10th Bell - 19th of Spring, AV 513 - Robern's Reaches
In Sunberth there was no black and white. The lines had been blurred so long ago that an indistinguishable grey was all that had remained, a man was forced to draw his own lines and hope that he never had to cross them. Few outsiders that came to the city understood it, you did what you had to see the next season and hoped the city wouldn't turn against you for it. They would never understand.
The Daggerhands had pushed too far for too long now. For years they had abandoned the pretence that they were trying to help this city at all, they were nothing more than thugs under the command of an outsider that wanted this city of free men brought to heel. Tensions had been escalating the city for seasons now; each misdeed fuelling the anger and hatred of the people who were only restrained by the sheer influence and manpower of the Daggerhands. Their grip had been waning and the Daggerhand would soon realise that this city was not filled with dogs that would beg for scraps, but instead wolves. Wolves who could tell when a deer was limping and all it needed was a taste of blood to be sent into a frenzy that would tear them apart, limb from limb.
Erik had made his was into the streets as soon as the sun has shattered the fragile horizon, cast a foreboding bloody shadow across the clear, crisp sky. For a moment everything was silent, peaceful even. The birds could be heard singing their beautiful songs in perfect harmony, the laughter children echoed through the streets and they played in the snow and waged war on each other with snowballs. It was the lull before the storm. The city held its breath for a moment, soaking in the serenity, before exhaling.
He had no fear of the scum that filled Robern's Reaches today, he was done being pushed around by outsiders and the Sunberther's that had thrown their lot in with them. When you had over hundred men and women at your back, thinking the same thing, ready to do what had to be done, you weren't scared of anything. This is was the mob, this was Sunberth incarnate.
They splintered off into the maze of alleyways, a dozen in every dank street in search of any Daggerhand who was unlucky enough to be on patrol that day. Erik didn't lead his group, no-one did, and so they led each other instead with each step they took. His wife would want him home right now, she would tell him not to get tangled up this mess and start being a role model so that his kids turned out the way he wanted them to be but he was an old Sunberther through and through, the best way he could he their future was to topple the foulest gang in his memory to have plagued Sunberth.
He had his blade in hand, he knew this was going to get violent. Most weren't even fighters by nature, they carried daggers or clubs, even a plank of wood with rusty nails rammed into it while other accepted that their fists and numbers were the best weapons they could hope to wield. Others were mercenaries like him, some had lost comrades to the Daggerhands, some were fed up of their monopoly on their trade while others simply opposed what they stood for.
It didn't matter.
This was the mob; this made every thief, labourer or deckhand the fiercest army anyone would stand against.
In Sunberth there was no black and white. The lines had been blurred so long ago that an indistinguishable grey was all that had remained, a man was forced to draw his own lines and hope that he never had to cross them. Few outsiders that came to the city understood it, you did what you had to see the next season and hoped the city wouldn't turn against you for it. They would never understand.
The Daggerhands had pushed too far for too long now. For years they had abandoned the pretence that they were trying to help this city at all, they were nothing more than thugs under the command of an outsider that wanted this city of free men brought to heel. Tensions had been escalating the city for seasons now; each misdeed fuelling the anger and hatred of the people who were only restrained by the sheer influence and manpower of the Daggerhands. Their grip had been waning and the Daggerhand would soon realise that this city was not filled with dogs that would beg for scraps, but instead wolves. Wolves who could tell when a deer was limping and all it needed was a taste of blood to be sent into a frenzy that would tear them apart, limb from limb.
Erik had made his was into the streets as soon as the sun has shattered the fragile horizon, cast a foreboding bloody shadow across the clear, crisp sky. For a moment everything was silent, peaceful even. The birds could be heard singing their beautiful songs in perfect harmony, the laughter children echoed through the streets and they played in the snow and waged war on each other with snowballs. It was the lull before the storm. The city held its breath for a moment, soaking in the serenity, before exhaling.
He had no fear of the scum that filled Robern's Reaches today, he was done being pushed around by outsiders and the Sunberther's that had thrown their lot in with them. When you had over hundred men and women at your back, thinking the same thing, ready to do what had to be done, you weren't scared of anything. This is was the mob, this was Sunberth incarnate.
They splintered off into the maze of alleyways, a dozen in every dank street in search of any Daggerhand who was unlucky enough to be on patrol that day. Erik didn't lead his group, no-one did, and so they led each other instead with each step they took. His wife would want him home right now, she would tell him not to get tangled up this mess and start being a role model so that his kids turned out the way he wanted them to be but he was an old Sunberther through and through, the best way he could he their future was to topple the foulest gang in his memory to have plagued Sunberth.
He had his blade in hand, he knew this was going to get violent. Most weren't even fighters by nature, they carried daggers or clubs, even a plank of wood with rusty nails rammed into it while other accepted that their fists and numbers were the best weapons they could hope to wield. Others were mercenaries like him, some had lost comrades to the Daggerhands, some were fed up of their monopoly on their trade while others simply opposed what they stood for.
It didn't matter.
This was the mob; this made every thief, labourer or deckhand the fiercest army anyone would stand against.
