Closed Watch me soar [Zandelia and Fallon]

[Markus Andres]

64-Summer-514

Sergeant Knight Markus Andres was without his usual wing of soldiers as he ventured down the rapidly darkening street as Syna descended and Leth rose. Upon the back he carried the shield that had seen him through enough trouble to merit its retirement and placed upon a wall in honour, on his left hip he carried a pair of blades, one an isur crafted bastard sword manufactured in the fires in Syliras and blessed with the mark of Izurdin. The other blade a dagger, a gift from Fallon Skylar from the days the two had dated. Under the cloak he wore the steel breastplate he had borrowed from the knights, solid steel with mail underneath to give him that extra bit of vital protection.

The emerald eyes poked from side to side under the cowl that hid his most prominent facial features. The clean shaven jaw could be seen in the dim light as he walked past lit up windows. Markus had been wary when he had first entered the city. There had been much unrest and anger boiling under the surface, waiting to eruprt in open warfare. That had finally come now. Gangs went to war against other gangs on the streets and Markus had suddenly had more to see to when it came to keeping both him and S'Essy safe from all the troubles that plagued the city. He knew a Konti was a much sought after slave to have, especially if said slave could heal your injuries.

With open warfare in the streets Markus had to be all the more wary of strangers out and about at this bell. War made people desperate and Markus hated desperate people, they did things that was out of the ordinary. Made them far more unpredictable. He turned a corner and realized he had magically steered himself through the streets of Sunberth to the location they had agreed as their meeting spot. Near the warehouse district and close enough to the harbour that Markus could walk for another chime and he would be by the water. There were crates stacked against a wall to a warehouse. Some of them had been cracked open Markus realized as he got closer. Curiosity had him peek inside, but he saw nothing in the darkness. Might have been something, he couldn't judge it however. With a small sigh of relief that he had made it this far without an ambush being set by his mysterious ally Web and her extensive network of informants. Undoubtedly she was somewhere around or had someone keeping him under observation.

Their target was not far from here. A warehouse they occasionally used to store their goods before reselling them. Slaves of course. If they could hit those and hit some who might know more, then Markus could free his family. If not, he could at least satisfy the itch that had been bothering him for far too long. He would just have to be patient for another bell perhaps and he would get some measure of revenge. The knight leant against the wall and found a comfortable position and began the weight for his ally. Eyes at the ready and right arm resting on the hilt of his sword under the cloak pulled around him.

[Fallon]

It was the black cloak that had moulded itself around her frame and hung off her shoulders - broadened out by the leather armour beneath. Her gaze was dipped behind the shadow of her hood, the pale chin barely peeking out from beneath its folds. Other than that not a piece of skin was revealed, carefully wrapped up behind layers of fabric and leather - whilst warm in the day it provided the much needed protection to survive in this city. Around her the metal clinked, the telltale sign that she was armed, but where the weapons existed beneath the black veiling cloak was a mystery. It made people wary, the silent drifting of the figure between the alleyways, silent and forever moving towards the rallying point. Zandelia after all had beckoned her to assist, and in return Fallon was more than happy to assist.

Though in honesty, she was still uncertain on what exactly she was getting into. Information was left scarce, but no doubt there was for its own reason as to why that was the case. Perhaps the woman had not gathered enough, or perhaps she just required Fallon to serve as extra muscle, a mercenary - nothing more or less. Part of her shrugged at that, but the other half nagged at her to find the answer for her own safety; the more she knew, the more she could perform to her fullest capabilities.

Her neck gave a click, the subtle flicker of words swelling up and registering within her mind. Lips were licked, her eyes flickering as she mentally prepared herself. The employee was actually a client belonging to Zandelia, that much was made apparent, and they were to meet at the docks during the hours of darkness - how very cloak and dagger. It remind her of the tales of her youth and the intrigue of stories placed within impressionable minds. Of course, she was not completely sure the employee actually knew of this additional - and that in return left her wondering. Possibilities, skills, weapons or perhaps a more intelligent mindset. Or something else completely.

Ears twitched as she heard the faint moans of the dying, barely a glance around within the darkness - she could hardly see them, and in honesty she was not completely sure what she could do outside of putting them out of their misery sooner. The tongue clicked, the hand patting on the kurki hilt across the base of her spine, and then round to the two tulwar hilts - they were all there where she needed them. A quick draw and a hack would all that would be needed in the near darkness. Her back straightened when she finally emerged onto the docks however, the darkness of the alleyways was chased away by the evening light.

Gaze snatched, a pivot round as she thought about her movement and steps. The slight swagger, the lacking of the rolling, but still light and rocking upon her toes. She thought upon the tones of her working voice, the rougher and harsher accent that lacked the warmth found within her natural. Eyes flickered to the shape that was already there and waiting, a silent moment of regard as she stood and paused a small distance away. Nostrils flared, judging the jaw and the shape from the outline she could see, before returning her attention to her surroundings. Her throat tightened, cleared, refreshed itself and solidified into the desired accent, the cold concept of who she was settling in deep within her mind. Tonight she was Bitzer, Leader of the Scars and Sunberth's Red Wolf; and she had a job to tend to.

[Zandelia]

She waited in the darkness, not far from the meeting point but far enough that her presence would not be noted until she stepped out into the wider world. For now she was occupying a nearby series if warrens where, if all had gone as planned, she was about to be delivered the key to the evening’s festivities. She still felt dirtied by what she had had to do to get to where she was, nothing carnal and sordid but posing as a slave had kindled up repugnant flickering of her past and such things had got underneath her skin where they had festered and echoed within in revulsion. She had been there voluntarily, a means to an end and not a true slave. Yet it did not change the fact that she had been given a taste of what had once been, rising her bile in bitterness. Fingers clenched around the handles of her weapons, silent and still other than that her cloak wrapped her in the shadows of stillness.

Yes, stillness. Calm before the storm. Whatever paltry poetic phrases people like to use. The truth is rather more filthy I’m afraid. The big fish eat the little, the waters run red with blood and I…I keep swimming. How many have died where I have lived? Do I deserve it? Perhaps after tonight… she wondered to herself as her emerald orb glistened in the scant light of Leth from beneath her raised hood.

“Are you here?” came the terse whisper, loud with the echoing of weaponry in the distance that told all there was yet another battle raging close by.

“Depends on who is asking” she spoke back, she was attempting to copy the steel that Fallon used in her tone of voice as Bitzer. She could not always be charming after all - she hadn’t the time for it recently.

“Web?”

“Do I need to tie you up to let you know who I am?” she asked, neither confirming or denying the query.

“Oh petch this, stop being bloody dramatic. I know you like it but I’ve got places to be and I don’t fancy getting killed for you”

“Easy Dallar, easy. It is me. Did you get what was asked of you?”

“It wasn’t easy dam it all to-”

“Did you get it?”

“Yes! You were right okay, you’re always petching right!”

“Priviledge of knowing everything. Did you enjoy the roast pig earlier?”

“How in the Hai did yo…no…that’s not important. That warehouse is a damned staging house for the transporting of stock. Slavers” there was a spitting in the darkness.

“And?”

“Simonsen and his vagik scum followers use it. Had a cargo that included the descriptions of what you gave me. Was a while back though. Cargo isn’t there. People who operate the place though…they are. You will find they know much”

“Good Dallar, you have done well”

“And my end?”

“Of course, how remiss of me. Gold, nice and shiny. Fifty as agreed. And…one favor. Called in at any time, for any thing”

“Anything?”

“You know my code. Don’t make me repeat it and regret the offer to you. It is a precious thing my favor. Enjoy it and think upon it well. Go” she stated as she smiled darkly into the night.

She waited then, waited a good long while to make sure he was gone - listening to his footfalls until they dissipated completely and no longer ricocheted through the pathetic excuse to side streets that Sunberth possessed. She wanted to take no chances, she was destroying slaver’s business and in the process was bound to make enemies if things were not placed just correctly. It was all a game of chess, sacrifice a pawn here to make sure your king was safe. Or queen. The queen held the real power. The board was set, the piece hopefully in position. She had learnt, a long time ago, of something she liked to call the entrapment. Or that was what she had been told it was called. Not of people, of positions. Find the entrances - she had. Learn the purpose - she just had. Know the opportunity - it was known.

“Only thing left is the swooping to take” she muttered to herself as she took a long, deeply drawn breath to calm herself - it could be the last opportunity to do so peaceably.

With that she was off, padding through the tracks and out into the open by the dockyards. It was not hard to find her way, she had studied it untold times in her search since her brush with Simonsen in the slave markets. He had not seemed an evil man, quite erudite and agreeable if you looked past the fact he was a bastard coated bastard with bastard filling. Her wrath burned quietly within, deep and unyielding in her hate for their occupations. She had suffered, had made their kind suffer. Yet never had she made them suffer for a reason. Not a true reason beyond personal vendetta. For some reason the fact she had a reason beyond herself made her feel happier. She found them easily enough, gathering as asked - he was alone, she hoped Fallon would come so that there were three rather than two.

“One day I will ask you directly where you got such good fittings for dealing death,” she stepped into the visual range with arms raised in the universal greeting of peace, “Kvist…good of you to meet me. I must say I was half expecting you not to. Trust and all that” she looked around warily and licked her lips a little before pulling her hood back.

“Nevertheless, thank you for coming,” she inclined her head slightly in respectful greeting, a wise thing when surrounded with uncertainty, “you will be remembered for destroying one fetid thing in this city, if you end no others, even if no one else know it. Feels good to do a good deed for once, could get used to it” she stated simply as she finally came to be beside him.

She looked around and caught another figure. Fingers went to her weaponry but soon released them once more - it was Fallon. She had decided to ask her along for her own protection as much as for the cause. She knew she could rely upon her implicitly, she valued her more than anything else but tonight she would be asking her to risk herself and only now finding out why. She beckoned her to her so that there were a trio of commanders now. The level of trust was massive, earned though always appreciated. She had stopped keeping score of late, their fates were so bound together, the debts they owed each other not truly debts anymore. They just...were.

“Simonsen and his crew are in the warehouse. As for men…unknown number but probably around ten when the laborers are taken into account. Not much but…and you’ll like this Kvist, they were kept here. I do not know if they are still here but these people will know where they were sold to, if they were. They transport them to the new…owners,” she stated, looking to Fallon then, “slavers. Kidnapped this good man’s family. We will be getting them back Bitzer. And if, along the way, we raze one business to the ground…well I can more than live with that”

“This is Bitzer, a most trusted and valuable companion. I asked her to be here, she will fight for this I have no doubt. She can handle herself. Now, greetings aside…I leave the tactics in the hands of the both of you. My role is as a spy, not a war mistress. I have done what I can, given you the start of what you want. The rest, as they say, is up to you. I will protect my client as best I can but I don’t intend to die for you Kvist, I never promised such. This is your call, it is dangerous” she shrugged and looked between the both of them slowly, considering.

“However, they will be leaving on the morrow, the sailors at least. There will be no other opportunity. It’s now or never” she finished with a nod.

[Markus Andres]

There was a tingle in his body. Excitement. He knew he would soon partake in a raid. Put his life on the line and dance with Dira once again. He drew in a deep breath to calm himself and get any lingering doubts of his mind. Trust had always come easy to him, but the nature of the city demanded that he became critical of that trait, as he reviewed every moment in the presence of the spy the other day. She had proved herself extremely capable of extracting information from their target and more importantly, he had noticed, she had also managed to draw more from him than he had liked. Enough, he feared, to guess his true allegiance. Which put other people in danger. Another deep breath as the thoughts kept returning to him as he tried to put them to rest. Web was an elusive character and he had no clue what to make of her. The matter of trust once more. He wanted to trust her, but he knew next to nothing about her and part of him knew she'd double cross him the moment it became profitable for her. Clear to say, he still had his reservations about her, but he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt for the moment. It was not like he had a choice and if the tale with Red Wolf rang true, she could use him as an ally. Their goals coincided - what happened after he did not know. But this deed today would only strengthen his ties with this Web and her friend Red Wolf. Kvist didn't mind being at odds with a slaver gang.

Both orbs flicked over on the shape of a person as it emerged from a side street. The height matched that of Web. The ease with which it moved also fit her style. Still, Kvist shifted his balance to favour a defensive stance. The hand rose a little to rest on the dagger hilt. Kept his breath still, waiting for a sign. Anything. And it finally came. A hand rose in a sign of peace. One Kvist knew all too well. He knew another sign, one he believed obsolete for the time. The hood came down and the immediately recognizable scared visage was seen and Kvist moved his hand from the dagger - not far from it though. The other hand mirrored her sign of peace. He stiffened his resolve and would have to extend his trust that their goals coincided enough that she had not been bought.

"Was starting to think you wouldn't show. And it will feel good to end their foul business." Kvist responded, his Zeltivan accent and tone of voice held no real concern, a bit of relief that it was a 'friend' and not a street hoodlum thinking he had entered their turf in the chaos that was the gang wars. A movement for her weapons brought Kvist's back to his weapon. Eyes upon Web and saw her gaze was directed at a third hooded figure. Less elegant in her approach, not as quiet as well. The response of Web however eased the knight's stance and had him sheathe the dagger again. He was obviously on edge. With good reason. If Web had decided to sell him out, he was now at a two to one disadvantage.

Stop it. If they attack, they attack. Until then, focus on the mission. He reprimanded himself. And kept his eyes on the newcomer. He had not been informed of another person arriving. But Web knew him so it was someone to help. Kvist figured it might have been Red Wolf, in which case it was a she, though the cloak and hood made it difficult to determine that. Web informed them of the situation and she was partially right, he did like they had been there, which meant the trail hadn't gone cold, he didn't enjoy that they weren't there still. Preferred to get out of the wretched city as quickly as possible. Web informed the mercenary in question about Kvist's situation and he didn't particularly mind, for she kept the information superficial, no names of his family involved. His idea that she was the Red Wolf was sunk when Web referred to her as Bitzer. Though also female. Only Web's use of the word her clued Kvist in on that it was a woman standing beside them. Kvist rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he contemplated their odds. Two against ten, as Web herself would not participate in the fighting? He needed her help if they was going to get it to work. His gaze turned to Bitzer and wondered briefly if he was to pay for Bitzers expenses. It wouldn't be a problem.

”Hello Bitzer. Glad you could join us." The Zeltivan rolled off of his tongue with ease as he offered her his right hand as the left pulled down his hood. The neatly trimmed blonde moustache covered the frown somewhat, but didn't hide that he was glad to have extra hands helping him on this job. ”I take it Red Wolf wasn't interested? Doesn't matter.” Kvist brushed aside the matter with a shrug as he focused on the mission at hand. Though every armed and willing man was a godsend at this point. ”I got a couple of questions: how many entrances are there? And do you know whether or not they are currently keeping any slaves in there? And could you say how many of those inside are what you would call... hmm... warriors?” Kvist would wait for a reply before continuing. If there were extra exits, that was a possible entry point they could flank them from – and if they had slaves the chances of them fleeing would be lowered as there was a substantial financial investment involved. People with an incentive to fight always did better in combat.

”Simonsen is the primary target, I want him taken alive. He will know where to find my family. So we need to make sure he doesn't make a run for it or that you get eager in the fight, Bitzer. Web, could you describe him for us, to make sure we don't accidentally kill him. Second, with all the fighting that has erupted in the city, the guards are on the lookout for potential trouble, more so than usual. Simonsen is the primary target, any slaves are the secondary target. I say we skip any complicated plans, Bitzer and I go in from the front, take out potential guards outside and take the fight inside before anyone can go for help. Here all the fighting will work in our favour, most likely people will assume it is a part of a turf conflict and thus not get involved. - Web, I would like you to cover the potential escape routes. I don't want Simonsen to give us the slip in the chaos.” The time spent as a sergeant in Syliras paid off, it came natural to him to issue orders and talk strategy, even if the accent was not his natural one. ”Any questions or concerns?”

[Fallon]

The hood was still wrapped around her, the flicker of the shape as she watched the streaked shadows and faint outlines of cloaks and shapes. She watched Zandelia lower her hood, the momentary pause of careful regard before finally being gestured to join them. There was only the clinking of metal beneath the cloak as she came over, the look towards the taller figure beneath the cloak, before snapping her attention back round once more to what was at hand and a much needed explanation was given. A small nod was given, a silent confirmation in agreement and to general introductions. The stranger lowered his hood, the hand coming forth to shake and for a moment there was little more than silence.

Fallon's throat constricted, her lips setting into a pursed line as she studied that face carefully. She did not make a move to lower her own hood then, her expression still masked beneath the shadow as she simply peered. Disbelief was the first thing to rest within, her lids twitching and then narrowing to squint and she mentally removed the moustache. A glance down to the extended down hand, she peeled her own one out from beneath the folds and shook it - firm and hard - a wolfish flash of teeth. A firm squeeze, a flicker of amusement as the pieces came together in her mind. It was almost delightful in the way the scene unfolded. Markus Andres, Sylirian Knight - though part of her was suspicious as to the exact reason he was here. She did not expect him to lie, but she did not doubt that his goals were not just on the subject of rescuing his family.

"Red Wolf and Bitzer are one," She spoke within the low, rough tones of her working accent, working on resisting the twang of familiarity from escaping out. Subtlety was needed, but before that she needed to alert Zandelia of what had occurred. Clearing her throat she spoke, "Het Vast-er... Isikai Djas," Fallon slowly tested out the ancient words, the low, rough tone deepening almost as she sounded it out carefully, " A'Pechtil Vasatisikai."

Releasing the shake she kept herself in silence, features still cloaked and hooded as the breakdown of events was made to her. In honesty she did not like the idea of such short notice in which to operate in - but presently she had little choice. Exhaling she let her hands slip back beneath the folds of her cloak, her eyes looking between the two as they carefully spoke. For the meanwhile she had yet to actually say anything, choosing silence and the absorption of as much information as possible. Paint a mental picture, spin it and create it - she already had the rough outline of what it could be like, but more information was needed.

Markus listed off his questions, not wasting a moment of time for the potential of gaining more. She remembered faintly that was his way, but that was pushed aside once more as she tried to focus. Attentive, she listened to his requests, her eyes narrowing down as he made his presumptions about the situation and their natures. The gloved hand pinched her chin, a flicker once more between the two as she put on a more tactical mindset. It was slowly that she spoke, "I have a counter proposal." Fingers laced together, "We give the chainers bait. A distraction to lure them out, I nominate myself for this for... obvious reasons. On the pretense that there another way in, attention will be drawn away from it. They'll want to keep it quick and quiet themselves, less trouble, less chances. Regardless, it would allow you both opportunity to sneak in undetected and catch them unawares. Attack of opportunity, no? I am sure you'd able to put it to good use." She gave a nonchalant shrug then, "Of course, if you'd rather go so obviously and knock on their front door then outsider... Well, I won't stop you."

Her hand raised to silence him if he went to speak up, her voice taking on a cold edge, "Worse case scenario, they see us, there are ten in there, plus whatever other group or gang may be floating about in the midst of these wars. And even in the dark, 'Berthers are drawn to combat like bees to honey. How many do you think will be upon us then? Another five? Ten? More? Immediately the figures rise regardless. " She gave a snort, and shook her head, "Call me a pessimist, or even a coward, but I do not like those odds. A head on attack is foolish." With a wiry grin she spoke, "You know what they say... When in Sunberth, do as the 'Berthians do."

[Zandelia]

She listened and watched him carefully, his motives were clear enough. He wanted to get into the building as quickly as possible, cut down those inside involved with the operations within and get the information he wanted - or the rescue of anyone still within of his kin - and end his hunt. She could sympathize she found, there was nothing worse than knowing something had been taken from you. The feelings of wrath that bubbled within after such a revelation she knew well. Her own father had used such a tactic upon her to try and break her, made her believe the Fallon was dead and she had thought she had loathed him before that little stunt. After there had been no word, she suspected there was no word, for what she had felt then. It went beyond retribution, into a calm little seas beyond where you could do the worst of things in the name of what was lost. Still, Fallon also had a point and that was discretion being a valid medium for victory.

Caught between a client and the one I love, I must really like punishing myself. Really… she told herself wryly.

Still there was none she would rather fight with, none she trusted to watch over her in the maelstrom of combat. Kvist was obviously seasoned but that didn’t mean she trusted him not to cut her down if he thought it suited his purposes. Besides which Fallon was there for more than business, in some ways this was a personal mission also. She hadn’t asked her opinion on the matter, knew she could easily separate the personal from business. Yet it was still a small gift, of a kind. A striking back against those whom had inflicted such cruelty - even if she didn’t fully remember it. At the very least it was something worthy of doing, something to begin drawing a line in the dirt and stating their intentions to the city in more than words. The old tongue words threw her though, she had not expected them and attempted a rapid translation as the plans were batted back and forth. It was not her strongpoint - warfare - and so she left it to the warriors.

“Q'tadach qizaaki. Vasatisikai a'keshak?” sheasked softly as she considered what to do next, looking for the nod or shake of the head, it almost seemed as if the burden of decision would be placed upon her as the intermediary party. Though clearly they had both met before,though Kvist had yet to reveal any acknowledgment of that fact - her hood was up though, that was easy enough to serve as an explanation. She didn't allow her surprise to show other than a small biting of her lower lip.

Things just got more complicated, I'll have to ask her how she knows him. First for theplan though she told herself.

There was little as could be done about the working persona of Bitzer, there was a reputation to maintain and the personality was well known for being both blunt and uncompromisingly analytical about the suggestions of others when she thought they required modification. Kvist seemed a genial sort, as far as that went, but this was his crusade and she was his client. She had always enjoyed politics of people yet if they involved people she knew they were usually accompanied with a headache soon after. Everyone had their own views, it was natural and admirable - especially when they led to sound plans on the ground. Both had merit and yet they seemed to be mutually exclusive. Her mind worked quickly as she thought about their strengths and weaknesses in an objective manner, what were they obviously good at? What were they bad at? She looked them both up and down and a soft smile crept across her lips - it was a gambit that had worked before, it could work again with some modification perhaps.

“Simonsen is about your height Kvist, black hair oiled back into a tail and a decently formed goatee. He has a tattoo on his left shoulder of chains and on the right of crossed blades. He prefers to wear a jerkin instead of armour and he wield what the sailors refer to as a cutlass I believe. He has a friend, more of a bodyguard really. And she is a harridan. Blonde hair and a rolling gait. Sticks to his side at all times. She wears red armour. If that isn’t enough to find him then I don’t know what is” she stated simply to him.

“There will likely be slaves in there to be freed, but I do not think they would be useful in a fight. At any rate freeing them during a scuffle will likely be difficult indeed. Not to mention that Bitzer is right, if they start smashing up the interior it won’t be long until others start noticing the noise,” she raked her fingers back through her hair as her other hand rested upon her hip, “there are two entrances and that means divided eyes. Opposite sides of the building. Ideal for, what is it called…pincer attack?” she looked at Fallon then, trying to see into the depth of the hood without much success, she could imagine the set of jaw there.

“You want to create a distraction then very well, it’s a sound plan but you’ll have to get rid of your chasers quick enough. The interior is unknown and thus we could use your blades. I am no warrior and I’m pretty sure those within aren’t what you’d call warriors either. Brawlers mostly, easily dealt with if done smoothly and quickly. Seeing as you two warriors know more about fighting than I do,” she attempted and innocently affable tone then as she clapped them both upon the shoulders and looked at them in turn, “I’ll leave the plan for the front to you. I can deal with the back entrance well enough. Probably be in before you are. First to the finish?” she stated jovially.

“The front I leave to your friendly hands, you are both seasoned warriors. Work together,” she grinned as she pulled her hood up to obscure her features once more, “don‘t get killed now. Need you both alive for the celebration afterwards”

“Nader dakrad randjak” she stated to Fallon as she tapped their shoulders, squeezing slightly, before stepping back.

She paused for a few moments in case there were any last words they wished to say, she would slip into the night and the warrens once more once all was concluded. Time was slipping away quickly, every chime counted and they only had one opportunity. She had confidence that they would both work together well enough for the common goal - as far as that went. She was a spy, not a warrior. She was more at ease slipping in the back door than fighting her way in through the front.

[Markus Andres]

Red Wolf and Bitzer was one and the same. Web and Spider was one and the same. How many petching names did these people throw about themselves? Layers upon layers of deception and misdirection. Still, Kvist did not let that throw him off. It was a simple admission and it made sense that the Red Wolf would be invited to deal with a gang – or whatever those Amber Wave petchs were. - Kvist gaze turned to the hooded person. Her smaller hand in his and it was shaken firmly, but the words she spoke made no sense at all to him. It was like talking to Ball again, except less confidently spoken. As if she was struggling with the words. Het vast-er – Head waster or vast? Calling my head vast? The heck is her problem? More words. Made even less sense. A name perhaps? Foreign language made more sense. The direction of the hood meant it was not aimed at him. Secret language between the two? Excluding him from the conversation.

A large part of him wanted to swing out and sucker punch Red Wolf to the ground before these two could carry out whatever they were conspiring. Reason took the helm and avoided a potential cluster-petch of a situation. Expression tensed a little as she released his grip and the lack of a face to respond to did bother him. So shrouded in secrecy.

”Let us hear.” Kvist pursed his lips as he listened to Red Wolf explain her plan. It was a classic divide and conquer plan. He did not like the way she packaged the plan, felt it was quite disrespectful and rude. Should call her Red Bitch instead. Despite his misgivings with the provider of the plan, it was valid alternative to his plan, but one Markus spent only a few moments to dismiss in its entirety. Once she stopped talking he waited several long ticks, he had dismissed it, but still he felt she left out vital aspects that might have redeemed it to him. Was she going to run away or draw the fight outside instead and hope for the help of one of those roaming gangs? Run most likely, still, that was the core flaw with her plan. Kvist carefully kept his expression neutral as she spoke.

She had provided some critical intel, keep the fighting brief or it would escalate out of control as newcomers suicidally jumped into the fray. He might never understand the mentality of the shykes who called this city home. Web chimed in – first with words he did not understand, a secret language between the two – Great at inspiring confidence. and gave him the answer to the questions he had asked. Vital answers that only made Kvist dismiss Red Wolfs plan quicker. He didn't want to start arguing with a pig-headed woman about why he would not go with her plan. He didn't have the patience with the slaving scum so close. Web surprised him a little, seemed she mixed the two plans together, which, to his knowledge, would give them a utter cluster-petch of a situation. He looked at the hooded figure, keeping his expression still neutral.

”No.” He rejected Bitzers plan firmly. ”We will go with my plan. If you're not up for the task, you can keep guard and warn us if any of the gangs drop by unannounced. But I'd prefer having you in there. Your choice.” Kvist said simply with a shrug – it was the simple truth, he had been prepared to do this alone if Web had felt unable to fight – Red Wolf had only been an added bonus. Kvist shifted his gaze to Web again. ”I did not intend to free them only to see them get cut down by the scum. My concern was them fighting all the more fiercely to protect their investment. This harridan you speak of may be a viable backup target should anything, gods forbid it, happen to Simonsen before we can get our hands on him.” Kvist spoke with a unforgiving edge. ”And I would classify our tactic as a hammer and anvil type of attack.”

”I like your eagerness, but do wait for us before you rush in. The hammer works best if the anvil is in place, Web.” Kvist said with a rare grin and a wink, before it vanished as he threw a last glance at the hooded figure and began moving towards the road that led to the front of the building. Listening for footfalls behind him as he moved. The hood had robbed him of the possibility to gauge her reaction, but undoubtedly anyone who spoke in such arrogant terms would have difficulty coping.

Kvist sought eyes in the darkness. People observing him. Scouts and spies littered the streets in these warlike conditions and he was not interested in becoming a casualty of Sunberth. He'd get to the corner and take a gander out. Luckily the warehouse in question was not on line with the others, a little more sheltered which meant their approach would go unnoticed for much of the time. He took a deep breath and counted to twenty before he stepped out on the street. Left hand reached up and withdrew the heater shield. Right hand went down and pulled the Peacekeeper from the scabbard. It was time to get to work. It was not hard to convince himself that these men needed death. He reached the corner of the small alley that led to the warehouse. A quick glance and a trio of people stood together. Some of them armed, one of them didn't look like he carried any weapons. But appearances could deceive. Looks like they were out for a smoke break. Judging from the glow from their mouths and Kvist heard them talk amongst one another. He could not hear the subject, but he knew he'd cut down on their chatter in a moment. A glance over his shoulder to see if Bitser had followed him. She had not. He did not voice any concern over the matter, simply no time to go back and get her now. If she decided that cooperation was beyond her, he couldn't be bothered - though he would have to have a word with Web about her associates. Speed was of the essence. So he focused for a couple of ticks. Gathered his wits about him and sought inwards. Noticed the myriad of magical energy moving around inside of him. Started to harness the powers of the magical realm. He beckoned it down into his thighs. Felt the strength fortify the muscles and press them harder.

”Go.” He muttered as he set off at a mad dash. He was not the stealthy sort. So within the first three long strides one of the men had noticed his approach. It would also be one of the last things he would see as he tried to desperately draw his cudgel or hammer. Kvist smashed directly into him with the shield. Kvist's left shoulder pressed against the inside of the shield as he continued the pressure and soon he was stopped when he crushed the man between the wall and the shield. Kvist heard bones creak and snap. The pained yell extinguished as the air was ejected forcefully from his lungs. Kvist bounced away and staggered for a step or two as the Peacekeeper slashed out at a steep angle. The man was quick, but not quick enough as the tip tore through his cheek just below his right eye, cut through his right nostril, split both upper and lower lip in a gash of blood as his hands rose to cover his mouth. Kvist recognized him as the unarmed man. Not that Kvist cared. He associated with slavers which was enough to warrant the death penalty in Kvist's books.

[Fallon]

There was a long, hard, frown as she turned her gaze to Zandelia - deciding almost on not only on what was being said, but also how to answer it. It was a difficult question to say the least. The gaze shifted beneath the hood, looking up to the man for just a moment and then back across to the spy. A shrug was the only answer she could give - she did not know. She agreed with the idea enough however, and seemed quite pleased and made her preference to it known. Fallon gave only nod to the titled tactic named, a gentle shift of the weight as she focused her attention onto the knight. Who, unsurprisingly rejected her plan without any consideration.

Markus Andres, he had not changed one bit - and if anything it proved one thing. He was unable to accept change and believed his ideals to be the best, unwilling to take the advice of a local who knew better. She only mutely stared at him, unflinching nor surprised, and promptly let her gaze wander. She made no rise to argue with him, it would only waste her breath, and so she would simply leave him to receive the brutal taste of Sunberth. Why, after all, talk sense into a man who believed himself superior? No, she would let him go down that path - and with it suffer the consequences. And it was perhaps only then that she was grateful he was not her client - he knew nothing.

The conclusion jumping did little to restore any faith in his ability to lead, and so she turned her gaze to Zandelia once more. It was her she would follow, as it was her who requested her presence - and that was ignoring the fact she was worth more than him both professionally and personally. Besides, he had essentially called her a coward, and so she would allow him to continue to believe every snippet of that.

"Very well, go with your plan," She looked at him square on, voice crisp and cool - unhinting on her intention. The straight face in which to operate - cool and calculated. The true persona of Bitzer. She made no comment on eagerness, he was already itching to draw blades just by his attitude. For the moment however, she moved to follow after him, the shadow sticking in time with Zandelia. It was only as the dark buildings and the walls reached up and around them that she leaned in to whisper quietly and privately to the woman - the tone suggesting there was no room for argument on the subject, "I'm following you. Not him. Just so you know."

Fallon watched him take the lead, her arms folded neatly beneath the cloak, no impression given to what exactly her next move was. Even as he dashed off and forward, seemingly believing that she would follow behind without question. There was a clatter, the shape thudding in the darkness and the shouts of alarm - that scream of pain. Her hand moved to Zandelia's shoulder, her voice barely humming a count to ten, before nudging them onwards in the direction of the back of the warehouse. She knew him well enough in combat, she knew how selfish and bullying he could be in a fight - she had felt the steel point from him herself during training, and that was more than enough.

Her steps were more focused on being quick, her gaze transfixed on Zandelia's back. The hand gave a gesture forward, and then sunk once more beneath the folds. Others would hear them soon, and with that in mind they had little to waste. Her voice still hummed in that low tone however, "Ladies first. Let's show the knight how quickly Sunberthian's work." She paused, and gave a wolfish grin from beneath her hood, the slither of white visible for once, "Oh yes... knight."

[Zandelia]

“Hammer and anvil you say? Well let’s hope it works out better for the anvil that usual, I like my employers to be in decent condition – makes it easier to look after them. Very well, I’ll slip in the back, wait for the noise to start and then we’ll get them on both sides, neat…” she responded simply, a fleeting glance between Kvist and Fallon then, the exchanged comments were heated even if their cutting natures were subsumed beneath a veneer of joviality.

For now, however, their uneasy alliance was holding and would soon be put to the task, its goal dedicated to that singular ideal which underpinned Sunberth but which many had now forgotten in the dreary drudgery of everyday life. Freedom – pure and unbound by definition, the freedom of self, the slaves would find release and she knew altogether too well just how that felt, to be no longer under the yoke of abusive tyranny. It was such a shame that the world they would enter they would find to be just as tyrannical, in its own forms. Still, she would be proud to be part of the endeavour, though she was beginning to wonder if there was more to the barbs than just dislike. She didn’t know Kvist overly well but she knew Fallon, she could be cutting but this seems slightly more personal –slightly sharper – than her normal schooling of the foolish. As she saw it at any rate. There was little time for thought however, their plan was quick to be set into motion.

“I was assuming you would follow my lead anyways Bitzer dear, we should stick together after all. We do so well you see. Still…knight you say? You have seen him before then no doubt, I’ll be sure to question you mercilessly afterwards” she whispered back as they set off, circling the building and approaching the rear, she placed a finger to her lips in a signal that was more out of habit than that she thought it would be required.

Time to test my new arsenal addition methinks, likely guards around the corner and more inside the door…wherever it is. Where was it now? Ah, ah yes…there we are she spied it through the gloom of the darkness, two lamps swinging in the light breeze coming in from the limitless waters of the ocean.

Leaning back around the corner she raised her hand and signalled two digits, there were two guards outside either side of the door, fingers imitated a walking stance and then she held up ten fingers – five twice - to tell her the distance – ten paces. They were close, close enough that with a burst of speed and a bit of luck they would be upon them without much trouble. She nodded and pulled out her daggers, she would save the fancy twirling of her tonfa for the interior, out here she needed to be to the point and there seemed no better way to do that than ram a dagger to the hilt into someone’s vitals. Se breathed deeply, composing herself and searching for that calmness she always used when she met her best expectations, that sense of centred oneness wherein the world slowed – not much but just enough to be quicker than the opponent. Hands bobbed up and down to the count.

One…two…three. She rounded the corner and hit a dead sprint within moments, legs pumping as she kept her body as low as possible, trying to be one of those fleeting shadows upon the floor that everyone discounted in the night. All but the truly alert or world weary. As it was the light gave them an advantage, the lamps blinding the guards to the depths of the night outside of their bright circle of illumination. She focused herself upon the furthest guard leaving the closest to Fallon, it made sense as she was the quicker, slamming out of the darkness all stealth forgotten for now – Kvist could be heard starting his battle now and time was a quickly evaporating commodity. The daggers came out to pierce and slash, the element of surprise giving her victory through speed rather than skill – they were clumsy swings but enough to gash jaggedly into the boy’s throat and stab into the bowels – there to rip sideways and spill them upon the ground as he slumped backwards.

She turned, hopefully seeing the second guard dead and thus their journey could continue inwards, into the depths of this particular beastie.

[Markus Andres]

The man cried out in a mumbled pain as blood filled his mouth. Lungs exhaled and Kvist shuddered as the peacekeeper slit his throat with disturbing ease. The slumped man tried to inhale, but Kvist suspected his lungs had been utterly drained of air by his initial attack that he had not yet regained the ability to breathe. If he ever would. Emerald eyes focused on the third man who had wisely chosen to run. Kvist was pleased with himself when the man ran inside. At least they would not be getting any reinforcements. Unfortunately that did mean Kvist had a little less time to make this second kill clean. Feeble arms raised to try and block the bastard as it cut into his flesh. Only extended his life by a few ticks of pain. Though the knight did admire his will to live, wasn't sure he himself would have been capable of lifting his own arms in that situation. The ragged and deep wound had taken part of his shoulder before the blade had embedded itself halfway into his neck.

A secondary glance to the two men, ensuring neither still drew breath beyond a half drowned gurgle and he entered the warehouse after the escapee. He could hear the shouts of warning all the way in. Kvist followed after him. Through the door and true enough the men were drawing weapons and lining up to face him. Six of them, eight counting the man who had been running. Some men behind them looked less eager to fight. Probably the labourers Web had mentioned. Still - Much too many for Kvist to handle on his own. Nor did he like the look of the woman Web had indentified as a harridan. She was protective of her employer, that was certain. Taken a protective stance in front of him. Easy to know who was the leader. The man in question was barking orders before he fell silent seeing Kvist. A man behind them who had been pushing the last slave into the cage brandished a cutlass. Was going to be interesting.

”Simonsen, we meet at last.” He heard his own surprisingly calm voice over the beat of his heart in his ears. Exillerating to finally be doing something about these scum. The adrenaline of battle falling over him. It felt great to be in combat again. Delay them.. Kvist theatrically pointed his blade in the direction of the bastard slaver. The leader of this merry band of psychopaths. ”I have been looking all over this wretched city for you, and here I find you, surrounded by the city scum.” He shrugged. Kvist maintained control over his his djed. Waiting for the men to attack before he would commit it to any body part for a surprise opening attack. Simonsen didn't look particularly worried. He had plenty of henchmen he could throw at Kvist before he would be all alone. The knight strolled to the left. Eyes watched him as he walked.

'Who are you? And what do you want?' A surprisingly pleasant tone of voice. There was that wary edge, but he did not hear fear. He could see why this man was in charge.

”I'd like to know where my family is. And those people you're keeping in a cage behind you, I'd like to see them free.” Kvist spun on the spot. Another theatrical act to draw their attention. Hopefully it worked.

'Do you have the gold to pay for them? If so, I am certain we can find a suitable arrangement.' Kvist sent the man a glare. Incredible how much he loathed him already. Looked like he would have to up the ante by just a bit.

”And when that is done, I would like to hang you from the top of this building to show the city what I intend to do to all slavers I find.” The confident smirk appeared again. ”That will be af-” The order to attack cut him off. Finally agitated enough and thoroughly convinced that Kvist had no intention of buying any of the slaves got to the leader. Plus, Kvist knew he was a tempting target. Plenty of metal covered his body to fetch a nice price on the market. Kvist braced himself for the attack - he only hoped the pair of ladies were prepared to suddenly shift the balance in his favour.

.