~ Even the Gunslinger nearly leveled his firearm at Marius, suddenly appearing from the shadows like some kind of fell shade from the realms of Twilight.
" Karkin' Krakens, amigo, do not do that again!" Reynard chastised his compatriot sharply, chuckling nervously while stowing the gun back away and clutching at his heaving chest.
" Liable to kill a fellow with that disappearing act of yours."
Here the sailor was, peacefully thinking of spelunking, and now Reynard was assured he'd see Marius in his nightmares instead of Arvana in his dreams. However, her words still stuck with him. A chance to
meet The Lady ..? Were such a thing possible, or was Morgrym right in that Arvana would more than likely cut his rappelling line and collect his possessions off of whatever corpse he left behind after such a fall?
Well, these were things that just had to be risked, the sailor surmised. Especially since Arvana had deftly avoided answering him: 'A talent to dwell beneath the waves', she had said. Was she one of the sea-folk, then? Stories, there were always stories. Old boatswains in bars and young lads without their legs for the ocean yet sang sad tales of men lead astray by the mers, either drifted off on strange currents to never be seen again, or even grabbed from their ships and drowned by beautiful women with fins and iridescent scales.
Likewise, there were just as many songs about islands of paradise where the hospitality of those who "dwell beneath the waves" was legendary: they saved shipwrecked sailors, fed them on succulent fruits and honeyed wines, and let them stay in a perfect society forever (or helped them home, though many crewman had often balked at the idea of 'home' being anywhere else
but such a Utopia). Again,
again, Reynard had to truly wonder which Arvana was. She could be the predator, slowly circling a wounded fish, but just as likely she could be their savior in a storm. Reynard rather liked succulent fruit, after all.
As their escape options came up, the pistolero pondered. Smuggler's Wharf sounded the most appealing: a wharf meant a ship, and a ship meant a fast way out of this entire area. There was the blockade to deal with, but hells, they could just sail around the coast to somewhere else. Reynard would be lying if he tried to say that running to the sea didn't appeal to him in some way.
" Not sure I want to crawl through the caves of those lizards after we just killed a few of their friends," Reynard admitted,
" But swimming wouldn't be too much trouble for myself. A secret tunnel sounds promising, though."
He tipped his straw hat to Marius.
" Nice work on the scout detail."
Reynard listened to Arvana (noting that it was interesting that even she would advise not to trust here, which had ... interesting implications), before the bang on the roof had him drawing his gun once more.
" Frell Me, that didn't take long," he snorted wryly, moving towards where they had entered the tomb in the first place. Drawing out the sunrod fully, the gunslinger hurled it towards where they had come in, letting its light shed outwards while keeping the back area they stood in sheltered in shadow.
Checking the priming on his firearm, Reynard turned towards his companions.
" Make a decision and make it quick. I'll try and hold them off if they break through, but I'd rather not die in some long-lost tomb filled with Ichtians, if you don't mind."
He braced himself against the nearby wall, taking in a deep breath of sticky, wet air. The pistol was rock-solid in his grip, loaded and ready to put a hole through whatever was trying to follow them. ~
OOC:
|
Map updated with a yellow-squared "S" for the Sunrod's position.
|
|