Perilous Facts

[Tyan Masines]

Tyan furrowed his brow while the two young people explained themselves and a corner of his mouth twitched from an attack of pain coming from his burned forearm. The young man's motives were rather clear to Tyan. He would help him out and get a reward, simple as that. The woman's tale however was more illusive to Tyan. He had no knowledge of anyone owing a life-debt to him and he was not inclined on letting some young woman throw away her life for him. Going back up and joining a fight was not an option.

'Fine, I believe you two, for now', Tyan began. Even if the young folks stories were bogus, it was clear they were not working together. Would one of them try to kill Tyan, the other would surely intervene and even the odds despite Tyan's injury. He looked to Leland first. 'I accept, lead us out of the sewers and away to safety and you will be rewarded. But beware that although I'm injured, I'll still manage to kill at least you before I go down, should you lead us into another trap', Tyan told him, all the while trying to remain his posture and not let the piercing and burning pain from his wound show in his facial features. He felt somewhat guilty for threatening the young man, for if his story was true his offer of help was nothing out of the ordinary in terms of Gynka, it was generous even. Helping a complete stranger in a dangerous situation was quite the gamble. That was why Tyan wondered if the man wasn't perhaps affiliated with the people attacking the Thieves Guild at the jetty above them right now and at least a little threat seemed in order.

Tyan looked to Amber then. 'As for you.. I appreciate your help, but I don't know that I owe anyone so much as to sacrifice their health for me. Fight with and for me if you will, but don't throw yourself into a hail of arrows or something like that again. Because whatever you were told, I am not that valuable', he told her sternly. He meant the part about his own value and truly did not want some woman at the beginning of her life die for him. Also, telling her he wasn't worth much would perhaps work as a bluff to Leland, lowering his price, or prevent him from trying anything stupid all together.

Once he was done talking, Tyan bent down towards a sturdy wooden log he had made out earlier and moved his hand in to grab it. While doing so, he made sure to have his good forearm brush along his hip and to his delight, the small dagger on his belt which was concealed under his shirt was still there. He had lost his sword in the water, but the dagger was a good backup. Tyan picked up the log nevertheless. Best to let them think this old piece of wood was his only weapon and to keep the dagger hidden for now. 'Lox, was it?', Tyan addressed the young man again. 'Lead the way, no time to waste. We need to go towards the East Trade Quarter, if that is at all possible from here.'

[HolyKnight]

“...and you will be rewarded”

Open ended promise.

“I'll still manage to kill at least you…”

Idle threat.

“...I am not that valuable.”

Leland’s first and last observation were at odds, could the wounded man reward his efforts or not? He was certain what he saw at the docks— wealth— but Leland had no desire to cross a member or associate of the Thieves Guild nor the viperous woman willing to die for him. The duality of the woman peeved him though. She’d demanded Leland’s help at the docks, then without warning and only the slightest provocation put a dagger to his throat. Doing anything but helping at this point seemed unnecessarily dangerous. His youthful counterpart, however, did make a mistake- two in fact. Her connection to the wounded man made her susceptible, and her violent threat gave him an idea of her skill and inventory.

Three strangers met, only one knew another; but does knowing from afar mean anything? Under different circumstances, could their personalities form into separate friendships or hasten to murder ill-fated? The mind could wonder, but with dangerous people afoot, best to rely on your perception and instincts. Thin ice you might say or bound to rely on one another by happenstance, Leland took a gamble with his own life as the wounded man lifted his makeshift weapon. Leland turned his back to the pair and his fiery red dreads amassed over his cloaked shoulders to led the way.

Leland knew without knowing how to meld under pressure, never break; stay the course; beat by beat; and breathe. These were common survival instincts for street rats and gamblers— the thrill of the unknown and chance. Past the unsecured and bent back drainage grate they began their discrete journey toward sheer darkness. With the filth in Gynka, or any city it’s equal, you’d be hard pressed to tell the difference between sewer and drainage lines; in fact, quite often they were connected. Fortunately for the trio, this line only smelled of damp mildew and sea salt. Deeper into the city, the line had suffered from an unfixed cave-in near the inlet of a large reservoir. The Artful Dozen had discovered the damage and in turn shared the knowledge with Leland. In areas that would normally require you to swim or go underwater and contend with lethal water horrors, the crew was- instead- able to traverse a large part of the Harbor and Trade Districts undetected, underground. They weren’t a sophisticated operation by any means, but they smuggled enough to survive and used the dried up network of drainage lines as their home.

For now, in this deep bowel of the city a den of miscreants were kings, and it was within Leland’s power to lay a trap for his followers. He felt a cold prickly sensation having nothing to do with thoughts of betrayal. No, the malign presence lingering around Myris’ final resting place coaxed morose thoughts. The boy he murdered in equally cold blood was close at hand. Veer to the left, instead of right, and deep into an eroded fissure of earth bled by a crack in the iron pipework- large enough to stuff a small body- a greedy boy’s corpse laid buried in clay to conceal the stench.

The note and dagger were left pinned to his chest, unkempt oaths meant unweeping hearts. Ronagan has his eternal punishment waiting, and Leland had no desires for the same fate. He said he would guide the pair, and his word was his bond.

“East Trade District, we shan't make it there all the way underground, but near enough I say,” he conveyed the beginnings of his plan. The tinges of red fading to black as light’s reach lessened. For a while he ambled straight avoiding clumped masses and barreling through shallow puddles. Along the way the steady drop of water echoed all around. This was no place for surface dwellers, getting lost here was certain death but even prolonged exposure, madness.

Where did the world down here breath you back into the living light of day? Before Leland made his first turn he stopped, remembering well how antsy the woman was the last time he moved to quickly, he turned slowly and spoke again, “Gunna get dark, I know these lines well, just reach’n for a torch and flint…”

Slowly as if reaching into a sleeping bear’s open mouth to retrieve an unswallowed trinket, Leland produced a stubby branch bound in cloth and tar from the crevice of a shadow. With the other hand, still keeping an eye on the pair he takes out a piece of flint and shows both objects to his companions before striking the flint hard against the pipe wall with the torch nearest.

Once the torch was lit he banged it a few times against the wall to let any excess tar and flame fall harmlessly with a sizzle. He’d actually struck the wall three times, a message to his friends to stay clear. The rest of the journey proved uneventful, just a young man guiding two strangers through his friends’ home. The course taken could have boggled the mind, this way and that, up a few ladders in pensive silence.

Leland’s mind was anything but silent, he led by instincts and routine, freeing him to ponder. He couldn’t shake the thrill of the woman in his veins, Marley never made him feel that way. A woman that young, and that deadly, had been trained— perhaps since birth to do one thing— to kill. Why’d she have to be so attractive though? Did she even have a personality, or was she all business and ideals?

He wanted to know, it might kill him or mortally disable him, but he wanted to know. A girl like that could be a lot of fun, give into a lot of hell. If given a chance he would be no gentleman about his intentions. Despite the screaming voice in his head to be reasonable, Leland felt himself slipping toward the woman’s fate of being susceptible.

When his hand gripped the final ladder rung that would birth them back into the streets of Gynka he paused. The noises here were loud, louder than expected. How long had they been this loud? He cursed himself and turned to see if his companions were still even there. Whatever was happening up above, it was chaotic and booming! Surely a battle had not spread this far or was it rioting?

“Eh, well this is as close as I can get us…”

Leland offered the same defensive arms out gesture used to persuade them here. The look of absent surprise on his face was plain, I didn’t promise it would be easy.

[Amber Sorell]

She listened to Tyan's words, trying to wring out her hair and stopped, disgusted from the dirty water running down her hands.
A very faint smile did cross her face after his statement

*...but I don't know that I owe anyone so much as to sacrifice their health for me...*

she wasn't willing to correct him. Keeping secrets and knowledge from others was part of her training. There was always an edge over your
opponents - or in Tyan's case - the person she tried to shelter from further harm.
She did also notice the slight wincing Tyan wanted to hide and sort of a releaved stance after bending down, grabbing a wooden log.
He had probably a small weapon stored somewhere in his cloth. Good to know - if this street rat Lox tried to lure them both in a trap.
But she had her doubts he would do this, no one messes with the Thieves Guild.
Lox - she was pretty sure this wasn't his real name - street rats did tend to gave out a lot of names.
But his eyes were something to remember, she admitted to herself.

She let him lead, Tyan in the mid and herself as backup. Calming her mind to keep the awareness of the surroundings,
to detect large rats roaming the drainage or even worse.
To sneak around in shadows and darkness was something she had honed near to perfection.

Lox did reach for torch and flint with warily moves, letting her know that he had learned his lesson.

Soon a ladder appeared in the flickering shine from the torch, but the noises above let her frown.

“Eh, well this is as close as I can get us…”

[Tyan Masines]

There was a wall, but it was being torn down at this very moment. Gynka did not have many walls in a classical sense, making what was happening now something rather special. Large parts of the city had grown organically over generations without any significant infrastructural planning. A neighboring building with windows placed a little higher than normal was usually what separated your own winding housing complex from the next, and the next, and the next. Most cities on the continent were surrounded by large city walls, but Gynka did not have those either. Many times, in the past, warlords had tried to take the city by force. The thick flat and muddy marshland surrounding the area was treacherous for armies though, prone to disease and difficult to march through undetected. The cost of taking Gynka with a large force was simply never worth what it would cost, so the warlords became merchant lords instead and tried to take it with armies of clerks, spies, and most importantly, gold.

Gynka was more a city of bridges than it was a city of walls. Most of those bridges were not in any way fancy and some even barely identifiable as more than a few sturdy boards which had been placed over a particularly deep puddle in the middle of the street. The swampy area the city had been built upon was lined with numerous small canals and other bodies of water, making it necessary to construct many of such bridge-like structures. It did fit the general vibrancy of Gynka, though. A hotspot of crime and commerce, of all races living together peacefully in one district and violent racism in others, a cradle of chaos with an unwritten set of rules that only a local would ever truly be able to comprehend. It was a city of we-will-make-this-work-somehow, a city of tearing down walls and building bridges.

With a deep and loud crack, the wall of the granary finally gave in under the pressure of the enraged crowd throwing all its weight against it. Those who had attempted to climb it were flung into the yard beyond headfirst as the wall gave in, being the first inside, but also probably trampled to death soon. When Tyan, Leland and Amber emerged from the sewers, it was the first thing they saw. Tyan was not sure whom this guarded granary belonged to. It might have been Thieves Guild, it may have been the property of some other party. From what the surrounding area looked like – littered with rubble, burned out torches, broken pitchforks and makeshift roadblocks in alleys leading towards the granary – the riot had been going on for some time before the rioter’s object of desire had been finally assaulted. Bodies of rioters and town guard alike were all around, mostly corpses, some wounded still crawling across the roughly cobbled square to get away from it all.

Had this riot ensued as an aftermath of the battle at the docks, or was this riot perhaps a predecessor to the docks event, a way to distract large portions of the town guard in a different area so their response time to an explosion at the docks would be much longer than it normally would have been? It was impossible to determine now, but the latter might have served the plans of someone planning an ambush at the docks quite well.

Tyan looked around. The three were in a small square surrounded by buildings which were all at least three stories high. Since shops and their respective signs changed almost daily in Gynka, it was impossible to get around by using them as landmarks. Instead, you would have to look up and find striking points of reference where the rooftops met the open sky. It was like when you were within a thick forest and wanted to find a clearing. Looking straight ahead would be no good, trees after trees after trees, all brown and green, would obstruct your view too much and blur any sense of distance, even if you would be staring at a glade some 500 feet away. But looking at the treetops in any direction and making out the faint blue of the sky hinted at an opening somewhere, a place where one tree crown did not follow right upon the next.

Like with everything in life, what you were looking at was not the only important thing. It was the angle from which you were looking at it as well.

‘This way’, Tyan told his two companions once he had made out a slightly larger building with an arched roof made from bright red roofing tiles. It belonged to the brickworks guild, who prided themselves in always replacing those self-made tiles once they had been paled by the sun and pigeon manure as well, leaving a bright red landmark above the rooftops for everyone to see and find. The orphanage and Myra’s hideout were just two blocks away from it.

They walked towards it through some alleys, passed by droves of guards rushing towards the square with the granary. The guards did not pay any attention to Tyan and the others, as they were clearly moving away from the scene of the riot and were no threat at all. The young man Lox mentioned something about a reward, and Tyan reassured him that they would be at their destination soon. He understood the man’s possible fear: if they would really reach some sort of hideout soon with people only known to Tyan in it, it would be easy for him to set them against Lox to kill him or at least shoo him away without any pay.
As they were moving through the alleys in relative peace, Tyan had the time to think about what he had seen when he nearly drowned. Had it been a dream, a vision? Was that really what entering Cherga’s realm for good looked like? It had been scary, absurd. It had been anything but peaceful and comforting.

‘Get… get Myra!’, a Thieves Guild guard shouted. ‘Tyan’s returned.’

One man ran inside the building, while another guard approached the three. He had a hand on the hilt of the mace hanging from his belt. ‘Who are those?’, he asked Tyan.

There was a moment of silence and Tyan could have said anything. A lie, or the truth, or something in between. ‘They’re friends’, was what he settled for. An exaggeration perhaps, but something in that dream of his had awakened the humbler side in him. In a sense, inside of his soul there was a wall, and it was being torn down.

‘Come in then, quickly now’, the guard said. ’The streets aren’t safe yet.’

Inside, Myra and Joron approached Tyan and Myra gave him a swift hug, quickly releasing him afterwards so it wouldn’t look like a hug of affection, but a hug of gratitude rewarding that a warrior had returned to fight again another day. They talked for a bit, too far away for Amber and Leland to hear. Those two were closely watched by the guards and the doors had been closed behind them. The gaze of those guards made it clear that although having been called friends, leaving was not an option yet.

A few moments later, both Joron and Myra turned their heads away from the conversation to look at Amber and Leland and Myra nodded. She then moved away from Joron and Tyan and approached the others.

‘Tyan tells me you two are resourceful, so I will give you a choice’, she began. What Amber and Leland could not know was that Myra had just advocated executing them both, just to be sure they were not spies connected to the events that transpired at the docks, but Tyan had begged her to reconsider. It was not Myra’s style anyway, but she was inclined towards more drastic measures now after so many of her men and herself had nearly gotten killed in that ambush.

‘Lox, was it? You will receive a good sum of coin for your help, no matter what you decide. But I’m afraid I can’t let any of you leave right now, because we are in the middle of planning a response operation and I can’t have that compromised in any way’, she continued. There were many eyes on Leland and Amber now, everyone in the room and beyond seemed to have turned their attention on them, watching their every move.

‘Your choice is whether you wish to join us in our operation, for more rewards and our eternal gratitude, or if you wish to wait it out here and leave after we have completed it’, Myra explained their situation to them. ‘If you chose to fight, you’ll be in a group with Tyan once we have nursed him up to speed again, since he’ll be the one vowing for you both.’

‘Either way’, Myra inhaled. ‘Our operation will not commence before the coming evening, so you’ll have to stick around here for a day. You’ll be given rooms. And time to think it all over so you can decide.’

[Amber Sorell]

Amber cursed silently, she cursed to stand in the open without her hooded cloak. For her taste to many weapons showed up, on herself and on the Thieves guild members.

Raising slowly her hands with open palms, she made a step towards Myra, well aware it could be her death. But her gutt told her already there wasn't much of a chance to survive this.
Another small step, she felt like walking through thick air,
then she whispered near Myra's ear ...

*The Lord calls The Unseen and The Unseen follow*
slowly revealing her left inner wrist during the whisper.

The Tattoo was small, but sharp - Two Daggers crossed over a closed eye -

* Shadowblade and her skills are at your disposal, Myra of the Docks *

Precautious she made two steps backwards looking Myra straight in her eyes without blinking.

[HolyKnight]

He should have never left the manhole. Leland knew the risk without a hint of the reward. Sometimes a feeling brings you into a moment, not logic or your tendencies— hairs raising up your neck, a trace of ghost-like fingertips. Leland held loosely to the gods, naturally inclined to Ronagan and Nargùn. Long ago though, a wandering priest taught him something of the Elder Gods.

“Have you ever wondered…” Bellowed the middling priest without renown who brazenly took Leland by the wrist near a tavern. Had the stranger attempted the maneuver a year later, Leland would have embraced him with a subtle uppercut to the ribs. Instead, he smelt wine over painted decaying teeth as the zealot brought the wayward youth near to preach. Rangy and drunk, the priest’s hand concealed under soiled white cloth gloves gripped him like firm twigs.

The half-elf human with wild eyes spoke over hunched shoulders. Leland cringed at the spittle bubbling on his colorless lips, an individual who favored a bird in every way— beak-like nose and all. His human ancestry had finally begun to overtake his elven: pointed ears but aging skin, high and angular cheekbones paired with almond shaped grey eyes, and long gray fading to white hair matched and feathered into his weathering red priest’s robe.

The true fire and zeal had seemingly expired. At first, all he had to offer was memorized verses and cogent glibs, but for whatever reason, Leland was struck. The priest had no following like the lesser religious sects common to Gynka, no riches to speak of like the pompous asses who shepherded the temples. He was just a half-elf and Leland, a wandering lost street rat. Reading his mark, the priest relinquished his grip and made something of himself in a greedy tone.

“Be warned boy, I will lead a new generation to the Five. So heed my words against your own folly. Let me enlighten you, teach you the origin of your emotions! Yes, yes, yes… Why you think and act, do and do not. The mystery is simple, simple enough for a boy. Heed me! Your impulses and rage are the flame; solidarity and stubbornness, the earth; spontaneity and lightheartedness, the wind in the trees; adaptability, level headedness, and momentum— the sea; and all the wisdom, reflection, and cunning— the spirit divine boy!”

In a world trying to teach and bend your ear, who knows what will move an individual. Like uncharted alchemy, our felicitous and unique experiences coalesce and build. Whatever byproduct is produced started and ended with our own free will. Leland chose for better or worse the wisdom of a loquacious drunken priest. Correlating his thoughts and emotions to the Elder elements made perfect sense to Leland. Lacking conventional intelligence and seeking his own individualism, balancing his emotions and not feeding one element over the other became a way of life.

In general, the Elders were grossly under-represented in Gynka, everything here praised young and new. Plants in shallow soil, the roots of the city and its denizens interwoven and interlocked. Piecemeal religion, seasoned lives with a dash and a sprinkle of this god and that or none at all- the slope could be slippery, though, for the roots were often rabbit holes. On the surface, meek and humble institutions of worship and penance or charitous evangelical knits but far beneath into the occult, a brood for dastardly deeds, living sacrifices, subversion, and any other deplorable wickednesses, conceivable by demented imaginations, thrived.

Just like the factions and guilds, Leland learned to steer clear of temple service and lesser religious sects. Of course, he attended festivals regularly and masses less frequently, all the while, appreciating the wisdom and lessons preached, but no one could convince him against his own conscience. He stood alone, determined to achieve his goals in the same manner.

The moment he left the sewers, abandoning the Artful Dozen, Leland knew he was no longer the steward of his own fate. He was not entirely looking out for himself or a reward. An impulse, otherwise ignored, compelled him and he went, a simple matter of do or do not.

Now, standing in a room surrounded by armed associates of the Thieves Guild, Leland inwardly bemoaned giving into his impulse. While his mind raced mulling Myra’s options, the young woman came forward with careful steps and outstretched arms. He couldn’t help but marvel at her, the gall, the fearlessness this woman possessed. They’d been disarmed when the man, he now knew to be Tyan, conversed privately with the leader- Myra if his deduction was correct. The guard assigned to the task took his time being thorough with the young woman. Nearly an entire table for four put her barrage of weapons on display. Leland watched closely, the sturdy seasoned guard with a square toad-like pitted face and greasy black mopped hair shook his head with a permanent sneer with each weapon he discovered on her.

When the final measure had been taken to free her of weapons the toad-face guard whispered to a lesser equipped and seasoned guard. Equal to Leland’s age, the young guard clad in simple leathers nodded to his superior and beelined his way to Myra and Tyan. He paused before he arrived, well-trained and disciplined. Aggravation crossed Myra’s face for a moment but she motioned and the guard conveyed his message. No doubt, telling her of the young woman and her arsenal.

Before Leland could assess any further he was being shook down by the same toad-faced guard. The man clearly wanted to speak, but he held his tongue. Damn, Leland thought, this crew knew their place. The two daggers at his hips were removed from their sheathes, along with the hidden red dagger in his boot, and all three discarded haphazardly near the woman’s collection.

Sheeps to the slaughter in a den of thieves, both the woman and his fate started with a complete stranger, Tyan, but he was not the leader of this outfit. Myra added another variable, she had her crew to protect. Leland cursed over and over inside his head, on the outside he’d trained himself. This was not the first time he faced the Thieves Guild or factions like it, but normally, he kept such interactions at a careful distance with lower ranking members. Leland preferred anonymity and a full-life of his choosing. That world, however, was under fire, and even as he faced the possibility of death, he had a sense he was in the right place at the right time.

* Shadowblade and her skills are at your disposal, Myra of the Docks *

Shadowblade, her alias was Shadowblade- fitting but he would poke fun at such a nickname if they survived their ordeal. Keep your friends close but enemies closer, the age old axiom came to him. He entered the mouth of a beast, willingly, requesting to leave with payment after the conflict settled would seem suspicious and weak. It was time to put skin in the game and show his mettle. He would have to join the Thieves Guild or prove his trustworthiness outright, of that he was sure. A night to think it over was not needed. Would offering his service be enough? Would the Guild give a damn and be willing to add further risk to ongoing operations and the battle at-hand?

Time to the roll the dice again my boy, Nargùn whispered. With an expressionless face he waited his turn, watched as Shadowblade came back to his side. Then with a simple shrug, he moistened his lips, lofted his fingers into the air, and looked around the room as if he stood with casual friends. His response was flat and to the point.

“I’m in with the good looking one and Tyan.”

The words were spoken in a round before his piercing eyes fixed back on Myra. One nod of the head and eyes trained, Leland gave his respect where respect was due.

“Lox is just’a nick, Lady Myra righ’? Leland Niall at yehr service, or Dread, or Lox, or Bastard matters not to me. Thank ye for the hospitality, truly. And the offer to earn’a wage.”

Another respectful bow of his head then the lad holds up a single finger his eyes searching for Tyan, they hold for a moment over the man before peeking to his side at Shadowblade. He starts talking again while looking at her before letting his eyes flow back to Myra mid-request.

“These two, however, owe me at least a drink, I hope ye’ll oblige me tha request Lady Myra?”

Afterward, his hands went up in his defense ere they fell back to his side, awaiting his orders.