Completed [Castle Commons] In the hood

[Fallon]

37-Winter-513 AV

Fallon had been staring for a while now. Pressed up in the shadow of a store, the woman watched with her eyes narrowed a definite chew upon her lip. They moved with such little presence, so silent and unknown at first even to her sharp sight. Which is why it came no doubt as a slight surprise when she watched the silent hooded figures balance themselves precariously upon the rooftops. At first she gave a staggering step, her brow cocked in question at the strangely uniformed gait they had as they simply hovered. There was no reaching out to intervene, no attempt at getting in the way as they hovered in the dark alleys, watching and waiting.

The once squire would have liked them to a predator. Silent in their stalking through the snow and ice, the eyes that would peer out from the shadow of their hoods and the odd dress that marked them apart from the crowd. Their quantity growing much like their presence, but still they were there to lay witness to the street below and the people that milled about in it. And so, Fallon was brought to her current point of leaning. Curiosity and questions once more had gotten the better of her, the urge to understand and reveal who these ghostly beings were pushing her to simply stop and observe.

Arms folded, the warm felt of her cape pulled around her shoulders. Steel hung on her waist as always, no doubt chilled in the winter air and the snap of frost. Her hood however was pulled up around her face, features dipping into the darkness but still capable at peering out from beneath. Her target however was across the flow of bodies, the gentle march of the cold and stiffened, with the cry of the occasional merchant breaking out from the grunts and groans. The people were not interested, nor did they care. It was winter and the weather was miserable; so they would simply mimic it in expression.

Orvin gave a snort from his position next to her, his nose pressing into the cold ground before he released a whine. There was a twitch of the hand, the arms briefly unfurling as she continued her stare. There was a parting of arms, the gloved tips reaching down and scratching him on the head gently, "Hush Orvin."

Fingers rubbed behind his ears and then finally withdrew, but her eyes did not lift from her sighted target. The hovering watcher in the alley started to shift, a gentle turn on his heel as he once more began his patrolling. It was time to move and to stalk. Pressing off from her position she took a step forward, hand reaching before her and gently brushing the flow of people to the side as she pursued. It was time to try and find some things out.

[Noven]

Noven did not mind the cold. Granted, he didn't mind much of anything these days, besides the occasional headache, but Winter was just another circumstance, another nuisance stacked atop an already towering list of shyke to be dealt with. A puff of white billowed forth as he heaved a sigh, watching the city through the momentary fog before it peeked through again in all of its inescapable, putrid glory.

The slums of Sunberth were more wretched than ever. With the arrival of Winter, city folk were dropping like flies every day. Old, young, male, female--all died under the same indiscriminate, frigid condemnation. After the first snowfall only two days ago, a flurry of effort arose to rebuild and provide more shelter. But Nov knew, just as well as anyone, that people were going to keep dying anyway. He'd lost count of all the stiff bodies he'd walked by from one place to the next, not caring to check whether any of them were actually dead or just really, really close to being dead. So many ragged, faceless shapes remained either propped up against a wall or slumped to the side, lined up like a row of worn out, abandoned dolls. If it hadn't been for the orphanage at Sunset, there would be far more little bodies mingled with the larger ones.

Something about the dismal atmosphere must have sunk in more than Nov cared to admit because, for the first time in a long time, he had no desire to knock out some low life's teeth in the arena. In fact, he seemed to have no real desires whatsoever at the moment, which was strange. At the very least, he ought to have wanted to eat something. Or drink. Or visit one of Brega's sweet girls. Or do all three, at the same time, with an extra helping of the eating. It was oddly soothing, he'd found, to be fed by a beautiful woman.

But no, nothing seemed to lure him out of this strange mood. Noven scratched at the faint stubble on his chin, thinking, thinking, thinking. Krysus, maybe it was all this thinking that was getting the best of him. His thoughts were churned into incomprehensible slush, much like grimy mixture of once-fresh snow turned gods knew what that his feet were now leaving sodden dimples in.

It was best not to think at all on days like this, he'd decided long ago. Lest he risk running backwards, colliding into painful pieces of his past. Remembering things...failures...people...

...Nona.

Noven stopped dead in his tracks. His heart had suddenly erupted into a whirlwind of torment, sorrow, anger, and the pure, unadulterated need to hurt. To maim. It was impossible to track of his emotions as they blurred into one giant mass of blackness. Blackness that seeped into his heart, his lungs, his hand...

The man felt his left hand pulsate, knowing the crimson veins were burning brighter now beneath the cover of his glove. Nov made a fist, clenching and unclenching, willing the darkness to dissipate. Eyes closed and teeth grinding, he took slow, deep breaths as he let his arms hang loose at his sides. When at last he felt had himself under control once more, he tipped his head back to stare at the gloomy, overcast sky, letting the cold air wash over his skin and flow into his lungs, chilling the terrible fury that his worst memories always carried.

It was then that Noven found his vision jarred by something blatantly out of place. A hooded figure, perched atop one of the more stable roofs, the back of its head shifting as though it was scanning the area, looking for something.

A moment more of searching, and then it began to move, carefully making its way across the icy roof.

Nov followed the suspicious figure with his caustic gaze, a new set of questions flooding his mind, leaving the old ones to sink back into their murky, unknown depths. Who on earth could the hooded figure be, and what purpose did this bizarre activity serve? He'd seen quite a few of these cloaked figures, now that he thought about it, but this was the first crazy enough to be gallivanting around on snow-covered roofs.

Were they working for a certain group? Or a certain person? Did this have something to do with the mysterious fellow named "Hound" and Rokan's unexpected death?

The general's death had brought on a mixed sack of feelings for Nov. On one hand, the more Daggerhands dead, the better. On the other, it irked him to no end that Rokan could have been the target of his well nursed vendetta. Fortunately, it only took a fatal beating of some thug or other to figure out Rokan had nothing to do with his caretaker's murder five years ago.

"Well, only one way to find out," Nov muttered to himself, then set out to follow the hooded figure at ground level, his gaze glued to its progress with unshakable determination.

[Fallon]

Steps quickened, a gentle slide and press as she weaved through the crowd. Hands pressed, a mighty stride between the filth of the city as she locked upon her target. Her shoulders pushed past, the hot white breath clawing at the air as she continued her pursuit on through the thickening tide of bodies. There was a squirm, eyes glaring out from beneath the hood a firm press as she wiggled on free. Occasionally the shout of displeasure emerged from a local as she snagged a foot upon a toe - but there was no time for words of forgiveness or quick apologies. She was on a mission - a personal one, but still a mission never the less.

Orvin was hot on her heels, weaving and squirming his own way through whilst his master continued her lead. Her target continued his dipping, a steady pace out. For a moment her mind turned and buzzed, a gentle hum of thought and words reaching her. Who were they? What were they? Her eyes gave a narrow as she directed herself against the flow, her form finally wriggling free to the mouth of the alley. So many ideas, so many theories and thoughts - it got her blood pumping, her hunger for wanting to know more building up into that all too familiar craving. Lips were wetted, a gentle hover there in the snow the gaze turning sharp and excited.

Eyes averted down to the prints left, and then up to the swaying of shoulders as the cloaked continued their pace away and their silent patrol. There was a second puff, her eyes narrowing down to the form and scanning the movement. It would be safe to say Fallon was far from confident in the knowledge of the gangs an groups of this cesspit of a city, but it did not mean that she was ignorant of them - they were very much alive and breathing, solid elements that made up this ramshackle. The mercenary took a step forward, her finger and thumb pulling her hood further forward. Her right however tapped the hilt of the kukri from beneath the folds of her cape - just in case of course.

Fallon took a careful step forward, gentle with her footing working mainly on remaining quiet and silent - to make her presence known so early on would spell potential mishap in her stalking. Feet worked on remaining light on the ground, a gentle and careful step around. The wolf however held back, his head cocked out and looking out into the street with a baleful watch. Fingers gave a twitch, fighting back the biting cold of the air as she closed in her approach, ideas and plans quietly ticking over.

She could rush them, throw her weight into a full swing right here and now, to scream her demands on who they were. She could leave them be, throw aside the idea that this little pocket of people were nothing to worry about - and then have the knowledge that they were a potential threat to her and her brother. Or she could follow them, track them carefully from a safe distance and if the opportunity arose to listen in to things she would take it. Fallon released a hiss, her mind steeling to the thought - so that is what she would do, follow, watch and understand. Perhaps her own flesh and blood would dismiss her for such a 'boring' nature, but it allowed the opening of things. Let him keep his more forceful ways and his right to brag, she would stick to her own methods. Inclining her head to Orvin she gave a mutter, "Come on."

But then she promptly paused and froze, a flicker rising up as a second came into view. For a moment she was still, eyes staring and widening, before they pinched together to bring him into focus. There was a quick scan, checking as she weighed him up, least before she muttered a curse under her breath, "Petching locals..."

[Noven]

At the start of the chase, Noven struggled to push through the hard bitten crowd. People were either rushing or milling about in every direction and it took every ounce of patience and restraint not to just start shoving helpless citizens out of his way. Mostly because it wouldn't do to create a scene and alert the rooftop stalker's attentions, and partly because he couldn't exactly blame people for being...well, people.

It was still a little difficult, even after all these years, to keep walking by the broken, the abandoned, and the destitute. Nov tried not to dwell on it, plowing past them without so much as a glance. He did what he could at the orphanage; there was nothing to be done for those doomed out on the icy streets.

At some point, the hooded figure he had been following jumped down onto a lower building and disappeared. Nov cursed under his breath and doubled his efforts to squeeze past the dense throng of people, his eyes straining over dusty heads to see where his target had gone.

He must have looked sorely obvious, but there was no time to worry over such trivialities. He was losing sight of his prey.

A moment later, the familiar view of a hood and cloak bobbed back into view as the figure scaled a taller building. Nov set off towards it, more determined than ever and zooming past alleyways, twists, and turns. The crowd began to thin, eventually. It continued dwindling as Nov pelted after the mysterious figure, completely oblivious to his surroundings.

Then he hit a wall. Literally, face first. He'd been looking to his right, tracking down the hooded figure's movement over the snowy roofs, when his entire left half collided with a solid barricade.

Nov stumbled back, numb with pained surprised. He rubbed at his cheek and sighed. His target was gone for good now. There was no way he'd catch up, not having lost his line of sight. Looking up and around to take stock of his surroundings, the Sunberthian native was in the midst of wondering how far Sunset was from here when the unsettling, prickling sensation of being watched seeped into his consciousness.

Noven turned one way, the other. Then he caught sight of the source of his unease: a woman--or girl? He couldn't tell at this distance--of average height and slim build, glaring at him. A light colored wolf sat near her feet, its expression mirroring the human's.

His guard immediately rose against this odd pair. Nov turned to fully face them with the assumption that, if a girl and a wolf were glowering at him in the middle of the street, he'd have more than a few loose screws in his head not to be absolutely alarmed. There were only a few people about, enough that the street wasn't completely deserted but not nearly enough to form a crowd. Which meant that while the relative emptiness did allow him clear sight of the potential threat, it also meant he had smaller chances of losing them, should things turn afoul. He was no climber, so traipsing across the roofs like the hooded folk was out of the question.

And, this was just a guess, but he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to outrun a wolf.

So, Nov took the only course left to him. He walked up to the girl and her wolf, slowly, but resolutely. Then he crossed his arms, glared back at her, and growled, "If you got a problem, you'd best spill it."

[Fallon]

And thus her and the local came toe to toe. Eyes gave a burn, her hand slapping against the sheath of the kukri as the approach was made. Defences were already being raised between them, if not in looks then in the firm gestures between them. Orvin released a growl, his fur bushing out at the stranger, her own form creasing. Almost as if waiting for the key moment to spring into action. Lips pursed into a line, a dart away from his to the one she was tracking and then quickly back again. She needed to deal with him quickly and preferably before her own target made way down one of Sunberth's twists and turns.

There was a wince at the rough, growling tone he produced. What was his game? Was he trying to act intimidating? Air whistled out, the look hardening as she viewed him from beneath her brow. She really did not have time for this. Not when they were getting away. There was a rock onto her toes, her lip twitching in agitation, "Move. Now." She gave a pause, a low grunt escaping, "Please." Fallon stared up at him, chin lifting in challenge a look of defiance upon her face. Or at least until she gave a peek past his shoulder. A flicker of alarm rested there, her jaw tightening in annoyance as the target dipped into an alleyway.

It was with a firm shove that Fallon leapt into action. Left shoulder barged forward a quick step as she made her way past him. Orvin followed quickly behind, though at a gentler trot in the speed she was going. Feet picked up, the slurry of snow snagging and clawing at her feet as she hurried on her way. Toes slipped on the ice, her form skidding round as she closed in to where her target had dipped down. Her breathing quickened, limbs rebelling against the frigid cold of the winter air as she gave a slip. Hands scrambled, her eyes focusing only on ahead and her hunt.

Fallon gave a twist, the distance down the street closing as she stumbled at the mouth of it. Hand slamming against the wall, she gave a glare down it and promptly cursed. Gone. Her target was gone. She gave a heave, a slump as she gathered her bearings and looked back at him. Frustrated, angry, a twitch had begun to form as she seethed. She gave the wall a thump, dispersing her bubbling rage as she looked upon the prints.

"Lost. Bugger and blood," Her spits and hisses however did not cease, turning quickly over into a steady repeat of mumbles, "Need to find. Need to follow. Need to watch, learn, listen, know..." and so on.

[Noven]

Noven's eyes flickered down to where the girl had slapped her hand against the sheath of her weapon. He would be a shameless liar if he said the wolf's growls beside her did not make him quail a little in his boots, but he kept an apathetic front as best he could.

Then, of all things, she asked him to move. As though he were a mere obstacle that had gotten in her way, inconvenienced her with his presence. Nov ground his teeth a little, but before he could properly react the girl darted past him, her wolf following close on her heels. He turned to watch her dash down the slipper streets like a madwoman, almost losing her balance entirely at some point before she scrambled back up and continued her phantom pursuit.

Then she abruptly stopped, her hand slamming against a wall in frustration. Her target, which Nov could only assume was one of those hooded folk, given the way she'd been watching the rooftops, was gone.

Perhaps they'd been chasing the same one. Perhaps not. Either way, they'd both failed. Only, the girl was taking it rather hard. She was spitting and cursing now, mumbling something about needing to find and watch and know and whatnot.

Now, it really wasn't his business if she had a few loose marbles in her head. There were enough of those as it was in Sunberth. But she had glared at him again, this time even more wrathfully than the last, which kind of irked him. And, the fact that she'd been after the same target...

Well, he had questions, and no one to answer them. Perhaps this girl knew something he didn't?

"Oy," Nov called out as he slowly approached. He still kept his distance though, mostly because of that prickly wolf of hers. "No point in getting upset over it, eh? Those people in hoods seem to be showing up more and more these days anyhow. I'm sure you'll catch another popping up sooner or later."

He watched her uneasily, unsure if she was going to respond at all. Then he added, "The name's Nov, by the way. I was following one of them, too, but only because I know nothing about 'em. Downright strange, they are."

He gave her a level look. "You?"

[Fallon]

Fallon gave a long hard stare after the foot prints. Her other hand pressed into her forehead, almost as if supporting her taxing moment of thought. Lips formed into a line, the cogs of her mind stalling as she forced in focus. There was a chew, her hand reaching down to scratch Orvin around the head. The wolf gave a snort, brushing and pushing himself up next to her, or at least until she gave him a gentle push away, "Down Orvin." She brought the same hand before the canine's eyes, waving the fingers there before finally pointing to the approaching man. With the head turning the wolf began his growling once more, "Watch. Good. Stay..."

Eyes swivelled round as he made his approach, features turning pinched as once more she looked him up and down. For a moment lips parted, that long plume of hot air escaping her mouth. Her head gave an incline, watching carefully as she buried her frustrations beneath the cold wall of business. Or at least the best she could. Pulling away from the wall she rolled back her shoulders, her chin tilting upwards to meet his eye. Her hand however went behind her once more, resting ready on the hilt of the Kukri - just in case of course.

"Oi yourself," she cocked a brow, her eyes flickering between him and Orvin. There was a pause, "Got it right on the showing up. Guess you spied them too eh?" It was a standoff in one sense, a gentle teasing and weighing up before questions would truly be answered. See how much the other was willing to share before spewing her own, "Yeah. Something seems funny about them. Don't like it one bit." She gave a push off, her head rising and tilting upwards to the rooftops - keeping watch on the off chance another one of the hooded lot would appear. There was a twitch, eyes turning to Nov properly in regard.

"Me? No one special. But you can call me..." there was a pivot round, feet catching on the snow and the gentle crunch filling her silence. She was weighing up if she had seen something or not, and still so when she returned to answering him, testing the word upon her tongue as she spoke it, "Bitzer." She gave a nonchalant shrug, her off hand falling into her pocket. It sounded alright, much better than her impromptu previous names, but they did not matter right now. There was other, much more important things to deal with.

"Don't like this one bit. Who's pets you think they are?"

[Noven]

Bitzer. What kind of girl's name is that? was Noven's first thought. He quickly dismissed it, however, in favor of the stranger's admittance to her dislike of the appearance of the hooded figures, as well as her assumption that they were someone's pets.

Perhaps it was because Nov had lived in Sunberth for as long as he could remember, but his immediate guesses had been somewhat different. And, seeing no reason to lie or beat around the bush, he said as much to Bitzer.

"Pets? maybe," he shrugged beneath his raggedy coat. "I was thinking something more along the lines of a new power in play. Scoping things out, making themselves known but not an outright threat. Playing it slow, playing it smart."

He paused for a moment, then added, "I just get the feeling they're more than just pets. No crew or gang runs for very long with weak members. If they're keeping themselves hidden in plain sight, there must be a reason. The weak just hide; they don't have the time or skills to throw a show on rooftops slick with snow."

Now he just felt like he was babbling. But he hadn't lied, and he was tossing out these postulations in hopes the girl had something to throw back. If not, nothing gained, nothing lost.

Nov crossed his arms again, not quite glaring at Bitzer anymore but not exactly on friendly terms either. "So, why pets? Think they have something to do with this "Hound" that has the town a-buzzin'?"

[Fallon]

He sounded sceptical, or at least that was Fallon's thought. Perhaps it was the wrong word to use, then again if they were working in a group, that suggested that there was someone at the top giving out orders - much like an owner and an animal. Her lip gave a curl and then she gave a gentle turn up to the roof, her brow creasing as she watched. Orvin however remained firm next to her. There was only a twitch to his speaking, the gentle musing of thoughts out loud.

"Another gang? Bah, certainly breed them here," there was a rub at the jaw as she turned round, eyes scanning the sky line for the blip of a figure to mar it, "Looks that way though. Or maybe they're an current one, standing and lurking about. Either way, it's a warning if I've ever seen one." She paused herself, lips cracked by the chill being wetted, "We're here and watching. We see you. We can stop you. Least that's what it speaks to me."

It was his question however that made her snatch her gaze away to him. Eyes narrowed for a moment, and pulling her way over she paced a distance to stand just out of arms reach. There was a flick of the hand in gesture as if almost catching the thought out the air.

"Hound?" she gave a snort and shook her head, "That's definitely a name spreading like wild fire." Of course, she knew - but she was not exactly about to spill, "No. I don't think this is related to whoever this Hound is. Far as I care it's just a rumoured name and the dead had an unlucky night. But this," she gave a point around, "Too organised. How long the name been about? Not long enough to organise something like this. Nah, got to be another. Maybe one of the big names."

She cleared her throats, "Big names have pets. People trained and organised to serve and be loyal. Bit like the looks on what they're doing," Nostrils gave a flare, "Question is, who's big enough to tame a lot of metaphorical animals?"

[Noven]

A warning. That was an interesting--and apt--way to put it. He wondered, for a tick, if these hooded enigmas were out there somewhere right now, laughing at how they had led two curious fools on such a merry chase.

Nov didn't like it. It left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. And it made his knuckles itch.

At his mention of the Hound, the girl reacted with a snort and shake. She was surprisingly dismissive about something that had rocked the city folk to their very cores, filling their hearts with shock, fear, and curiosity that fair thrummed in the air. Perhaps she was far more competent than she looked, what with her average height and pale, delicate features. She was armed, he could see even from a distance, and with more than just a pet wolf.

Or, perhaps she was just petching crazy. One could never be too sure in this city, especially with outsiders.

Noven rubbed absently at the budding stubble on his chin, mulling over Bitzer's confident words. Big names indeed...having heard her breakdown of the possibilities, he grudgingly set aside his typical Sunberthian mindset to opt for a more realistic one. No one here liked being thought of as anyone's pet, not even pets themselves. Dogs here were mean, cats meaner, and humans more vicious and spiteful than all the mean dogs and meaner cats put together. No one liked being told who's boss.

But, human nature prevails regardless of ideals. And, because of this immutable fact, there will always be goons. Even if said goons are remarkably competent and sure footed.

His stream of thoughts ended abruptly as a dull throbbing snuck its way into his awareness. Stars and stones, it was back already. The muscles in his jaw tensed as he clenched his teeth, trying his best not to give his pain away. Must've been all this thinking that had gotten it started early. When was the last time he'd vexed someone? Twenty bells ago? Maybe more?

Pointless, he cursed to himself, it's here now, and I'll have to deal with it sooner or later. Nov forced himself to relax. The migraine was still at a tolerable stage, and there were more important matters at hand that required his attention.

Important matters, like a curious slip of a girl with confidence enough for ten, burly men, and her less than cuddly wolf friend.

Well, this day just keeps getting better.

"I see your point," Nov admitted, "and I'd be mighty relieved that this has nothing to do with the Hound. If he or she is as competent as I've come to think they are, I sure as shyke hope they aren't the type to waste time having people run around on slippery roofs."

He squinted up at the spot he had last seen his hooded target, then shook his head at its continued emptiness. "Real or not, this dead Daggerhand business...I like it. And I hope it stays, grows fat and prospers. If I were this Hound, I would drown those filthy rats in a sea of Daggerhand blood. Then I'd let them rot in a stinking pool of humiliation, pain, and their own, steaming piss. It's the least those bleeding shyke stains deserve..."

Nov's voice trailed off. He blinked, his breaths rolling out hard and hot, puffs of white clouding the frigid air before him as his brows furrowed to a downward "V". Krysus, he'd done it again. Gotten lost in his own inferno of hate. Seng was rubbing off on him worse than he thought.

"Or...you know, something like that," he mutttered, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets.