In for a Pounding

[Erryl]

You'd think I'd be getting used to this by now, the thought skipped back and forth through Erryl's mind, between the fear and anxiety that wavered and surged like a thick, dark sea of nightmares threatening to crawl their way into his reality.

He swallowed hard and fingered the bracelet at his wrist, trying his best not to show his emotions. He failed miserably, but he was too overwhelmed to worry about that -- too focused on the beautiful woman, and the shady-looking man whom Erryl immediately distrusted.

As he glanced at Iarei, where she stood between himself and the strangers, a shiver ran up his spine, the feeling of a presence creeping up behind him, and he turned to look back through the darkness of the alley. No one was there besides a large black spider crawling its way towards them along the wall. It still caused Erryl's muscles to tense and he was thankful (for a brief moment) when the others finally stepped out into the street.

His relief quickly fled him when he realized that meant they were probably once again heading in the direction of Erryl's inevitable death.

Iarei only looked behind herself once to make sure he was following, which he was. There was no way he was staying alone. The mercenary woman was standing some distance away, looking thoroughly displeased, only just holding back the urge to test Iarei's nerve and try to sell her services again.

She must really be desperate for work if she'd consider testing Iarei's patience like that, Erryl realized with a sigh; he couldn't help feeling a little bad for the woman.

This man, Mather, on the other hand, was too mysterious for Erryl to feel comfortable with him at all. Somehow it felt like his demeanor was in contradiction with his thoughts, though the young half-elf couldn't quite decide why he felt that way. He bit his lip as Iarei introduced them and explained the situation as briefly as she could. Most details she kept to herself, as long as this Mather character knew they were looking for a kidnapped woman and possibly boy as well, both in the hands of some rather murderous baddies.

[Iarei]

"Iarei," was her first short word, but it wasn't her last.

Three strides, eye half kept back on Mather, and Iarei realized that she didn't know where she was going. Where she should go. All the same she kept walking, explaining the situation to Mather as she aimed them for busier sections. Nice sections. She wouldn't risk a trip into a cheaper inn if it meant tangling with more thugs before she was ready. Unbidden the image of the alley and the blood and the monster's throat under her blade crept into her mind, the feel of blood at her knees. She was still bloody, she realized. Crusted, dark-stained bloody, and she bit back curses.

Nice, or in a busy enough area to prevent more bloodshed. They hadn't been messed with until they'd been out of sight. She thought back to when she'd first entered the city with the boy, to a rundown green building she'd avoided purely because it looked like bad tips. Circumstances had changed. It'd be busy enough, and she stopped, eyes flicking to her boys as she turned and nodded back the way they'd come. "You're on duty now, Mather Link. We'll discuss pay rates when we hit safety. I want to know if we've got a tail."

Back the other way, stalking long and lean and confidant as a cat through the street. Even shaking with adrenaline, Iarei could force herself to be more than what she was, show what she wanted to. They arrived in front of the worn tavern, faded green paint coloring it at direct odds to the red, dusty brick that characterized so many other buildings. Its sign was almost faded back into obscurity, but it was visible enough for her to read 'The Drunken Rat' off it. People passed around them, irritated by their blockage of part of the road that was still considered near enough to middle to be meant for walking, not stopping. Iarei scooted them closer to the edge of the road by a clustered group of bulky housewives, baskets over their arms, as they caught up on gossip.

"Were we followed?"

___

The bar wench was tittering. "An ol' 'ore in them streets, whatcha expect, luv? Too ole to be spreadin' legs if y'ask me, but -- "

The keep had lifted his hand, and the wench skittered away, still laughing. A high pitched, grating noise. He shook his head, gave the guardsman a frank look. "She sells more than her body these days, but her reputation is what it is. Pitiful woman, she should be settled in a chair by the fire, but no children that I know of. Miracle that is," more likely forced, considering how long she'd been at her trade. "She's usually hanging out in the back streets in the areas where bodies are found. It's possible she might know something, if you can find her."

[Drayel]

"Thank you for your help." Drayel said swigging back the last of his drink. He turned his eyes to look at the barman with a polite nod. Paying the tab plus a little more for good measure Drayel turned and headed back out towards the alley where the bodies were.

From murderers to children to whores. How colorful a life I lead. Drayel sighed as he peered around himself and the now darkening streets. Mentally he forced himself to think of all the murders in the area, calculating quickly a map and route to try and find her by. Perhaps Mother was right. I should have stayed at home and found a wife. Then at least I'd have some pleasure at coming home. A good meal for one and a warm bed for another.

Walking down the roads he frowned, pausing once in a while to question the edgy people that gathered in three or fours, their beady eyes gleaming like the rats that ran across his boots. Twice he got rude sneers in response and broke their nose back. After that he barely had any hassles as he hunted for the old woman. Finally by nights end he forced himself to give up and head to the barracks, his feet aching as he trudged to his bunk. Tomorrow he'd look again but for tonight he'd rest. Tonight he needed sleep.

[Mather]

Iarei. Nice, high-soundin' name for a woman what looked like a rat caught out in the rain...and pretty covered in blood, most of it crusted; not too much of it her own either, else she wouldn't be standing -- much less walking about and having enough presence of mind to hire a mercenary and talk like she knew what she was about. Mather withheld his own judgment on that last point -- she might just be stark raving mad, but he was stark raving broke and desperate, so it all came down to splitting hairs about who actually knew what they were doing.

Well, at least she walked with a purpose. Mather couldn't stand (at least, not any more than he had to) that kind of person who'd meander hither and thither and expect their bodyguard to do absolutely all the guardin' of their precious body, never realizing that the first rule of keepin' alive is to not act bloody stupid. The way this woman walked, she sent signals that she wasn't one to mess with, which made Mather's own job considerably easier.

Not much could be said for the young twig of an elf-boy, though...he'd goggled at the other mercenary, the woman, when he was faced with her but now he seemed absolutely distrustful of Mather's own self -- although it hardly mattered, because Iarei was the one who'd hired him, and not the boy.

"Followed?" Mather drawled after they finished their little twisty-circuit about the streets. "No, you weren't followed. 'Course, it might help just a smidgin if'n I knew what you're afraid of bein' followed by, if you catch my drift. What's your precious body bein' guarded from?"

[Erryl]

"Precious body", Mather said, and Erryl frowned as his eyes flicked over Iarei's form. Those words didn't seem right talking about her. He avoided looking at the mercenary, not wanting to catch man's attention, though he wondered what the stranger's history might be. Likely nothing Erryl wanted to know. He really didn't trust the man, though he couldn't quite put his finger on the reason for the feeling.

I wonder what would happen if my brother showed up right now, he almost wondered, but tossed the thought aside as soon as it occurred to him. He probably wouldn't see his brother ever again anyway. Despite their short time knowing each other, it seemed Iarei was the closest to family he was going to get before his life ended. He crossed his arms across his chest as a familiar feeling of sickness rose up from his stomach.

[Iarei]

"Precious," Iarei said, as if in echo of Erryl's thoughts. There was the cruel edge of a laugh in the word, and she swung her gaze to Mather. "Thugs. Angry mobs. Gangsters with anger issues." She shrugged, tucked her injured hand under the elbow of her opposing arm. Thing was stinging her in a way that boded ill, and presaged a need for medical attention. "What's your past work?" She asked, satisfied as she could be given the shit situation they were in, and turned.

"Move it kid, inside." That said as if Erryl was stupid. Iarei didn't have a particularly high opinion of anyone at the moment. She would have loved a good hour, much less a good day. Found the idea to be impossible, as she herself started moving forward.

Iarei went into the Drunken Rat with the assurity of a woman who knows her commands would be followed.

[Drayel]

A groan escaped Drayel as he rolled over, his lips curling down in a sleepy frown. He glanced up at the three guards that stood murmuring at his bedside. All of them wore serious and oddly grim stares as they whispered softly.

"What's going on?" Drayel grumbled propping himself up with an elbow.

"O-oh Drayel. Sorry to wake you up. We were going to let you sleep longer." Cause we didn't want to die. was the unspoken truth. Drayel rolled his eyes before sitting up completely and throwing his legs over the bed. For a second the world spun before settling back into its rightful place.

"Well? What of it?" Drayel snapped reaching for his boots. "Do you have news for me or just gabbering like worthless curs? What is the point of being at my bedside before sunrise?"

"We have a lead for you." Drayel perked up a bit, his mind quickly clearing from the sleep. Seeing his attention caught the guard grinned a little. "Appears a woman was spotted in that crap tavern...Drunk something.... what was it? Drunken Rat? Anyways, it may be a lead for ya. Sorry for waking you up so early."

"How is a woman going into a pub a lead?" Drayel snapped, his famous fury starting to get the best of him. The guard blinked before grinning triumphantly. Drayel blinked.

"The woman was covered.... in blood."

"Oh... well that changes things."

[Mather]

Of course her body was precious; she'd hired a bloody mercenary to make sure it came to no harm, hadn't she? In Mather's experience, it was only a very few people who weren't all right in the head who regarded their bodies as anything less than precious. No matter how humble or self-sacrificing you may be, nobody really wants to encounter pain or death (or both). Mather did not point any of this out, figuring Iarei wouldn't take kindly to a bit of meaningless banter, and Mather wasn't really in the mood anyway. Perhaps to poke fun at that boy, now...but no. Not the time.

Iarei's being covered in blood, of course, attracted quite a bit of attention, including the sharp-eyed gazes of two ratty-looking urchins that Mather distrusted the moment he laid eyes on them. Of course he fulfilled his bodyguard-ly duty, making a discreet if not subtle circuit around Iarei as she made her way through the tavern, skinny boy in tow. Many curious gazers he turned away with the fierceness of his glare, a glare that said quite clearly, Touch her and you're dead, scum; dead most painfully.

Well, Mather hadn't asked about Iarei's state of dress -- dressed in carnage, as it were -- and he didn't particularly care about the reason. All it meant was that she was desperate for someone to protect her for the time being, and that meant Mather Link -- Mercenary, Jack-of-All-Trades, and Hired Thug Extraordinaire -- had a job.

[Iarei]

Mather hadn't answered Iarei's question. Being that it was late, it had been a long day, and she was in pain -- she let it go. She would ask again in the morning, maybe after she'd gotten something to eat. The first few steps into the tavern were a dubious ones, lessened by Mather's growling look. They all moved further inside, and Iarei was impressed in spite of herself at Mather's surprisingly good take on his duty. Maybe a little bit obvious, of course, but it was reassuring that in a pinch he'd at least be able to look the part. Erryl, on the other hand, looked like an easy target. Iarei would have to fix that. There was a lot she'd have to fix, but she couldn't stomach the thought of wrestling more problems. An inordinate number had passed her that day, and the thought. . .grim thought. Her fuel for temper was running low, and she was closer to flat out fear than she'd like to admit. Especially in front of her new hire and the boy. Erryl.

It was almost enough for her to wonder why she was still trying. Why not give up?

Why.

She paid for a single room with a single bed, and told them with a tone brooking no argument that for the present moment they weren't sleeping in different rooms. Proprietry be damned -- with her hand injured incoming coin would be more difficult to get, and she didn't trust Erryl not to run off like her boy had. A run of bad luck implied to her that Mather being in another room might mean she got her throat slit while he slept. As far as she knew he was a heavy sleeper. As far as she knew he might rob her blind.

Iarei took the bed and told the men that if they didn't piss her off she'd consider rotation. She also told them she'd talk of wages in the morning, along with a plan of action. Sleep had seemed so far off that the prospect of it hung over her like a death sentence; the nap she'd taken hadn't done much for her.

The night passed.

The morning saw her not feeling much better, her hand a throbbing mass of pain that had her curled up on the bed prodding at it. It was puffy, a deep red settling around the cut. She was a mess. She'd gotten dried blood all over the bed and its sheets, and her clothing was a ruined canvas for overlapping dull brown stains. She stank. In her head, she ordered the first actions of the morning into a list that seemed less intimidating, and then she was swinging her feet over the side. Clean her hand, clean her body, have her clothes burned. She had some spares.

"Oy," she said, "I'm taking a bath. When I'm done we'll discuss wages. Hear?" If they weren't already awake, she'd call their names.

If they were gone, well.

[Drayel]

Drayel grunted as he nudged his way through the streets, humming slightly as he examined his surroundings. He was close if appearance had anything to say. Ratty looking people, Drunken Rat. Drayel grunted a chuckle as he continued on, abnormally happy despite his early wake up call.

He had a lead. A bloodied woman had went into some kind of tavern or something. Bloody = wound = possible suspect. Drayel couldn't be more cheery of a mood. Coming to the tavern he grunted at the people sharply before giving it a quick look around. Glancing at the barkeeper he growled.

"Oi." He said crossing his arms sharply. "Who owns this place? I need to speak with the owner."

"I own it." the man responded shortly. "What do you want guardsman?"

"As I said barman, I wish to speak with you. I have a couple questions to ask about a bloodied woman. It was reported she rested here last night, did you see her perhaps?"

The barman paused, his eyes glancing behind Drayel for a moment before his gaze settled back on the guardsman. "No sir, didn't see a thing."

[Mather]

Mather didn't say much that evening, not to Iarei or the skinny boy, but he stuck close to them and did his best to look intimidating. A long life on the streets and out-roads of the world had taught him that appearances go a long way towards making people believes what you want them to believe -- look the part, and you're three-quarters of the way to being the part.

Once they got to their room -- there was just one for the lot of them, which only made Mather a little uncomfortable, and only because he wasn't too sure about sleeping next to complete strangers...but he was a light sleeper, and these two looked too much like terrified refugees to be much of a threat. Anyway, once they got to their room, Mather grunted and dismissed Iarei's gruff offer of rotation with a brief jerk of his hand.

"I'll sleep on the floor every night," he told her. "In front of the door." The door opened inward, which was good -- it made Mather's body a much more effective block, either for those trying to get in or those trying to get out. Better for bodyguarding duty, and self-preservation in general.

The night passed without a disturbance, aside from Mather's snapping awake every few hours to see if he was still alive and possessed of all his goods and faculties; aside from that, the night passed quickly and morning came soon, accompanied by Iarei's declaration that she was going to bathe and that his money would be discussed when she returned.

Mather got up and shuffled away from the door so she could get out. "Y'want to take a look at that hand," he grunted. "Don't want it to get all leaky so's you die."

[Erryl]

Little sleep came to Erryl that night, as he laid on the floor in an awkward, still quiet that brought about only sad memories of home. The room was cold, and he missed the warm, crackling fire that his sister in law would keep lit for the three of them throughout the night. Clean bedding, well-prepared food, love, and family... were all things of the past. The only thing Erryl had to look forward to in his future was a certain death, upon which this nightmare would end -- or so he would hope.

By morning, the young man was even more lethargic than he'd been the previous day, and he considered the world through a dull haze of fear and cynicism. He awoke with a jolt at the sound of the door opening, though he couldn't remember when he'd fallen asleep. It was as though he'd blinked and suddenly the room was filled with daylight, and now it seemed they were leaving for some reason.

Sitting up, Erryl realized it was Iarei who was leaving, while whatshisname stood by the door. The half-elf blinked and rubbed his eyes, and hoped the mercenary would leave as well, because there was no way they were going to be in a room alone together. For all Erryl or Iarei knew, the dark stranger had been send to "take care" of the pair of them.

Then again, he probably would have been better off doing that while we were asleep, Erryl realized. Or was it that he planned to lead Iarei and Erryl straight to the thugs, so that they could be tortured and interrogated first?

It's too early for thoughts like this.

[Iarei]

Iarei turned a stare on Mather that was part condescending and part withering. "Yeah," she said, though to which part Mather had said, or to all of it, wasn't exactly the clearest thing. She dug into her crusty clothing for one of her bishani stashes and pulled out five bishani. She tossed them to Erryl. "Get food into the both of you. You look like shit." And with that incredibly rude and tactless demand, extra clothing perched on one hip, she exited the room.

The Drunken Rat was not especially well equipped for guests like Iarei used to staying in fairly nice inns. She trooped downstairs, brown stains still adorning and stiffening her clothing, and caught one of the barmaids as she was exiting the kitchen. The conversation that followed soon had Iarei frowning, and then dipping dangerously close to snarling as it was explained to her that bathing services were not included with the rooms. Iarei drew the girl back to the stairs, explaining in a very curt voice that she was not going out there looking like that, and when common sense didn't seem to make a dent in the air between the girl's ears, Iarei started pulling out bishani.

Three bishani earned her use of the worn, cramped wooden tub that looked like an overlarge barrel that the barmaids sometimes used at the end of a particularly brutal shift, crammed into the back of the kitchen with a ragged privacy screen. Two more bishani earned her hot water rather than cold, and still another got the now sullen girl ("m'boss won't like this" she kept moaning, on and on until Iarei wanted to slap her) to bring the water in buckets so Iarei wouldn't have to.

It took four buckets for her body, with one just for her hand. Two more to get her clothes into a less dubious state, and then another bishan after the girl gave her a very cross look for the mess that'd been made around the barrel. She thought about having Erryl do errands for the proprietor to lessen the cost of their room as she left the kitchen to head back upstairs to hang her clean if still stained clothing up to dry.

[Drayel]

Drayel scowled deeper than he was known for. The owner was clearly lying and it was starting to get more than a little aggrivating. He knew the woman was still in the building. She had to be. No way all the barmaids would look so terrified if there wasn't anything going on. Turning his face to glare a little harder he snorted at the man darkly.

"Seeing as there isn't a problem, you clearly wouldn't care if I took a look around myself." Drayel snarled, his previously good mood vanishing in the presence of this idiot. The owner turned a light color red as he bristled but Drayel couldn't care less. "Have a good day then sir, I will try remain out of the way during my investigation."

"I didn't say you could go." the man snapped back as he glared at the guard furiously. Drayel glared back.

"You have no choice. It is either I come in here alone and don't cause a scene or I could call in backup and tear this place to pieces. Which would you rather man? Either is fine with me." Drayel snorted as he crossed his arms and stared at him. The owner cringed as he glanced down now, his frustration apparent as he grumbled his choice. Nodding Drayel wandered off, ignoring the tense stare at his back.

If I was a killer, where would I hide?

In a barrel full of apples.

Drayel blinked at the odd thought, stopping dead as he frowned in confusement. Apples? In a barrel? What the hell was wrong with him? He was being sarcastic with himself for sake of the Creator and it wasn't exactly comforting.

Apple is food. Food means breakfast. No breakfast this morning. Alas, I must be hungry. Drayel sighed as his stomach groaned at him in confirmation. I wonder if this rat hole has a kitchen. Probably.

Drayel hummed as he headed towards the back where he knew he guessed the kitchen would be. After all, that where the maids kept running in an out of with dishes and food. His thoughts where locked on food, at least until he notice a rather pained and miserable woman coming from the kitchen, her hair dripping with water as she opened the kitchen door. Seeing she was worse for wear he frowned a little, briefly wondering if perhaps she was the bloody woman. Judging by the clothes he was correct... but something was wrong. She was too small to kill those men and she didn't look to strong. On that note her hand was... wounded?

"Ma'am?" He called out to her, trying to sound as friendly and kind as he could manage. A gruff bark came out instead. He winced a little but seeing her look at him he tilted his head to look at her curiously. "Are you in need of assistance? Your hand looks... wounded."

[Mather]

((Terribly sorry for the delay!))

Mather watched Iarei dig the money out of her filthy clothes and toss it to her boy-thing with an expression of combined amusement and disdain. "You look like shit," she'd said, and Mather replied with a cheery, "Yeah, well, you ain't too pretty yourself, sunshine." He didn't mean it with any malice, merely returning like for like -- she was rude; Mather could be rude with the best of them.

As Iarei left the room, Mather turned to the boy-twig with the same cheerful expression and clapped him heartily on the back. "What say you we go for some grub, boy?" he asked. "She's right, we all look like a load of shit between the three of us. At least she's gettin' a bath."

He started for the door, hands free by his side with that same instinct that had been keeping him alive for twenty-three years -- in case anyone decided to ambush him or the boy in the narrow hallway of the inn, which was terribly unlikely yet not ever impossible. Kitchens're probably full of things you could only half call food, he thought as they left the room, but hey. Grub's grub.