, while you're at it. Everyone deserves a round on Deliverance Day!"
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Post by smileseverbeam on Apr 4, 2022 14:20:30 GMT
A man walked into The Last Refuge with an air of what might be annoyance, or perhaps it was simply too early for his irregular sleep schedule to be comfortable with the bright lights and loud hustle of a city in celebration. Smileu was given a few casual nods and glances and he returned with minimal effort, before spying a few familiar faces over in the corner. He made his way towards the group that Cyrus has put together, and yawned, rubbing his eyes a bit.
"Every year, I always tell myself 'I'm going to remember this wretched day of celebration well in advance, and piss off t some quiet corner of the wilds for a week. And every year, I managed to wake up having completely forgotten about it until its well and far too late to leave."
It was quite clear that Smileu - 'Smiles' more casually to folk (as it was not quite clear he had? friends?) was not a fan of Deliverance Day, though he usually kept his frustrations at the celebration mostly to him. He ordered something cheap and a bit of food briefly before taking the remaining seat at the table.
"So what you lot up to today? Besides avoiding the absurdity of the occasion?"
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Post by Humble Chris on Apr 4, 2022 14:41:46 GMT
The orc sneered with unmasked annoyance, "Happy Deliverance Day to you too, Constable!" he tossed the beer back after addressing Smileu with the nickname the dockworkers had bestowed upon him. It was not the name he preferred to be known by. "You friends with this lot here? Well, let me order a round for you, too! Tis only fair, on Deliverance Day."
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Post by smileseverbeam on Apr 4, 2022 14:53:14 GMT
Smileu opened his mouth to protest, sighed, and shrugged.
"And happy Deliverance Day to you as well. May you find strong winds in the right direction and bright coin in unusual places."
Smileu gave a soft, half-hearted salute and raised his drink before taking a sip, sighing.
"I'm not a constable" he says more to the group at the table. "And I'm not sure why they think I am. Amusing, if not misleading."
He shrugged again, and then leaned back, kicking his feet up.
"Any of you going to any of the grand spectacles the city has planned this day?"
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Post by Cyrus on Apr 4, 2022 18:32:59 GMT
"All right, Korruk. Sold. You make it there, and I'll compete with you."
The Red Saint had concluded he would rather have the massive Orc fighting on his team than for someone else. Cyrus raised his glass at the orcish dockworker and his crew. Respect had been paid, and the golden-eyed corsair's ego was such that if you showed him his due, he'd throw it back. An older individual might have higher qualifications for a base line of mutual respect...
...but Aasimars matured slowly.
"A round for our new friends, barkeep. Happy Deliverance Day!"
The elf showing up earned an appraising glance as he approached. He stiffened a bit at the mention of the man being a constable, his eyes narrowing before he recognized Smileu and pushed out the fourth chair with his foot as the elf groused about being called police and the festival and whatnot.
"I'm beginning to think you don't like fun, Smileu. We were just talking about going and winning the tournament tonight. Perhaps I'll ask the Prince for one of those fine galleons out there when we've won. This is Korruk. We've just met. Korruk, Smileu Everbeam."
Hands gestured where they needed to go to make the introductions.
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Post by smileseverbeam on Apr 4, 2022 19:11:36 GMT
Smielu smirked every so slightly at the Aasimar's subtleties.
"Always finding reasons to celebrate, Cyrus. Would have thought you'd be out in the streets. As for the tournament..."
He took another sip of his drink, considering briefly.
"Bit too much spotlight and attention for my tastes; I'm rather comfortable simply making a living as a hired hand from day to day. Besides - I have zero clue what it is I'd even ask for. I sure as shit wouldn't know what to do with a ship."
He takes a moment and nods to Korruk.
"Smielu, but most people call me Smiles. Pleasure."
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Post by Lavandul on Apr 4, 2022 23:26:20 GMT
"Am I a Mother now?" they grunted to Cyrus around the apricot toast.
The Aasimar couldn't see the eyes trail on him. As the bartender waved Lavandul's attention for one of the flagons, they indicted a 'no' with a slight tick of the head.
They fully expected that Cyrus either forgot how much it costs to 'buy a round', or he was playing ball and was going to foot the bill to the Orc when the other group inevitably asked how they were going to pay back their charity. Either way, the Fates were deciding to test them further, and dew collected on the mask from the frost as they exhaled their bitterness.
"If you want to wrestle trees, the Dryads are over yonder," they said to Korruk, gesturing towards the Feywilds. "Either way, I'm recommending a helmet."
The Orc seemed to be meeting them halfway in terms of 'disguise', but they weren't in the mood to reinforce their warnings or partake in the beer ritual. The subtle sneer still held as they forgot their toast and dug into the mounting frustration of remembering Smileu Everbeam's name, but black motes and arcing heat like a hammer blow prevented further context. Wiping the blood from their nose with a kerchief, they played along with the familiarity like Cyrus before, offering a wave with the hand that wasn't sliding the mask back down.
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Korruk
Visitor
Name: Korruk Logar Race: Orc Class/Level: Paladin 2 XP: 480 Maximum HP: 21 Alignment: Lawful Good
Posts: 98 
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Post by Korruk on Apr 5, 2022 0:12:38 GMT
Korruk turned to eye the rowdy crew as they made their scene, having no intention of raining on their celebration. It was their day in their house so to speak, let them have their fun. Unlike the raspy one of the two he wouldn’t decline any drinks that landed in front of him as the good nature of everyone's generosity flowed.
“Mine as well, Smiley - though you surprise me, someone who doesn’t know what they would ask for as a grand prize. When in doubt a bed of down always makes a great consolation. Or for the more distinguished or aloof, something to drink from the finest reserves. There has to be something, even if it's not as grand as a Galleon.”
All smiles, Korruk raised his drink towards Cyrus to toast the desire to take the galleon for his. Dreaming big was an admirable trait.
“And you must wish to see me act the fool Dominé, wrestling a tree maybe but catching a frolicking dryad? I’d look like a giant trying to catch the wind, and make the ground rumble when I tripped over myself all the same. Either way, in the spirit of our budding partnership, I will make sure to keep a low profile and keep a hat with some padding. I would hate to leave the two of you at the altar.”
He nodded to the smallest of the trio, letting them know their warnings were heard, and heeded, he wasn’t looking to scoff at their partnership out of the gate.
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Post by Lavandul on Apr 5, 2022 2:12:20 GMT
The cleric's mask ticked to land on the elven dockworker quietly moving behind Korruk.
"Knife."
The proclamation sounded like a sentencing, metal grating as the war hammer was foisted.
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Post by Humble Chris on Apr 5, 2022 3:26:12 GMT
As the quartet at the table spoke and hashed out their plan among themselves, the orc leading the dockworkers folded his arms and looked on, studying them like a wolf watching prey from the shadows. Tor, the orc, had hoped to get some sort of rise or reaction out of them, especially once the bloodied Constable made his presence known. But it seemed like just as soon as they were thanked, the dockworkers were all forgotten about.
Typical.
A glance to Foren, the elf, and a nod in the seated orc's position was all it took. Foren nodded in understanding with his boss and, with all the caution and care he could muster, moved around the room as if looking for a place to sit. He was spoiled for choices. He circled the table for one full rotation before finding the empty chair directly behind the foreigner and touched it as though to sit down, then turned and pretended to stretch and crack his spine on the low back of the chair. When he stood back erect, the knife in his back pocket was already in his hands, but still held back.
Tor watched the whole performance and smirked, thinking that they had gotten away with it. The three at the table looked like they might react and cause some trouble, but that was what the other three of them were for. No matter how big or armoured or scary one was, none of it mattered if you were caught unawares.
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Post by Cyrus on Apr 5, 2022 3:38:32 GMT
Red.
Red was all Cyrus of Ghent saw as he clocked the knife, the deception respectable in its simplicity if not its effectiveness. He grit his teeth and roared as he flipped the table rising from his chair. The montante came off his back and the point drove toward the would-be assassin.
He couldn't hear it, but he was screaming obscenities in an angelic language, his eyes burning with holy fire as he barreled toward the elf.
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Post by Lavandul on Apr 5, 2022 4:22:03 GMT
Ah.
The Red Saint blazed past, already escalating. The cleric moved mechanically and without emotion, with their mind on the Watch and how easy it would be to make it their fault with racial profiling.
They'll probably demand a bribe.
The internal grousing manifested in the floorboards creaking with the weight of chainmail and hoarfrost, and Lavandul crushed a dried rose in their fist. The petals instantly dissolved to black ash, picking up on a imperceptible wind as the light drained from the world around the dock workers.
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Korruk
Visitor
Name: Korruk Logar Race: Orc Class/Level: Paladin 2 XP: 480 Maximum HP: 21 Alignment: Lawful Good
Posts: 98
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Post by Korruk on Apr 5, 2022 4:36:14 GMT
It was his fault really, he had sat with his back to the room. Of all people though, another orc? That was disappointing. With warnings shouted his head jerked around to see just what was happening, but it seemed like his new allies were already showing their mettle and how they were more aware of their surroundings than the knight, leaping to action all while he was still firmly planted in his seat. With gritted teeth and a growl in his throat he knew it would be rude to not join the melee now, it would make him look the fool indeed.
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Post by smileseverbeam on Apr 5, 2022 4:45:04 GMT
Smileu frowned, and sighed. Someone was always tryin' to ice skate uphill.
In a flash his rapier was in his hand, and he looked at the poor elf bastard who had taken a beating from the Aasimar, and the now very-asleep human.
He turned and leveled his rapier at the orc.
"Tor, it's your lucky day. I'm in a good mood, and to be honest, there are sharper pieces of bread in the bakery down the street. Take your losses and make a healthy donation to the orphanage, and you and your friends can leave still breathing."
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Post by Humble Chris on Apr 5, 2022 5:10:03 GMT
The world exploded too fast for Tor to keep track. One minute, Foren was about ready to bleed out the Imperial. The next, the table was flipped over and a weapon long as Tor was tall skewered the elf, pinning him to the wall. Bleeding as he was, it was a miracle or curse that Foren was still breathing.
Before Tor could get a word out, he watched as the armoured weirdo at the table raised a weapon and the edges of the orc's vision began to darken. The effect lasted only a second, but when he recovered, Tor was treated to the sight of Quinn toppling to the floor in a heap. No blood pooled beneath him.
By the time that blasted Constable made his ultimatum, Tor's hand was already on the pommel of the crude club he carried by his side. He wanted to laugh at the threat, but upon hearing it, Tor beheld a horrifying vision of the opposing elf charging headlong at the orc, perforating him and gutting his innards without a hint of effort. He had seen Smiles kill before, and it was never a pretty sight. The cold way he murdered would have made the Night Sisters proud.
"Emperor's Balls!" Tor swore, slamming his club onto the bar. "All right, Constable. We'll leave. MORG!!" he pointed a cracked finger at the shivering dwarf. "Pick up Quinn's useless carcass and let's go!" as if to save his pride, he adjusts his collar, "There are more respectable pissing holes, anyway."
As Morg collected Quinn off the floor, Tor stomped over to Foren and forcefully gripped him by the unwounded shoulder. The elf gasped and cried out in pain, dropping his dagger and a single red coin that rolled along the floor before stopping at the armoured boot of Korruk. Neither Tor nor any of his companions noticed it as they shuffled out, wounded but alive.
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Post by Cyrus on Apr 5, 2022 7:01:12 GMT
The angelic screeching coming out of the Aasimar as he gored the would-be assassin's shoulder didn't stop when Smiley made his threat. The huge sword reared back, but something inside him stopped as the enemy surrendered, like a pull on his soul back from an edge.
It felt like something external, reminding him he couldn't serve if he got himself killed by the Watchers. That just made him angrier. He splintered the table with a kick and the Celestial tongue stopped being brutalized as he channeled divine vengeance elsewhere.
"Motherfucker, tell whoever sent you that I'm gonna spit-roast your eardrums on a Gods-damned pike if I see you again!"
The pirate huffed and huffed, slowing his breathing down, gripping the hilt tightly in both hands. His knuckles were white, and the holy fire burning out of his eyes like torches started to fade. Spitting on the ground, he swore.
"Jester's giblets, I'm... ugh..."
He said something else in Celestial. It sounded beautiful, but laced with spite. His pacing slowed and he took a hand off the montante. The throbbing veins in his neck started to settle down and become less visible.
"Why do you have assassins after you? Who'd you piss off? You know who those people are, man?"
He poured some of his cheap ale on a rag and wiped his blade off with it, sitting back down in his chair as he breathed out pure fury.
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Post by Lavandul on Apr 5, 2022 7:32:50 GMT
Everbeam took care of it in a manner they could only imagine. Carrying oneself in such a manner was its own kind of mysterious arcane Lavender barely grasped. Relief was imminent as their posture relaxed.
Imperials referred to scrotums a lot — three times in ten minutes.
The cynical thought was detached as Cyrus ranted and paced in the noise of the background; the spark of starlight started mending the manageable splinters, before the bartender added it to their tab. They blinked as more motes clouded their vision, and a wave of sick demanded they sit down from all the swift and dramatic movement. The sniff was wet and full of copper, and the Night Stalker felt the bubble of annoyance that they still hadn't paid their cosmic tithe.
Patience, patience.
They leaned their head against the wall, dozing as they waited for their companions to re-examine their earlier warning; hopefully considering the notion that sticking around invited another wave of 'patriots.'
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Korruk
Visitor
Name: Korruk Logar Race: Orc Class/Level: Paladin 2 XP: 480 Maximum HP: 21 Alignment: Lawful Good
Posts: 98
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Post by Korruk on Apr 5, 2022 8:21:36 GMT
The elf had a fierce snarl, not that it was unwelcome as this entire bout was all kinds of unsportsmanlike. It ended things however, and it was likely in their best interest to not become the aggressor as much as the call to action tugged at his spirit. Instead he took a moment and instead collected the coin, holding it between his fingers to examine the item to see if there was anything unusual about it, while making sure to answer Cyrus.
“I wish I knew the answer to that one myself, because there has been no one lately nor do I recall any ghosts from my past. And not my crowd, I assure you.”
Korruk glanced at Cyrus.
“Answer, I am fairly sure we would have to pry that from our friends. Chasing them, though, seems like it would be a disservice to Smileu’s efforts, of which -”
He turned to face the elf, standing tall from where he had been sat to approach the elf and offered a hand.
“You have my appreciation for joining in on that, my sympathies that they went and ruined a perfectly good time to drink.”
Greeting a potential ally meant more than chasing down riff raff - they could be found later. For now the focus was still making it to the melee.
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Post by smileseverbeam on Apr 5, 2022 13:16:01 GMT
Simleu didn't immediately answer Korruk's question; waited a moment for the band of would-be assassins to leave, making sure they fully cleared the building, watching them exit the before he sheathed his rapier, and nodded to the barkeep.
"Since Tor won't be donating to that orphanage, 'tender, round of drinks for your patrons who had this wonderful day disrupted by his short-sighted and dull-witted antics. Put it on his tab - and trust me, he's good for it. Same for your table."
That should, for the moment, keep other patrons occupied and content. Smileu sat down and nodded then to Korruk.
"You're welcome; I'm not fond of celebrations like this for my own reasons but that's no excuse to try and slip a blade into someone's ribs. And to answer your question Cyrus, I think I have a pretty decent idea."
He leaned in a bit, whispering to the three around him.
"Despite the fact they keep referring to me as a constable, I'm no such thing. I'm a simple hand-for-hire. I've done as much brick-and-mortar laying as I've done scouting the wilds or cleaning out small bands of monsters. But - have any of you heard of 'The Gentleman's Agreement?"
He nodded towards the door, indicating a connection between this group - Tor specifically - and the oft-whispered-smuggling-ring of the name he'd just mentioned.
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Post by Cyrus on Apr 5, 2022 19:41:48 GMT
That got Cyrus's attention. The bloody rag hit the ground and he leaned over the montante, looking Smiles in the eye with a look of genuine interest. He lowered his voice, a stark difference from the angelic screeching that had preceded it.
"Sure. Smugglers. High end ones. Discreet ones."
He glanced from each to each, the expression on his face clearly indicating these were Serious Motherfuckers.
"They don't do wet jobs, so if this is a job, he's way offside... unless you're a member who ran their mouth, Korruk?"
The skeptical look on his face suggested that the Red Saint did not think Korruk was a high-end criminal. Dude was too refined for that shit. Kind of like Smiley seemed like a narc who was Definitely Saying He Wasn't a Narc. Not that Cyrus gave a shit about that. Sometimes, having a narc who liked you could be helpful.
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