Man Down (Gunto)

[Naama]

Despite the despair, the cloying fear, the tides of frustation battering against her for so many years, Naama still felt a spark of mirth. In truth, the myrian wanted nothing more than to embrace him, to remind herself that she had not always been alone, but such publicity would be severely undesirable, especially amongst the devious populace. So instead she gripped his arm, tugging him through the streets. "Come, before you freeze your arse to death, if we walk enough we might stumble upon a bar or two." And sure enough it only took them ten chimes to turn a sharp corner and nearly collide with the chipped door of a humble establishment, its painted brew the only indicator it held any liquor to speak of. Inside were several rickety tables occupied by what appeared to be recurring clientel, their sour gazes trailing after the myrians who sat themselves so abrasively at the counter. "Two pints, if you would," Naama slapped down the respective mizas, the clinking of bangles on her arm barely heard above the inane chatter. As much as she wanted to continue the search for Niobe, Naama could not pass up the chance to reconnect with her wayward brother. "His name is Ulric," She began, as the tankards were slid in front of them, froth trickling down the sides, "He's a northerner, a warrior, an utter prick--" She smiled devilishly, "And I'm in love with him." She took one long drought, then set mug down. "Don't leave." Naama answered abruptly, jolted by his proclamation, "We could use you, well... Ulric can. Fight for us, for our sister. You now she's more important than this messenger business, Gunto. You know that without her, Mother will despair. She has no one else, and you think aunt Mahoa wants to be matriarch?" She gave Gunto a look that belied the seriousness of the matter, the lengths that she would go to assure this quest would not end in failure, "We will find this red building, and if Niobe is not there, then we go to Ravok, and we slay whatever sorry petch gets in our way."