Solo [The Docks] Of All The Feckless Men

[Orakan]

39th of fall 516av ♦ 2nd bell

"You know what you're doing?"

The taller, more slender of the two turned to scowl, his narrow face looking all the more rodent-like in Leth's dim light.

Orakan took this moment of seriousness from the cutpurse as a positive sign and tugged his cloak more tightly around himself as he followed his Daggerhand brother through the warren of alleys and laneways that would take them south-southeastward from Robern's Reaches through the Castle Commons and Stumble Alley to the Docks of Baroque Bay. They were accompanied by another - a dour and silent individual by the name of Yianda - who took up a flanking position with Orakan.

Knowing the path well enough, he kept his head down now that his piece had been said. His role was simple - he was just here as meat to make sure the thief got in and out. One part look out, one part sacrificial lamb, it was his duty to intervene if things went south and do what had to be done to make sure his Daggerhand Brother got what they were after. Yianda would step in to assist, but Orakan couldn't help thinking she was also there to keep tabs on them and make sure they got the job done without making too much of a mess of things.

With that in mind, Orakan kept his eyes on the man he was flanking, only looking away to scan each new lane they passed, searching for anything that might seem out of the ordinary and, this evening, that was just about everything. As his eyes roamed the streets, bereft of the usual prostitutes and shady sorts, he couldn't help thinking 'where is everyone'

Used to far more activity - even at this late hour - he found himself distracted by the distinct lack of people. Sunberth, although lawless and free of any true ruler, was a city that cowed to superstition and fear and the youngest of the trio had little doubt that it was this fear that kept people inside. A curfew may have been put in place less than twenty-four bells ago but Orakan couldn't imagine people actually following this mandated, 'well-meaning' advice. It had to be the strange happenings, the dead bodies and that slab that ekpt people tucked away.

Pushing away his own fears and the chill that suddenly clung to him, Orakan grit his teeth and began looking beyond what wasn't there to what he could see, searching for those trying hard to seem inconspicuous or those who might seem like they were on watch. As much as he and his counterpart had tried to be invisible over the past handful of days, it was not lost on either that their canvasing of the compound might not have gone unnoticed. Both were on high alert as a result.

Eventually, the trio arrived, the vast Baroque Bay stretching out before them, looking endless as it was eaten up by the dark of the night. Their presence - if noticed - would be tolerated to a point. It wasn't uncommon for the Daggerhand to have dealings here and many frequented the Drunken Fish. As a hotbed for gossip and rumours, it was here that the gang caught wind of what the trio were now after, tipped off by another member who had overheard associates of the Sun's Birth while they were milling about with the motley of sailors and merchants that regularly hung about the docks like a bad smell. Orakan paused as he assessed the scene before them and then made a low noise to get his comrades' attention, motioning with his dark head towards an adjacent alley once he felt their eyes on him.

The trio moved in that direction and came together, Yianda looking somewhat peeved at the deviation. Her husky voice only added to the look she gave the youngest of the group, "What? Getting cold feet?"

Vos, for once, said nothing as he slouched to bring himself closer, arms folding across his chest.

Orakan merely sniffed and thumbed at his nose, gaze briefly moving beyond his compatriots to the row of docks before returning. He intentionally levelled them on Yianda, mismatched stare hard and brow narrowed, "You haven't been down here with us. Ora wants to make sure we have a plan - that we're all on the same page - before shyke starts happening."

Vos made a noise that almost sounded like he was in agreeance. This only seemed to irritate Yianda more.

"We've already gone over our plan," she hissed, "I'm not some greenhorn. I know what we're doing."

Orakan remained calm, an aloof air finding him as he straightened and the whisper of a half-smirk touched his lips in response to her biting tone. "You haven't been 'ere with us.. goin' over what we've seen. Being here now, we need to work with what's 'ere. Keep to the plan but be ready to improvise if need be."

Yianda scowled. Vos nodded half-heartedly as he looked across to the docks.

"Looks a lot like it has been the past couple nights... minus the creeps." His attention notably shifted to the strange ship that had come to port earlier in the season before glancing back to the ship they were targeting, "Don't think we've raised any suspicions yet." The lanky fellow glanced back to the two and shrugged. "Dun hurt to reassess though. I don't want to get stuck in there and suddenly shyke goes to Hai. I might be a hop away from Sahova but I don't wanna head there just yet cuz you cunts can't back me up."

Orakan nodded. Yianda rolled her eyes. Vos continued.

"There should be two to three guards. One of yas," his gaze swept to Orakan, as both knew the role he had to play, "I get on board, get below deck, grab the book and then get out. Yianda is here for backup."

"I know how to improvise, you shykes." Yianda added, words like venom. Then, as if to conclude this meeting, she spat, "Now petch off and get back to the job."

The youngest of the group couldn't help the grin that found his lips but he was quick to hide it, tugging the hood of his cloak up and over his head and casting his face in dark shadow. He dropped his hand to feel the hard metallic lump of his knuckleduster that hung near his thigh and then slid his hand under his cloak to check his kopis and dagger, double checking than he was prepared and ready for what might come. Then he nodded. He was ready.

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[Orakan]

Vos had also been giving his own thin frame a pat down and Orakan noticed Yianda do the same. Then, as if some unspoken cue was given, the lanky figure pulled up his own hood and wrapped a corner of his cloak up and around the bottom half of his face. He gave the two with him a quick glance before turning and heading in the direction of Darkest Waters, one of the twin piers, where the shadowy outline of a saique gently rose and fell.

Orakan watched as Yianda assessed their surroundings and then spotted a place to take watch at. She looked over her shoulder and motioned with her head to the place she planned to make her perch and Orakan nodded his acknowledgement, mismatched eyes skirting to the ledge of a ramshackle building nearby. He thought it was a bit far but Yianda was more experienced in this line of work so he kept his opinions to himself. It did look as if it would lend her as perfect and clear a view of the deck as one could get with the little light available to them and made a mental note of this.

Checking the scene before them and Vos' position, he looked for any guards that might pose a threat all the while hunting for a spot where he might feel comfortable keeping watch. He knew he'd need to be closer and, with that in mind, he, too, began to move, following Vos towards the ship. He tried to keep his steps slow and soft - understanding the importance of stealth despite not being one to put it into practice - and paid extra care the the ground he was traversing, steering clear of any obstacle that presented itself. He also mimicked the cutpurse, winding a corner of his own cloak around his face and shoulders to not only try to further blend in with the night but also potentially hide his features if he were to be spotted. It wouldn't hurt to try and avoid being a potential target for retribution.

It was a bit overwhelming trying to keep his attention on Vos, their surroundings and the ground all the while trying to stay alert to any potential threats around the saique and Orakan struggled to maintain focus. Eventually, he saw Vos reach a pylon at the beginnings of the pier and he, too, made for it, angling for a pile of crates and barrels to its left, crouching down and hurrying to do so.

Once there, he was better able to channel his focus on the former and latter, assuming his place as a look out. Crouching, he did his best to hide and steadied his breath, attention now fully on Vos.

He had spotted a pair of guards lingering near the gangway that connected the deck of the saique to the pier and knew the thief had likely seen them as well. The gangway sat just beyond the halfway point of the pier, putting a good twenty odd metres between the two opposing parties. Orakan doubted his compatriot was wily enough to get past them without being noticed and jutted his chin in the direction of the guards, "Want Ora to distract them?"

Vos was looking in their direction, no doubt trying to formulate his own plan, and only nodded. Without turning his attention away, he regarded Orakan lowly, "Throw sumthin' past 'em towards the far end of the pier. Or even the water. Maybe they heard about the crazy shit happening and it'll spook 'em."

This gave Orakan pause, "Crazy shit?"

Vos didn't move as he supplied coolly, "Didn't you hear about the monsters clawing people apart? And people rising from the dead? Just do somethin' to spook 'em and I'll get past."

Now everything slowly started to make sense. And put him further at ease.

A few ticks passed as Ora dwelled on this, the sound of the guards' low murmurings occasionally breaking the lazy, monotonous sound of the waters of the bay lapping against the pier. Finally, he took a quick look at what was near him and plucked up a broken piece of wood from one of the nearby crates and turned to fully face the pier. Sucking in a breath, he then moved off to the side to better his angle and threw the bit of wood as far and as hard as he could towards the end of the pier. He watched as it sailed end over end before it dropped, hitting the side of the pier before it cartwheeled into the inky blackness of the bay with a loud 'plop.'

He was well off the mark, not even managing to get it halfway down the pier, and he grimaced as a result, hunkering back down behind the stacks of crates and barrels in front of him. He didn't even notice that it still had the intended effect.

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[Orakan]

A loud commotion followed, the confused and shocked shouts exchanged by the guards and another on deck bounced between water and wood down to the Daggerhand brothers that lurked at the end of the pier. Vos' own deep, raspy chuckle mingle with the noise, drawing him out of the blackness and back to reality. He hadn't realised he had his eyes shut - and tight - until he heard that familiar wheeze, lids lifting and brow softening as he turned to glance over his shoulder and past the crates to see what was happening.

Both guards seemed to be off investigating what had caused the noise and stirred the waters, abandoning their posts to do so. One ventured all the way to the end of the pier and lowered to a crouch while the other seemed more wary, following slowly, reluctantly. It was only then that Orakan noticed the man on the deck, catching sight of him as he ducked down below deck. He wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not.

Vos appeared thrilled and took this as his time to advance. He skulked smoothly down the pier to the gangway, lanky frame crouched and ready to duck behind anything he could find if need be. Orakan kept an eye on him, only looking away to check where he had last seen the man on board, certain he'd pop back up above deck at any moment. He was less concerned about the guards for now as they seemed preoccupied with their own investigations.

His heart was hammering away in his ears as he watched, more of less helpless, as Vos reached the gangway and scurried up it before he disappeared from sight, no doubt finding a hiding spot. He couldn't hear anything but the drumming in his ears, couldn't see anything but the still, empty starboard side of the deck, and he moved a hand down to the hilt of his kopis for some reassurance.

For the next five ticks, time stood still.

Orakan almost forgot how to breath.

Slowly sucking in a breath to calm his nerves, he willed himself to relax, willed himself to refocus. Blinking hard, he did so, reassessing the situation on deck before turning his attention back to the guards. He knew he had to do something to keep them occupied and give Vos a chance to get where he needed to go without being seen. His good eye darted about at what was in front of him, looking for anything else that he could use as a distraction. He spotted a rusted metal ring of a barrel and seized it. Standing to give himself a better chance at getting it where he wanted it to go, he then threw it, swinging his body for greater momentum, and sent it spinning like a discus towards the guards.

Another wet 'plop', this one softer than the first, but just as effective. It sent the two guards scurrying to the opposite side of the pier, curses flying, and lead to the man on deck running down the gangway to join the the pair, shortsword held high in the air.

Orakan dropped back down behind the stacks of crates and barrels and held his breath without thinking, as if this somehow might increase his chance of not being seen - not being heard.

He listened with his back to the clutter he hide behind, listened to the commotion as the three looked for some watery threat.

'Go.'

It was as much as a mental push as a verbal one, although the words were barely spoken. He'd done what he could to give Vos his window of opportunity. Now it was time for that no good thief to do his thing.

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[Orakan]

Orakan counted to five and then glanced up to where he remembered Yianda to be. Leth's silvery light was not enough to illuminate her form, the spot she chose cloaked in shadow, and he narrowed his eyes, squinting and straining to try and spy her form. The effort was fruitless, the woman too well hidden, and he turned back to the scene before him.

The three were conversing, the deckhand gesticulating wildly while the more wary - and smaller - of the two guards looked eager to get back on dry land and away from the inky black waters of the bay. Orakan watched as they milled about, no doubt searching for the source of the noise. He made it a point to keep his attention on the three but he did shoot a quick glance in the direction of the deck. He hadn't noticed any movement on board.

'C'mon you skinny sack of shyke.'


Swallowing hard, he repositioned himself, gathering his feet better beneath him and balancing the load of his weight between his bent thighs. He made himself ready to act, ready to spring once the need presented itself - and he had a feeling it would. With the three men milling around not far from the gangway, their focus on the unseen threat undoubtedly waning, Orakan couldn't think of how this could end without a scuffle. Surely another distraction like the two before wouldn't work - they had been lucky enough that they had even worked in the first place - and Vos still needed to get past them again. Although skinny as a rail, the scarred Daggerhand knew the thief couldn't make himself invisible. With the three now on high alert, Orakan prepared for the worst and loosened his kopis in its scabbard.

He exhaled slowly and tried to keep a handle on his nerves. They had a plan. Vos knew what he was doing - or so Ora hoped.

After what felt like a bell had passed a dark flicker caught his attention, causing him to glanced back up towards the deck. A shadow had swung down from the side of the saique, long, skinny frame climbing down and then reaching for the gangplank. Ora watched, half in amusement and half in disbelief, as the wretched thief twisted himself around and shimmied - upsidedown - down the length of the gangplank.

Lifting his gaze, Ora quickly checked where the trio were, noting the irritated deckhand had started to head back to the gangway. The guards followed behind, one still looking over his shoulder at the dark water beyond. Orakan held his breath and cursed inwardly.

The deckhand didn't seem to notice the cutpurse, too hellbent on returning to whatever task he had been pulled away from. Vos reached the pier and climbed along the side, clambouring along a pylon. He paused and Orakan could tell he was trying to see what was going on above him. The youngest Daggerhand ground his teeth as he flicked his cloak away from his left side and readied his kopis.

The smaller guard returned to his post and seemed none-the-wiser of the thief in their midst, attention still partially on the water. The larger one - dark in colour - was more perceptive and caught sight of the form clinging to the side of the pier.

Things turned ugly quick.

Orakan moved just as he saw the guard react, saw him go for his own blade and move in his brother's direction. Springing to his feet, he charged forward, kopis drawn free and cloak forgotten, haphazardly discarded somewhere between the crates and the gangway.

He didn't hear the soft whistle of bolt leaving Vos' crossbow but he saw the big man stagger, watching as he grabbed at his throat. Orakan didn't hesitate and used this to his advantage. With both hands wrapped around the hilt of his kopis, he swung it upward from his left hip to his right shoulder, body twisting with the motion as he sliced a red ribbon across the guard's gut. Twisting back in the other direction, he brought the blade back down, hacking at the man's neck. He managed to hit his big meaty hand, instead, and Orakan had to work to yank the blade free. He kicked out at the guard and sent him staggering.

Shouts and screams. The sounds all melded together as the other two men descended upon them.

Vos' crossbow was a deadly whisper as bolts hit the downed guard and deckhand, the latter spinning away before dropping like a sack of potatoes.

Orakan readied himself for the smaller guard but Yianda blew by him, her two kukri blades bristling and slashing, gutting the man in a flash. Vos was yelling, hollering away at them as he retreated and Yianda danced back before whirling around to follow.

Orakan glanced back at the mess they had left and looked up towards the deck, expecting to see men pouring out like ants from an anthill. He didn't see the larger guard stagger towards him until it was too late.

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[Orakan]

Shuffling on his knees, butchered and bloody, the giant of a man had managed to remove the bolt from his neck with his opposite hand and swung it low, the bolt digging deep into the back of Orakan's lower thigh.

The pain was intense. His leg buckle as his mouth opened but no sound came out. Searing pain gripped him, sending a shudder up through his body. It took every ounce of strength and focus to maintain his hold on his own blade and he swung it with little finesse or grace towards the big man's head. It hit with a muffled 'thunk'.

The big man convulsed and dropped his hand from the bolt that now remained lodged in Orakan's leg. Through wet eyes, Orakan saw him still go for his weapon. He channelled his pain and poured it and ever bit of strength he had into bringing his kopis down once more on the man's head.

The giant dropped.

Orakan staggered and gulped down a breath. Stabbing the end of his kopis into the wood of the pier, he used it to steady himself as he looked back over his shoulder, looking for Yianda and Vos. The former was behind him and hand an arm around him and half-dragged, half assisted him in getting off the pier just as more bodies began to appear on the deck. The alarm had been sounded. They needed to leave. Now.

Limping gingerly, Orakan sucked in a breath and focused on the pain, finding an odd, familiar comfort in it. He used it to ground him and ground his teeth in the process as he dipped to collect his discarded cloak. He lifted his arm and swung it, the motion spinning the cloak messily around the limb and making for easier handling as the Daggerhand pair scurried off as best they could to the alleyways that would eventually lead them back from whence they came.

A few more bolts from Vos' crossbow helped them slip away into the night and the trio only paused once they had ducked and weaved through enough laneways and streets to make even them dizzy. Eventually, Orakan slowed and slumped against the side of a rotten wooden building, grimacing as he felt around the bolt in his leg. He hissed as his fingers brushed it.

"Petch, that went in there deep."

Vos was unhelpful as always.

Orakan's face twisted, more in irritation than pain, "No shyke. The petch was that thing?!" He had never encountered a man like that giant of a guard. His skin had been an odd colour. Darker than a normal humans, it had held a dusky hue.

"Thing?"

Yianda sounded distracted as she crouched to take a better look at the bolt and where it was lodged.

"That petcher that did this," he uttered through gritted teeth. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off.

"You haven't ever seen an Akalak?"

It was Yianda again. Her fingers prodded around the bolt, putting an end to any reply Orakan was about to give. He sucked in a breath and tried his best to resist another full body shudder.

"We need to get you to the Clinic."

Orakan's eyes shot open at the thought.

"Petch that shyke."

He sucked in another ragged breath and straightened with difficulty. Unwinding the cloak from his arm, he then bent and began to wrap it haphazardly around his leg, winding it as gently as he could around the bolt in the process. Every movement was complete agony. Any brush against the bolt was worse.

"Just get Ora to the Tent City, yeah?" His eyes, wild with pain, darted from one to the other. The two acquiesced and helped gather him up.

The trek was difficult and long, the boat ride short. Somewhere along the way Vos held up their loot.

Eyeing it, Orakan muttered, "The petch is it?" From what he could tell, it looked like an ordinary leather bound journal.

"It's a logbook. It shows all the comings and goings of this particular ship. It's contents. Everything."

Orakan didn't understand the value and it showed on his washed out, pained face.

"It tells us what the Suns' Birth are bringing in. And their movements - at least by sea. Their trade. All of it."

It all made sense now. At least this wasn't for nothing.

The three managed to get to the Tent City and Orkan directed them to it's heart: The Sanctela. There they left him.

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[Orakan]

Grades

Interrogation - 2
Observation - 4
Investigation - 3
Logic - 2
Leadership - 3
Socialisation - 3
Tactics - 2
Planning - 2
Stealth - 2
Disguise - 1
Meditation - 1
Intelligence - 1
Running - 1
Weapon: Kopis - 2
Unarmed Combat - 1
Endurance - 1
Medicine - 1

Yianda: Daggerhand rogue
Yianda: A serious, no-nonsense woman
Sunberth: Strange happenings of Fall 516
Sunberth: Fear and superstition rules
Location: Darkest Waters (Pier)
Investigation: Searching an area for threats
Stealth: Minding the sound of ones footfalls
Stealth: Keeping low
Disguise: Using a cloak to keep ones face and features hidden
Stealth: Using large objects to hide behind
Socialisation: Hand and head gestures as a form of communication
Tactics: Creating a distraction
Meditation: Taking deep breaths to relax and clear the mind
Stealth: Holding ones breath to avoid detection
Planning: Making oneself ready to react
Kopis: Two-handed upward swing
Kopis: Two-handed downward hack
Endurance: Using adrenaline to overcome pain
Akalak: Giant men
Logbook: Shows all the comings, goings and contents of a ship

Consequences
Deep bolt injury to the lower left back of the leg. Will require medical attention to properly heal. Estimated recovery time: Minimum two seasons

Self-grade. Please let me know if there are any issues.