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<blockquote data-quote="Goonalan" data-source="post: 4782428" data-attributes="member: 16069"><p>The Friday Knights in Sellswords of Fallcrest</p><p></p><p>Part 6: Adventurers.</p><p></p><p>“Pie.” Fat Alan whispers, and wipes meat and potato mush from his face. He's not dead, which comes as a shock to everyone- Fat Alan included.</p><p></p><p>The last remaining guard gets to his feet- still woozy; looks left, then right, then behind him, rubs the back of his head and frowns- then looks up, “naughty word”, he scarpers.</p><p>“Get him.” Cathal orders, and yet is the only one daft enough to leap the fifteen or so feet down from the roof.</p><p>“naughty word.” Kullervo echoes Fat Alan's sentiment, his legs buckle- terrified he decides against the rapid descent, particularly after watching Cathal make such a mess of it. The warrior is picking himself up however, although grimacing, clearly in a great deal of pain.</p><p></p><p>Fat Alan meanwhile has not been idle, he kicks at the door in the alley, once, twice then he's in. A wedge of light streams out, the sound of Fat Alan's voice carries, “under attack” and something about “my bloody pie”, are clearly heard.</p><p></p><p>And into Cutpurse Alley strides Fernando Del Amitri [1], a swarthy middle-aged man in tight leathers with a network of scars on his face, like fretwork. A wanted man, a cut-throat, ex-pirate- no buckle left unswashed, a villain, a... nasty piece of work. Fernando draws his rapier- Marlene [2], he names all of his blades, sashays forward slicing the air, finally reaches the newly arisen, and very hurt, Cathal. Fernando salutes the warrior with his rapier, then like a cat, crouches- ready to pounce.</p><p></p><p>“I am Fernando Del Amitri, I killed my father, now prepare to die...” [3] Which as introductions go is not a bad one. Kullervo makes a mental note to get himself an intro, or at least steal that one. Fernando launches his first attack, an attack he calls his 'mystery blade', he prances forward blade before him; Fernando is a swordsman you see.</p><p></p><p>Ignaran's mind clears, he mutters words, more like guttural sounds, and suddenly a wolf appears in the alley, just to the left of Fernando, his immediate left. It has to be said that while Fernando notices the wolf he remains remarkably calm, right up until the point the salivating canid sinks its teeth into the fleshy part of his calf, a little later we will hear the sound of his left fibula breaking.</p><p></p><p>Crack. </p><p></p><p>There, that's it.</p><p></p><p>Fernando suddenly goes pale, however the colour returns to his cheeks a moment later when Cathal's longsword connects with his right shoulder, hacking into bone and sawing through sinew, blood jets and gushes, the air takes on a reddish tinge.</p><p></p><p>“I am...” is all Fernando manages as, with a dull thud, Kullervo's dagger thumps into the swordsman's chest. He sinks to his knees, then whispers “I killed my father...”, and pitches forward- very deceased.</p><p>“Good work”, Cathal grumbles, catches his breath and tries not to put too much weight on his left leg, “now stop buggering about and get down here the pair of you.”</p><p></p><p>Ignaran snakes an arm out, grasps Kullervo, “you alright?”. The pair continue to peer down into the alley, the shattered body of Fernando Del Amitri, then over to the opposite roof, and the likewise broken body of Krunk. Kullervo gulps, throat now very dry, and nods- Ignaran offers the young man a flask of water and then leads him away from the edge.</p><p></p><p>Ignaran had found the unconscious Kullervo yesterday evening. He'd quickly grown tired, scratch that- irritated, by the bustling streets of the city, and the dock quarter in particular. He'd wandered- away from the crowds, and a little while later found himself in the ruins of Fallcrest. The remains of the Blood War, the coming of the Red Hand, a century ago a rampaging force had swept through the Nentir Vale, not seeking to settle, or usurp; seeking only to destroy. Ignaran knew his history- Fallcrest had fallen then, although much of it had been rebuilt. There still stood, or rather didn't stand, areas of ruin- shadows of darker times.</p><p></p><p>Later Kullervo had asked the Druid how he had found him, lost, as he was, in the ruins. Ignaran spoke of instinct, and the way of nature, how all life is holy, and about the abstract order of the universe being a force for good, a force for survival. He spoke of his dedication and training, his ability to read nature's signs [4]. Kullervo, of course, was suitably impressed.</p><p></p><p>And so Ignaran carried Kullervo back to the Blue Moon Alehouse, he recognised the young villager, and suspected he knew how he had got into the city, and his reasons for being here. He also knew how to fix Kullervo's particular ailment- drink, good food, a few carefully chosen herbs and a warm fire- and more sleep. </p><p></p><p>He watched over the young man for the rest of the evening and late into the night, the bar had filled, then emptied, filled again, and then emptied again- it was like watching the tides.</p><p></p><p>Nobody bothered the pair by the fire, nobody except...</p><p>“Mind?” Cathal barks. [5]</p><p>It was a question, Ignaran could tell by the question mark, he shrugs and Cathal plonks himself down in the chair next to Kullervo.</p><p>The interloper is a big man in his early thirties with a moustache that would leave him tasting his breakfast for much of the day. He seemed on edge, unable to relax.</p><p>Time passes, slowly - measured mostly by the exchange of side-long glances.</p><p>“Pissed?” Cathal finally asks, and nods at Kullervo.</p><p>“No. He'll be as right as rain in a little while.”</p><p>“Mmm.” Cathal doubts.</p><p>Silence settles over the trio again.</p><p>“Work?” Cathal eventually asks, and smooths his moustache.</p><p>“What sort of work?” Ignaran replies, a little put out.</p><p>“'venturing.” Cathal nods and raises a now steaming iron-clad boot to hover over the flames of the fire.</p><p>Kullervo awakes in an instant.</p><p>“Adventuring?” His eyes glisten in the firelight.</p><p>“Yes.” Cathal confirms, and nods for good measure.</p><p>“What's the job?” Kullervo is as quick as a flash.</p><p>“Whatever it is we're not...” Ignaran starts up.</p><p>“Cutpurse Alley- going to relieve the Beggar King of something very valuable to him.” Cathal gets the hang of things, an actual sentence.</p><p>“Cutpurse Alley...” Ignaran starts, but is duly ignored.</p><p>“Valuable?” It's Kullervo's turn for the one word questions.</p><p>“Hundred gold for each man.” Cathal knows he's winning.</p><p>“One hundred...” Kullervo's eyes are like saucers.</p><p>“Did you say Cutpurse Alley, the one with the gate?” Ignaran asks.</p><p>Cathal nods curtly.</p><p>“What gate?” Kullervo adds, but is ignored- it's his turn.</p><p>“Count me in.” Ignaran proffers his hand.</p><p>“Me too.” Kullervo agrees, and grins from ear to ear.</p><p>Ignaran is about to protest when, “Cathal.” Cathal declares and then pumps Kullervo's hand, “be here at midnight, and be ready”, and then he's up and lost in the crowd.</p><p>The Druid gawps and stammers, his mind trying to process new information.</p><p>“You're Ignaran, aren't you? I've heard tales about you - you're... a survivor, out there in the wilds. You must be pretty tough.” Kullervo grins, nods and offers his hand to Ignaran.</p><p>“It's Kullervo isn't it? I know your father.” Ignaran smiles, preens a little, and shakes the proffered hand.</p><p></p><p>The two settle down by the fire.</p><p></p><p>“Adventurers.” Kullervo states much later, and chuckles to himself.</p><p>“Hmm.” Ignaran murmurs, and suddenly looks less pleased.</p><p></p><p>[1] Fernando Del Amitri, a legend in his own mind; in truth he is an ageing and yet still handsome miscreant with the gift of the gab. The Del Amitri's are butchers by trade, specialising in blood sausage and the harder to find, and identify, cuts of meat. Fernando was barred from the family trade partly because of his dandyish behaviour, but mostly because he faints at the first sight of blood, and thus he ended up a swordsman; and in the employ of the Beggar King- who is not known for generous salaries.</p><p> </p><p>[2] Fernando sleeps with Marlene, and sometimes his rapier too.</p><p></p><p>[3] Alan Del Amitri, Fernando's father, is very much alive, and still wielding the cleaver; although he hasn't been in the family butcher's shop for over a decade. Nobody, alas, has come by enough courage to tell him to put the blade down yet.</p><p></p><p>[4] He'd heard him snoring.</p><p></p><p>[5] Cathal employs two modes of communication, barking and grumbling, both best suited to the parade ground- he appears most times to be talking, or rather shouting, at someone on the next table over.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Goonalan, post: 4782428, member: 16069"] The Friday Knights in Sellswords of Fallcrest Part 6: Adventurers. “Pie.” Fat Alan whispers, and wipes meat and potato mush from his face. He's not dead, which comes as a shock to everyone- Fat Alan included. The last remaining guard gets to his feet- still woozy; looks left, then right, then behind him, rubs the back of his head and frowns- then looks up, “naughty word”, he scarpers. “Get him.” Cathal orders, and yet is the only one daft enough to leap the fifteen or so feet down from the roof. “naughty word.” Kullervo echoes Fat Alan's sentiment, his legs buckle- terrified he decides against the rapid descent, particularly after watching Cathal make such a mess of it. The warrior is picking himself up however, although grimacing, clearly in a great deal of pain. Fat Alan meanwhile has not been idle, he kicks at the door in the alley, once, twice then he's in. A wedge of light streams out, the sound of Fat Alan's voice carries, “under attack” and something about “my bloody pie”, are clearly heard. And into Cutpurse Alley strides Fernando Del Amitri [1], a swarthy middle-aged man in tight leathers with a network of scars on his face, like fretwork. A wanted man, a cut-throat, ex-pirate- no buckle left unswashed, a villain, a... nasty piece of work. Fernando draws his rapier- Marlene [2], he names all of his blades, sashays forward slicing the air, finally reaches the newly arisen, and very hurt, Cathal. Fernando salutes the warrior with his rapier, then like a cat, crouches- ready to pounce. “I am Fernando Del Amitri, I killed my father, now prepare to die...” [3] Which as introductions go is not a bad one. Kullervo makes a mental note to get himself an intro, or at least steal that one. Fernando launches his first attack, an attack he calls his 'mystery blade', he prances forward blade before him; Fernando is a swordsman you see. Ignaran's mind clears, he mutters words, more like guttural sounds, and suddenly a wolf appears in the alley, just to the left of Fernando, his immediate left. It has to be said that while Fernando notices the wolf he remains remarkably calm, right up until the point the salivating canid sinks its teeth into the fleshy part of his calf, a little later we will hear the sound of his left fibula breaking. Crack. There, that's it. Fernando suddenly goes pale, however the colour returns to his cheeks a moment later when Cathal's longsword connects with his right shoulder, hacking into bone and sawing through sinew, blood jets and gushes, the air takes on a reddish tinge. “I am...” is all Fernando manages as, with a dull thud, Kullervo's dagger thumps into the swordsman's chest. He sinks to his knees, then whispers “I killed my father...”, and pitches forward- very deceased. “Good work”, Cathal grumbles, catches his breath and tries not to put too much weight on his left leg, “now stop buggering about and get down here the pair of you.” Ignaran snakes an arm out, grasps Kullervo, “you alright?”. The pair continue to peer down into the alley, the shattered body of Fernando Del Amitri, then over to the opposite roof, and the likewise broken body of Krunk. Kullervo gulps, throat now very dry, and nods- Ignaran offers the young man a flask of water and then leads him away from the edge. Ignaran had found the unconscious Kullervo yesterday evening. He'd quickly grown tired, scratch that- irritated, by the bustling streets of the city, and the dock quarter in particular. He'd wandered- away from the crowds, and a little while later found himself in the ruins of Fallcrest. The remains of the Blood War, the coming of the Red Hand, a century ago a rampaging force had swept through the Nentir Vale, not seeking to settle, or usurp; seeking only to destroy. Ignaran knew his history- Fallcrest had fallen then, although much of it had been rebuilt. There still stood, or rather didn't stand, areas of ruin- shadows of darker times. Later Kullervo had asked the Druid how he had found him, lost, as he was, in the ruins. Ignaran spoke of instinct, and the way of nature, how all life is holy, and about the abstract order of the universe being a force for good, a force for survival. He spoke of his dedication and training, his ability to read nature's signs [4]. Kullervo, of course, was suitably impressed. And so Ignaran carried Kullervo back to the Blue Moon Alehouse, he recognised the young villager, and suspected he knew how he had got into the city, and his reasons for being here. He also knew how to fix Kullervo's particular ailment- drink, good food, a few carefully chosen herbs and a warm fire- and more sleep. He watched over the young man for the rest of the evening and late into the night, the bar had filled, then emptied, filled again, and then emptied again- it was like watching the tides. Nobody bothered the pair by the fire, nobody except... “Mind?” Cathal barks. [5] It was a question, Ignaran could tell by the question mark, he shrugs and Cathal plonks himself down in the chair next to Kullervo. The interloper is a big man in his early thirties with a moustache that would leave him tasting his breakfast for much of the day. He seemed on edge, unable to relax. Time passes, slowly - measured mostly by the exchange of side-long glances. “Pissed?” Cathal finally asks, and nods at Kullervo. “No. He'll be as right as rain in a little while.” “Mmm.” Cathal doubts. Silence settles over the trio again. “Work?” Cathal eventually asks, and smooths his moustache. “What sort of work?” Ignaran replies, a little put out. “'venturing.” Cathal nods and raises a now steaming iron-clad boot to hover over the flames of the fire. Kullervo awakes in an instant. “Adventuring?” His eyes glisten in the firelight. “Yes.” Cathal confirms, and nods for good measure. “What's the job?” Kullervo is as quick as a flash. “Whatever it is we're not...” Ignaran starts up. “Cutpurse Alley- going to relieve the Beggar King of something very valuable to him.” Cathal gets the hang of things, an actual sentence. “Cutpurse Alley...” Ignaran starts, but is duly ignored. “Valuable?” It's Kullervo's turn for the one word questions. “Hundred gold for each man.” Cathal knows he's winning. “One hundred...” Kullervo's eyes are like saucers. “Did you say Cutpurse Alley, the one with the gate?” Ignaran asks. Cathal nods curtly. “What gate?” Kullervo adds, but is ignored- it's his turn. “Count me in.” Ignaran proffers his hand. “Me too.” Kullervo agrees, and grins from ear to ear. Ignaran is about to protest when, “Cathal.” Cathal declares and then pumps Kullervo's hand, “be here at midnight, and be ready”, and then he's up and lost in the crowd. The Druid gawps and stammers, his mind trying to process new information. “You're Ignaran, aren't you? I've heard tales about you - you're... a survivor, out there in the wilds. You must be pretty tough.” Kullervo grins, nods and offers his hand to Ignaran. “It's Kullervo isn't it? I know your father.” Ignaran smiles, preens a little, and shakes the proffered hand. The two settle down by the fire. “Adventurers.” Kullervo states much later, and chuckles to himself. “Hmm.” Ignaran murmurs, and suddenly looks less pleased. [1] Fernando Del Amitri, a legend in his own mind; in truth he is an ageing and yet still handsome miscreant with the gift of the gab. The Del Amitri's are butchers by trade, specialising in blood sausage and the harder to find, and identify, cuts of meat. Fernando was barred from the family trade partly because of his dandyish behaviour, but mostly because he faints at the first sight of blood, and thus he ended up a swordsman; and in the employ of the Beggar King- who is not known for generous salaries. [2] Fernando sleeps with Marlene, and sometimes his rapier too. [3] Alan Del Amitri, Fernando's father, is very much alive, and still wielding the cleaver; although he hasn't been in the family butcher's shop for over a decade. Nobody, alas, has come by enough courage to tell him to put the blade down yet. [4] He'd heard him snoring. [5] Cathal employs two modes of communication, barking and grumbling, both best suited to the parade ground- he appears most times to be talking, or rather shouting, at someone on the next table over. [/QUOTE]
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