27th Summer 515 AV
Warm, she knew that much. Though it was kept cooler here from the sea breeze - a pleasant relief to the Inspector.
It was on this day that Fallon had discarded the new clothes for the more worn and rough, edges frayed and leathers scuffed so they began to turn felt-like at the edges. She wore the belt around the waist - the only thing keeping her coat closed and from flapping with every step -, the kukri resting at the base of her spine within its battered sheath the rest of her kit attached in the correct locations of her person. And then there was the gauntlets, far from shining but clearly there - the clawed tips gently clinking as she stepped. The inside pocket carried the battered note book and writing equipment and in the bottom of it a few loose mizas to be used as an incentive - otherwise this day she was travelling light and prepared more to blend in with the
Today she was not Fallon Skylar. Today she was Bitzer Redwulf, common thug and mercenary with a rough voice and a sharp tongue. To those who knew of her in Sunberth would place the name of the Red Wolf on her shoulders, the associates and Ex-Scars members would no doubt smirk at the idea of her prowling about East Street. The locals however, would no doubt be none the wiser as to who she was - which proved its own advantage in itself. Today was to be a day of two things, the first would be to understand the lay of Zeltiva's underbelly for one of her clients. The second was to flush out any potential trouble that may have followed the Scars from Sunberth - to which then she would act swiftly upon it.
Fallon rubbed her throat, a deep inhale as she plucked upon the lower vocal chords. The lips gave a twitch, the gentle trilling growl hovering upon her tongue, the click as she felt herself fall into character. The steps that turned into a swagger, the setting of the brow and sharpening of the gaze, the hair was brushed and tied back into a warrior's not. One of the locals glanced at her briefly, but paid her no mind as she paced the worn streets. A few were sticking to the shade, drinking lukewarm kelp beer and watching the world pass by - eyes and ear. The gaze flickered on past, a small bump of shoulders as she worked her way on past.
To begin with she needed to find a starting point. She knew of the Madame and the Touchy Subject, and that there was numerous eyes and ears within its walls. But that was not all, she was certain she had seen another brothel within the district - but she was not quite sure where. Competition perhaps for the other side? It seemed strange having two in close vicinity to the other, she reasoned as she took a left down one of the narrower streets. The orbs swept about her sides, the ears straining as a group of mercenaries gave a step on past talking loudly among themselves.
"Aye, I know. Need to go back to the Headquarters, left my keys there."
"Really Mick? Surprised the society lets you in with your sieve brain."
"Why it's called Martial Society. Only need mercenaries to hit things after all..." They faded out of earshot despite the straining and tilting of her neck. She mentally noted the name, Martial Society, and quickly stepped on her way - if it was a society then it would certainly be something she could ask about openly or research at the library on a rainy day. Another turning, going in deeper now to the depths of East Street, hairs prickling to the sensation of eyes upon her, the clacking of steps echoing in her ears. It was with an inhale that she took another turning, a sharp turn down an alleyway. It was barely at the mouth that the hand came up and gave the firm push, against the alleyway wall the glint of steel within the corner of her eye.
That was quick, she mused as the point came round and the dirty hand of this thug gripped tightly onto her coat. He spat, accent distinctly Zeltivan, in her face, "Money or your life."
Fallon raised an eyebrow at him, gauntlet covered hands flat against the wall, the right slowly snaking around to the kukri hilt. The gruff voice spoke back to him, "How cute. I ain't scared of you greenhorn bed wetters."
"What you call me?"
"You 'eard," she growled back.
He retaliated, raising his voice and bringing the tip closer to her face, "I'll do it! I will, I will! Now gimmie your money!"