(OOC: Flashing forward as suggested, then... hope I'm understanding correctly.)
Arnholt was whistling (badly) a mildly churchy tune that he remembered from his childhood while trimming his beard with a sharp blade. His little brass mirror was hardly ideal for the task, but that was what he had to work with, so the big man was just making the best of it. Normally he wasn't much of a morning person, either. Today, however, Arnholt felt pretty damn good. Excited, kind of. Because today was the day he'd been invited over to see what was up with Carminello's gang. Unless of course that note was just a prank perpetrated by some random elf jokester. But hell, that wouldn't matter either! Because Carminello had at first invited him to drop by any night or morning, and morning it surely was.
All goes well, after today I'll practically be an honorary adhiel. Then I'll be able to ask the elves any damn thing I feel like. Learn all about Pan and whoever.
All in all, a day filled with promise. That's what Arnholt thought anyway. In any case, once he was dressed and all tidied up, the big man headed on down to inquire about breakfast at the bar. That was Aylmari, or anyone else, was even on duty this early. Arnholt figured he'd head on over to the tanner's store that Carminello had mentioned just as soon as he could get a bite to eat. One way or another, they ought to be expecting him.
A Very Important Date (Chyril 25th, early MT)
In the three days since Arnholt had stepped unwittingly through its gates, the Free City of World's Mouth had seen almost unbelievable changes.
The night of Chyril 23rd proved to be a momentous one. In the Arsenale harbour, aboard a guild ship in top security, the stakeholders of the Aveas Exports Company met to receive a report on the progress of the vendetta against House Constanza. It would be their last. A quantity of blackpowder had been sneaked aboard and into the hold, and the guild ship Sapphire was blown sky-high.
No less than four of the city's nine Magisters had been aboard the Sapphire: Grand Marshal Arlis Amadici, Lord Mercantiler Esteban Saphio, head of the Office of Foreign Affairs Tai Carloni, and Magister Primus Simon Maglio, chancellor of World's Mouth. Also present was Ottavio Alphonse Binaldi, High Inquisitor and leader of the Purificatio. None of the bodies were recovered. By the time Condotierre airskiffs reached the scene, a few burns later, it was already too late. A single flicker had altered the World's Mouth political scene forever. An extraordinary general meeting of the Merchants' Council was called for the tradetide of the 24th, but attendance was low, and without firm leadership the meeting soon descended into panicked squabbling, with nothing decided. Only one thing was determined for sure: the finger of blame, for whatever reason, now pointed not only at the most obvious suspects, the semi-evanescent House Constanza, but also at the Union of Labourers and Teamsters.
The 23rd and 24th also held dramatic events for the city's criminal underside. First, on the night of the 23rd, the well-known blackmailer Scullio was found dead just outside the Promenade Theatre, his throat neatly cut. The assailant was unclear. Those parties such as the Lycaeum Library who had been threatened by him held their breaths, but by the 25th no new contact had been made. The remnants of Scullio and Penna's operation seemed to have gone to ground.
Eveningtide of the 24th held a massive joint raid on Southbridge and East Arch by the Home Guard and the Biancairre, the "Whites", hoping to take advantage of Hart's fall to catch the underworld unawares. Many petty criminals were taken to Caer Dumnare, and an equal number, those who resisted, were simply butchered where they stood. The Southbridge Whites, who in many ways were no better than the gangs they fought, weren't going to pass up this opportunity to make a statement. As a result, the organisations of Remmel, Dante and Black Heart began to keep a much lower profile. Many criminals skipped town, feeling that the heyday of the Mouth as criminal heartland of the West was over.
When the 25th came, World's Mouth was a town in turmoil. The bureaucracy of the Turcotte, already stretched to its limit, was at breaking point; the cells of Caer Doom were packed to bursting; a good number of the city's organisations, both licit and illicit, found themselves in weak positions. The only thing that seemed to have remained constant was the filth belched out by the factories of East End, which blackened both the Scillus and the skies. Suddenly the Mouth, self-proclaimed capital of the world in terms of civilisation and wealth, was no longer such an alluring place to be.
[hr]The Lost Elf was almost deserted that morningtide when Arnholt descended from his room for breakfast. It looked as though he was the inn's only patron - and in fact, he was as the last two guests had checked out earlier.
"Seodhiu ta ea, Arnholt," Aylmari's light voice chimed out as she spotted him. She was standing behind the counter, polishing a scratched beer glass, looking bored and glum. The barkeeper, the only other person in the room, was doing much the same.
"We have sausages and many fresh eggs, for omlettes, and new espresso from Aveas. Will you eat your breakfast here?" she inquired hopefully.[/hr]
The night of Chyril 23rd proved to be a momentous one. In the Arsenale harbour, aboard a guild ship in top security, the stakeholders of the Aveas Exports Company met to receive a report on the progress of the vendetta against House Constanza. It would be their last. A quantity of blackpowder had been sneaked aboard and into the hold, and the guild ship Sapphire was blown sky-high.
No less than four of the city's nine Magisters had been aboard the Sapphire: Grand Marshal Arlis Amadici, Lord Mercantiler Esteban Saphio, head of the Office of Foreign Affairs Tai Carloni, and Magister Primus Simon Maglio, chancellor of World's Mouth. Also present was Ottavio Alphonse Binaldi, High Inquisitor and leader of the Purificatio. None of the bodies were recovered. By the time Condotierre airskiffs reached the scene, a few burns later, it was already too late. A single flicker had altered the World's Mouth political scene forever. An extraordinary general meeting of the Merchants' Council was called for the tradetide of the 24th, but attendance was low, and without firm leadership the meeting soon descended into panicked squabbling, with nothing decided. Only one thing was determined for sure: the finger of blame, for whatever reason, now pointed not only at the most obvious suspects, the semi-evanescent House Constanza, but also at the Union of Labourers and Teamsters.
The 23rd and 24th also held dramatic events for the city's criminal underside. First, on the night of the 23rd, the well-known blackmailer Scullio was found dead just outside the Promenade Theatre, his throat neatly cut. The assailant was unclear. Those parties such as the Lycaeum Library who had been threatened by him held their breaths, but by the 25th no new contact had been made. The remnants of Scullio and Penna's operation seemed to have gone to ground.
Eveningtide of the 24th held a massive joint raid on Southbridge and East Arch by the Home Guard and the Biancairre, the "Whites", hoping to take advantage of Hart's fall to catch the underworld unawares. Many petty criminals were taken to Caer Dumnare, and an equal number, those who resisted, were simply butchered where they stood. The Southbridge Whites, who in many ways were no better than the gangs they fought, weren't going to pass up this opportunity to make a statement. As a result, the organisations of Remmel, Dante and Black Heart began to keep a much lower profile. Many criminals skipped town, feeling that the heyday of the Mouth as criminal heartland of the West was over.
When the 25th came, World's Mouth was a town in turmoil. The bureaucracy of the Turcotte, already stretched to its limit, was at breaking point; the cells of Caer Doom were packed to bursting; a good number of the city's organisations, both licit and illicit, found themselves in weak positions. The only thing that seemed to have remained constant was the filth belched out by the factories of East End, which blackened both the Scillus and the skies. Suddenly the Mouth, self-proclaimed capital of the world in terms of civilisation and wealth, was no longer such an alluring place to be.
[hr]The Lost Elf was almost deserted that morningtide when Arnholt descended from his room for breakfast. It looked as though he was the inn's only patron - and in fact, he was as the last two guests had checked out earlier.
"Seodhiu ta ea, Arnholt," Aylmari's light voice chimed out as she spotted him. She was standing behind the counter, polishing a scratched beer glass, looking bored and glum. The barkeeper, the only other person in the room, was doing much the same.
"We have sausages and many fresh eggs, for omlettes, and new espresso from Aveas. Will you eat your breakfast here?" she inquired hopefully.[/hr]
[size=75][i][b]"If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it. We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand." -C. Day-Lewis[/b][/i]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
"Holy shit," Arnholt remarked. His eyes scanned the inn's empty common room before coming to Aylmari. "It's that bad, huh?"
The big man hadn't been overly concerned about the political goings-on in World's Mouth up til now. Sure, the city's leadership had been bumped off in one fell swoop. What the hell did he care? Same thing had happened in the kingdom, pretty much, and that hadn't done Arnholt or his old gang any harm. Not even the major raids carting away a good chunk of the city's underworld had dismayed him. Those guys hadn't been Black Hearts. They hadn't even lived in the West End. So far no one had even looked cross-eyed at the Elf Quarter, and it was their enemies who were the ones getting hurt.
Apparently, though, the folks here knew something that Arnholt didn't. Or else the situation here in World's Mouth was a lot more unstable than he had originally supposed. A little instability was good for a guy like him; a lot of it, on the other hand, meant riots and looting and chaos in the streets. And that really wasn't good business for anyone.
"Morning, Aylmari. And yeah, an omelette and some espresso sounds good," Arnholt said, coming to take a seat at the bar. "And the news of the day, if you don't mind. There something new happening that's got folks even more scared than before?"
The big man hadn't been overly concerned about the political goings-on in World's Mouth up til now. Sure, the city's leadership had been bumped off in one fell swoop. What the hell did he care? Same thing had happened in the kingdom, pretty much, and that hadn't done Arnholt or his old gang any harm. Not even the major raids carting away a good chunk of the city's underworld had dismayed him. Those guys hadn't been Black Hearts. They hadn't even lived in the West End. So far no one had even looked cross-eyed at the Elf Quarter, and it was their enemies who were the ones getting hurt.
Apparently, though, the folks here knew something that Arnholt didn't. Or else the situation here in World's Mouth was a lot more unstable than he had originally supposed. A little instability was good for a guy like him; a lot of it, on the other hand, meant riots and looting and chaos in the streets. And that really wasn't good business for anyone.
"Morning, Aylmari. And yeah, an omelette and some espresso sounds good," Arnholt said, coming to take a seat at the bar. "And the news of the day, if you don't mind. There something new happening that's got folks even more scared than before?"
The little waitress sighed. "We haven't heard anything new yet," she informed Arnholt while the bartender went to see to his breakfast. "But there's no telling who the Whites are going to hit next. Everyone seems to think it's... safer to stay out of the usual hangouts right now. Especially when even some of the othi, the big shots, are moving out of town."
Aylmari dragged another seat from the empty taproom and propped herself up at the counter opposite Arnholt, resting her chin on a slender palm.
"Althaluin has gone. Rusty and signore Snookums, I haven't seen for a couple of days. But Carminello's still around. He was asking after you yesterday. He said if you were still here, that you would know where to find him."
She tilted her head and simply watched Arnholt's reaction.
Aylmari dragged another seat from the empty taproom and propped herself up at the counter opposite Arnholt, resting her chin on a slender palm.
"Althaluin has gone. Rusty and signore Snookums, I haven't seen for a couple of days. But Carminello's still around. He was asking after you yesterday. He said if you were still here, that you would know where to find him."
She tilted her head and simply watched Arnholt's reaction.
[size=75][i][b]"If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it. We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand." -C. Day-Lewis[/b][/i]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
"Huh," Arnholt grunted. "It turns out Rusty and Snookums left town too, then I'm pretty much out of a job." And here I was all excited and all. This might be shaping up to be a really bad day. His mood lightened again, however, with Aylmari's next words. "I figured Carminello wouldn't stand me up. Maybe he'll have work for me, if I need it."
No, he really hadn't expected that Carminello would cut and run like the others. The old elf was some kind of crusading vigilante-revolutionary or whatever. And what with all the greatest powers that be in the city killed off practically overnight, for a man like that, it must seem like half of World's Mouth was up for grabs. If Carminello and his cronies weren't dancing down the street right now, it was only because they were busy plotting how to get their cut. Or else they'd spent the last couple days drunk off their asses in celebration of the death of the High Inquisitor.
Hell, that explosion on the bay fucking decapitated the Purificatio. It must have been like... the answer to Carminello's prayers...
The big man's brow furrowed for half a moment. Could it be? But surely not. There was no way in hell that Carminello's merry little band had that kind of striking power. Revolutionary groups possessing the means to assassinate a city's leadership in one fell swoop did not, generally speaking, hold their meetings in tanneries. And they especially didn't do their recruiting by asking random strangers if they might like to help overthrow the church and/or state. Yeah. Just a dumb, passing fancy. But it still gave Arnholt sort of a creepy feeling as he started to consider the possibilities.
"Uh, yeah. Anyway. I figure I'll go see Carminello right after I eat." Which would hopefully be very soon.
No, he really hadn't expected that Carminello would cut and run like the others. The old elf was some kind of crusading vigilante-revolutionary or whatever. And what with all the greatest powers that be in the city killed off practically overnight, for a man like that, it must seem like half of World's Mouth was up for grabs. If Carminello and his cronies weren't dancing down the street right now, it was only because they were busy plotting how to get their cut. Or else they'd spent the last couple days drunk off their asses in celebration of the death of the High Inquisitor.
Hell, that explosion on the bay fucking decapitated the Purificatio. It must have been like... the answer to Carminello's prayers...
The big man's brow furrowed for half a moment. Could it be? But surely not. There was no way in hell that Carminello's merry little band had that kind of striking power. Revolutionary groups possessing the means to assassinate a city's leadership in one fell swoop did not, generally speaking, hold their meetings in tanneries. And they especially didn't do their recruiting by asking random strangers if they might like to help overthrow the church and/or state. Yeah. Just a dumb, passing fancy. But it still gave Arnholt sort of a creepy feeling as he started to consider the possibilities.
"Uh, yeah. Anyway. I figure I'll go see Carminello right after I eat." Which would hopefully be very soon.
Aylmari nodded in acceptance but she chewed on her lip a little anxiously before speaking to Arnholt again. "Carminello's a good guy. He's... changed since he came back from the war," she ventured. "But I guess it's good that he found something to believe in," she added quickly.
Arnholt's breakfast eventually arrived in a hot and steaming pile on a big wooden plate. The heavy fragrance of mixed herbs and spices arose from the dish - the adhiel of World's Mouth didn't seem to believe in plain and simple fare, although this may have had more to do with the freshness and quality of the food available in the West End than it did with their cultural practices.
Arnholt's breakfast eventually arrived in a hot and steaming pile on a big wooden plate. The heavy fragrance of mixed herbs and spices arose from the dish - the adhiel of World's Mouth didn't seem to believe in plain and simple fare, although this may have had more to do with the freshness and quality of the food available in the West End than it did with their cultural practices.
[size=75][i][b]"If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it. We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand." -C. Day-Lewis[/b][/i]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
The (perhaps soon to be unemployed) thug shot Aylmari a quizzical look at her odd words regarding Carminello. "Changed? Yeah, I guess so. I understand he used to be a Panling. He told me a bit about all the shit he went through during the war and all."
Beyond that, Arnholt did not press at first. In point of fact he was distracted by breakfast arriving. As was his habit, he wolfed it down without spending much time worrying about what kind of spices were involved. If it was cooked fancy for the sake of fanciness, that was alright with him; if on the other hand the spices were there to conceal spoilage, then he didn't really want to know about it. Gods knew he had eaten worse things before than meat only a little bit past its heyday. In any case the food in the Lost Elf was better than could be found in pretty much any inn in the poor quarter back home.
"Man don't live on bread only," Arnholt remarked as he ate. Quoting scripture. "I mean, of course you can. But it seems to me it ain't much of a life if you don't have something to believe in. Something that will outlast your own lifetime." And he flashed his friendly grin. "Maybe you adhiel don't think about it so much, but none of us is going to live forever. Hell, even most humans like me don't see it: no matter how rich or powerful you get in life, in the end you still wind up just as dead as the filthiest beggar. And that's why I want to be a part of something bigger. Do something that will change the world, maybe. Or at least have a god or goddess who'll do right by me in the next world.Anyway... it's good to have something to believe in, yeah. An ideal can also be like a god. They don't never die."
By the time he had concluded his little speech, Arnholt had already finished, breakfast, as well. "So. How much do I owe you?" It was only after handing over the coins for the meal, and a few banners gratuity, that Arnholt asked his next question, as if in afterthought. "About Carminello, Aylmari. There something else you wanted to tell me... before I head on over there?"
Beyond that, Arnholt did not press at first. In point of fact he was distracted by breakfast arriving. As was his habit, he wolfed it down without spending much time worrying about what kind of spices were involved. If it was cooked fancy for the sake of fanciness, that was alright with him; if on the other hand the spices were there to conceal spoilage, then he didn't really want to know about it. Gods knew he had eaten worse things before than meat only a little bit past its heyday. In any case the food in the Lost Elf was better than could be found in pretty much any inn in the poor quarter back home.
"Man don't live on bread only," Arnholt remarked as he ate. Quoting scripture. "I mean, of course you can. But it seems to me it ain't much of a life if you don't have something to believe in. Something that will outlast your own lifetime." And he flashed his friendly grin. "Maybe you adhiel don't think about it so much, but none of us is going to live forever. Hell, even most humans like me don't see it: no matter how rich or powerful you get in life, in the end you still wind up just as dead as the filthiest beggar. And that's why I want to be a part of something bigger. Do something that will change the world, maybe. Or at least have a god or goddess who'll do right by me in the next world.Anyway... it's good to have something to believe in, yeah. An ideal can also be like a god. They don't never die."
By the time he had concluded his little speech, Arnholt had already finished, breakfast, as well. "So. How much do I owe you?" It was only after handing over the coins for the meal, and a few banners gratuity, that Arnholt asked his next question, as if in afterthought. "About Carminello, Aylmari. There something else you wanted to tell me... before I head on over there?"
[hr]Aylmari returned to polishing the glasses while Arnholt ate, and accepted his payment and tip with a wide smile when he was finished, but his question brought on another small frown.
"I... it's not for me to judge what a man wants to do with his life," she said with a sigh. "But sometimes I think Carminello has forgotten that there is more to life than his... cause. It's hard to stay, uh, friends with people like that. I wouldn't say anything about it normally but you sound a lot like he used to. That's all." One of her ears flicked, as though she was brushing the uncomfortable thought away, then suddenly she was her amiable self again.
"I shouldn't hold you up any more. Have a nice day, Arnholt."
The adhiel waitress waited until the big man was gone before clearing away the dirty cup and plate.[/hr]
[hr]Fortunately for the owners of the Lost Elf and the residents of the West End, the tanner's shop wasn't the tannery itself. The smell of the materials used in the tanning process - which included half-cleaned animal hides, urine and pigeon droppings - still lingered on the finished products but not to the extent that it could be detected from the street.
Upon entering the building, Arnholt found it to be a quiet and orderly place with finished leather goods neatly on display next to samples and swatches of the material itself. Hung around the room were bunches of flowers and fragrant herbs, which helped a little to disguise the smell of the hides. Carminello was nowhere in sight but the shopkeeper, a typically slender and dour-looking adhiel, was waiting around expectantly. He looked surprised to see Arnholt at first, but quickly recovered his equilibrium.
"Good morningtide, signore. You are Carminello's... friend?" he asked in a guarded tone.[/hr]
"I... it's not for me to judge what a man wants to do with his life," she said with a sigh. "But sometimes I think Carminello has forgotten that there is more to life than his... cause. It's hard to stay, uh, friends with people like that. I wouldn't say anything about it normally but you sound a lot like he used to. That's all." One of her ears flicked, as though she was brushing the uncomfortable thought away, then suddenly she was her amiable self again.
"I shouldn't hold you up any more. Have a nice day, Arnholt."
The adhiel waitress waited until the big man was gone before clearing away the dirty cup and plate.[/hr]
[hr]Fortunately for the owners of the Lost Elf and the residents of the West End, the tanner's shop wasn't the tannery itself. The smell of the materials used in the tanning process - which included half-cleaned animal hides, urine and pigeon droppings - still lingered on the finished products but not to the extent that it could be detected from the street.
Upon entering the building, Arnholt found it to be a quiet and orderly place with finished leather goods neatly on display next to samples and swatches of the material itself. Hung around the room were bunches of flowers and fragrant herbs, which helped a little to disguise the smell of the hides. Carminello was nowhere in sight but the shopkeeper, a typically slender and dour-looking adhiel, was waiting around expectantly. He looked surprised to see Arnholt at first, but quickly recovered his equilibrium.
"Good morningtide, signore. You are Carminello's... friend?" he asked in a guarded tone.[/hr]
[size=75][i][b]"If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it. We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand." -C. Day-Lewis[/b][/i]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
"That so." Arnholt just looked back at the young elfess, slightly perplexed. The girl clearly knew Carminello a hell of a lot better than he did, but he wasn't entirely clear on what she was trying to tell him. She evidently thought the older elf was somet kind of zealot, that much was obvious. He might have guessed that for himself from the way that Carminello had so quickly invited him... a near-total stranger... to join his cause. Still, the big man couldn't help but wonder exactly what Aylmari was trying to brace him for. Windy speeches? Probably nothing much worse.
"Uh-huh. I guess I better be going," he agreed then. "You take care of yourself, Aylmari."
Pertinent advice for anyone, with times like these in World's Mouth. It was advice Arnholt intended to live by for sure. It had occurred to him, between his own wild speculation about the bombing of the Sapphire and Aylmari's odd attitude regarding Carminello, that attending this meeting might not be the safest bet to be making. Anyway, why had the white-haired elf approached him in? Odds were it was because he was an obvious out-of-towner. Meaning that he was unlikely to be affiliated with any of Carminello's enemies. Of course, to put a darker spin on it, it also meant that he didn't have any friends here to protect him. Especially with the Black Heart leadership either out of town or lying low, almost no one would be asking any questions if Arnholt were to disappear. So perhaps the big man ought not to be accused of paranoia when he made damn sure to be sporting his daggers and hard leather vest under his cloak en route to his mysterious little meeting.
Still, it was with his usual, carefree grin that the big man greeted Carminello's buddy in the tanner's shop. "Name's Arnholt," he said cheerily. "And yeah, Carminello said I should drop by. Even sent me an invitation if you wanna see it." He paid little heed to the elf's look of surprise; Arnholt had been getting that sort of looks more or less non-stop ever since he'd arrived in the Elf Quarter. Hell, maybe the guy hadn't even expected Carminello's new human buddy to even show.
"Uh-huh. I guess I better be going," he agreed then. "You take care of yourself, Aylmari."
Pertinent advice for anyone, with times like these in World's Mouth. It was advice Arnholt intended to live by for sure. It had occurred to him, between his own wild speculation about the bombing of the Sapphire and Aylmari's odd attitude regarding Carminello, that attending this meeting might not be the safest bet to be making. Anyway, why had the white-haired elf approached him in? Odds were it was because he was an obvious out-of-towner. Meaning that he was unlikely to be affiliated with any of Carminello's enemies. Of course, to put a darker spin on it, it also meant that he didn't have any friends here to protect him. Especially with the Black Heart leadership either out of town or lying low, almost no one would be asking any questions if Arnholt were to disappear. So perhaps the big man ought not to be accused of paranoia when he made damn sure to be sporting his daggers and hard leather vest under his cloak en route to his mysterious little meeting.
Still, it was with his usual, carefree grin that the big man greeted Carminello's buddy in the tanner's shop. "Name's Arnholt," he said cheerily. "And yeah, Carminello said I should drop by. Even sent me an invitation if you wanna see it." He paid little heed to the elf's look of surprise; Arnholt had been getting that sort of looks more or less non-stop ever since he'd arrived in the Elf Quarter. Hell, maybe the guy hadn't even expected Carminello's new human buddy to even show.
"Ah! Welcome, welcome... I am Lorenzo," the shopkeeper replied with a suddenly widening smile. Despite his thoroughly Mouthie moniker, he spoke in a soft, rolling, adhiel-accented tongue. He didn't look any older than a human of forty yahren, but he had an old-fashioned quality about him that suggested he was much older.
"Come, have sit. I show you traditional adhiel hospitality." Lorenzo beckoned Arnholt over to a cluster of wooden stools next to the shop counter and pulled a red glass bottle out from underneath it. He continued to chat with his visitor as he carefully poured the contents of the bottle into two tiny shot glasses.
"Carminello says you wish to learn of the Gods, this is right? He speaks to me yesterday, says he will be here late morningtide but if you are to arrive first, then I am to answer your questions."
"Come, have sit. I show you traditional adhiel hospitality." Lorenzo beckoned Arnholt over to a cluster of wooden stools next to the shop counter and pulled a red glass bottle out from underneath it. He continued to chat with his visitor as he carefully poured the contents of the bottle into two tiny shot glasses.
"Carminello says you wish to learn of the Gods, this is right? He speaks to me yesterday, says he will be here late morningtide but if you are to arrive first, then I am to answer your questions."
[size=75][i][b]"If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it. We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand." -C. Day-Lewis[/b][/i]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
"Pleased to meetcha," Arnholt said, extending his large hand in greeting.
Agreeable as always, he sat as bidden, watching Lorenzo as he started pouring... what? Hard liquor? Just after breakfast? Even for Arnholt, it was a little bit way too early in the day for that sort of stuff. But, hell, it was probably some strange elf custom that a guy like him just wouldn't understand. For now he said nothing, waiting to take his cue from Lorenzo. The adhiel's next words came as a mild surprise. Arnholt had figured that the first order of business would be... well, business. Not addressing his curiosity about pagan gods and suck. Of course he was more than amenable to such a discussion.
"Uh, yeah," he agreed. "I grew up a Oneist, don't you know. But lately old Dominicus just don't speak to me the way he did when I was a boy. From what he said, I gathered Carminello has been down much the same road. You know. Losing his faith in Pan and all." Arnholt ran a hand over his bald head, thoughtfully. The Pan talk he could get straight from Carminello himself. That left him with just one major topic of inquiry right now. "Well, here's a question. Carminello said he found something new to believe in. So... who or what is this Righteous he was talking about?"
Agreeable as always, he sat as bidden, watching Lorenzo as he started pouring... what? Hard liquor? Just after breakfast? Even for Arnholt, it was a little bit way too early in the day for that sort of stuff. But, hell, it was probably some strange elf custom that a guy like him just wouldn't understand. For now he said nothing, waiting to take his cue from Lorenzo. The adhiel's next words came as a mild surprise. Arnholt had figured that the first order of business would be... well, business. Not addressing his curiosity about pagan gods and suck. Of course he was more than amenable to such a discussion.
"Uh, yeah," he agreed. "I grew up a Oneist, don't you know. But lately old Dominicus just don't speak to me the way he did when I was a boy. From what he said, I gathered Carminello has been down much the same road. You know. Losing his faith in Pan and all." Arnholt ran a hand over his bald head, thoughtfully. The Pan talk he could get straight from Carminello himself. That left him with just one major topic of inquiry right now. "Well, here's a question. Carminello said he found something new to believe in. So... who or what is this Righteous he was talking about?"
"Righteous? I can tell you what Righteous is but then, you will not understand." Lorenzo pushed one of the shot glasses across the counter towards Arnholt before raising the second one to his lips. He took a delicate sip, frowning thoughtfully before he continued.
"We all know Righteous. Long before we ever hear her name, we know her. Cast your mind back, Arnholt, to the first time you learned about the... wrongness in the world. It is different for everyone. For some it is a childish thing, like having a toy stolen by another child, or seeing a small kitten bruised and bloodied by the thoughtless cruelty of boys. For others it is worse."
"Remember this time, and all the times you have seen the terrible things men to do one another. Do you remember how it made you feel? How does it make you feel now?"
Still holding his shot glass, he gestured towards the Kings Court native, ready to listen to anything the had to share.
"We all know Righteous. Long before we ever hear her name, we know her. Cast your mind back, Arnholt, to the first time you learned about the... wrongness in the world. It is different for everyone. For some it is a childish thing, like having a toy stolen by another child, or seeing a small kitten bruised and bloodied by the thoughtless cruelty of boys. For others it is worse."
"Remember this time, and all the times you have seen the terrible things men to do one another. Do you remember how it made you feel? How does it make you feel now?"
Still holding his shot glass, he gestured towards the Kings Court native, ready to listen to anything the had to share.
[size=75][i][b]"If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it. We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand." -C. Day-Lewis[/b][/i]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
Arnholt accepted the glass with a grunt, lifting it up to his nose to take a tentative sniff of the contents. He toyed with the little glass in one hand as he considered the adhiel's cryptic non-answer. That kind of double speak seemed sort of typical for Carminello's circle of friends. Lorenzo's next words, however, seemed to clarify the situation at least a little. Clearly, he had not imagined the implication that Righteous was some sort of deity. And apparently Carminello's lot was more overtly religious than the human had originally figured. Which in turn meant it was suddenly making a lot more sense why Arnholt's own religious questions had turned out to be the first order of the day.
Carminello did tell me he was a born-again religious type. Which is maybe part of Aylmari's concern about him, too. But, hell, this is exactly the sort of shit I was hoping to find here in the Elf Quarter. Wonder if all their religious enclaves are this secretive? Presumably they were. Here in the Mouth, Arnholt understood, true believers among the pagans had to lie low if they wanted to avoid persecution.
"Sure, I'll play," was what Arnholt said aloud. He didn't have to contemplate for wrong. His first brush with the basic injustice of the world? Well, that he really couldn't remember... but he for sure remembered the one that had left the most lingering impression on him. And, hell, wasn't that pretty much the same thing? Either way, it had shaped his life from then until now. "Yeah, that would be when I was a kid and my old man threw me out of the house. Went from warm beds to cold alley floors, and hot meals to whatever shit I could scrape out of the trash. Worst of it, though, was when I realized how little he'd prepared me to live life on my own." The big man flashed his usual brazen grin, totally at his ease despite the personal nature of the conversation. "And how did it make me feel? Well, I was hardly into my teens, so... terrified and alone. And later, pissed off. Real pissed off."
He gave a slight shrug "Yeah, it makes me angry these days too. And maybe a little sad. But hell, Lorenzo, that's the way of the world. Man's inhumanity to man. Us humans are famous for it. Come to think, I don't guess any race is immune." Finally raising his glass to his lips, Arnholt paused a moment to ask, "So what's Righteous got to do with it? She's a goddess of justice or something, right? Only I always sort of figured there is no justice... only death."
Carminello did tell me he was a born-again religious type. Which is maybe part of Aylmari's concern about him, too. But, hell, this is exactly the sort of shit I was hoping to find here in the Elf Quarter. Wonder if all their religious enclaves are this secretive? Presumably they were. Here in the Mouth, Arnholt understood, true believers among the pagans had to lie low if they wanted to avoid persecution.
"Sure, I'll play," was what Arnholt said aloud. He didn't have to contemplate for wrong. His first brush with the basic injustice of the world? Well, that he really couldn't remember... but he for sure remembered the one that had left the most lingering impression on him. And, hell, wasn't that pretty much the same thing? Either way, it had shaped his life from then until now. "Yeah, that would be when I was a kid and my old man threw me out of the house. Went from warm beds to cold alley floors, and hot meals to whatever shit I could scrape out of the trash. Worst of it, though, was when I realized how little he'd prepared me to live life on my own." The big man flashed his usual brazen grin, totally at his ease despite the personal nature of the conversation. "And how did it make me feel? Well, I was hardly into my teens, so... terrified and alone. And later, pissed off. Real pissed off."
He gave a slight shrug "Yeah, it makes me angry these days too. And maybe a little sad. But hell, Lorenzo, that's the way of the world. Man's inhumanity to man. Us humans are famous for it. Come to think, I don't guess any race is immune." Finally raising his glass to his lips, Arnholt paused a moment to ask, "So what's Righteous got to do with it? She's a goddess of justice or something, right? Only I always sort of figured there is no justice... only death."
While Arnholt was speaking, Lorenzo kept nodding his head in an understanding manner. “And so it shall remain,†he intoned solemnly when he was done, “For as long as evil is taught by the silence of good men.†His words had the cadence of scripture about them.
“You understand, yes. A Goddess, Righteous once was,†the old elf declared, confirming Arnholt’s theory. “Her worshippers were put to the sword by the agents of Dominicus many centuries ago, but the Spirit of Justice lives on. The fire in your heart – that is the Righteous within you.†He tapped his gaunt chest with an open palm. “Cherish her, and She will speak to you with her voice. She will give you purpose, and She will give you the strength and courage needed to cleanse this world of its wickedness.â€
“One day the voice of the Righteous will be heard across nations. Then She will rise again and we can say that there is more than death – there is justice.†Lorenzo smiled at the big man wryly. “But until –â€
“Lorenzo.â€
A quiet and familiar voice sounded from a door behind the adhiel shopkeeper, and he spun around to face it. It was Carminello was standing there, in wet boots covered with a foul-smelling goop and with a grim expression on his face. “The Puros know we meet here and it is not safe to stay. You must come with me now,†he informed him. His eyes flicked over to Arnholt.
“Friend Arnholt. I am sorry,†the white-haired adhiel apologised. “I not wish to see you involved with our cause against your will, but our enemies have moved against us too swiftly. If follow us, you may still have a chance to evade them before they find out you were here.â€
He looked to the human man questioningly, as a commotion began outside the shop and woman’s voice cut through from the street.
“Wait! My friend's in there he’s not with them he’s human, just a customer – Arnholt, get out of there now!â€
“You understand, yes. A Goddess, Righteous once was,†the old elf declared, confirming Arnholt’s theory. “Her worshippers were put to the sword by the agents of Dominicus many centuries ago, but the Spirit of Justice lives on. The fire in your heart – that is the Righteous within you.†He tapped his gaunt chest with an open palm. “Cherish her, and She will speak to you with her voice. She will give you purpose, and She will give you the strength and courage needed to cleanse this world of its wickedness.â€
“One day the voice of the Righteous will be heard across nations. Then She will rise again and we can say that there is more than death – there is justice.†Lorenzo smiled at the big man wryly. “But until –â€
“Lorenzo.â€
A quiet and familiar voice sounded from a door behind the adhiel shopkeeper, and he spun around to face it. It was Carminello was standing there, in wet boots covered with a foul-smelling goop and with a grim expression on his face. “The Puros know we meet here and it is not safe to stay. You must come with me now,†he informed him. His eyes flicked over to Arnholt.
“Friend Arnholt. I am sorry,†the white-haired adhiel apologised. “I not wish to see you involved with our cause against your will, but our enemies have moved against us too swiftly. If follow us, you may still have a chance to evade them before they find out you were here.â€
He looked to the human man questioningly, as a commotion began outside the shop and woman’s voice cut through from the street.
“Wait! My friend's in there he’s not with them he’s human, just a customer – Arnholt, get out of there now!â€
[size=75][i][b]"If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it. We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand." -C. Day-Lewis[/b][/i]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
If nothing else, Lorenzo's claim that his group was the resurrection of a long-defunct cult won Arnholt's continued interest. Had he really stumbled upon the revived church of a centuries-forgotten deity? Hell, this could have been the find of a lifetime, if he'd been a real religious scholar instead of just a dilettante. And if he hadn't found it in World's Mouth, where they probably burned you at the stake for publicizing such discoveries.
"Hum. So you're saying your goddess... has come back from the dead, so to speak."
Well, stranger things had happened, the big man supposed. And actually, it made more sense the more he thought about it. You could kill all a goddess's followers, yeah. And by doing that you could maybe kill the goddess, too. But could a goddess really "die?" Could "justice" ever be slain? Of course not. You couldn't ever kill a god, for the same reason that you couldn't ever kill an idea. A dozen or a hundred years later it would be back again: maybe with a new face, with a new name, but the same old essence would be there, sure enough. And damned if Arnholt didn't like the spirit of a goddess who could eat death at the hands of the One God's followers and then come right back to spit defiance at him some more.
"Let me say this," he said. "I'll give Righteous... and you... points for determination, at least."
Before the two could speak much more, of course, they were interrupted by the sudden and stinking arrival of Carminello. At first Arnholt just looked at him incredulously, taken aback at the urgency of his tone, and unable to believe in his own shit luck. He never found have thought that the Puraficatio would show up on the first fucking day of his acquaintance with Carminello's merry little band of heretics.
"What--" But Arnholt was to get an even nastier surprise before he could so much as fully articulate his question. He rolled his eyes heavily at Aylmari's warning, identifying him by name as it unfortunately did. "Oh, for fuck's sake."
That pretty much crippled his chances of just pretending he wasn't here to begin with. Thing was, from the way the elfess sounded, the Oneists were a hair's breadth from burning the whole place down around them anyway. And as much as he appreciated Aylmari's sentiment, he wasn't about to follow her advice in the spirit intended. Even if the Puros didn't kill him on sight once he waltzed out through the front door, there would still be a lot of awkward questions. Questions like, "Who are you?" and "What are you doing here?" And of course things would only go downhill from there. Best case scenario, he would be hauled off to prison as the petty criminal that he was.
Even as he considered the angles, the big man was already rising, pulling a dagger with one hand and yanking his hood up over his head as far as it would go with the other. If they didn't see his face, maybe he still wouldn't have to flee this city too. But for sure he was going to go down fighting rather than allow himself to be captured by the likes of the inquisition.
"Let's get the fuck out of here, Carminello. Please tell me you came up out of some kind of escape tunnel..."
"Hum. So you're saying your goddess... has come back from the dead, so to speak."
Well, stranger things had happened, the big man supposed. And actually, it made more sense the more he thought about it. You could kill all a goddess's followers, yeah. And by doing that you could maybe kill the goddess, too. But could a goddess really "die?" Could "justice" ever be slain? Of course not. You couldn't ever kill a god, for the same reason that you couldn't ever kill an idea. A dozen or a hundred years later it would be back again: maybe with a new face, with a new name, but the same old essence would be there, sure enough. And damned if Arnholt didn't like the spirit of a goddess who could eat death at the hands of the One God's followers and then come right back to spit defiance at him some more.
"Let me say this," he said. "I'll give Righteous... and you... points for determination, at least."
Before the two could speak much more, of course, they were interrupted by the sudden and stinking arrival of Carminello. At first Arnholt just looked at him incredulously, taken aback at the urgency of his tone, and unable to believe in his own shit luck. He never found have thought that the Puraficatio would show up on the first fucking day of his acquaintance with Carminello's merry little band of heretics.
"What--" But Arnholt was to get an even nastier surprise before he could so much as fully articulate his question. He rolled his eyes heavily at Aylmari's warning, identifying him by name as it unfortunately did. "Oh, for fuck's sake."
That pretty much crippled his chances of just pretending he wasn't here to begin with. Thing was, from the way the elfess sounded, the Oneists were a hair's breadth from burning the whole place down around them anyway. And as much as he appreciated Aylmari's sentiment, he wasn't about to follow her advice in the spirit intended. Even if the Puros didn't kill him on sight once he waltzed out through the front door, there would still be a lot of awkward questions. Questions like, "Who are you?" and "What are you doing here?" And of course things would only go downhill from there. Best case scenario, he would be hauled off to prison as the petty criminal that he was.
Even as he considered the angles, the big man was already rising, pulling a dagger with one hand and yanking his hood up over his head as far as it would go with the other. If they didn't see his face, maybe he still wouldn't have to flee this city too. But for sure he was going to go down fighting rather than allow himself to be captured by the likes of the inquisition.
"Let's get the fuck out of here, Carminello. Please tell me you came up out of some kind of escape tunnel..."
Last edited by Arnholt on Thu Dec 13, 2007 12:43 am, edited 1 time in total.
Carminello grimaced and wrinkled his nose. "Do you think I did this to my boots for fun?" he grumbled. "Sanai. No time to cover our tracks. If they follow us we must lose them in the sewers. Quickly now."
He spun around and headed back through the door behind the counter, leaving a trail of mudding (well it looked like mud) footprints in his wake. Lorenzo moaned and hurried to follow him, expecting Arnholt to tag along.
The back room of the store was cluttered with goods similar to those found in the display room. Carminello vaulted gracefully over a pile of rawhides, flicking sewer water all over it, and raised up the trapdoor that lay behind. Beneath the door was a vertical tunnel with a ladder leading down into a fetid and suspicious darkness. The white-haired adhiel waited impatiently for the his companions to proceed before him, then leaped down into the tunnel, slamming the door shut behind them.
It was a short drop down the tunnel beneath the tannery. Unfortunately, violent thunderstorms in the preceding day had flooded the Scillus and filled the drains of World's Mouth, so that anyone who plunged in too quickly would make quite a splash. Arnholt could feel and hear (and smell), more than he could see, the effluent of the city eddying around his calves until Carminello's voice sounded to the left of him.
"Eali."
A soft red glow illuminated the rough, stony walls around the trio. It emanated from a large, faceted crystal that hung from a leather cord around the white-haired adhiel's neck. The light was not enough to allow the human to see more than five paces ahead and behind him, but it was good enough for their purposes.
"Is there anywhere you wish us to take you, Arnholt?" Lorenzo whispered as they began to wade purposefully away from the tannery.
He spun around and headed back through the door behind the counter, leaving a trail of mudding (well it looked like mud) footprints in his wake. Lorenzo moaned and hurried to follow him, expecting Arnholt to tag along.
The back room of the store was cluttered with goods similar to those found in the display room. Carminello vaulted gracefully over a pile of rawhides, flicking sewer water all over it, and raised up the trapdoor that lay behind. Beneath the door was a vertical tunnel with a ladder leading down into a fetid and suspicious darkness. The white-haired adhiel waited impatiently for the his companions to proceed before him, then leaped down into the tunnel, slamming the door shut behind them.
It was a short drop down the tunnel beneath the tannery. Unfortunately, violent thunderstorms in the preceding day had flooded the Scillus and filled the drains of World's Mouth, so that anyone who plunged in too quickly would make quite a splash. Arnholt could feel and hear (and smell), more than he could see, the effluent of the city eddying around his calves until Carminello's voice sounded to the left of him.
"Eali."
A soft red glow illuminated the rough, stony walls around the trio. It emanated from a large, faceted crystal that hung from a leather cord around the white-haired adhiel's neck. The light was not enough to allow the human to see more than five paces ahead and behind him, but it was good enough for their purposes.
"Is there anywhere you wish us to take you, Arnholt?" Lorenzo whispered as they began to wade purposefully away from the tannery.
Last edited by Turi on Sat Dec 15, 2007 2:29 pm, edited 1 time in total.
[size=75][i][b]"If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it. We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand." -C. Day-Lewis[/b][/i]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
Arnholt was hard on the elves' heels on their way to the trap door, hastily wrapping his black scarf around his face as he went. That ought to eliminate any remaining chance that one of the folks that had Aylmari so bothered would actually see his face. Also he rather hoped it would cut down on some of the stench of the sewers ahead. It wouldn't be the first time he'd been forced to run and hide in someplace so foul, sure, but that still didn't make the prospect of a sewer escape very attractive.
He slid down the ladder right after Lorenzo, shopping into the slime and the muck with total disregard for how big a mess he made of himself. Right now, Arnholt figured, he had bigger worries. Anyway, there was no chance in hell of fleeing through the sewage and emerging unsoiled, so why waste time in trying? He stuck very close to Lorenzo at first, pushing forward without waiting for his eyes to adjust to the gloom and hoping the adhiel would be able to see better than him. Nonetheless, he was already starting to wish he'd brought along a lantern or something when Carminello pulled his little trick. Arnholt was duly impressed at the small display of power.
Talisman of Carminello's god? Or maybe just some random magic trinket. Still, I wish I had me one of those.
The big man let off a harsh, sharp bark of laughter at his erstwhile host's question. "Thanks for the offer, Lorenzo," he whispered back, "but I'm coming with you. Case you didn't notice, I got nowhere else to go. And you didn't finish telling me your undead goddess story yet."
He slid down the ladder right after Lorenzo, shopping into the slime and the muck with total disregard for how big a mess he made of himself. Right now, Arnholt figured, he had bigger worries. Anyway, there was no chance in hell of fleeing through the sewage and emerging unsoiled, so why waste time in trying? He stuck very close to Lorenzo at first, pushing forward without waiting for his eyes to adjust to the gloom and hoping the adhiel would be able to see better than him. Nonetheless, he was already starting to wish he'd brought along a lantern or something when Carminello pulled his little trick. Arnholt was duly impressed at the small display of power.
Talisman of Carminello's god? Or maybe just some random magic trinket. Still, I wish I had me one of those.
The big man let off a harsh, sharp bark of laughter at his erstwhile host's question. "Thanks for the offer, Lorenzo," he whispered back, "but I'm coming with you. Case you didn't notice, I got nowhere else to go. And you didn't finish telling me your undead goddess story yet."
“Run first. We cannot stay in the city. The tunnels will take us to a camp outside the walls,†Carminello cut in. “Left right right left right left.†He didn’t elaborate any further on the location of their intended destination.
“Yes. We will talk later. And there is a book we can show you…†Lorenzo promised, before falling into an anxious silence.
They splashed noisily through the stinking stormwater, ignoring the occasional bumps against their legs by soft dead things that had been swept from the gutters by the rains. Carminello let out a sigh of relief when the narrow, twisting tunnel finally split, choosing the left hand fork without hesitation.
“All the better for us now. If they divide themselves, we will have fewer to deal with if they catch up. Righteous help me, I hate this, skulking away like a dog,†the white-haired adhiel muttered. “I would take out every one of those One-buggering bastards if I had the chance.â€
“Arnholt,†he asked suddenly, “Do you know what it means when I do this?â€
As they pressed on he made several gestures with his hands. They were a little harder to make out than usual in the dim light they had, but Arnholt recognsied three as common thieves’ signals for <quiet>, <run> and <stay>. The other two were unfamiliar.
“Yes. We will talk later. And there is a book we can show you…†Lorenzo promised, before falling into an anxious silence.
They splashed noisily through the stinking stormwater, ignoring the occasional bumps against their legs by soft dead things that had been swept from the gutters by the rains. Carminello let out a sigh of relief when the narrow, twisting tunnel finally split, choosing the left hand fork without hesitation.
“All the better for us now. If they divide themselves, we will have fewer to deal with if they catch up. Righteous help me, I hate this, skulking away like a dog,†the white-haired adhiel muttered. “I would take out every one of those One-buggering bastards if I had the chance.â€
“Arnholt,†he asked suddenly, “Do you know what it means when I do this?â€
As they pressed on he made several gestures with his hands. They were a little harder to make out than usual in the dim light they had, but Arnholt recognsied three as common thieves’ signals for <quiet>, <run> and <stay>. The other two were unfamiliar.
[size=75][i][b]"If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it. We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand." -C. Day-Lewis[/b][/i]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
Arnholt growled something inaudible but vulgar at Carminello's words. Run out of two different cities in less than two weeks. That has to be a goddamn record. If nothing else, it was most definitely a personal best. The human was somewhat irritated, as well, that he'd left his bag and everything in it back at the Lost Elf. No chance of going back for it now. But the big man didn't bother grumbling about his lost clothes and gear; after all, Lorenzo had just lost his whole fucking shop and livelihood. That sort of put things in perspective.
Though it didn't keep a slight hint of sarcasm from entering his voice as he replied, "Oh, swell. I love books."
Knee deep in crap and fleeing for my life from the inquisition, along with a couple of heathen elves. Gods, but would my old man ever laugh if he could see me now. Except that Arnholt couldn't really recall his father ever laughing about anything, ever. So more likely he would just plain curl up and die of shame. As for himself, however, the big man was fairly optimistic over his chances for survival. Zealot though he may be, Carminello was at least far from suicidal. And he did seem to have a fair idea of how to get them all out of this mess. Which was good, because the old elf was now Arnholt's employer by default.
"Hmm?" the big man grunted. "Oh. 'Quiet.' 'Run.' 'Stay.' I don't know. Nope, don't know that one, neither. Why, what you got in mind?"
Though it didn't keep a slight hint of sarcasm from entering his voice as he replied, "Oh, swell. I love books."
Knee deep in crap and fleeing for my life from the inquisition, along with a couple of heathen elves. Gods, but would my old man ever laugh if he could see me now. Except that Arnholt couldn't really recall his father ever laughing about anything, ever. So more likely he would just plain curl up and die of shame. As for himself, however, the big man was fairly optimistic over his chances for survival. Zealot though he may be, Carminello was at least far from suicidal. And he did seem to have a fair idea of how to get them all out of this mess. Which was good, because the old elf was now Arnholt's employer by default.
"Hmm?" the big man grunted. "Oh. 'Quiet.' 'Run.' 'Stay.' I don't know. Nope, don't know that one, neither. Why, what you got in mind?"
"If they follow us, I would like not to give away our position if we must talk," Carminello explained. He repeated the second-last signal, pressing two fingers against his throat. "This one is <trap>." He brought the centre knuckles of his two hands together and separated them. "This one is <split>." Then for good measure he added an extra sign, balling his hands lightly into fists, and crossing his wrists together. "This one is <fight>."
They made it around another right turn but before they could reach the next there was a clatter and a splash, and voices echoing faintly in the distance.
"Merda! Filthy pagans are crawling around in the sewers again, Inquisitor!"
Carminello immediately raised his hand and slowed the group down, moving as quietly through the running blackwater as he could, Lorenzo following suit. Their sudden silence heightened all the other noises in their immediate vicinity - steady gurgling, a few high-pitched chitters - but more importantly the voices in the background could be heard more clearly.
"Ettore's run back to the Barracks. Twenty burns, and every drain in the adhiel quarter big enough to let a dog through will have a Soldier standing over it."
"And what good will that do us? Not as though these cazzos are running back towards the elf hole now."
"Does it matter? Just shut up and listen, eh? The sooner we catch these rabbits, the sooner we can get out of these stinking burrows."
Somewhere between four and six men had entered the tunnels, and by the sounds of it the were already gaining a little on Arnholt and the two adhiel. When their pursuers reached the first fork, a decision was made to split the group. Then at the second fork -
"Accardi, they came this way. See, there is water on the walls."
By this time, Arnholt and his allies had reached the next crossroad in the sewer. A low growl sounded in Carminello's throat, and he untied the cord and glowing pendant from his neck, passing it to Lorenzo.
<Quiet> <Split> <Trap> he signed, and pointed the other two in the right direction. Then he waded towards the left hand tunnel and began flicking water onto the walls around it.
They made it around another right turn but before they could reach the next there was a clatter and a splash, and voices echoing faintly in the distance.
"Merda! Filthy pagans are crawling around in the sewers again, Inquisitor!"
Carminello immediately raised his hand and slowed the group down, moving as quietly through the running blackwater as he could, Lorenzo following suit. Their sudden silence heightened all the other noises in their immediate vicinity - steady gurgling, a few high-pitched chitters - but more importantly the voices in the background could be heard more clearly.
"Ettore's run back to the Barracks. Twenty burns, and every drain in the adhiel quarter big enough to let a dog through will have a Soldier standing over it."
"And what good will that do us? Not as though these cazzos are running back towards the elf hole now."
"Does it matter? Just shut up and listen, eh? The sooner we catch these rabbits, the sooner we can get out of these stinking burrows."
Somewhere between four and six men had entered the tunnels, and by the sounds of it the were already gaining a little on Arnholt and the two adhiel. When their pursuers reached the first fork, a decision was made to split the group. Then at the second fork -
"Accardi, they came this way. See, there is water on the walls."
By this time, Arnholt and his allies had reached the next crossroad in the sewer. A low growl sounded in Carminello's throat, and he untied the cord and glowing pendant from his neck, passing it to Lorenzo.
<Quiet> <Split> <Trap> he signed, and pointed the other two in the right direction. Then he waded towards the left hand tunnel and began flicking water onto the walls around it.
Last edited by Turi on Tue Jan 01, 2008 2:44 pm, edited 2 times in total.
[size=75][i][b]"If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it. We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand." -C. Day-Lewis[/b][/i]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
Arnholt was no stranger to stepping lightly when need be. While trying to slosh quietly through knee-high sewage was a bit more of a challenge than he had been expecting today, the big human gamely tried his best. His lips moved in a silent oath at the sound of the soldiers' voices behind them; he'd really hoped they had more of a lead on them than that. Still, it sounded like there was a smaller pursuit than he might have feared. Not that Arnholt could blame his fellow Oneists for their lack of enthusiasm. If he had his druthers, he wouldn't be wading through World's Mouth's sewers, either.
That Ettore's one lucky sack of crap. Bet he's laughing his ass off all the way back to the barracks.
Given that their pursuers had split their ranks at least once, Arnholt actually sort of liked their chances in a fight if they doubled back and ambushed the inquisition. They'd be up against maybe two guys... four at most, assuming there were six to begin with, and that they wouldn't send a man off alone when the tunnels split. But then again, there was no telling for sure how many enemies their might be or... more importantly... how heavily they were armed. So the human moved as Carminello had indicated down the right-hand tunnel, without hesitation or protest... assuming that Lorenzo had done the same.
As they walked, the big man silently pulled his spare dagger to offer it to Lorenzo, hilt-first. He figured Carminello would be armed already, since he'd known in advance of the danger, but he and Lorenzo had been pretty much caught flat-footed. If case the situation got even hairier in the near future, Arnholt figured he and his remaining elf companion better both be armed.
That Ettore's one lucky sack of crap. Bet he's laughing his ass off all the way back to the barracks.
Given that their pursuers had split their ranks at least once, Arnholt actually sort of liked their chances in a fight if they doubled back and ambushed the inquisition. They'd be up against maybe two guys... four at most, assuming there were six to begin with, and that they wouldn't send a man off alone when the tunnels split. But then again, there was no telling for sure how many enemies their might be or... more importantly... how heavily they were armed. So the human moved as Carminello had indicated down the right-hand tunnel, without hesitation or protest... assuming that Lorenzo had done the same.
As they walked, the big man silently pulled his spare dagger to offer it to Lorenzo, hilt-first. He figured Carminello would be armed already, since he'd known in advance of the danger, but he and Lorenzo had been pretty much caught flat-footed. If case the situation got even hairier in the near future, Arnholt figured he and his remaining elf companion better both be armed.
Lorenzo accepted the knife with silent gratitude. There was a noticeable tremor in his hands, which Arnholt felt as he passed the dagger over, but the slender adhiel looked more confident now that he was armed.
They crept down the tunnel perhaps ten or so paces before Lorenzo flattened himself against the wall. He beckoned Arnholt to do the same before tucking the jewel under his shirt. Darkness engulfed the pair. Somewhere out the the black they could hear Carminello splashing around, the sloshing growing fainter as he put as much distance between himself and their pursuers as possible.
It wasn't long before Arnholt could see flickering flecks of firelight reflecting off the surface of the water. Three Oneist soldiers came jangling into the sewer junction, clad in chainmail and soiled white tabards. Two were crossbowmen, each also clutching a glass lantern. The third held a sharp, steel shortsword. They immediately spotted the watermarks.
"We've got them now." The man with the shortsword smiled grimly. "Carlos, come with me. Pio, make sure no-one is hiding behind us."
Of the three men, the one named Pio was the only one without a helmet, leaving his head and neck exposed. He set himself in the mouth the tunnel that Carminello had disappeared into and checked his loaded weapon, while the other two soldiers took off down it. For half a burn he simply waited with his crossbow at the ready. Then something moved in the fourth tunnel, opposite the one which they had all come through.
Immediately, the Oneist moved to investigate.
They crept down the tunnel perhaps ten or so paces before Lorenzo flattened himself against the wall. He beckoned Arnholt to do the same before tucking the jewel under his shirt. Darkness engulfed the pair. Somewhere out the the black they could hear Carminello splashing around, the sloshing growing fainter as he put as much distance between himself and their pursuers as possible.
It wasn't long before Arnholt could see flickering flecks of firelight reflecting off the surface of the water. Three Oneist soldiers came jangling into the sewer junction, clad in chainmail and soiled white tabards. Two were crossbowmen, each also clutching a glass lantern. The third held a sharp, steel shortsword. They immediately spotted the watermarks.
"We've got them now." The man with the shortsword smiled grimly. "Carlos, come with me. Pio, make sure no-one is hiding behind us."
Of the three men, the one named Pio was the only one without a helmet, leaving his head and neck exposed. He set himself in the mouth the tunnel that Carminello had disappeared into and checked his loaded weapon, while the other two soldiers took off down it. For half a burn he simply waited with his crossbow at the ready. Then something moved in the fourth tunnel, opposite the one which they had all come through.
Immediately, the Oneist moved to investigate.
[size=75][i][b]"If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it. We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand." -C. Day-Lewis[/b][/i]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
His back pressed against the slimy sewer wall (which thankfully he couldn't feel through his cloak and thick leather jacket), Arnholt waited with consummate patience for the purificatio troops to draw near. Only three. Not bad. The fugitive was less enthused at the sight of the enemy's gear. He was equipped for underworld knife-work and muggings and such, not fucking around with soldiers. Chain mail was damned near impossible to penetrate with a dagger thrust... and he didn't like the prospect of getting a crossbow bolt in the face at close range, either.
Arnholt kept still and silent while Pio stood watch at the mouth of Carminello's tunnel, silently willing the man to let down his guard. If he could just get close enough to the man, a dagger in the throat would make short work of him; this was their best chance yet of reducing the enemy's numbers. But unless the guy decided he needed to take a leak or a nap or something, chances of jumping him looked pretty slim. At this rate it almost seemed better to just take off before the other two puros realized they'd been deceived and doubled back the way they'd came.
But it appeared that fortune, or Righteous, or maybe even crazy old Dominicus had chosen to smile on Arnholt and his merry little band. While Pio was distracted by the noise down the other tunnel, Arnholt signaled Lorenzo to keep still, making the hand gesture practically right under the man's nose and trusting on his sharp adhiel vision to make it out in the dark. Holding his drawn dagger under a fold of his cloak, so that the gleam of steel wouldn't give him away, the big man inched his way through the murk and the gloom as quickly as he dared, while stirring the water as little as possible. He kept low and close to the wall, too, hoping that if Pio turned his black cloak and hood would make him little more than an indistinct shape in the dark.
One thing seemed sure, though... it was time for one or the other of them to die. If Arnholt couldn't get close enough to cut the soldier's throat surreptitiously, he'd have to just rush him and pray for the best.
Arnholt kept still and silent while Pio stood watch at the mouth of Carminello's tunnel, silently willing the man to let down his guard. If he could just get close enough to the man, a dagger in the throat would make short work of him; this was their best chance yet of reducing the enemy's numbers. But unless the guy decided he needed to take a leak or a nap or something, chances of jumping him looked pretty slim. At this rate it almost seemed better to just take off before the other two puros realized they'd been deceived and doubled back the way they'd came.
But it appeared that fortune, or Righteous, or maybe even crazy old Dominicus had chosen to smile on Arnholt and his merry little band. While Pio was distracted by the noise down the other tunnel, Arnholt signaled Lorenzo to keep still, making the hand gesture practically right under the man's nose and trusting on his sharp adhiel vision to make it out in the dark. Holding his drawn dagger under a fold of his cloak, so that the gleam of steel wouldn't give him away, the big man inched his way through the murk and the gloom as quickly as he dared, while stirring the water as little as possible. He kept low and close to the wall, too, hoping that if Pio turned his black cloak and hood would make him little more than an indistinct shape in the dark.
One thing seemed sure, though... it was time for one or the other of them to die. If Arnholt couldn't get close enough to cut the soldier's throat surreptitiously, he'd have to just rush him and pray for the best.
From Arnholt's viewpoint from behind, Pio was lit up prettier than a yuletide tree, the lantern casting a glowing aura around the silhouette of the lone Puro solider. It swung from a cord looped around his wrist now while his arcballista was held in both hands, pointed forward and ready to fire.
He was a little shorter than Arnholt and not so powerfully built, and for the time being the weight of his amour seemed to be working against him. He waded through the sewage clumsily and noisily, conveniently covering up the sounds of Arnholt's movement. The former thug from King's Court got within four paces of the guard before he was simply too close for his presence to be missed.
"HAI!" Hai! Hai! Hai! Hai!
The loud cry of shock and alarm reverberated off the tunnel walls. Pio twisted around, fighting to keep his balance and aim his weapon but before he could hit the trigger, Arnholt's stocky form barrelled into him, pushing it off to the side. Blackwater sprayed into the air as the pair went down and just as the tunnel was plunged into darkness once again, the edge of Arnholt's dagger hit something -
Hard.
OOC: Thread now impassable.
He was a little shorter than Arnholt and not so powerfully built, and for the time being the weight of his amour seemed to be working against him. He waded through the sewage clumsily and noisily, conveniently covering up the sounds of Arnholt's movement. The former thug from King's Court got within four paces of the guard before he was simply too close for his presence to be missed.
"HAI!" Hai! Hai! Hai! Hai!
The loud cry of shock and alarm reverberated off the tunnel walls. Pio twisted around, fighting to keep his balance and aim his weapon but before he could hit the trigger, Arnholt's stocky form barrelled into him, pushing it off to the side. Blackwater sprayed into the air as the pair went down and just as the tunnel was plunged into darkness once again, the edge of Arnholt's dagger hit something -
Hard.
OOC: Thread now impassable.
[size=75][i][b]"If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it. We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand." -C. Day-Lewis[/b][/i]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
Arnholt lunged again at Pio with a snarled curse, all thoughts of stealth forgotten. There was no telling how soon the soldier's yell might summon help, or from where. Now all he could do was try to make this quick and hope that Lorenzo didn't abandon him in the mean time.
Uncertain whether his knife had hit bone, chain mail, or even sewer floor, the fugitive lashed out with his free hand to grab hold of the Puro any where he could. Stay down, fucker. Stay down! Hopefully Arnholt's superior strength, and the weight of the soldier's armor, would keep Pio from regaining his footing and allow his adversary to keep him pinned to the sewer floor. If he could manage that, it wouldn't be long before he found some vulnerable spot in which to sink his blade.
Uncertain whether his knife had hit bone, chain mail, or even sewer floor, the fugitive lashed out with his free hand to grab hold of the Puro any where he could. Stay down, fucker. Stay down! Hopefully Arnholt's superior strength, and the weight of the soldier's armor, would keep Pio from regaining his footing and allow his adversary to keep him pinned to the sewer floor. If he could manage that, it wouldn't be long before he found some vulnerable spot in which to sink his blade.