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» The Price Paid For a Job Done Differently, Vael x Dravyn
PLAYERS INVOLVED: @euphoneus (Karla) @Saleyne (Sal)

SETTING: Sidon, Rhirdoa

WEATHER: Clear skies.

TIME: Current, late evening.

CHARACTERS INVOLVED: Vael (euphoneus) and Dravyn (Saleyne)
“And then he was all ‘Vael you’ll pay for this! I will make sure everyone knows what you did!’ To which I responded, what, get the job done with zero witnesses and zero casualties? Yes, that will just absolutely ruin our reputation!” Vael fained distress by placing the back of his palm on his forehead and relaxing his wrist. “Oh my stars, whatever shall we do!” With this laughter broke out amongst his cohorts, with Farod slamming his drink down on the table and letting out a hearty bellowing laugh. The orc wiped some the ale froth from his mouth with his sleeve and beckoned the barmaid over, insisting on another round of drinks. His partner, Zandaro, shook his head but smirked.

“You shouldn’t antagonize our clients, Vael, it’s bad for business.”

“The man wanted me to go bust through some rich idiot’s door and murder my way inside. He didn’t say that of course, but it was implied. You don’t hire a stealth company to go on a murder rampage. We got in, got the goods, and got out. If he has a thirst for blood he can bring his own damn knife.” Vael turned over his mug and pushed it to the center of the table. “Whatever, there are plenty of rich twits in this town that need good mercs. We’ll be fine. Besides…” he leaned forward and untied a heavy purse from his belt, “he still paid up.” He tossed the purse at Zandaro who immediately began to inspect it- it was always about the money with him.

Looking around, Vael noticed that at some point Nevareth had slipped out of the gathering. Something had been up with him lately. Nevareth was always a bit too serious, but he had gone from being dour to sour, which was never a good sign. “I’m gonna get some air,” He said and stood up from the table, suddenly remembering what 4 ales did to his stability. Thankfully, Farod made a good crutch.
Nevareth was sitting on the balcony upstairs overlooking the street. From their shanty little inn they could see the docks; the sailors securing ships and fishmongers and merchants packing up shop. The sun had almost set completely, leaving only the occasional orange outline of workers. After a decade together, Vael became as adept at reading Nevareth as he had at reading battlefields. He knew where to press, when to retreat, and when to sit and wait. Nevareth may have been difficult for others to read, but all Vael needed was a few seconds to look into the elf’s eyes. What he saw was clear; tonight was a sit and wait night. He dragged a chair across the floor and propped it up beside Nevareth, sat down and rested his feet on the railing. He laid a head on Nevareth’s shoulder and nestled in like a cat settling down for a nap. “So. About that tournament,” he said, looking up with a smug grin.

“Shut up,” the elf said, finally cracking a smile. They sat there in silence until the stars began to show themselves, and the night air smelled more of ale and mead than salt and fish. Nevareth didn’t disclose to Vael his problems, but he knew that in time he would. Rather than the press the matter, Vael decided to take a walk through the streets and leave Nevareth to his brooding.

He passed two children playing swordplay with sticks. He liked it here. There was plenty of work, good paying work at that, the streets were busy and always held new things to see, and, hell, minataurs could even be attractive enough- with enough ale and mead in you. The sea breeze tousled Vael’s sandy hair and its chill caused little bumps to ripple over his skin. The salt air felt good in his lungs, though perhaps that was just the buzz from the alcohol that hadn’t quite worn off. Perhaps it was just the whistling of wind through old sails and the crashing of waves against cobblestones, but Vael couldn’t help shake the feeling he was being followed.
She supposed Sidon had a certain charm. It had a bustling market and the port ensured there was always something new and exciting to see, even as well-traveled as she was. The minotaurs were intriguing, too, and Rhidora's current state would certainly make for plenty of work in her field. Taking a deep breath of the sea air, she entertained the idea of relocating. Once this job was done, she'd certainly have the funds.

If the damn target would ever get out and about, anyway. The drow had been watching the inn where the man and his company had taken up residence for most of the night and while she was sure she could slip in through a window and murder him just as easily, Dravyn wasn't fond of working in buildings without prior knowledge of the layout. It made for hasty, messy events and frenzied escapes; all of which flew in the face of her analytical and careful nature.

But she was becoming impatient.

Crossing her legs, the woman took a drink of her coffee and pulled the hood of her cloak down lower over her face. The luck that there was a cafe down the street -- within sight of the tavern -- that was capable of brewing a fantastic pot of coffee was a blessing indeed. Apparently that luck had not run out either. At that precise moment a short, leanly built man exited the building.

"Fucking fantastic." The woman leapt to her feet and snagged a final sip of her coffee, immensely thankful she had pre-paid for it just in case the winds turned in her favor. And he was even alone. Brilliant!

Smirking, she gave the hood of her cloak another tug down over her scarlet eyes and with her long, silver hair braided down her back, there was nothing noticeably out of place about her. Shifting her walk to more of a stroll and trying to effect the swaying, easy pace of a common woman, she joined the others on the street and used them to cover her from sight. At least with her nose, she didn't have to see him to keep him in her "sights."
Vael leaned over the fence that separated the path from the water, which was likely there to stop drunk idiots like him from falling into the pier. Subtly, he looked over his shoulders on either side but saw nothing. He hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary on his way here, but none the less he couldn’t escape that tickling feeling on the back of his neck, that feeling that your every move is being watched. Satisfied that he was in no immediate danger in the next 30 seconds, Vael looked out at the sea to collect his foggy thoughts. Unfortunately, he was in a rather good spot to be ambushed. The dock he was standing on was lower than the main road, which this time of day was not very busy at all. The night sky looming overhead gave any assailants plenty of shadow to hide in; all in all he was certainly in a pickle. It was nothing he couldn’t handle however. The first step was just to get off this bloody dock.

He made his way back onto the main road and looked for anything that could help him out. There were people out, though not as many as he would have liked. His eyes darted about for any well lit side roads that might loop back to the tavern, large gatherings of friendly looking people, heck even a priest shouting ultra-purist warnings into the street would have done the job.

Eventually, he found his salvation. A street performer entertaining a small smattering of people had set up shop in an empty merchant stall. She’d pushed the stall aside and set up some sort of brazier apparatus which she was currently dancing around and juggling. It looked like a shit act to be honest, but it’d do for now. He feigned amusement with the other onlookers and attempted to suss out the source of his paranoia.
Not terribly far along, Dravyn was given an opportunity to part from the crowd and melt with the shadows. She stalked down towards the dock where she had seen Vael go and came to a rest there, watching him. He was certainly intoxicated -- she could smell the alcohol. And it certainly presented her with an opportunity, she supposed.

Then again. The drowess eyed the fence upon which he leaned. It would be much easier for him to pitch her into that water than vice versa. Seemed like a miserable way to blow her cover.

As he came back up onto the main road, the woman held her breath and watched to see where he would head now. Aimless wandering, it seemed like. It was fastly approaching boring and as he headed towards the street performer, she rolled her scarlet eyes. Really? Juggling?

Well, he was a bit wankered-

Scoping out where he was headed and what lay between, she was certain she could keep to the shadows and continue to tail him. Unfortunately, keeping anyone else in the small crowd from noticing her would be a bit more difficult. Especially when nothing about her physical appearance was in line with the population of Rhidora.

Weighing her options, the woman's gaze drifted to the roof beside her. Most humans did not think to look up and what weak light the moon provided shouldn't have made much of a difference. Unfortunately, then she would be limited by the stretch of the buildings and the distance between each one.

Perhaps for now, it would be best to wait; to see what he would do from here.
So far there had been nothing particularly out of the ordinary. Perhaps he was just being overly paranoid. Still, his intuition told him something was up. Vael began to weigh his options. He could just turn tail and head back to the tavern, his pursuer would have to be a fool to attack him in a small building filled to the brim with armed soldiers. However, if the assassin wasn’t a fool, they could duck into any shadowy side street, stick him with a knife and drag him into the alley; that’s what he would do.

He looked around, analyzing the situation. What would he do?
Well the rooftops possessed the obvious advantage. Clamber up there, then boom, crossbow bolt to the head. Quick, easy weapon to conceal, easy get away. The fact that there was no bolt in his head yet lead him to believe the rooftops were unoccupied though. Besides, the buildings in Sidon were too far apart for efficient roof hopping. An idea struck him.

If the perp wouldn’t bring attention to themselves, then Vael would just have to bring attention to himself. The juggler caught all her pins with a flourish and Vael cheered wildly. He screamed his laughter and clapped his hands against his knees. The street performer seemed enthralled with this development. Vael took note of all the side glances from the people around him, some simply chuckling at the drunk human, others disgusted by him.
Well, he hadn't seemed that drunk a few minutes ago. Perhaps she had misjudged; after all, she wasn't one to drink herself and it was an alien experience. Certainly couldn't go barging out there now, though. He had succeeded in drawing all sorts of attention to himself -- attention she couldn't have.

Giving a frustrated sigh, she leaned back against the wall behind her and crossed her arms. This was going to be harder than she'd thought.

Meanwhile among the crowd that had been watching the street performer, a man of medium height and thin build had turned his green eyes to Vael with slight concern. A quick glance around the crowd said that no one believed what the woman had just done was quite this extraordinary. Brushing back a long strand of golden hair, he leaned to get a better look at the man.

"Are you alright?"
This was certainly a development. For a split second Vael could have sworn he saw someone lurking amongst the shadows in the distance. It was too far away to be sure though; perhaps his paranoia imagined the movement. More pressingly was the golden haired man standing in front of him.

“That depends entirely on your definition of alright, and if you intend on changing my state of arlight-ness.” The sentence was a less eloquent than he had hoped for, perhaps he was more drunk than he’d thought. He looked the elf over for any signs of weaponry, though could spy nothing immediately evident without closer inspection. This didn’t exactly make him less conspicuous. In Vael’s, admittedly limited, experience, assassins didn’t usually go around sporting giant gleaming great swords or anything. “If your intent is to significantly and suddenly decrease my life expectancy, I’d ask you do me one last favour and allow me to retrieve my weapon. It isn’t befitting a commander to die without his weapon at the very least.”
Sirishan arched an eyebrow at that. Cocking his head to the side, his long hair shifted across his lower back and behind his shoulders. "I'm a healer, actually," he answered, noticeably bemused.

"If anything I rather think I'd seek to extend it -- otherwise I'd be a pretty poor one indeed." He must have been far more drunk than he'd initially seemed.
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@Saleyne @euphoneus

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"you do know I have the worst memory in the high desert right"
"that's a lie, you just fill your memory with all things BTACD related"
“Hm, I suppose that would be rather counter intuitive…” He paused, calculating his next move. He decided the best thing to do from here would be to simply tell the tall blond man the truth, or at least some of it. “Forgive me, perhaps it is nothing but-“suddenly a scream pierced the air. Vael stopped to listen, it sounded a ways off. It was not the scream of a child caught up in the excitement of play, nor the playful scream of someone caught off guard; that was a scream of terror.
Vael listened for sounds of a skirmish, and felt his heart sink on hearing them. Something was coming their way, and it wasn’t friendly. He grabbed the stranger’s arm and tugged him along, “This way, whatever is coming our way is not something you want to get mixed up in,” he said as he began to jog away from the skirmish, plotting the best way back to the tavern.

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user posted imageuser posted imageuser posted image
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"you do know I have the worst memory in the high desert right"
"that's a lie, you just fill your memory with all things BTACD related"
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