I am my father's daughter, after all [Act 2: Solo Flashback]

[Elhaym]

30th Day of Spring, 510 AV The chime of the 17th Bell is heard throughout Syliras... She was following them. Gaar Ravara and his two lackeys, the men who were responsible for beating her near to death. Crime did not slip through the cracks in Syliras often, but this infraction had yet to be corrected. That was alright by Pain... it left them all to her. Whether or not she would be as lucky as Gaar himself had been in getting away with her crimes had yet to be seen. Pain pushed her way through the crowd of the Great Bazaar, pushing through the crowds with her shoulders. She was dressed oddly, but that was somewhat the point. An over-sized cotton shirt, too thick to be comfortable and dyed a muddy brown complimented a long beige skirt that fell well below her knees. Her hair was long and black, but well hidden beneath a dirty brown bandanna with a wild bun peeking from it's backside. She didn't look like herself; that was the point. She was about a dozen yards behind them, which was close... far too close. They had stopped for something. "Shyke." Pain choked out. The red haired one with the beard was looking right at her as Gaar and the one called Dez browsed through a vendor's wares in street cart. He tilted his head, taking in her appearance through the crowd. It seemed as though for the first time in Pain's life the angry flow of human traffic seemed to part, as if a fissure had opened between herself and this man. Recognition clicked in his eyes, and he turned to get Gaar's attention. Pain was already moving. "Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go..." Pain chanted to herself, shoving those smaller than herself aside and maneuvering through the rest. She had been made. She'd had a bad feeling about this one the entire time; he didn't seem nearly as dim witted as his companions. Pain fought through the tidal wave of hot breath and stinking sweat until she found herself at the massive corridor's edge. The 'streets' of Syliras were riddled with alleys, if you could call them that. Some of them were large, others small enough so that only one or two men could pass by each-other without getting stuck. A product of an ever expanding castle interior and the ingenuity of Syliras' architects, though not necessarily always useful. Today, this was useful. Pain burst into the passage way, maintaining her pace at a jog. She didn't want to attract attention, and runners always get flagged down by Knights. She knew this well... how many times had she been harassed for trying to take a run inside the city, every Knight seeming to assume she wasn't running for fun, but from something. She heard a commotion behind her down the narrow passage. Male voices, yelling. Curses. Something getting knocked over, more angry yells. Then the pounding of heavy boots. "Petch." Pain whisper as she rounded a corner. There stood a halfway built wall, almost twelve feet high. Masonry equipment was stacked in the corner, apparently a project not yet completed. Gods damn the bastards who decided to seal off this particular alley, of all the snaking pathways within Stormhold. Pain saw no escape route... and the pounding of heavy feet grew closer. Think. Think! Her body took over before she could question whether or not she was physically ready for it. She stretched both her arms out, touching the wall on either side with a hand... and jumped. Both feet shot out, slamming against the stone walls that imprisoned her. She pushed hard with her hands in a downward motion, thrusting herself up with her legs as well. She could do it. She would ascend the wall using a sort of spider walk... straight up. Her arms quivered with the strain as she got higher, and higher... her legs were spread wide and bent harshly at the knees as they strained to keep her suspended. The cool stone floors were pulling at her body, urging her to fall. Pain would not be stopped here. If they found her in this isolated place, she knew what would happen. She'd be found in an hour or too, hot blood pooling beneath her... and the three of them would be well on their way out of Syliras. Not going to happen. Not today. She lunged forward, her arms slipping from their individual perches on the wall and gripping the rocky top surface of the unfinished divider wall. Push. Harder! Pain used her arms as an anchor, and released her legs as well. Not ready. This was too much strain... she had worked hard, but she wasn't quite herself yet. The injuries... "No. Ain't goin out like this..." Pain muttered as she struggled. She lurched upwards violently, throwing her right leg over the top of the wall. Her left leg followed, and then she was over. She heard distinct footfalls as she hung by her hands on the other side of the divider, and let herself fall to the ground. Pain's body was exhausted, and she flung herself into the dark corner. No torches on this side of the alleyway... "Gods be damned, I told you! Look, you petchin' idiot. This path is sealed off, and no girl." Gaar's voice. Pain's body trembled, fighting to suppress the terror that had overtaken her. "Gaar, it was her. I saw the girl, I know it. She was following us... this is what I do, Gaar. You need to trust me on this one, she was following us." Another voice, different... more refined. The bearded man. He seemed anxious, probably because he had now earned the ire the man he was trying to warn. "What the petch did I tell you about that." Gaar snapped, and Pain heard the sound of scuffling feet. A thud. Gaar had pushed the bearded man against the wall, as far as Pain could tell. Gurgling sounds were an affirmation. Apparently, choking his own subordinates was not below Gaar's ethics. This came as no surprise. "That bitch is probably dead, Raoul. I saw to that. I'm tired of your whining, you understand? If you hadn't gone and got busted up by that girl in the first place, never would have happened. I took care of your problem." A flash of recognition. That man, Raoul... the fiery red hair and beard, his physique and voice. The eerie quality they carried into Pain's senses had nothing to do with the present, but the past. He had been a john, one of the men in her old gig that got a little too drunk and tried to get a little too rough when she was calming him down. So... she'd calmed him down with a couple of broken ribs and a choke hold that cutoff the blood flow to his brain and left him unconscious. Then... Gaar. So that was it. This was all because one idiot got drunk and thought hitting a woman was acceptable in the name of his good time. Pain was seething rage as her mind clicked back into the present. "I... (gurgling sounds)... o...kay...!" Raoul sputtered, and the sound of him gasping for air signaled his release from Gaar's grasp. "Dez, give him a hand. Spinnin' Coin... we ain't got much money left after the last job. Gotta take some chances, or it's back to baby sitting traders for us." Gaar barked, and the sound of three pair's of boots disappeared. Pain sat alone in the dark, the dim light peeking above the barrier's top providing little light. She didn't have it in her to crawl back over it, nor did she particularly want to. She needed to take a break from this. The stress was getting to her, mentally and physically... but she couldn't. Gaar had said they were low on money, and resorting to gambling to multiply funds meant disparity. They wouldn't be in Syliras much longer. She had to act. Now.

[Elhaym]

37th Day of Spring, 510 AV The sound of the 14th Bell is heard throughout Syliras... Pain sat alone in a small hole in the wall eatery, facing the door as she sat at her small table. She took in her surroundings carefully, noting it's layout... the entrance, the number of tables, the number of employees. This was apparently Gaar's favorite hangout for a meal and a mug of ale. He was nowhere near, of course. Pain had watched him and his cohorts leave half a bell ago, burning off towards who knows what. She didn't need much time here. She just needed to get a look at the layout and perhaps get a little information out of the owner who seemed to double as bartender. Ah. There we go. Pain had noticed that two barmaids had been present when she arrived, but one seemed to have left. She never saw her leave through the main entrance, so she began to wonder about another entrance into the small restaurant. Her supposition was proved correct when another younger woman appeared from a narrow hallway that Pain thought led to the kitchen, wearing an apron and looking frazzled. Late for work. She came in the back way... down that hall. That was good to know. "Hey there little lady. What can I do ya fer'?" Crap. Pain had been so busy observing her surroundings that the owner approaching her caught her off guard. She near jumped out of her seat, shaking her head in surprise before meeting his gaze. Pain chastised herself mentally... "Great, now he'll remember your face. The girl that almost fell out of her chair." "Oh, hello. I'm sorry, I just... was lost in my thoughts." Pain said, forcing her tone into a higher and more feminine pitch. She tried to speak clearly and annunciate in order to hide the drawl and aggressive speech patterns she had inherited from working in a pub for so long. "Quite alright, maam'. So, what'll it be? Special?" The owner said, rubbing his hands together with a grin. Her spastic reaction didn't seem to bother him. This was good. "Well, truth be told i've never been here before, sir. Tell me... what do your regulars eat?" Pain said in her haughty voice. It was hard to keep it consistent. "Well, the Blood Stew is pretty populer round' here, thats why we're still open I'd say. You want to give it a try, maam'?" "Oh, well... (clears throat)... I suppose I will. It's good to know that you do indeed have regulars here. Repeat customers usually mean good service and fare." Pain squeaked out, trying to figure out what the petch blood stew was while keeping a faint smile on her face. "Not too many regulars, but we do have a few. I tell ya what..." The owner said, pressing both hands against the table top and leaning down. "You know what the worst thing about regular customers is? They start feelin' like you owe em'. I got this group of guys that come in here every single day. Twelfth bell, all three of em. They burst in here like they're my kids or somethin', ya know? Think they can get frisky with my girls, and order me around just cause they drink my ale and eat my food. I tell ya..." Was there a god watching over Pain? Or could you just always count on a restaurant owner to complain about his customers? Either way, Pain had struck an incredibly lucky conversation with this man up, and she knew exactly who he referred to. Every day. Twelfth bell. Good information. Pain smiled and made small talk, and even managed to choke down a bowl of that wretched stew. Sacrifices had to be made at times... but she had more ammunition than ever. She knew their names, their habits. She knew their financial situation and the picking order of Gaar's crew. She knew where they ate. She had them. Now... to set them up for the grand finale. Pain already had an idea of what to do.

[Elhaym]

38th Day of Spring, 510 AV The chime of the 10th Bell is heard throughout Syliras... Pain walked quickly, leaving her new partners in crime alone behind her. She had a wild idea, ridiculous even... but she had to think of something. You can't just walk up and begin beating someone in Syliras without drawing attention. Startled screams and cries for help will bring an armed Knight to the scene even if one is not within ear shot... the word travels quickly. Pain knew she needed a distraction. Something big. Something bright. Something loud. Something that would draw the attention of all who saw it and leave her to her own devices. And she had found a way. Children. The children of Syliras could be devious little creatures, growing up in a city filled with Knights and swords and armor, but no danger. They would be perfect... and with a few gold mizas in tow, she was sure they would come through. After all, what child didn't enjoy games? Even Pain had played her fair share as a child. She'd made them swear to keep their mouths shut if asked anything by the Knights, and reminded them that the Knights would do little to punish a child simply for being present at an accident. She warned them that if they told the Knights who put them up to their task, they wouldn't receive their Mizas... and to a group of three children, five Mizas apeice might as well have been a million. Their starry eyes were enough to convince Pain. It was a stupid idea. Stupid ideas were usually fantastic in success and abysmal in failure. Either way, Pain would complete her obligation to Gaar. What happened after that? That was up to the kids. Two hours. Pain was dressed in her old beggar get up, clad in a the same dirty brown cloak that consumed her body in it's filth. Underneath, a pair of loose black pants and a thick black shirt with long sleeves. Pain's fists and feet were wrapped in thick, heavy cloth that served as a brace for each extremity. In her pocket, the bandanna she wore before. She was ready to fight, ready to win. The bandanna would cover her face, and she had been practicing a gruff voice to use in the presence of any employees. The cloak would conceal her body type to an extent, and the bandanna would obscure her face. Hopefully, this would be enough when mixed with the inherent low light within Syliras. The only wild card she could think of were the employees inside the restaurant. There was no way to know how many would be inside, or if they too would be drawn by the children's ruse. Two bells. She could wait. She'd waited so many days already... this was it. --- The chime of the 12th Bell is heard throughout Syliras... They were inside. They had actually been early, which irritated Pain quite a bit... it seemed that her plan would fail before it even started. There was no way she could orchestrate something like this again. It would simply draw far too much attention. She hoped those damn kids hadn't just taken the money she'd given her and said screw the plan... the idea that she had relied on children now became obvious to her as a misguided and foolish idea. Her eyes scanned the corridor near Gaar's favorite restaurant, focusing on a large iron fire pit that stood on three legs a about a hundred feet from her. Next to it, several large crates were stacked and scattered about, and people bustled to and fro around them. Dim sunlight peeked into the room, but it could scarcely retaliate against the darkness that living inside a castle brought forth. If those damn kids would just come through... Woooooshhhh! The fire pit toppled, one of it's legs coming free and sending it careening towards the ground. The chopped wood, ash and embers burst across the dry crates, igniting them without hesitation. Of course, Pain couldn't actually see the leg come free from the fire pit. But she knew it had. They had come through after all. Pain's smile crept across her face as the fire began to rage, quickly consuming the boxes and their contents in a blaze. Cries began to erupt throughout the hall, but Pain was focused on one thing. The door to the restaurant. One figure... two figures, now three. Barmaids, rushing out to see the spectacle. Now a man, and another. Dez and Raoul, checking the commotion as well. Shyke. She hadn't even considered that. How the hell had she not even thought of the possibility that her targets wouldn't be interested!? Pain grit her teeth, clenching her fists tight and muttering a string of curses that might have offended Rhysol himself. But... Gaar never emerged. A few more people cleared from the building, in what looked like chef's attire. How many employees had their been? She couldn't remember anyone in the back, she'd never seen the kitchen. However... the crowd outside was growing, and the fire was illuminating the area with harsh orange light that flickered and spasmed across the stone surface of the city. It was time. Pain stood, and jogged toward's the restaurant's entrance. She took her first steps inside, eyes wild and searching. There he was. Gaar was there. Alone.

[Elhaym]

All this work. All the bumblings and screw ups. So many guesses and stupid plans, so much effort... and it had come to fruition. There the bastard sat with his back to her, eating at the bar. Several mugs were scattered around him, and he swayed as he tilted his head back and drained a bowl of something Pain recognized. Blood stew. The harsh orange light of the fire invaded the room and illuminated everything not cast in deep shadow, giving the room an eerie glow. The frantic shouts and screams from the crowd near the fire filled her ears. The shadows danced across the floor and walls, only adding to the chaotic feel. Chaotic. Pain's mind was focused only on the massive bear of a man that sat in front of her like a flaccid sack of grain. He was drunk. Even still, she didn't want to fight him. She wanted to break him. She needed the first blow to really count. Her hand came to rest upon the back of a chair sitting under a table next to the entrance. No time to think. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled free the bandanna and quickly tied it around her face just below her eyes. Just go. The sound of the chair smashing against the stone wall did little to stir Gaar. Between his intoxication and the noise outside, the only response was a dismissive wave of his hand without even turning around. Pain held a long section of the chair leg, a thick makeshift club with a sharp and splintered end. This would do it. Break him. Her anger urged her forward. What was normally a passenger in her mind had taken over now. Here was the son of a bitch who had beaten her near to death. Here was a thief and a con, a man who would lead traders to their deaths for profit. He deserved this. Show him who you are. Show him Pain. She did. Her forward steps were quick, and Pain reared back with the club. Her swing was vicious, an arcing strike that smashed into the side of his head and took him clean off the barstool he had sat upon. Blood, already. The stool clattered onto the stone floors, and Pain kicked it out of the way. Shouts from outside. Orange glow. Gaar on the ground, spasming and sputtering. He was already hurt bad. Not bad enough. She held the club high overhead, and brought it down onto his gut. The impact was sickening, crushing flesh and sending him surging upward from his laying position. Pain's mind was a flurry cast in shades of red. The words she heard as she lay helpless under the supervision of a physician echoed in her mind. Pain brought the club down hard again, impacting the side of his torso. Four broken ribs. Gaar's arms waved frantically, his mouth sputtering blood soeaked whispers pleading for help. The club swept through the air, impacting one of the flailing arms. Fractured Ulna on left forearm. And then she lost it. She began pounding him, over and over. His torso, his legs, everything. Swinging, thrusting. Making him pay. A pool of dark blood gleamed beneath his head as his eyes rolled in their sockets, his body feebly trying to protect itself but finding no comfort from the viciousness of Pain's assault. Severe concussion. Contusions of the muscles throughout the body. Internal bleeding probable. Pain's lungs screamed for air, and she realized she'd been holding her breath throughout the whole ordeal. A rush of air escaped her lungs, another sharply retrieved. Her breath was quick, her heart pounded... blood splatters littered her cloak and sweat dripped from her brow. Gaar was in ruin, whimpering on the floor like a child. Just like she had been. "Now you know. Now you know what you did to me, you sick son of a bitch." Pain growled, extending the club to his face and pushing up on his chin with it's splintered edge. "Look me in the eye motherpetcher. You got what you deserved." But Gaar was out of it, completely. All he said in reply were repeated whimpers for help as he blindly grasped around with his remaining good arm for something, anything to comfort him. Just like she had done. "Remember this, asshole?" Pain said, her voice gruff and cast in ice. She took a step over his limp body, and raised her right leg sharply. She brought it down hard, right on top of his right hand's knuckles. She put her heel into his fingers, and began to grind it in. Just like he had done to her. Broken index, middle, and ring finger on right hand. She stood there, observing his ruin. She was lost in the moment completely. It was a horrific thing, what she had done. Blood everywhere. Bone's crushed and a man's body collapsing in front of her. Then, something else. Something strong, and forceful around her neck. An arm, a man's arm. Digging into her throat, making her feel light headed as she was nearly pulled off her feet. She hadn't heard him come in, hadn't heard his screams in rage and disbelief. Too lost in the moment. From the corner of her eye, she saw a wicked face cast in shadow. Thick facial hair, glowing red. Raoul. The one who started all this. Was this how she would die?

[Elhaym]

She didn't have much time. The technical reasons eluded her, as she was no doctor or medical expert (when held firmly against the neck, a person's arm can cut off blood flow by compressing the carotid artery, thus rendering the victom unconscious). All she knew was that she would lose consciousness in a matter of seconds if she didn't escape Raoul's choke hold. Elhaym... both hands, raise them both to your attacker's arm and grab hold. Tuck your chin in, hard. Right into the crease of his elbow, okay? Shrug your shoulders at the same you do that. Alright, good, good. Perfect. Now sink down and lean forward. Okay, now you have to twist your body a bit, and move your leg back behind your attackers. Press it up against it hard. Alright, you've got them trapped. Now, you turn your whole body sideways... nice, right? You see? Now, you just push them across your leg, and they're on the ground. Alright, lets do it again... but for real this time. "Thank you, Erik..." Pain thought, sending a prayer to wherever her deceased brother may be as her vision slowly grew dim. Grab, pull. Blurs of movement. Chin tucked, trapped his foot... the sudden maneuver caught Raoul by surprise, even more so when he found himself being thrown onto one of the tables and feeling the wood collapse under his weight. Pain stumbled away, dizzy and disoriented. Her vision was hazy from the hold, and the erratic shadows and lights only served to further her confusion. She could hear Raoul getting up, and then... shhhhhnk! "Knife. Shyke." Pain thought, whirling her body around to face him. He was already upon her, slashing with a thick hunting knife. Pain hopped back, but it wasn't enough. The tip of the blade slid across her left shoulder. Burning pain radiated from her shoulder, and he was fast. Before Pain could even register the fact that she had been cut, he was slashing again. She stumbling backwards, he stumbling forwards slashing wildly. He caught her three times across the shoulder, the third one deeper than the others. Pain wasn't accustomed to this sort of fighting. She was used to fighting fairly, one on one. Fighting had always been a sport to her, something she was good at and occasionally used on someone to drunk or unskilled to put up a decent fight. Never like this. This was life or death. She had to get an advantage... "What the petch am I doing..." Pain said to herself, stumbling behind a table and pushing it directly into Raoul's path. "I'll tell you what you're doin' bitch... you're dyin'! You messed me up before, now it's my turn! I don't need Gaar to do my dirty work this time!" Raoul yelled, pushing the table aside and taking a step towards Pain with his knife brandished. His eyes took in something different, however. No longer was she scrambling for cover and running from him. No, there she stood... in a fighting stance. One foot forward, both hands up next to her chin and her back slightly curved. She looked like a snake, ready to strike. "Not what i'm talkin' about Raoul... I meant... what am I doin'... runnin' from you." Pain snapped, same tone as before. Her head had cleared, and she had gotten her bearings. She wasn't a helpless girl, she was a fighter dammit! A warrior. She could take this guy, whether or not she was one hundred percent. She could take him at eighty. Or fifty. Or thirty. It didn't matter, she just could. She had too. He lunged, trying to gut her with a forceful thrust to her midsection. Pain was ready, her body flowing to the side with a simple step backwards with one foot. Raoul couldn't adjust to the change in confidence in his opponent, and was bewildered as her hand took a death grip on his wrist. Twisting, retching the knife free. Then, an explosion. An explosion of pain as Raoul felt his elbow crack, and a foot plant itself on his torso and push him back. He cried out, falling hard and impacting the ground. His head whipped up and back down, cracking on the hard stone floors. Pain had dodged his strike, taken a hold of his wrist and twisted his arm in such a way that the bony edge of his elbow was pointing straight up. With a little more footwork she moved to his other side while keeping his arm locked in her grip, and drove her own elvow down open his own. Hers had all the force and momentum, his was locked in place. Pure physics; she won. Raoul was on the ground, groaning... Pain suddenly became aware of the amount of time that had passed. Shyke. She quickly looked around, the sweat stinging her eyes and soaking the bandanna that covered her face. Two men lay sprawled out before her, both in bad shape. Not her concern. What was her concern was the owner of the restaurant. There he stood, back up against the wall of the pub. Her eyes fell upon him and a look of terror came across his face. How much had he seen? Could he identify her? Her mind raced, but it didn't matter. Even if he could, she wasn't going to hurt than man who had sat and chatted with her for something he had nothing to do with and no control. Of course he had stayed inside... this was his business. "You didn't see shyke, understand? It's best for everyone." Pain growled, trying to reach deep into her throat and pull the words from there as if she were playing a thickly strung lute. He nodded, his eyes wide with fear. She remembered what he had said, and wondered if his animosity towards those men as such annoying customers would be enough to stop him from talking to the Knights. Probably not. Doesn't matter. Can't be controlled... no plan is perfect. Pain moved quickly, towards the hallway she had seen the waitress who was late to work come through only a day before. Narrow hallway, sheltered from the bright flames of outside. The crowds noise had died down. It was a good thing she was on the move. People would lose interest soon, and discover her own little addition to the incident. Ah, a door cut from the stone leading out. Pain stepped into the cool unmoving air of another corridor outside the restaurant. Before her was another path much like the one she had been pursued down by these men before. Pain's head snapped towards the door; shouting. That must be Dez, the skinny one. She wished she could tear into him too, but there was simply no time. She'd done what she'd set out to do, plus a little bit more. Now, escape. Pain felt a tinge in her shoulder. Her heartbeat slowed, and the adrenaline was starting to wear off. Oh, how odd the sensation is when suddenly remember you've been wounded. Sometimes, Pain wished she could sustain whatever function of her body was that could suppress agony so efficiently when she needed it to. As of now, it was gone. The dripping blood on the ground became obvious to her as a surefire way to be found. Nothing worse than leaving a literal trail of blood for someone to find. Pain discarded the dirty cloak she wore, and removed the old bandanna from her head. Quickly, she did her best to wrap it around her shoulder, but relented to simply holding it firmly in place as she moved. There was a reason she had worn black. You can't see blood on black, unless someone catches the gleam. As Pain walked, she held the cloth in place while reaching with her other hand and gripping her uninjured shoulder. She shuddered as she walked, acting as if she were simply cold and clutching herself for warmth. There was no one to see her act in the dark alley, but she needed to stay in the mindset. No careless mistakes. She had to get back to her room, and wait. Her shoulder needed treatment, but she assumed she could handle that well enough on her own. If not, she could go by the Soothing Waters and have them take a look in a few days. Hopefully, the woman who had supplied Gaar's name wouldn't remember her if she saw her. Then again, why would she? She was simply a good natured citizen. A good natured citizen who just assaulted two men and beat them near to death after orchestrating a fire that could have potentially caused a lot of damage. She needed to get out of this city. For a while. As Pain slammed the door to her room shut and turned the key, she was sure. She would have to leave Syliras for a while. She remembered the older mercenary speaking of a couple of "real" mercs working in the city. She had toyed with the idea of hooking up with one of the traveling trade caravans as a guard. The trip (to wherever it may be) and back would let enough time lapse that the incident would most likely be but a distant memory to any who cared in Syliras, and Gaar and his friends would likely be gone by then. So, that's what she would have to do... she didn't have any credentials to pass herself off as a mercenary other than her scarred fists and hardened muscle. Perhaps she could find one of those legitimate bodyguards and tag along. Who knows, she may even make a miza or two for her troubles.

[Templar]

Pain: Disguise: 4 – Climbing: 2 – Intelligence: 3 – Tactics: 1 – [Weapon] Club: 2 – Unarmed Combat: 2 – Acting: 2 Lore: Luck, important part of Intelligence gathering. – Technique: Escaping a Choke Hold. – Getting Revenge. Additional notes: I hope you don't mind I snatched this from Nisaba's office and I hope you're satisfied with the xp I awarded. If not, feel free to PM me. Btw, good thread!