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[Basil]

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“Ghosthood,” she mumbled, “Pah. What a load of shyke this guy is.”

~-~-~-~

“No, you can’t touch the owl.”

Without looking at Richard, she gave the owl a last scratch under his chin and moved to her chest. The owl was satisfied and sat quietly, ruffling his feathers and giving his wings a stretch. She took the key out of her pocket and opened it. On top was her quiver filled with arrows and her bow. Taking a breath, knowing somehow she would come to need it, she took the bow out and held it. It was a good weight in her hand, even and strong. The quiver was heavy as she strapped it on her back. Never had she used any arrows on humans before, she wasn’t a murderer. Something told her this would change.

“So you’re being paid to help these hookers.” Basil mused, finally turning to him. She had taken off the apron and it was laying on her bed. “Richard, wasn’t it? How long are you planning on being here? I don’t think I want anything to do with these hookers and their murders.” Long enough she’d spent away from spilling blood in this city, as far as she could make it. It would seem hanging around this guy was asking for trouble, trouble she didn’t need in her life. In just the short, what, thirty chimes they’d spent together she’d already been swept up in some scheme and her life was at stake. She paused.

“Actually, you know what. I will come with you.” It occurred to her she had been marked as his accomplice, who knew who would be “knocking” on her door if she didn’t put an end to what Richard started. “But on one condition, you need to make sure my name gets cleared from all of this. Going around avenging murders can’t make you the most popular person on the block and I don’t need to be caught up in your shenanigans.”

[Konrad Venger]

Having a name like "Percival" in a city like Sunberth was not a great way to incline a boy towards benevolence and forbearance. Ever since he was wee - which, given the size of him now, was both far back and brief - the lad had struggled and suffered under that bloody bastard name. It hardened him and made him bitter, angry. Every time someone giggled and snorted into their beer, he took it as a challenge.

Not that anyone called him that anymore. Now he was Maddox. Get it? Mad Ax. That's what he preferred. Most people thought he was either stupid or trying too hard, but try telling that to a man the size of a stunted mountain with a four-foot ax.

Percy... sorry, Maddox, was listening to the kerfuffle beyond the tent; watching the shadows as they danced and merged and loomed and shrank as the two people spoke. One seemed to have a head much bigger and fuzzier than normal. He supposed that was the man, but it could have been the woman. Waitress? Yeah, he assumed.

"-up in your shenanigans.”

Maddox snorted. Little late for that, girl. The shadows seemed to be gaining some form, though. More substance. Intent. He gripped his ax tighter and when the two eventually opened up the flap to the tent-

-they'd see a towering body, topped with an acne-scarred face, carrying an ax almost as long as Basil, or so the mind's over-active imagination would have one believe. The thug blinked at the bow, the quiver, the length of wood, and gripped his ax tighter, eyes narrowing...

"Here!"

Yeah, yeah, I bloody know that.

There was a sound remarkably like a sail being ripped in half from the back of the tent. Probably because it was something very close to it. A long, curved sword stuck through the fabric of Basil's abode and tore it's way down, from head height down to the ground. Then, like some beast or celestial fugitive popping in from another clime of creation, Konrad Venger stepped through the long slash, one hand holding the sword, the other keeping that black hat on his head.

"G'work, lad," he said with a businesslike nod at Maddox, then turned his eyes like coals to the two darkies. "Richard. F'it's any cons-ula-shun, I'll miss how ye'always found the best snorts-n-smoke. But a bounty's a bounty, y'know?"

That was about as much consideration and kindness as Konrad had given anyone he was about to butcher horribly for money. He wished he could say it was... well, no, that would be a lie. Right then, he just wished they would-

Something hooted and eyed Konrad with deep, round, wise orbs and a crazy crick of it's neck, like it's spine was made of pliable wood. Konrad sniffed and looked the feathered frump up and down.

"Bugger me. That an owl?"

[Richard Blow]

" 'Course, 'course!" Richard said with an emphatic nod as he walked to the tent flap. "Trust me, this'll be great. Nothin' like a good case to get the blood pumpin'." Unfortunately, Richard's attempt to walk through the flap was blocked by a burly man with an axe, followed shortly by Konrad ruining Basil's tent like a jerk. The Spiritist frowned at Captain Cutlass' apology, nodded pensively, then clutched his log to his chest with one arm and pointed at Konrad with the other. "I'm gonna fist you, white boy." he declared with the gravity of a blood oath. While Richard said it like a promise, he knew deep down that unless something happened to distract them, there would be no fisting of any sort going on, just lots of axe murder. Mercifully, miraculously, salvation came from the unlikeliest source... "Bugger me. That an owl?" For a brief moment, axe man's eyes left Richard to glance at the strange bird in a strange place, and that was not lost on the Spiritist. The last thing Maddox was aware of was a dull "whoosh" before a log smashed into his chin, sending him crashing to the ground like a felled tree (as it happened, one of his other nicknames was Glass Pete). Richard spared a moment to whirl around and shout "Get 'em boy!" at his feathered savior before dropping the log, scooping up the axe, and promptly executing Secret Spiritist Protocol #23. Which was running away, in this case in the direction of Long Johnson's neighborhood. He wasn't entirely sure what Basil's plan was, but he felt confident that she could take care of herself and figure out where she should be headed. The Spiritist had barely taken two steps out of the tent when he found another obstacle in his way: a young orphan with his arms awkwardly up like a drunken boxer, jabbering something about mizas and old men. Richard really didn't have time for this, so he elected to answer the kid with a boot to the face. The child immediately fell onto his back and started bawling, drawing several dirty looks from passers-by, but Richard was too busy stepping gingerly over the flailing youth to notice: he had detective work to do!

[Basil]

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This guy was rather candid, for all the calamity ensuing. Basil had to put her "grr" face on. What the petch was going on? Everything was happening so fast. She had her things, check. Owl was safe, check. Time to go. She didn't dare stay in one place and she sure as Hai didn't want the petchers following her to her house.
"A good case, right." She said in a breathy huff, as if as an afterthought.

The man at the door didn't surprise her. Of course they found them. It was the TEARING of her tent that did her in. Every bone in her body shook with rage.
"How... DARE you!" And she cocked her bow. But Richard had already beaten her to it, smacking the man in the face with a log from her firepit. He slammed to the ground. Bowie was in a tizzy. Screeching, flapping wildly and trying to break free he pulled and pulled on his tether, sending his perch to the ground and him with it.

"I'm sorry!" Basil cried, promising him in her mind to make this up to him. Hopefully the knocked out man would just leave. Petch he might kill the bird. She had no time to grab him. Out the door she followed Richard, hardly noticing when he kicked the child in the face. It was only later, much later, she would realise. 'Holy shyke did he really just do that?'

Where ever Richard was going, Basil was going to follow. She was swept up in confusion and for some reason the man, in his seemingly drunk luck, made her feel safe. After all she was his accomplice now and he wouldn't be rid of her so easy.

[Richard Blow]

"Ah, good, you made it!" Richard said cheerfully when he noticed he had someone following him. "Time's a bit of a factor here so I'll try to make it brief." he said as they cut through dank alleys that seemed to lead exclusively to danker, darker alleys. "Before we mess this petcher up, we gotta be sure we got the right guy. How? Easy. The petcher had to get rid of the body somehow since it wasn't buried. Nobody saw any strange barbecues, so burning's out of the question. No one complained of weird smells though, so he probably didn't just strip her naked, bury her and hope for the best. So that means..." The labyrinth of dodginess suddenly opened up to reveal a bloc of houses that was in only moderate disrepair and a soap shop with grimy windows and a brace of goats tied up in front of it directly before them. "Y'ever hear of lye, Basil? Melts flesh clean off the bone! 'S like paint thinner for people! And there's one type of place t'get it in bulk." he said right before he shoved the door open and walked in. The interior of the shop was a mess of astringent smells, piles of soap, barrels of repugnant liquid and unpainted wood. At the far end was an elderly man with a shiny bald head polishing the counter he was behind. "Danny!" shouted Richard as he strode to the clerk. "I'm back for the ledger!" "My name's Peter..." the man said uncomfortably. "Shut up Danny. Books! Pull 'em out!" "I really don't think-" "I give you three n' five silver." "Come here." From under the counter came a thread bound green book filled with rows and rows of figures which Richard slid over next to Peter to read. "You want a Long Johnson, huh?" said the clerk with an appraising nod. "Yeah, I've looked at tons but I'm pretty sure you got the one I want." replied Richard. "Well, I might be able to pull 'em out for you." This line of conversation went on for some time, with both men rather engrossed in their numbers. As they pored over the books, Basil heard a soft frenzy of voices approaching from the alley they came from. A few ticks later the orange glow of torchlight lit up the walls before two men from the bar appeared. They appeared very upset, one of them with a patched nose, but it didn't seem like they had noticed them in the shop yet. That being said, dirt would only hide them for so long, and Richard was still busy calculating lye purchases. If she didn't want another brawl to strart, Basil would need to think of something fast.

[Basil]

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Basil followed and listened carfeully. She didn't want to miss a single detail lest their pursuers get the upper hand. Plus she felt like she needed filled in on the situation, still not knowing why he cared about these hookers. They were just sex hookers, there were probably a hundred in Sunberth. At least. Everyone here has turned a trick a time or two. What a terrible day she was having. Still, strength in numbers was better than being dead for something you didn't do and she followed close at his heel, weaving in and out of alleys like a snake in the grass.

"Lye? I know of it. I didn't know it could do that, though."
This Richard man seemed rather knowledgeable. She didn't like him though. Not one bit and she could count the ticks before she was rid of him. Coming to her work. Petching things up. Getting her caught up in some kind of stupid game. It seemed like this was a game to him, truly. His nonchalant demeanor just pissed her off more.

They came to a soap shop. While Richard heckled the owner she kept an eye out for visitors, fiddling with her bow worriedly. Nothing happened for sometime while Richard and Peter crunched numbers. Until it did. As soon as she saw them she whipped around.
"Richard," she hissed, "get down."
Running behind the counter she grabbed Richard by the scruff of the neck and forced him down. Pointing a finger up at Peter she glowered, "You're getting paid for this, remember that."

They came into the shop.
"Oi. See anybody with ropes for hair run through here? Disheveled types."

"Erm well actually--"
Basil punched his leg with her fist, capsizing his knee for a tick.
"Ouch! Uh no! No I haven't. Why? Are you looking for them?"

"No, we're just on a scavenger hunt... Of course we're looking for them you git!" He waved his hand at Peter dismissively, as if he was disgusted.

"Well," the other said, the one with the patched up nose, "We'll be back here in a bell. Keep an eye out."

They left, Basil counting her breaths until the door swung shut.

"You didn't have to hit me. I was going to tell them you went the other way." Peter complained.

"Better to tell them nothing at all." Said Basil standing up, knees cracking with a series of pops. They had a bell here now, probably less. Hopefully the numebrs would be found before then and they could get out of here.

"Hurry up and get this shyke moving." She cussed. "We need to get going." This time she stood with them and watched as they poured over the books.