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(Scars and Friends) Fallon has called a meeting on the 80th to discuss recent occurrences within the Scars territory.

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[The Quay] Calling

Postby Fallon on January 1st, 2015, 2:05 pm

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80th Winter 514 AV
Morning

The word was spread like wild fire. A meeting, an emergency one at that. Members, associates and those who allied themselves with the Scars - they were beckoned. Even those who dwelled within the Quay were summoned. If they did not come, then she sent another to bring them back. She did not care if they were in the middle of something important. This was more so, vital in every sense of the word. And so past the canine who watched the world from the outside, and in through the doors of the Quay house were they called. Beckoned from wherever they lay.

It was in the common room of the Quay that Fallon resisted the urge to pace. Her lips were set into a line, her brow creasing as she stared into the flames of the fire. Her fingers had tightly grasped together, the gloves creaking as she tried to stop an outburst of animation. There was a chew upon the lip, her the shadows dancing across her gaze as she tried to weigh up the events. And all the while she sat, in silence as if trying to find the words to speak and what was needed. She needed to speak. She needed to weigh up the events in her mind, calculate and form the best answer within her mind. She knuckles tightened, a deep inhale as she tried to clear her thoughts. The eyes were upon her, watching and no doubt wondering what exactly had occurred to cause such an event to happen.

"It has come to my attention," she spoke slowly, forcibly working to keep down that hiss of rage, "That the Scars, its associates, those we protect, our assets and structures under our watch and those that are connect in some way or another are..." she licked her lips, chin lifting as she caught the glow of flames within her gaze, "Being targeted. Badly. And not just, I mean, idle slander comments. Or threats in the street." Her gaze darkened, her mind remembering some scenes far too clearly. The pains, the tortures of seasons past, "You've seen the writing on the wall. Who's afraid of the big bad wolf? I would not doubt that you have seen that? And... did we not have some others come when I was away?" Her gaze swept across them, looking and reading for an answer, "I need to know what has happened, if anything has happened to you."

Fallon stood at that point, shoulders rolling back as she steeled herself. Her fingers stung within her gloves, the body letting out a wince of pain from the past. She could almost feel the approaching storm within her stomach, the war that was to come and the blood that was to fall, "It is of the utmost importance - even if you believe it is minimal. Insignificant. Because, ladies and gentlemen, I think we are being moved against. Though to what extent..." She drifted off, her eyes narrowing with thought by the meaning clear. In honesty she did not know why she had said think when the evidence was beginning to be clear in that leaning. Someone was, and still was moving against them - leaving the tell tale signs here and there, the evidence piling. It was confirmed in her head that this was the opening of a dangerous game. She dreaded the price that would come from it if it was played wrong by her or the other Scars, "I will not ignore this any more. Understand?"
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[The Quay] Calling

Postby Kaie on January 2nd, 2015, 7:25 am

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It was alarming to say the least. The sort that sent spikes of adrenaline into her veins. The same kind that made her hand waver that much closer to the hilt of her sheathed sword. The call came much like the others, with a hiss at her as she roamed the Scars territory, prompting her to investigate and discover the messenger ducking carefully in the shadows. The words were hurried, whispered in an urgency the Myrian woman simply could not ignore. "The Redwulf calls for you. Now." Even the words coming from a young, dirt-caked child were enough to force the savage to straighten up involuntarily. When the message was delivered, the young girl darted away as quickly as she could. Vanished back into the bowels of Sunberth. Though once or twice as the bronze-skinned gang member made her way toward the Quay, she could've sworn she saw the girl peeping from hiding spots along the way. No doubt she'd been instructed to hound her if she'd failed to prioritize correctly.

Before long she'd made her way inside the towering walls that defended the Quay. The suspense made even the distance between portcullis and Quay house almost painful. Bladed boots echoed through the halls of the building upon her entry, swift and deliberate. There was a setting of her jaw, a furrow to her brow. Amber eyes burned like wild fire. We've been attacked? Threatened? Someone killed? So easy was it for her mind to race and in the darkest of directions. Part of her hoped she'd be wrong on all accounts, that it was just minor business with a quick deadline. A discussion of interests. If only she had the blessing of that naivety to put her at ease. Such was not her luxury.

She found her leader glaring into the flames of the crackling fire when she joined with those already present. The tension was palpable. It practically suffocated the room, snuffing out that tiny voice that called for optimism on the spot. The longer Fallon remained silent on the matter that had gathered them here, the greater the anxiety that began to creep up on the Myrian. She stood with her back against the near wall, hands before her with one clasping the other at the wrist. A neutral stance to keep her from balling them into fists or finding solace upon a weapon. The seething rage that filled their leader was not one that went unnoticed despite her gift for pragmatism. Kaie's expression, first lingering on concern, hardened when Fallon finally revealed the troubles that had been haunting them in the worst ways.

Targeted? She thought with a pressing of her lips into a line. The only thing more dreaded than receiving a concerning call for a meeting, was the idea that the people she associated with as of late were in someone's cross hairs. Worse, that someone had no name. No one to hunt, no one to punish. Not yet. She'd seen the painting of the red letters in the streets. The first time she'd passed it there was hardly reason for her to stop. Yet the reaction of the people who discovered it had piqued her interest. When she'd convinced someone in the street to read it aloud for her, however, that curiosity turned to well concealed anger. She knew an open challenge when she saw one, and knew ones like that had the power to influence the public. She ground her teeth together at the image conjured in her head.

When Fallon addressed the necessity for knowing all that had happened to any of them as of late, her eyes turned downward toward the floor for couple ticks. Shame. The feeling was hard to stomach. There had been a reason she hadn't frequented the Scars' haunt recently. Last time she'd found her way into the same room, she'd been bathed in blood. Debilitated and vacant. It was only when she had tasted alcohol running past her lips that she had begun to become a person again. A skeleton of one at least. Like pure iron, the Myrian girl did not often bend...and that night she broke. Traditions of military discipline and pride forced her chin back up, and brought a humble flame to those angered eyes. I told them what they needed to know that night. Will they ask more of me? Must the others know?

Kaie stood there against that wall for several ticks when Fallon had finished addressing them. It was an uncomfortable silence, the same sort that reminded her of the furious disappointment Yitmah had subjected her to when she failed him. But what is it that's important to share, even if small? A mercenary by trade makes enemies now and then depending on the job. Perhaps some of those jobs were worth sharing, but which? The Myrian cleared her throat and leaned off the wall to find an up-right position.


"I guarded one of Tall Johnny's ships for a night. There wasn't too much trouble," She began slowly as she strung previous events together. She unclasped her hands before her and instead let them hang at her side. "I took a contract with Senghor. A very small ring of slavers were selling kidnapped children from this area to the Muted Maiden. For a price...we stepped in. We approached their home quietly. Kept things as clean as we could. No one was in the alley we left through." She stood rather rigidly, like a soldier being appraised for relief or punishment. Which she might receive, she couldn't guess. There was a shake of her head."That's all I've got."

Her mind drifted back a couple seasons ago to a contract she'd worked with Fallon and Zandelia, back when she'd known them only with different names. The confrontation was what they expected between themselves and the Daggerhand. Fallon's words to the lone survivor of the trio, on the other hand, was not. Family. That's what she had insinuated those connected to the Scars were. Protect and protected by. Mess with one, you feel the wrath of them all. Kaie's amber stare flickered toward the other shadows that filled the tense room with her. Did that mentality still hold true? The Myrian's hands clenched to fists at her sides.

If it's a war someone wants, it's a war they will get.
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[The Quay] Calling

Postby Shai on January 2nd, 2015, 9:24 pm

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Generally severely clean and well-kempt, this morning the obsidian braid unraveled at the ends. Soot smudged Shai’s cheek and eyelids drooped against the rising sun. Morning was bed-time for the mostly nocturnal thief, which only meant the missive found her all the easier.

She’d made no fanfare of her arrival through the seaside window. For all the world she lounged like a cat, dominating the window frame with her night leather coated limbs and weary muscles. Manners were soresly absent as well though, for she offered no greeting. Instead she only observed as the various individuals arrived. As declarations and counter explanations commenced the spider began to slowly click her nails together. It was an old tell of contemplation, one she had made little attempt to rid herself of.

The idea of gang warfare caused a tension to ride up her muscles. Old memories threatened with burgeoning possibilities. None of the Scars had asked really what she did, some had come to know parts of it over the course of the seasons. Shai wasn’t sure whether to chalk it up to politeness, which seemed far fetched, or just acceptance. To humans no doubt a SYmenestra was strange enough without knowing what her profession was. As usually it fell back to Zandelia, out of all of those cloistered in the Quay, Zandelia knew Shai the best. The spider doubted she had been enough of an impact on the woman to become a source of wonder. Zandelia knew she was a thief, but if she took the time to understand what happened after Shai joined the Crimson Edge, she would know much more. Shai had become the apprentice of a man who hated thieves. It was not larceny that she learned then.

With a shake of her head, to dispell the memories, Shai resolved. Chell, if they ask tonight, if they need my abilities tonight, I will offer them.

If you insist Shai. These strange people have become like your nest haven't they? The familiar hung in his customary spot, upon a silver chain at her best. He looked like nothing more than a keepsake crystal necklace unless someone magically examined him.

A smile tracked over her lips, Not quite so close, but they have earned the right to ask of me and receive returns. Shai watched as the unknown woman gave her account before speaking up. “Run-ins in the last season? Several. I stepped on Tall Johnny’s toes a bit, but I took care of that.” Amethyst eyes tracked to Bitzer, did she mentioned the incarceration? Since surely the fearless leader was already aware of the situation she kept it too herself. “There was the rowboat. It was Ren’s rowboat, from right here on the Quay’s dock. Messy bit of work but it all ended well. And then that situation from the Bloodpits.” Without notice Shai ended her list. There were any number of things the thief did that could be connected, but those each seemed the most momentous.

Her thoughts drifted to Lucian. Her sweet boy, how could she protect him from a gang war? She remembered the look on his face after that first brutal murder when they met. It hurt her to change his perspectives of her. The truth reflected in his ghostly countenance would hurt more than the other men just disappearing. Perhaps it was the innocence that made her so desperate to protect him. It didn’t matter, whatever the reasons, if a war began Shai would make protecting him her focus.
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[The Quay] Calling

Postby Fallon on January 10th, 2015, 5:13 pm

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Fallon pursed her lips, her hands coming behind her and clapping firmly. They would only writhe if she brought them forward and into view, fidgeting as her thoughts were attempted to be expressed through the physical. So instead she wrung them out behind her back, fingers lacing and unlacing as she stared, eyes flickering between the speakers with thought and watching their expression. Kaie had stood to attention, military and firm in comparison to the others that were flittered around the room - it spoke of some element of training at least. Her head slowly nodded however, recording the words as the eyes continued their flickering - reading the expressions of the others, the lingering worry and faint bubbling anger. Fallon's gaze lowered, turning and looking onwards to the Symestra Saris when she finally spoke up.

Whilst the woman had been invited, she was still mildly surprised to see her appear - she was no Scar, but she was in the loosest sense an associate. More importantly however, she was a resident and thus her attention was acquired for now. Still, she could hear the faint clacking of nails even as the Myrian was talking. Her eyes met the others, holding firm as she listened and finally pulled her sight away. The expression hardened, a final scan of the others as if to look for a glimmer of insight and then spoke, "Tall Johnny and myself are acquaintances, we have helped each other before. Scratch his, scratch mine. Though, I am not sure if that is merely coincidence, or something more."

"I see. Slavers are a troublesome bunch. I appreciate the work on removing them from the area, Kaie,"
Her eyes narrowed slightly, the sting of discomfort flickering there for a tick and then falling away. It was not the first time Slavers had come into the work of the Scars, since their creation there was the bites and snaps against the various smaller rings from herself and other members. Perhaps it was a retaliation? Part of her thought, but it was quickly pushed aside - surely they would have made it much more obvious it was them? Her gaze turned back to the fire, still and flickering with thought - waiting almost to burst into an inferno. "It is still... troublesome. The Rowboat? What happened?" Her eyes looked up and towards once more, looking for information within that tired face, "Did they have a name or a symbol to go by?" She chewed at her lip then, frustrated almost in action, "And yes. The blood pits, that was... a problem."

Withdrawing her hands she flexed them, slow and carefully as she considered the little strings of information that was there. She did not speak about her previous confinement, but it sat there within her mind clear and piercing. It was with such things that the mind begun to slowly filter backwards, chasing the information and subtle pieces that existed. Through the winter, the autumn, even back into the summer when the realisation she had managed to achieve the wrath of others, the want for revenge, the taking and inevitable return of Orvin. The Daggerhands, the merchant, the chasers in the night. The gang wars. The list went on. Pinching her brow, she released a hiss - information failing her. It could have been anyone really, but no name to go with left it as an unknown enemy, "We need a name. And a motive. Though, if it's the same who've been running this slave ring, in the pits and... them from Autumn. Petching nail thieves," she spat, "Markings. Similarities. Traits. Reports. This invisible is going to become visible. But don't bloody well engage unless you have to."
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Fallon is a Master of Intimidation, "At this level, a Master intimidator often unconsciously intimidates their target unless the intimidator monitors their stance, tone, and actions to prevent this. Master intimidators will nearly always have a reputation that precedes them unless they have taken special care to prevent it."
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[The Quay] Calling

Postby S'Essy on January 10th, 2015, 7:12 pm

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Calling to a meeting was all weird to her, it was urgent she knew but her too? She was never part of them since she wasn't really a member. S'Essy knew Markus went sometimes but not always. She had to get ready, and get know what was going on. She had enough of Sunberth and its business. She was slowly going insane, no wonder she couldn't see any healers in that place. She was too fragile, and she never felt safe. She wanted to go away, somewhere. To a better place.

She sat down at the table with Markus and with the many other members and associates she didn't know about. Only a very few of them. She was nervous, but this was the safest place she could be right? Bitzer's face was serious. She was waiting for everyone's attention before she started her speech. And the words she had said dug deep inside the Konti. Her hand was resting on her belly. This place was not safe anymore... This was bad, very bad.

She was worried and speechless. Bitzer was very serious and this was a matter of joke. Thanks the gods she stopped her business as a Healer days ago. She couldn't risk it. She had to be fit, she was pregnant and the winter just brought more misery to people, she would have been tired all the time. She couldn't risk it. She wanted to get this over with.

Shai talked first. S'Essy couldn't comment much about it. Nor when the the other woman started to speak. She didn't know much about Tall Johnny. But it seemed Bitzer got it all covered up. Should she talk herself? She couldn't provide much information but many people visited her place for healing. She got her guts together and stood up.

"Just... for a moment. I want to apologize. As you may or may not know, I am a healer, and was working as one in here. People were coming by the Quay, I didn't question them, if they came, paid and asked for help, I helped them. I don't who passed by here. But as of winter and my... current state..." She paused and looked down for a moment then back to them. "I stopped that business. Anyone coming for healing should..." she can't say not accepted. Her oath. She held her head with her hand as she was struggling. "Just do as you see fit, if their problem is serious call me. That's all I want. Thank you!" She sat down, felt like being an idiot.
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[The Quay] Calling

Postby Pulren Marsh on January 11th, 2015, 10:18 am

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Pressure.

A companion of Pulren's, most assuredly in his head, specifically in the bridge of his nose and behind his eyes, a dull ache following it in step. The long and brutal winter was finally releasing its claim on the world and the change in the air had crept into the Zeltivan's eyes while he slept, no doubt. It would have been a long day of sleep and some hot tea at the most to wipe away the squeeze in his head, but all that was for naught as he heard his Konti pal's voice as she hurried down the steps.

"Meeting, Uncle! Mandatory!" A groan repsonded, lost on her pale ears as she was already on her way. At least it was warmer down there, he thought to himself. Kicking his legs over so he was upright, the change in body posture only increased the crescendo of the throb in his head, his hand moving to rub at his eyes and the bridge of his nose in weak response. Standing and stretching, Pulren slid his black linen shirt on along with his trusty leather pants. As he slid his feet into his fur lined boots, he looked outside, squinting into the rays of Syna as she did Her best to peek out among the gray. "Meeting." He grumbled it, vaguely wondering what it would make it mandatory, but it was only downstairs.

As he entered the common room, his foul temper changed its tune a little as he found himself among the company of many of the exotic women that he called his company. He nodded to each in turn as he leaned near the fire, the rising wave of heat caressing the unpleasantness in his face. "Ladies." Assembled so far were S'Essy, her bump growing all the time, Kaie, his savage friend in arms, Saris, the white spider and of course, his hallowed leader, Bitzer. She looked as uptight as ever, which clearly warranted the urgency of the meeting. It was nice to have his back to so many dangerous people and not give a damn. He trusted everyone in the room. Maybe enough to release some much needed pressure that ha been building on his conscience.

There was talk of ominous threats, unseen and dire. They had the little Wolf very concerned, more than usual. It was a shame that Web wasn't around more, her intelligence work kept her out of sight often. She seemed a soothing presence to Bitzer. Pulren knew he wasn't that sort of elixir for the boss, but he knew he would protect her as he could. Same with all present.

Voices back and forth, his ears doing their best to take in the important information, though he could easily just tell the truth. Zeltiva was calling and whatever the case, he would be answering that call. Maybe it might even make sense to make a play for sanctuary for his friends? They had certainly done the same for him. Truth would have to lead the way and guide his actions, however. "I don't know if you knew that I had bought the rowboat for the use of the group. I felt it was something solid I could offer to help everyone. He was speaking to Bitzer, though his vision was still facing the fire."Saris and I were accosted by a group of thieves who stole the boat-- temporarily, mind you-- and I did find it odd that they were all swimmers. Don't get much of that in Sunberth. Silent, too. Not the usual thuggery I'm used to around here."

Turning around, he shrugged slightly at his shorter leader, straightening his shoulders as he prepared to relax them properly for the first time in a good while. "Before anyone else arrives, I wanted to say something. I trust each and every one of you ladies present, so I want to make a slight revelation. I came here with S'Essy and Mark from Zeltiva. My name is Pulren Marsh, not Palaren Marshall. I'm a Wave Guard, stalwart protector of Zeltiva. I made the alias and fisherman story because Sunberth frankly isn't well suited toward my type of investigator." He took a deep breath and folded his hands, adding," I hope this won't change your opinions of me. As I said, I trust you all with my life and I swear to protect yours." It was easier than he expected, relieving some inner pressure. Sadly, not the pressure in his face.
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[The Quay] Calling

Postby Zandelia on January 12th, 2015, 11:12 pm

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She had spoken not a word so far, instead favouring a silence as she stared into the middle distance with fingertips pressed to each other as she listened. There was no surprise in her countenance, no showing that she found the situation particularly troubling. Instead there was the pursing of lips as the inevitable day finally arrived – they were being moved against and there was little that could be done to stop it she fancied. Whether they put down this raising or the next it was as sure as sunrise that one would catch them off guard eventually. It was the game they had played, stirring up powers and attempting to slip in without recourse of grievance.

No, this was very much expected. The real decision to make is whether to face it or to avoid it. Sunberth is becoming bloodier and there is no guarantee any of us would survive a full onslaught. Slavers or otherwise... she mused as her gaze flicked lazily, intermittently, to each of them gathered so far.


Not all of them had come, perhaps those absent were already dead though she had heard nothing of the sort. She considered the pieces proffered to them, the small puzzle pieces that seemed so unconnected and as such merely gave her more reason to believe that perhaps they were. She was the right hand today, letting Fallon be the leader she was supposed to be. She had no questions really, just considerations. She did, however, wince at the comment about nails – it was still a troubling memory and the paid quite recent to her. She smiled tightly at her partner before grimacing as her gaze slipped away once more. She listened to Pulren and at the end of his speech there was a small snort – true amusement, surprising given the circumstances.

“Oh don't we all use different names dear Palaren, there is no shame in such a thing. It keeps one safe. I'm sure by now it is very much known many of those who are careful conceal such important information,” her gaze met Shai's briefly before looking at Palaren fondly, “I thank you for the offer of assistance. You can be sure it is returned. I need not say to everyone, everyone already knows. Here, we gathered here, are in this together. There is no backing out....not now” she sighed as she leant into the table.

“But Bitzer is right, engaging would be foolish. We know precious little and the fact that seemingly unconnected events have put everyone – at one time or another – into danger is cause for...consideration. There are those moving against us, I have been working to find out who though really I believe that those who strike are mere puppets. I hate to say it but it feels like the old tricks Robern used to use. Not sure about the Sun's Birth, they are the more direct type. Night Eyes...possibly. It fits their operative style. Either way...it's bigger than we think I'd wager”

“If anything I'd say we should be careful, stash our belongings in safe locations and if it comes to it be ready to retreat and live to fight on than draw a line we cannot hold. I don;t suggest we give in but we need to know where to fight and how to win with minimal loss. We aren't exactly brimming over with human shields after all” she placed her chin upon her fingers, cradling it delicately.

“I have a few leads, people who've been feeding me information. Whether they like it or not. Slavers are being used as a screen, that much is certain. They hate us and are easily led by the nose into warfare with us. I'd suggest a pre-emptive strike to nullify that threat so we can round off and deal with others of concern. We won't win by fighting everything at once, so I say one at a time...and fighting bloody and dirty” she leant back and awaited the other's comments, thoughts or suggestions.

She had the foreboding sense that no matter how hard they tried they'd end up fleeing or dead but then again she was a cynic about such things. And a fatalist. Her life had taught her there was little else to be when it came to violence.
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[The Quay] Calling

Postby Markus Andres on January 15th, 2015, 3:06 pm

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The knight yawned as he moved by the wall separating the Quay from the city itself. It had been a long night and judging by Syna's faint rays appearing far out over the bay, it was indeed also soon to morning. Another night with work. He couldn't wait to get home and out of his heavy armour and clothes and climb into a pre-warmed bed with S'Essy. He hoped the woman had gotten some rest in his absence. The yawn sent a shiver down his spine as he stretched himself as he passed under the gate linking the two parts of the city together. The place that was his temporary home in the wretched city. The knight carried his shield slung across his back, the peacekeeper strapped to his left side. Neither seemed to have been in use that night. But those who were observant enough would notice that his right hand was wrapped in bandage. The souvenir from that evening's work. He didn't want to wake S'Essy to have her heal something so insignificant, so he hoped she was fast asleep. He sent a glance over his shoulder. But the road seemed empty, only something moving about at the entrance to one of the other buildings. He sloshed onwards through the winter landscape and finally reached the main gate to the Quay. He rested his arms upon the hilts of the pair of blades as he crossed the distance between the main gate and the main building. Opened the door and what he noticed first was the sounds of people talking. The voice talking at the moment seemed to belong to Web. A scars meeting? He wasn't a member of their gang, so he had no play in their little meeting. So he'd have to simply bypass them and head straight for his room and the sweet promise of a warm cosy bed to sink into.

As he entered the room he noticed several things that were out of the ordinary. First and foremost, S'Essy was present. Which immediately, barring a sudden recruitment of the healer, meant it wasn't a purely Scars meeting. Secondly, everyone was present from the Quay, at least now that he had shown up. Another thing was that Kaie was here, which meant things were beyond being only related to the Quay. Next he noticed was Fallon. The woman seemed on the verge of snapping. As if she wanted to strangle someone half to death. Kaie also looked on the warpath, but that was quite ordinary, so the knight didn't pay any heed to that. Though the tired knight was only confused at what was going on. A meeting of sorts, he got that, but why? For what reason? Only one way to find out.

"What is going on?" Came the simple question as he moved into the room. If he wasn't welcome, they'd have to wait until he was done making sure S'Essy was okay. She seemed okay, looked a little flustered. Kvist stood behind her and gave her a squeeze on the shoulder and his focus returned to the leader of the Scars. Seeking answers to the questions that swirled in his mind.
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[The Quay] Calling

Postby Fallon on January 15th, 2015, 6:44 pm

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"How kind of you to join us," Fallon cocked an eyebrow at him, and gestured in to the room to find some place to lean up against, "A meeting. To summarise, we're being targeted but are deciding on who it could be, with our options." She paused for thought, "If you have had anything happen to you in terms of being moved against, I would like to know it. Evidence helps formulate."

She moved swiftly on after that. It was the ones that had been quiet before that then spoke up, the lingering meaning behind some words, whilst the others seemed to almost be pleading in their tones. Her eyes flickered across to S'Essy, the briefest of narrows as she watched that expression settle onto troubled. It was cruel circumstance that she and Markus were tied up in this war, and perhaps those to come - like many of the other citizens of Sunberth. Fallon nodded slowly, "I understand. We shall stay out of your way unless it is truly necessary." Her gaze turned then to Pulren as he nursed his smothering cold next to the fire. She raised only a brow at him as he explained, before at last she shrugged, "I am not saying it was a bad idea, more that... well, I didn't know it existed."

"And neither is Bitzer my true name,"
she peered at him from beneath her brow, "I would not worry yourself on it, such things cloud the mind and halt the progression forward. But, it is good to know that you are in this with us." Fallon gave an approving nod and returned her face to that calculating mask. That guilt, that nagging sense of being something one was not - some people could play such a game, others not so well - must have ate at him enough it seemed. Her eyes turned down to Zandelia, her right hand and cohort in the situation, giving her no interruptions, no cutting in as the thoughts tumbled and fell.

"Issue with fighting one at a time is that it leaves the other potentials to communicate between each other and hit us where we're vulnerable," she paused and considered, "Means we need to lock down communication, somehow. This won't be a head on fight either I feel, they like to try an blindside us it feels like - and I feel if we try and make an approach they'll wriggle out of our grasps. Going to have to net them, if we can even catch them." Shaking the thought away she straightened, "Regardless, be prepared to liquidise and move if you can. I will not march you off to your deaths to a fight we cannot win. But..." She inhaled, steeling her features as she spoke with such firmness, "I will do everything within my power to give you a way out should things turn sour. Do I make myself clea-"

Noise. Different, muffled, but clear upon her senses. It was enough to cause her pause and to turn her head, and stare to the entrance of the Quay house. A glance down to the kukri strapped to her outer thigh, and then to the tulwars that leaned against the chair. Lids pinched down into narrows as it grew louder, paired up with the distinct angry barking of Orvin. Claiming her blades she gave a general point to the room, "Keep each other safe. Going to be right back." She did not stop to consider if they would actually listen to her request, but it was not at the forefront of her concern. Hand on hilt ready to draw, she swung the door open to view the world beyond.

The face of grim determination fell, the jaw growing slack in the long winter silence. The eyes of the world seemed to almost turn to her, the hollow faces damning her every move - even those she had yet to make. Her grip around the blade loosened, the voices and shouts falling short, with only the whimpering croaks of the canine filling the space between. She took a step, the frozen slush meeting her boots, the plume of white escaping her lips as her eyes flickered, counting the bare steel and hemp rope belonging to the nine that lingered. Fingers found her grip, another step as she looked to the faces, hidden all so neatly behind masks. Orvin gave a yap, eyes wide, ears flat and fearful as he writhed once more. Her eyes looked staring at the restraints, following them up to the bodies that grasped upon them and the one that stood above blade poised and stained red.

"Orvin," she breathed, reality crawling back in and her eyes snapping up them, "You... Get out!"
"Well, if the Red Wolf hasn't come out of her little hole,"
the hand grabbed the white wolf by the scruff of the neck, firmly yanking it back and holding in place. There was that moment where he held it there, threatening. Her skin gave a prickle, the faint bubbling of rage beginning to bloom. She watched the speaker lean down closer now, blade hovering at the canine's throat, "Here we were, thinking we'd give you a nice surprise and dye this one red for you. You'd match then. Wolf." He pressed it in, the whimpered noise as he tried to fight once more for freedom.
"Don't you dare! Get out of here."
"Come, stop me."


It was a game to them, she realised as she drew the tulwar taking those strides in closer. A cruel and sick game, one that she had already lost since the beginning but only realised far too late. The quickest of slashes, a mere breath of a tick, a simple flick before the masked pulled away and the white wolf slumped. There was no final scream, no roar for blood and war, just a quiet whimper and an expanding nothingness. She fell short, her entire form slumping before the creature, tulwar falling from her grip. She was too slow. Red ran freely, staining the snow and hissing as the warmth chilled, the scent growing pungent even in the cold. Eyes blinked, the reality of it all failing to sink in - pure disbelief and the willing that it was just a nightmare, something she would wake up from.

But she did not wake up, there was no illusion and no magic behind it all. There was only the cold edge of reality to greet her. The hand reached, quivering as it patted upon the fur her mouth opening but no words coming forth. Lips twitched, head bowed but rising, the chains shifting behind those eyes and the logic falling away only to be replaced by hard, brutal emotion. The eyes became glazed, face peeling back into a snarl as instinct and emotion begun its fateful control. She rose, form hunched in, the tulwar reclaimed as she stepped over, eyes locking down upon the seeming leader as if possessed. There was no clear thought as she inhaled deeply, just rage and pain looking for justice. And it was with that, Fallon let out a blood curdling war cry.
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FALLON
Fallon | Coffee Codes | Skill Images

Fallon is a Master of Intimidation, "At this level, a Master intimidator often unconsciously intimidates their target unless the intimidator monitors their stance, tone, and actions to prevent this. Master intimidators will nearly always have a reputation that precedes them unless they have taken special care to prevent it."
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Fallon
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[The Quay] Calling

Postby Zandelia on January 15th, 2015, 11:33 pm

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She nodded at Kvist as he entered, his gaze sweeping the room in his characteristic assessment and finding nothing untoward moving to stand behind is ward. His love too, she knew Fallon's feelings on their involvement with them to some degree but when it came to fighting there were no innocent bystanders, not in Sunberth. There were those still breathing and those bleeding in the gutters. Or on the rooftops, or in the river or...well suffice to say just dead people. She listened to Fallon but her speech became interrupted, hesitant almost just before she excused herself – the reason unknown but strangely disconcerting. She didn't respond at the excuse of company, merely cocked her eyebrow at the woman and took a deep breath to assume the mantle for however long it would be required.

“I think we are all agreed that we don't want to get ourselves killed but this is war so I cannot lie and say we would all survive,” she stated with a cold, dispassionate tone at the subject, “the trick is to make sure we do everything to weigh any odds in our favour. Locking down communication, that should be pretty simple to do if you know where to cut. If we're dealing with slavers then the smuggler groups at the docks likely provide them information. We could start there and work outwards, gut their network from the inside. I know a few people”

“Taverns too, always centres of intrigue and intelligence. Palaren you know them well enough, Kaie you like a good drink also so you could splinter off and cover those options. What concerns me are the muscles of this new enemy. Mercenaries aren't too much trouble in this city, they die pretty quick and most of them are foolish enough to make it easy on us. If it's syndicates though...it becomes trickier. We need some decent stealth there and I happen to know a good shadowstep” she nodded at Shai then pointedly.

“Kvist, Noven! You're strapping young men! Fancy helping us rid some of the potential scum and villainy that might be arrayed against u-” she began the question but there was no chance to finish.

The howl of rage, almost bestial but very much ringing true as Fallon in the core of the cacophony. She had heard it before and it never bade well for them. There was a momentary pause as the world sunk into her and muscles jerked. Anyone who watched her at that moment would see her eyelid shut, slowly and with pained resignation.

“Petch! It's already begun!” she pushed herself from the table and ran for the door with a snapped shout over her shoulder, “weapons!”

She made the threshold, slamming it open and skidding slightly with the impact, ready to battle tooth and nail anything that might threaten her woman. It lasted for perhaps three seconds that rising adrenaline before she was brought up short by the scene before her. She didn't take it in so much as outright reject it was even possible. She must have been hallucinating for there, in a growing pool of thick red, lay Orvin. His life stolen, his animus stilled into nothingness. Fallon was rising, weapons ready and knowing her she was about to charge into them on a suicidal mission of vengeance. There was little time and so she did the only thing she could through the rising bitter tide of anger – grab her by the collar and pull her back so that she couldn't get herself killed. She was giving a nice slice to the upper arm for her troubles, armour deadening the blow but not enough to prevent a growing damp of a gash from being formed.


“Bastards! You killed Orvin for...for nothing! You will not see the dawn!” she screamed at them, “leave the leader alive. I want to show him what an animal does to its prey!” she all but hissed at the others whom she was hoping would by now be standing behind her.

“Not nothing, a message! One you will only know for a little while longer”

“And a bit of fun” guffawed one of the lackeys on the end and to her left as he stepped forwards a few paces towards her, all puffed cocky chest and braggart rhetoric. She narrowed her gaze at him and pulled out a throwing dagger before flicking it at him. It hit him side on and he laughed at her.

“What was the point of tha-” he began as his gaze started to lift from the weapon upon the floor.

He foot met his groin squarely and as his knees began to give way her hands shot out to ram his face into her kneecap. Blood sprayed over her leg and she rammed it in again twice more for good measure, letting him slump sideways with his face practically caved in.

“Anything else?” she spat at the floor.

The war had begun.
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