41st Winter 513 AV
In honest Fallon had been thinking about the idea for a last few days, a dwelling thought in the back of her mind that she felt was high time to use and exploit. It begun at the docks, her watchful gaze catching the morning rays of winter the casting ripples across the water's surface. There was the rough hum of lungs, the low mournful song of sailors on the air as she watched from her point. In anything she looked like little more than an observer, or a half frozen fiend who had no shelter to protect her - no doubt due to her pinched features in the cold. Still, Fallon could not exactly complain about today's task. It drew her away from the usual work of a mercenary - hitting, punching, kicking and slashing - and drew her into a more refined area that she found much more interesting. She knew the drill, the words and the aim. She knew her job, her intention and her purpose. Whilst it was away from that of physical combat, it became one of wits and words instead. A careful study and analysis before she gave the simple tap of sending a whoever in the right direction.
Pinching her brow the mercenary drew in a deep breath, the mumbled words repeating in her head, "Bitzer, hat, check, search." There was the looking upon the world from beneath her palm, her eyes barely focusing on the passersby. Her lids pricked, drifting between the faces. She watched the walk, she watched the way that they moved. Some with purpose, some with a nervous energy and the few others with that as if weighing up against another. And then there was those who stalked, the hunters and seekers, the chasers of rumours within the city. They hunted a dog, or a Hound to be more accurate, be it for curiosity, for joining or for more bloody reasons. There was only a shudder to the thought of finding his dead corpse because someone finally decided it was time. Discarding it Fallon looked down to her other hand, the worn leather glove covering it. Within it the crumpled flier rested in her hand, those words of promise and challenge upon it. Not that a lot had come to fruit from it, least not under her watch.
Even she knew that the ball needed to be pushed, the metaphorical sparks pushed into igniting. A plan was needed, a scheme to drag in the masses. They had their name, their dream and goal, but it was showing their seriousness of it all. There was a pinch, her head turning as she watched the men of the docks upon their boats go out to harass the approaching vessel. It was one of two things, empty or full of slaves - that form of trade became quickly apparent to her. There was only the scoffing words of Sailors as they walked on past with their rigging.
"Looks like the bastards are at it again," one of them gave a point as the smaller vessels pulled up against the large. Even Fallon's eyes were forced into lifting and following, the steady look up to the sloop. She heard the other one speak up, "What, that Daggerhand lot and they're little inspections?"
"Yeah, greedy bastards the lot of them," she heard their voices grow distant, and so quickly pushed herself after them. She gave a dip of the shoulders as she followed, words pricking against her ears, "Still. Their word, they control what comes in an out. Don't want no business then they make it known."
"All from that piss of a rock," there was a snort. Her eyes turned out to the worn distant stone of the keep within the Bay. There was a shout from lower down this time, the high pitched whistle slicing through the air and calling cry of some in coming vessel. With the sailors escaping her and her attention snatched, to others. Her gait paused she turned to the sound, eyes focusing as men brought down the gangplank. There was a flicker, the looking down on the captain and another as terms were discussed, the talks of deals and coin. Her brow pinched together as she rocked upon the boardwalk.
"Aye, 'bout right," the other spoke, checking and looking about the deck, "Yeh gunna bring those chainer's up?"
"Keep 'em where? Shuffle them out tomorrow. Keeping 'em here and guarded. Won't hurt 'em to be stuck here for a while. Don't want to damage stock," There was a wave off, discarding them. Hands rested in her pockets, the moment of distraction growing. Cogs in her mind turned, a thought flowing and filtering through.
And then it came. A roar of waves and thunder in her mind, an epiphany in the truest sense. An idea.
Fallon had never run so fast before. The pump of adrenal the thoughts turning and moulding into a plan. The docks, a hold the daggerhands grasped upon, their point of control within the city. They paid and took coin, they filtered the traffic that came and went. To remove that filter on the traffic, to sabotage their control. Fallon took a skid around the corner, snow picking up. She needed to find Wrenmae and fast. The words were almost upon her tongue, her eyes ablaze with a wild fire, her chest huffing as she ran. She tripped into the commons, her eyes falling upon the face and figure her brother had chosen to take today. There was no time to waste, no time to halt herself. Hand outstretched as she passed she roughly grabbed him - her fast pace continuing - and promptly dragged him into the nearest alley and its darkness. It was only there between deep, laboured gulps of air that she managed to speak to him;
"I have an idea!"
