The city is crowded, with more people then ever pouring in to the places. Not all of them have permanent homes, so the streets and taverns are crowded every night. It's chaotic--A glorious mess for those who like cities, but not so much for those who don't. It's a race to get people settled while new people still pour in. Luckily, the weather has been mild enough that no one will suffer if they have to sleep rough.
The tavern is ahead, well lit against the soon-to-be-setting sun. At the bottom of a cliff, there is nearly no gloaming.
The door is open and there is a great deal of traffic in and out of the place. There is an alley beside the building.
Jerod looks over the front and back from their vantage point a couple of buildings away. Though he has not been in Xanadu often, there are enough people from Amber that he has the precaution of having the hood on his cloak up to partially conceal his features.
"So, who wants the back?" he asks, having decided that the front door is more his style.
Paige holds the instinctive lewd comment behind grinning teeth.
Whereas squalid alleyways are more.... well, no they're not. But getting some height with pounce zones on the back is more Robin's style. She tilts her head and points with her eyes to let Jerod, Raven & Paige know her preferences.
"Alley," Raven agrees. "Might be you stir up some interesting vermin."
The redhead sweeps her bangs from above emerald eyes, twinkling with amusement and slides a gloved hand through Jerod's arm. "I suppose that I'm your escort for the evening, my good knight... commander," she offers.
Victor looks at the teams and comes to a quick decision himself. "I reckon I'll stay here and catch anyone who's watching this place."
"Keep the body count to a minimum everyone." Jerod says. "We can't interrogate the dead... new rules and all that." and then he gives Paige a nod. "Time to rock and roll."
"Kneecaps." Robin confirms with a grin. And with a 'come-along' gesture to Raven, heads off to find her perch.
Jerod waits with Paige while the others begin to move into their positions.
"Knight commander? Damn, that's a major downgrade from Prince. What's it take to get an upgrade?" he asks, watching the entrance for the bar.
"I was going to make a lewd comment about what it takes to make me consider something a good night, and then caught myself," Paige answers. "It may be exercised infrequently, but I do have some decorum."
"If you want an upgrade, figure out why several of the council members didn't even become Knights of the Card and explain it to me."
After a moment, his expression goes serious once more. "How do you want to handle this? Simple routine will be to find our friend inside and get some questions answered. Given the number of people, I can see the potential for this going south real fast."
"Agreed, and he can't mistake us for anything short of who we are, nor do we waant him to," the redhead agrees. "Hence I may not be as persuasive as with those that would take me for JUST a buxom redhead."
"Bad Warden, Worse Prince?" she chuckles.
"And people claim I'm hard to figure out." Jerod replies with absolute dead-pan, having noted the positions for Robin and her cohorts. "So we're looking at a bar-room which if we go bad to worse, we need to clear the room real fast and use patrons as projectiles. Pity we're not in Amber...toss a couple of flash-bangs...neat and tidy." and he frowns. "Course, that would be a bugger cause we'd have to wait for someone to wake up.
"As for the Card...can't speak for anyone else. Martin didn't offer me one probably because he knows I wouldn't accept it and I wouldn't want to insult him by refusing it publicly. Reminds me too much of home... another useless title.
He motions to the alleyway. "They should be in position shortly. You've got the point, I've got your back." and he smiles. "I'd have said your rear, but I wouldn't want us to get distracted."
Paige nods, "Can't have that, at least not with my boyfriend so close with so many Rangers looking to him for their daily grog ration."
She starts toward the door, adding off-handedly, "Not that I'd institute a grog ration in Broceliande."
Her palm settles casually on the hilt of the dao on her left hip as she leads through the door with her right. A smile quirks at the corner of her lips as she scans the room, before moving toward the bar.
'Packed' and 'understaffed' are the first two words that come to Paige's mind. It's rowdy, loud, and will be hard to move through.
Paige is noticed. She always is, entering bars. Any number of drunken sailors get their hopes up unreasonably.
Jerod may also be recognized, but it's not the same kind of attention and it's from people who may be hoping he doesn't see them. Even without announcing themselves, it's clear that Paige and Jerod are of a different social class than the drinkers at this tavern.
There is no hostess, but Paige and Jerod could push their way to the bar. There aren't any free tables, but some of the benches might support a few more people.
Prior to departing, Jerod would have been sure to get the name of the proprietor (which was not immediately mentioned during previous emails) and he looks around momentarily as they enter, verifying their environment. Given the crush of people, Jerod remains reasonably wary but not to a paranoid level. Anyone smart enough to recognize him will know making a move would be bad...anyone not recognizing him will learn about their error in short order. One would think that going after someone who is armed might not be a wise move, but he realizes it takes all kinds.
Jerod learns the innkeeper is named Jacket, and that Ash cannot tell you what relation that is to the tavern's namesake.
Upon entering, he sees a number of people who look unready to make a move. At least two distinct groups have the look of sailors. There is normal traffic to and from the kitchen and the jakes.
That they are attracting attention is not unusual. Jerod is more interested in those who may be looking to make a hasty departure from the establishment, as well as anyone who fits with a description like that of Grimey or any of Flannel's normal crew. Plus, whether anyone is looking to stay and pay attention in a way that seems to be more than just idle curiosity.
"Barkeep." Jerod offers to Paige, motioning to one of the overly busy people behind the bar. "I'll cover behind us." and he stays in a rear flank to her, close enough to hear what's happening but keeping an eye on the outside crowd.
The short red hair bobs in response, as his cousin begins to thread her way through the patrons. If she can draw the attention of the clientele, she figures leaning on the bar should get the barkeep's attention. She waves her hand toward him/her and orders with a silky voice, "Two whiskeys.
"And some information if its on tap," she adds, loud enough for several of the closer dinkers to hear.
Two clean glasses hit the bar and whiskey quickly darkens them. "On the house, Lady Sommers, Madame Thibault herself taught me to pour drinks." Paige recalls him; his name is Feldspar.
"Feldspar, right?" she smiles. "When did Jacket hire you on?" Paige asks conversationally.
"You might not know the men I'm looking for, as I think they were acquainted back in Amber. They're sailors now, headed out on the evening tide, or at least they're supposed to be. Flannel and Grimey, they are called, appropriately from what I've heard."
Feldspar smiles at the recognition, and becomes the target of the envy of a number of nearby bar patrons. "Three days, Lady Sommers. Came from Amber through by Oceansgate. I knew Jacket in Amber and he hired me on the spot, as the crowds was too much for 'im. The crowd in the corner is sailing tonight. Their boatswain has strict orders for me to water all their drinks by a quarter and drop it to a half later. He pays enough. He's at the end of the bar, if you want to talk to 'im quietly." He nods in the direction of a sailor, the only one sitting at the bar. "Probably easier than walking up to a mob of drunken sailors and asking for 'em. I don't need no riots." He grins.
Jerod sees a couple leave by the side door. Their inclinations seem romantic rather than suspicious. Romantic-ish, at least. Jerod also thinks it would take a really determined man to go out through the shuttered windows, but it would be easy for the 8 foot tall half-troll that he doesn't see anywhere in the crowd.
Paige nods to Feldspar in thanks, gives Jerod the significant look toward the appropriate corner, and then slides a gracefully as she can to the bosun. "Since you're paying to keep your crew's drinks watered, perhaps I can buy you one?" she offers.
"Shhh!," the bosun says. "You can do whatever you want, darlin, as long as you keep it quiet and I don't miss me ship." He ignores Feldspar's warning glance. The sailor's accent betrays a foreign home port, probably somewhere beyond the old Golden Circle. He's managing to keep mostly sober.
The nail that sticks up gets hammered down... that's what Venesch would have said about a search for a half troll amongst Amberites, Jerod notes after completing the visual sweep of the room. Given the size of such an individual, to remain out of sight would be the more prudent course, one which he figured that Grimey would take. As for the romantic couple, they'll be for Raven and Robin to handle as needed.
He nods just a touch in response to Paige's look, moving as needed to cover as she moves and keeping an eye on things in the bar.
The group Paige identified as the right crew have been drinking for some time, and have a corner full of tables and women staked out. There's quite a bit of laughter and a certain "last day on shore" desperation to them. Money is moving freely, and not just towards the bar.
It's possible that Flannel is with them, but lots of people match the description.
Jerod keeps the group in sight, making sure to watch for the exit points based on where the group is located while keeping an ear on Paige's conversation, in case the bosun attracts too much attention and spooks the quarry.
Paige's compressed smile tightens as she casts her eyes down at the bosun's "darlin," and she waves a subtle hand toward Feldspar promising that she has no intention of spoiling his shift with a brawl.
"Well, darlin," she whispers sliding a bit closer to the sailor, her thigh against the side of his leg, her jacket almost brushing his chest. "I'm looking for a man, and something more than a man."
She waves for Feldspar to fill both their glasses after tossing hers back in one throw, and smiling back at the bosun. "Flannel and Grimey. One supposedly jumped ship, the other should be leaving with you tomorrow. I'll take either or both."
The sailor opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted. From the back of the taproom, a woman screams. There's about a half a second of silence, and then many of the patrons, led by the sailors, are running for the doors. Some stop briefly to acquire improvised weapons.
Apparently the fight will be in the alley.
Jerod monitors for the crowd to see who may be going where while waiting for the bosun's response. While he is not averse to thinning the crowd a bit he wants to be sure the quarry, if here, doesn't getaway in the melee. That there may be a fight in the alley is not of real concern to him, especially since Robin and Raven are there and should be able to take care of themselves.
As there are sailors going out the door, the bosun is heading towards it as well [ooc: unless you all stop him]. From nowhere obvious he pulls a belaying pin.
As soon as the bosun starts moving out, Jerod moves. The hand that holds the belaying pin will find itself in an iron grip on the bosun's hand as soon as it appears. "Flannel and Grimey." Jerod says, focusing his words to the bosun. "And quick about it unless you want to on a Prince's bad side."
The man's eyes open quite wide. "Your highness, my apologies. I had no idea the redhead was with you. Grimey is long gone, food for the fishes or eating the bears in the woods. Flannel is around here somewhere." He turns his head, looking for his sailor.
Paige nods trusting her cousin's hand and heads toward the front door, to watch the exodus for the particular sailors she's come calling for, should they be using this convenient distraction.
Jerod provides a glance in Paige's direction, sufficient to ensure she has coverage on a blind spot but trusting her skill in handling herself. She's not the Warden for nothing after all. He decides not to make the bosun's life any more terrifying by letting him know that the "redhead" was the daughter of Bleys and how she might decide to take offense to it...though the hint of a grim smile barely reaches his lips as he considers it.
"Flannel will be the start." Jerod says. "Quickly...before he decides to depart with the mob."
The bosun half-stands on his barstool and his head snaps around the room. He spies a gangly sailor and his arm shoots out and grabs the ugliest man Jerod has seen in a week.
"Slice, where's Flannel?" The bosun has to shout to be heard over the incipient riot. Luckily he's good at it.
Slice turns, and his friends head towards the door. "Dunno, sir. He was with us a moment ago."
The bosun lets him go. "Out there. Pass the word. Bring him back in here. Tell the Beater to find him if he's in that alley."
The alley is, from the sound of it, the scene of a an angry mob working towards a riot. Indeed, there are a few fights in the bar room. The bartender is already breaking something up.
Unless the situation in the bar room is rapidly escalating to a state to rival the outdoors, Jerod will give a cursory glance over the activities there to ensure that nothing murderous is occurring (and that Flannel isn't hiding under a table because no one noticed).
The bartender has things under control. He seems competent to control the remains of his evening crowd.
There doesn't seem to be anyone hiding under the tables. At a cursory glance, the action is not in the public house any more.
Assuming he sees nothing, Jerod turns to the bosun. "I'll be back. Stay on Flannel." he says, pulling off his cloak and tossing it onto the bar before heading to the door. He wants his face and his colours visible...and he doesn't want a riot (Random might not like it and Jerod's got better things to do than explain how he didn't start it...given he doesn't even know how it started).
Robin unlimbers her bow as she wends her way through the crowds. "Sooo, I'm heading for high ground but can close quickly if needed. If you can avoid my line of fire, I'd appreciate it." The Ranger smiles to her companion.
"Oh, and signs of Arcadian-style badness are: excessive and inappropriate greeness, non-anatomical flexion and extension, independent cellular level attacks, etc. If anyone starts showing those symptoms, please back off and leave them to me. That shit is highly contagious and you might not be susceptible, Raven, but one never knows." Robin shrugs with a flat line to her mouth.
"I figure to pounce on anything that runs and get answers. Instead of trying to sneaky-follow through this mad-house." Robin gestures to the crowded streets around them. "Any objections?"
The Ranger is business-like, but absolutely open to input from her companion. Her brevity is not hostile or dictatorial, just to-the-point.
Raven shakes her head. "Seeing as how I'm going to guess that you don't know this part of town any better than I do, I'm good with that plan."
"Okay, then." Robin nods. "One quick jog through the alley to spot the boltways and foot-hazards. Then I'll take the high and you take the low." Robin smiles once again, she does love a hunt.
Weaving through and with the crowds, Robin heads into the alleway. Her booted feet are sure around the piles of refuse and the outstretching structures that reach from the nearby buildings. Lean-to's, tents, awnings, crates, barrels and shoddy enclosures make the alleyway a maze of haphazard shelters. And while Robin's nose is wrinkled against the incredible smell of cooking, alcohol, vomit and other human efluvia, her eyes are bright as she takes in two doorways that seem to lead into the tavern. One curtain-hung opening obviously leads to a kitchen, given the crates of garbage stacked around, spoiled food littering the ground and the decrepit cart parked nearby. The other opening sports an ill-painted swinging wooden door at the head of a muddy oft-trudged path leading to the... well, polite company might call them 'jakes' but polite company would certainly never use those. Robin can't help rolling her eyes -- city folk, there's no end to their foolishness.
No other windows or openings lead out to the alley, though the tavern walls seem a might thin and poor-built to offer much more than visual obstruction to someone like Grimey. Or Jerod. Or herself.
Raven rolls along in her wake, looking left and right and occasionally underneath things as they pass. She's a city kid and a tavern brat; this isn't anything new, just dirtier than most. She comes to a halt near the cart, looking intently down past the jake.
"I don't figure there's an easy way out down thattaway. Can't let the paying custom wander off, and can't let the non-paying piss and go." It's a wholly cynical statement, that. "Right about here ought to be in the middle of trouble, if it comes, and we ain't too far so as not to hear 'em if it goes out the front."
The curtain is pulled open and a girl throws a bucket of some dingy liquid at the sewer. She notices the two royals, and goes back to the kitchen quickly.
Robin chuckles sympathetically at the back of the retreating scullion, she wouldn't want to hang around folks looking like her or Raven either.
Casting her eyes around, Robin finds her preferred perch across the alley and on the roof of a two-story... flophouse? she guesses. Whatever the structure is, it's sturdy enough for her to tromp around upon and provides some cover in the form of low balustrade. She points it out to Raven with her eyes, then launches her little darlings in the air to keep their eyes open. And pity the poor seagull who contests their airspace.
"Right. You handle the close-in thumping. If you need any back-up, just call and I'll hop on down." Robin grins.
"Aye," Raven agrees. "And 'ware. I think that were our advantage of surprise what just went back inside."
The former Ranger crosses the alley in two long strides and with the built-up speed, hops up the side of the flophouse as easily and freely as a squirrel; and with as little thumping. In a heartbeat, she's in position, loosening her bow and settling her quiver at her side. A quick wave of readiness is tossed back to her companion and Robin takes overwatch.
The Captain eyes the alley again and, after poking the wall gingerly and deciding she doesn't actually care to lean against it, sets herself up across from the door with crossed arms and a patient expression. It's not quite a full-on loiter, but it might at least pass as one if someone bothers to look this far down the alley and wonder why she's there.
A woman walks out of the taproom, giggling. She stops suddenly when she sees the Captain. The man behind her bumps into her and nuzzles her neck, and she pushes him away. He seems confused until his eyes adjust to the darkness and he sees Raven. His hand goes to his waist, but she pulls him towards the darkened back of the alley. She says something about not getting involved.
A man leaves the jakes and walks past the couple. There is something familiar about him, but in the dark and the shadows, it's hard to know what.
Robin tracks it all from her perch but leaves it to the man on the ground to make the call. Unless someone makes to leave the alley, in which case she'll definitely let them know it would be a bad idea.
Raven considers for a moment, and decides to try a trick to get a better look at the newcomer's face. "Don't suppose," she says casually, "any of you lot seen my girl? 'Bout so high," a hand gesture, "'bout so big," another hand gesture, raunchier than the first, "pretty little thing. Goes by Red. I got a word or two for her."
Loverboy apparently gets belligerent when he's drunk. Also loud. "This one's with me, mate. Unless you're gonna fight me for 'er, shut your craw." He's a docker, by the look of him. Strong and dumb. The other man pulls he cloak up to avoid the entire thing, and the girl just giggles, which seems to enrage Loverboy. He staggers up to Raven, with his breath proceeding him by a good three feet. "Well, mate? Gonna try to take my girl?" His fists are balled up and his face is a great, splotchy mass of anger. The other fellow looks over at the altercation and speeds up, keeping Loverboy between himself and Raven.
Raven does see his face. He was with Flannel and Grimey at the bar. His name is Kitten.
"Nope, I ain't gonna lay a hand on her." Raven almost - almost - sounds cheerful. "But that one behind you? I reckon he's got an eye for 'er. Boyo was getting an eyeful as he walked by, that's for sure. Tried to steal a girl from me too - but he'll think twice if'n you lay a hand on him first. And he squeals like a pig if you break his nose.
"Don't'cha, Kitten?"
Robin's lip ticks in enjoyment at watching a pro at work. City folk for city folk, and isn't it a thing of beauty. At the same time, her aim adjusts to cover Kitten. Especially his feet so conveniently not covered by his cloak and so not necessary to talking.
The drunk turns towards Kitten. "Hey, chum-" is all he manages to say before Kitten's fist hits him in the jaw, soundly breaking it. Blood spatters over Raven and the back wall, and the drunk is windmilling his arms and falling at Raven.
The girl, not wanting any part of this, is headed straight for the door, screaming about murderers in the alley.
Kitten starts to run in the opposite direction, towards the street.
That's all the signal Robin needs. With a grin, she will fill Kitten with as many arrows as it takes to stop his movement, but not his ability to be interrogated.
Three quick shots and he's on the ground, with arrows in his left foot, left leg, and left arm. The fire-lizards are swooping towards him and seem ready to finish him off, or at least eat some raw meat.
Raven swears - not that she wasn't expecting something to happen, but she could have done without the screaming. She ducks her head and shoves Loverboy away, hard. Ain't like she can do much more damage to him, anyway, and someone probably ought to grab the girl before she gets the whole bar out here "helping"...
Loverboy folds like an aging Canadian rock band, landing in the gutter and not quite realizing how he got there.
...Which is conveniently out of the way of those arrows, so that's what she means to do next.
Raven runs up behind the girl and grabs her. The door, such as it is, opens into the main taproom. Raven can silence the girl in any way desired. However, it's clear to Raven that the patrons of this fine establishment are about to start coming to the rescue of said girl.
Robin bounds down off of the roof, hot on the trail of her fire-lzards. Her emotions are cheerful and laughing as she does her best to let them know that Kitten is keepin' prey, not eatin' prey.
Her plan is to stoop down on Kitten, wrap him up in his own cloak and snatch him up. Then up the nearest wall to roost out of the way and (hopefully) the sight of any would be rescuers. Robin's moving at speed with all of her storm hawk instincts and years of training behind her.
Kitten has conveniently passed out. Robin has him bundled and back in her temporary aerie before the first of the bar patrons reaches the door.
Raven spins the girl around and steers her towards the man in the gutter. "Ain't no murder here, girlie," she says, all business. "You don't stop screaming, I'm going to have to slap you, and you ain't going to like it. Let's just go make sure he ain't drowning on his own blood, aye?"
The sailors come pouring out the door. Raven deftly dodges the first of them, but more are coming from the entrance to the dead-end alley and the doorway seems choked with them. Raven could take 8 or 10 of them. There are more than that. And they seem as inclined to reason as any mob.
Robin checks Kitten quickly to make sure he isn't going to bleed to death any time soon, then attempts to catch Raven's eye. Since Raven is the expert in city folk, Robin's willing to follow his lead. With pantomime, Robin lets Raven know that she's got Kitten if Raven just wants to bail. But the Ranger is also willing to enter the fray, either as a rather impressive threat from the roof-top. Or as street-enforcement, as Robin certainly feels that she can take on any mob that Raven's got left over. It's Raven's call.
Raven takes a good hard look at the mob and decides that bailing is the better option here. She shoots Robin a quick nod of acknowledgement as she cuts back down the alley to pull herself up onto a lower roof. She sprints across it and up to the ranger's perch along a narrow board that looks more like some child's rooftop escape than an accident. "We should go."
The roof is not the solid foothold it might be hoped to be, and Captain Raven is not quiet getting to Robin's perch. The mob below sees the two of them, and a wildly thrown tankard flies past. They see the girl crying over the fat drunk on the ground and a few of the more ambitious lads are starting to climb. More worrying, a few more seem to be going up the inside of this building.
For now, it doesn't seem like they see Kitten.
Robin chuckles grimly as she squats down behind the balustrade. All that's missing is the torches and pitchforks - fun times! She nods, and grins with feral teeth.
Scooping up Kitten and keep low, low, low Robin scurries off. Treating the rooftops of Xanadu like a mid-level tree canopy, Robin climbs, weaves and leaps like the wild thing she is. She uses shadows to break up her silhouette, never, ever highlights herself against the setting sun and moves as slightly and swiftly as she can. Her path is a meandering wind toward Vic's last position, with the specific intent to lose her pursuers -- except for Raven.
Raven follows, doing her best to copy Robin where she can and adapt skills from her days in the rigging where she doesn't figure she can quite imitate a squirrel. She leaves the ranger to worry about where they're going; somebody's got to keep an eye on anyone that manages to get up here with them.
Much of the pursuit remains on the ground, seeming playing a game of tag with the duo. The mob seems intent on cornering Robin where she cannot flee to another rooftop and forcing her to come down or face the climbers behind her.
The pair moves inland somewhat from the docks. It's a necessity; the buildings run out more quickly on dockside. The town is still growing and if it were not for Robin's extra-human capacities, she could not carry the unconscious Kitten and make the leaps she's making from rooftop to rooftop.
After some time, Raven stops noticing the sounds of the mob. It looks like at least some of them are just plain rioting nearer the docks and the rest have given up their chase.
From the vantage of a rather-optimistically installed chimney, Robin and Raven can see that they are about 2 blocks from the roof of Scarlett's place.
Kitten moans. He's coming to.
As Robin looks out over the city watching the rioting, the light in her eyes fades from a feral gleam to a bewildered glimmer. She cocks her head to one side and blows her bangs off her forehead with a fluff. "Hunh. Humans." She turns to Raven with a befuddled expression, "Reckon I never will ken 'em."
At Kitten's moan, Robin plops him down ungently and quickly gags and binds him. "Sooooo, the Vale?" she suggests, her eyes never even touching Scarlett's roof.
Raven, for her part, snorts. "That were too much drink and not enough sense, is what that was. Hope the other three ain't caught in that mess. As for him..." She eyes Kitten. "The Vale's a bad idea with the cargo we got. Besides, I'd want to bang his head on stuff a few times before we tried to carry him through the streets. Not that I ain't sure you got him trussed up like a chicken on market day, but he's a bloody-minded cuss and I ain't of a mind to get more of the wrong kind of attention from him flopping around."
Robin's head tips at Raven's words as though she's having some trouble understanding them, but eventually she nods. "I can manage streets and flopping if you can manage attention." She smiles. "But we should regroup and I have no den in the city. You do not wish to return to Scarlett's. Where?"
"Circle back, I guess." Raven scowls. "This is why I was wanting a plan before. We ain't truly set anywhere up to meet, and we'll be wasting time if we go one place and they go another. And now that we kind of started a riot and made off with Grimey's little brother, we ain't exactly got a lot of time, I don't think."
"No." Robin says gently as she shakes her head. "I think my friends can bring the others to us wherever we are." She blows a fond kiss overhead to where three darting shapes glimmer in the fading sun. "No need to flop through the streets, just need to decide where we will land.
"And really. Before Jerod gets here, it's best to remember that Kitten started the riot and that we apprehended him. But that we were unable to stem the rising tide of too much drink and not enough sense. Besides - can you feel the air? There was going to be a riot tonight, no matter what. And frankly I'll be surprised if this little disturbance is the only one. Too crowded, too much... change." The ranger shakes her head sadly.
Raven snorts. "What he don't know ain't going to hurt him, then? All right. But that could have started back in Amber as easy - all it takes is the wrong person yelling the wrong thing. It's just people. They ain't any different just 'cause somebody drug 'em here instead."
She squints up at the flying shapes, looking faintly baffled. "I forgot you got tiny dragons and it ain't like there's many as have the same. Well. That just leaves us back were we was, with you not knowing the city and me not knowing this one well enough to have more than a few places to go, and none of them I like for this. Bugger." She sighs. "All right, all right. As long as you ain't asking me to like it, I suppose we can go dump this on my mother's back door."
"Thank you." Robin says with wry sympathy.
"You... were concerned about the message too much Royal traffic would send, yes?" the ranger tips her head as she struggles to remember the people bits of the prior conversations. "Any thoughts how we might sneak there without setting off Scarlett's own security?"
"Well, I usually just let myself in," Raven says drily, "but I don't figure that'll work here. Somehow, in all this, she missed giving her grown son in the Navy a key to her brand-new - well, whatever it is she wants to call it." She shrugs. "There's a yard in the back, walls and all. We ought to be able to get into that quiet-like, and then one of us can go find the woman while the other sits on him," she jerks a thumb at Kitten, "to make sure he don't get up to anything."
"Works for me. Getting into the yard quiet-like is no problem for me," Robin says with a wink. "And I'll be glad to fetch if you want to sit."
With that, the ranger hefts the bound and gagged Kitten over her shoulder. "Hi, there." she says to her luggage with a feral smile. "Look, if you feel like squirming, I'll be glad to drop you off of a roof, okay?" Bright eyes crinkle cheerfully as she nods to the man to confirm that he understands his situation clearly and will offer no... unfortunate complications.
He nods. His eyes are very wide.
"Good." Robin says with a satisfied chirp. And off she goes, bounding and scurrying across the roofs for Scarlett's.
Once within reach of the back courtyard Robin scrambles down the wall, avoiding the unfortunate fence. Thank goodness this cousin isn't in a skirt -- stupid things. At that point, she'll leave it up to Raven to explain to any employees in the vicinity.
One of the staffers watches her and nods. He looks like he's the back door guard.
There's a cage left over from the fighting ring, if Robin wished to stuff Kitten in it. He'd fit. Barely.
Raven follows Robin down into the courtyard, and after pausing to size up the guard, strolls in his direction. "How hard's it going to be to round up Scarlett quiet-like?" she asks.
Robin's head tilts consideringly at the cage. A grin full of spiteful glee dances quickly over her lips, but in the end the girl shakes her head. She doesn't like cages - even for enemies. Killing is just so much more efficient.
At the sound of Raven's voice, she looks up to see what's going on.
Scarlett walks out, as if she's anticipated Raven's question. The knife she's casually holding would be useful in a kitchen, but moreso in a fight. She takes in the scene quickly.
"If Max weren't safe, you wouldn't be back here like this. So, what do you want me to do with Kitten?"
Robin tips her head at Scarlett. "Do you have a private place where we can torture him? I'm told that we're not supposed to do that in the street."
The words are coming back, but there's a part of Robin that's definitely still walking in the Wyld.
"Ask him questions," Raven corrects, clearly amused. "We ask the questions first, and then, if he's not helpful, we go the torture road. And Kitten and I already talked about being helpful once. Maybe he'll make a better choice this time."
Robin nods carefully as she memorizes the word choice.
Scarlett picks up Kitten and sits him on the edge of the well. She looks him up and down and then un-gags him. "Hello, Kitten. I have no idea how you avoided impressment, but I hope you're not tied up in tonight's business. More tied up.
"Where's Heap? Is Grimey with 'em?"
"No idea, Ma'am. The Smiler just axed me to meet him at that bar. I never even got inside before i got shot."
He is indeed, bleeding a bit from his arrow wounds.
He looks up at Robin. "No need to torture me, Ma'am. They left me high and dry, and I wish I had something to tell you.
"I'm sure you do... have." Robin's brows furrows, stupid words, but then she pushes on. "I just don't know the questions yet. Let's get Jerod here and he can do the furrowing."
Robin looks up to sky and welcomes Chirrup down to her open arms. Communicating via impression and emotions - soooo much easier than stupid words - Robin lets the little bronze know of her desire for The Arrogant Arsehole to join them here at the nummy entrails place. She makes sure that there's no sense of urgency or immediate necessity to her request, just a gentle come-hither. Then, she'll see if Chirrup is willing to go back the chasing seagulls place and see if The Arsehole is still around.
Chirrup chirrups, and flies away. If he doesn't get distracted by Seagulls and/or fish, Robin may get Jerod here.
If all goes well, she launches her lovely one into the air before turning back to Kitten.
"While we're waiting," she continues, "what is Grimey?"
"High and dry when we decided to nab you, or high and dry off of something else?" Raven adds.
"Grimey is my half brother, sorta. If our mother is to believed, he's part troll. I try not to think about that too much."
Robin gives a satisfied grunt. Troll, she knew it.
He smiles at Raven. "After the Lord Mayor decided I hadn't done enough to warrant being shipped off to foreign parts and let me off with a warning to keep out of trouble."
Kitten's being sooooo helpful, that Robin just has to tip her head to one side and really Listen to him. Heartbeat, sweat, pupil dilation, body language and that little extra oomph her heritage gives her, these are all tuned on Kitten. Is he lying? Does he know more than he's saying? Those and any other strange human tricks are what Robin's Listening for.
He's sorta scared, and not really sure what you want. He doesn't like you and would probably lie to you if he thought he could get away with it, but he's not suicidal.
"Where's Grimey now?" is all that comes out though.
Raven is not impressed by Kitten's answers - or his ability to keep out of trouble - and it shows. But she just says, "Ah," and lets it go for now.
Kitten doesn't hesitate. "With Heap, or on Heap's business. Unless he's run off into the woods."
"And I don't suppose you know where Heap's got himself off to?" Raven asks.
Kitten looks around. "No, ma'am. He was at the Welcome Center when I met 'em, but those lodgings wouldn't have suited him for more than a night. Especially if he thought that the Halfhand would've had his men looking for 'em. He has plenty of reputable friends. You can do that when you have money and can do favors for the right people."
"Sooooo..." Robin drawls as she rolls thoughts around in her head, "if you wanted to get a message to Grimey or Heap or Flaumel, how would you do it?"
"And what kind of reputable friends are we talking here?" Raven adds. "The kind what's got money on account of working for it and being good at the job, or the kind with more money than sense and not a lick of work was done to get it 'cept be born?"
Kitten opens his mouth to answer Robin, but stops when Raven speaks. "Only them as has money thinks there's a lick of difference depending on how old the money is. Heap makes friends with people who want favors done for money.
"It's still not a big town, Ma'am. Someone's seen Grimey. I'd start by asking at the Welcome Center."
Robin raises an eyebrow to Raven and Scarlett. "The Welcome Center?"
Raven shrugs. "Sorry, I ain't got the first clue. Been a little busy finding out I'm kin to more folks than Widow Kite down the street had cats."
Scarlett looks at Raven and lets her gaze and attention slide back to Robin. "It's sort of a soup kitchen and flophouse for them 'as just come in from Amber. Sponsored by the rich of Xanadu. You can stay for 3 days while you work out where to live next. It's sort of a madhouse, but it's better for most than sleeping in the streets. Most o' Xanadu chipped in, either work on't or moneys."
Robin nods her understanding - sounds like a Folly-project to her. Then she casts a wistful eye at Kitten. She'd like to keep moving, buuutttt she should kinda stay here and watch Kitten bleed until one of the talkers get here.
The Ranger raises an eyebrow toward her more-citified cousin. "You wanna check for Grimey there while I hold down the rendezvous?" Robin's nose wrinkles in distaste, but that's probably the best division of labor given Robin's penchant for full-frontal reconnissance.
Raven considers. "Guess so. Two questions first. One," she points at Kitten. "He smart enough to hold a grudge for the last time I met him? Your brother, I mean. And two, where is it I'm going?"
"To the first, he doesn't bother with grudges. Why would he need to, being as big as he is? To the second, The Welcome Center is the big tent in the open square nearest the Painted Cavern."
He looks at Robin. "Do you suppose I could have some water, and maybe someone to look at my leg? I think I may pass out."
His eyes do seem somewhat bleary.
Robin wrinkles her nose in distaste, but a nod of her head allows that passing out inhibits interrogation, sooooo.... With a fluff, she squats down and starts working on Kitten's leg. She's not being particularly brutal or particularly caring, just getting the job done. The request for water she leaves to Scarlett as it is her den and she's the one Kitten offended.
Cavern probably means cliffs, cliffs ain't hard to find. Raven nods. "Right. I'll be back."
She heads for the back gate.
Paige is not the only patron to pile out the door. It is only her superior strength that keeps her from being trampled at the door.
"They're on the roof!", someone cries. The mob seems intent on getting a hold of someone. Paige sees men running into the closed cooperage beside the tavern. Some few seem to be climbing up the walls as well.
What she doesn't see is anyone using the mob as an excuse to slink off.
Paige figures Jerod capable and follows the men into the cooperage. It's not like her cousins can't take care of themselves, but vast numbers are still vast numbers.
Paige comes across a half dozen men trying to force a door that leads onto the roof. They stop when they see her. They seem to be what used to be called "the worse for drink."
They don't seem to know what to make of Paige, but they can tell that she's not one of them.
The Warden of Broceliande shoulders past them with a harshly toned, "All you lot, piss off." She punctuates the order with the heel of her boot smashing the door open, figuring a cooperage to have used seasoned wood in its construction, not green, so it's more likely that the mob-in-the-making just weakened it already.
The Warden's boot is mighty indeed. Mighty enough to break through the door. The leader of the mob grabs her shoulder as she's recovering her stance from her kick. "Hey!", he slurs. His breath is flammably strong.
One of his cronies slips onto the roof, to chase after Robin and Raven.
A hand on her shoulder and a weapon in his hand opens his chest and the redhead uses the opening to slam her elbow into his stomach as her heel stomps on his instep. A step forward and she's through the door, drawing her dao. "Next man to cross that threshold gets worse. This is Crown business, go home, to your ship, or your doxy, anywhere but here."
Leaderless, the remaining men refrain from following Paige. It's unclear if they follow her instructions, but they don't follow her.
The roof is dark, wet, and windy. Paige can see Robin and Raven leaping from rooftop to rooftop. A swirling mob is pursing them on the ground, and Paige can see that they are carrying a person (or a body). Perhaps it's Flannel. They're pretty far away, and the mob is growing new members from more-distant taverns, but doesn't look to be dangerously large. It certainly would attract Sir Archer if it were in Amber, but it might not generate a report to the Castle.
From her perch, Paige can see a few people milling in the alley below. Victor barrels through the alley and then back to the tavern door.
Paige shakes her head, glad that she stopped some pursuit, and heads back down through the cooperage, driving the drunks before her if necessary. Her intention is to return to the front door of the tavern.
No one gets in Paige's way and soon she's surveying the interior of the taproom.
Victor is near the back door, talking to Jerod. Jerod is standing by the bosun, who seems to be out of breath.
Jerod comes out and takes in the scene quickly. A few of the patrons are chasing the mob down the street and some few more are lingering near the alley. Victor joins him from across the street.
"Our quail ain't been flushed, Yer Grace. The mob's after Robin, but I'd lay odds on her getting away. She and rooftops will do well, and I'm sorry for any as catch her."
"Paige is out following up with some of the mob." Jerod says. "Flannel does not appear to be inside now but he was previously, according to the bosun of the ship we were investigating. I'd guess he departed with the mob." He makes his way towards the alley to get a viewpoint of that situation. "Whether he's still with the mob is another matter.
"Suggestions? Oh, and did you happen to notice what exactly caused this whole mob situation to arise? Something down here I thought." and he motions to the alley.
"Some doxie in the alley screamin' bloody murder. I assumed it was part of some spur-of-the-moment plan to flush the bird."
Victor pauses. "I'd've seen 'im if he'd've left. I had a good vantage. We sure he isn't hiding in the alley or didn't double back into the tavern? I can check, if you'd like."
"Check the alley and if necessary flush him into the tavern if you can. If not, call for help." Jerod says. "I'll check from the tavern side and move towards the alley."
Victor nods and heads into the alley at a trot.
As Jerod returns to the tavern door, the bartender is throwing two unconscious men into the gutter.
Inside the door the bosun smiles a watery smile at him. "Flannel isn't here, your grace. I sent someone back to the ship to see if he's turned up there."
The watery smile lasts about as long as it takes for Jerod's hand to close on the bosun's throat, making sure to swat aside any resistance he might offer to stop him. Anyone deciding to intervene gets a look at bodes ill as the very least of what he might do to someone who decides to step in.
No one seems inclined to step in. No one seems inclined to even witness the altercation.
"My watchman on the front said Flannel did not leave there..." Jerod says, lifting the bosun with one arm until his feet are off the ground. "So either he missed him...or someone is lying to me. I don't think my man would have missed him.
"Which also makes me think that someone's comments about Grimey...are also not quite true."
The man's face turns red. "Please, my Lord!," he chokes out. "He's not in the pub and I send my gaffman to look outside! I didn't know you wanted him a'fore the riot started. He's just a greenjac, he's not even a Chennick, I would not protect him. And the other was pure trouble and good riddance."
"Then let's see what my watchman says." Jerod replies, moving to the back of the building to reach the alley, bosun in tow.
Victor comes in from the alley. "He's not there. Have you checked the kitchens or cellar, My Lord?"
"Not yet." Jerod says, putting the bosun back down. "Keep an eye on him and watch the entrances."
The bosun bends over double, panting.
"Yes, sir," replies Victor. Somehow that doesn't seem to be his natural idiom.
The front door opens and Paige is standing there. Outside the riot seems to be moving further down the docks.
Jerod notes the riot moving away, pondering various ideas as to how to respond if Random should ever bring it up. His preferred, and probable statement of "I didn't start it" is briefly considered and then finalized as he leaves the problem of a random roving mob to the local authorities. It might provide the local authories with some much needed training in crowd control, he muses.
"He didn't see Flannel come out." Jerod says to Paige, motioning to Victor as he speaks. "He may still be inside. The back and the basement...got a preference?" and he is already moving.
"I just did a few flights of stairs in discouraging the drunken pursuit of our cousins, so I'll take the back," the redhead answers, following and matching his pace. "Raven and Robin seemed to be carrying a body. Any idea whose?" It's matter-of-factly and her tone suggests that she's only asking out of idle curiousity.
A barmaid pokes her head out from the curtain to the kitchen. "There's no one back here, just me and Mist" she says. "You better check the basement, he might get out a window."
Those with sufficient Water scores (i.e. all PCs everywhere) can tell that she's lying to protect someone. Probably someone she loves.
"Cover the exits!" Jerod says to Victor even as he's moving, grabbing a chair and tossing it through the curtain that covers the entrance to the kitchen to flip them open as he follows a split second later. If the barmaid is in the way, she won't be a moment later. He'll make sure to not stop too suddenly in case Paige is following.
Paige is right on the prince's heels, hand on her blade, but still sheathed.
Someone pulls the barmaid back, saving her from a concussion or worse. Standing there, petting the girl, trying to soothe her is a sailor. The man smiles, and it's reminiscent of Conner, without the warmth. "Ah, your highness. I understand you were looking for me? I have been back here, following the Lord Mayor's instruction to stay out of trouble until my ship sailed."
Conner can get away with a smile like that where Jerod is concerned.
Flannel isn't Conner.
"Out." Jerod orders, motioning the barmaid from the kitchen. Anyone with even reasonable awareness is going to know that defiance will get them hurt, at best, or killed at worst. He is not in a mood to be trifled with, though the reason for the mood is not immediately clear.
"You know why i'm here." Jerod says simply. "You've got 5 seconds to start talking, or I get to exercise royal prerogative and your ship sails minus a man...permanently."
The smile doesn't fade; it seems a permanent part of his anatomy. "I took the Crown's bargain, My Lord, and I plan on keeping it and my head. I counseled the Grimey to keep his word, but he was sick on the seas and not fond of following orders. In truth, if I knew where he was, I'd've told the Bosun, since my future is before the mast, for a term, and I like a chance to advance myself.
"His brother wanted to meet with me. I told him to come here this night, but the scoundrel never came."
The man is a smooth talker, and skilled at sounding believable, which certainly might lead him up the ranks in the Navy. He's apparently also smart enough to tell the truth to Jerod. He may not actually know what Jerod wants, but he's starting by talking about what he thinks Jerod wants.
"Well, for the record, we'll get back to Grimey....his brother...your meeting...and your Crown bargain in a minute Flannel." Jerod says. "I'm more interested in someone else you've been dealing with. That broadsheet printer who got his shop burnt...Heap. You've been working with him of late, and he's been involved with Scarlett and her offspring. I want to know where he is, who else he's been dealing with and what he's up to."
Flannel doesn't seem perturbed by Jerod's questioning. "Not since the trial my Lord. But he's doing what any self-respecting Amberite is doing, which is to say he's setting up here in Xanadu. He was the one who sent us here, and we thought Scarlett was his. She was the one who smuggled the Cockatrice in. It helps to have your son be the Captain of his own ship.
"If Heap is here, he came in with the last lot. Kitten would know best, if he's still in Xanadu. Heap liked Grimey, and used Kitten to control him." Flannel pauses. "Same as I did, really. But Heap is a crueler master."
"And Heap's interest in Scarlett's son?" Jerod says, giving Flannel just enough verbal room for an explanation.
The new sailor shrugs. "I don't know his plans. We didn't agree on things, mostly things about him being in charge and him taking all the profits. At a guess, he either wants to cut her off from her new friends in the Castle or he just wants to kidnap the kid for leverage against her." Flanel grins. "Table stakes are too high in their game for me. I thought she was a smaller player than she turned out to be."
Paige nods, convinced that Flanel is at least capable enough a gambler to identify when he's out of his league. A small chuckle is stifled over his under-estimation of Scarlett.
Not that she was ever unsure, she's content that Jerod can handle this particular interrogation without her assistance. "I will check the basement, just for completeness. It would be a fine place to hide someone of the Grimey's ilk. Might be the scullion has already warned him away, but it does not hurt to be thorough."
Jerod nods once while watching Flannel. He trusts that she can handle Grimey and if there's a problem they are both close enough to back each other up if the need arises.
And Jerod likes thorough.
"And Heap did not consider that kidnapping one of the Family would not invite a retaliation he has no hope of surviving?" Jerod asks. "How would he hope to survive the fact that if I get ahold of him, I can gut him in the street and no one will blink? Who or what is he relying on?"
Flannel is, for a moment, at a loss for words. Only for a moment, though. "Begging your pardon, My Lord, but I think he thought he and his superiors could cover things up, or that only the father would be interested in the bastard's welfare, and that only as long as it pleased him to be. I don't think anyone anticipated your interest."
Jerod is silent for a moment, the silence becoming a heavy weight in the room, letting the realization come to Flannel that the rage of this Prince is from the threat to family...a threat that Flannel is part of.
"The first mistake..." Jerod says quietly. "...is thinking no one would care. The war changed things Flannel. Many things...and Family most of all. We learned we are best when we are together, and weakest when we are apart. Things nearly failed when my uncles squabbled amongst themselves...but in the end, they learned that together nothing can stand against us."
"Threatening one means threatening all...and you chose to be part of that threat." he says, his voice flatter, more focused.
If this were Shadow, his voice would cause the wind and waves to be calmed, animals and insects would fall silent as they sought shelter from the predator in their midst; a predator that shows no mercy or pity. A remorseless, tireless hunter that would never stop or rest until those that he sees as a threat are dead and ash and dust, their legacies vanished from time and thought and memory. A shiver would ripple before the whisper of his words, rippling through the world, then the next, then the next, touching all before it, cursing all those who would think or feel to have a connection to those who had aroused his rage. A curse that would snuff the life from the trees of the land, the birds in the sky and the fish of the sea, a black and cold and ravenous thing.
That Xanadu is not Shadow does not change the rage or intensity...it only gives Flannel a respite from the curse that Jerod would place upon those who would threaten Family, a respite in which to make a choice.
"Heap has made his choice and he will answer for it." Jerod says. "All those that side with him on this will answer...their families, friends, associates....everyone. I want him, and his...superiors, since you were so kind to mention them. He made his choice...they made their choice...and it is time for you to make yours."
"I've said, My Lord. I made my choice when I accepted the Crown's bargain and joined the Navy. Made it again when I didn't go over with Grimey. If you clear my indenture to the Navy, I'll follow you. I have no love of Heap and can certainly be an asset to a Prince making sure a growing town isn't making mistakes..." Flannel looks hopeful.
This one will go far, Jerod thinks, while wondering whether that would be good or bad, and what might happen if Caine gets ahold of him.
Ah, but that would be the King's problem, and an interesting one too, Jerod muses. But a puzzle for another day.
"Your indenture with the Navy...is postponed for the moment." Jerod says. "Consider yourself on probation. Do well and I'll speak with the Admirals and the King.
"Since Heap would go to ground, how would we find him? If he relies on association with those of influence and money for his power, then he can't be out of circulation for long."
Flannel's hopeful look becomes a hopeful grin. "If his men were doing something exceptionally dirty tonight, he'd be somewhere that would provide a perfect alibi, like havin' cocktails with the Lord Mayor or something. I can find out where in half a watch." He snorts. "I wonder where the officers from 'The Countess of Bivar' are drinking tonight?"
"Perhaps the good bosun may have a clue. Let us check." Jerod says, heading back out of the kitchen to find him.
Flannel promptly follows.
The bosun, still in the bar, tells Jerod that the officers are having dinner with the Harbormaster before setting out. It appears he knows the captain and they are celebrating.
Jerod nods and then heads over to speak to Victor. "Time to find Robin and bring her up to speed." he says. "Verify she's not with the boy first, and see he's okay. Once you've found her, tell her I've got Flannel and I'm going to look for Heap, starting at the Harbormaster. If she has other information, she's to act on it.
"I will rely on you to advise her if she is engaging in a course of action that might not be suitable. And if she gets her feathers ruffled, you can remind her this is not about me. She has done enough to obtain a...not so good reputation with certain members of the Family that are higher than either of us. I'm smart enough to make reparations if I've screwed up before I burn my bridges. For whatever reasons, she doesn't seem to want to do that. That's not good, for her or anyone she cares about.
"I know she won't listen to me...for whatever reasons again are her own...but she'll listen to you."
Victor moves his hands, as if he might just nod and leave. He decides to talk instead. "You may sometime meet a scholar who was still learning the local custom and language. It is hard for locals to understand such a man and his ways may seem wrong, poorly considered, or even offensive. It's frustrating to be an expert in your own home but to be surrounded by behaviors and language that is inexplicable. Worse to think you're always wrong.
"It's why I generally stick to demon hunting. Even if I have to enter demon-cities to do it, I'm pretty confident that I know the interaction I want with the demons and how it will transpire.
"Robin has noticed that she needs to learn how to deal with the new world she faces. She chooses me as her tutor, and I have a plan. I will tell you something because I like you. Do not assume mistakes will be repeated. Once she's on the track of something, Robin will master it and will surprise those who dismiss her."
Victor pauses. "She left with a prisoner, apparently. Where would she take him?"
"She wouldn't return to the boy." Jerod says. "Too dangerous, too much risk. The castle is very safe, but it's entry is restricted too much and she is not one for enclosed spaces. The only other location that we all have in common is your sister. I'd suggest you start there.
"And since you like me, I'll let you in on something as well." Jerod says with a slight smile. "I do not dismiss Robin. She is family, and whatever she may think, I have nothing but respect for our, and her abilities. I just want to be sure she learns from her mistakes. I'm not afraid that she might get herself killed...I'm more afraid of her having to deal with a mistake where someone she cares about gets killed. I've been there...I'd rather no one else had to go there if it can be avoided."
Victor nods. "I think we understand each other. I don't want to get me killed either."
He heads out the door and stops. One of Robin's little dragon creatures lands on his head as soon as he opens the door. He spends a moment transferring it to his arm.
"Well, I've got me a guide, I suppose. I'm off to Rufa's then."
With that, unless there are more comments, he leaves.
Flannel and the bosun have been talking while Victor was preparing to leave. Flannel looks up when Victor leaves. The bosun looks nervous. The barman and Paige haven't returned from the cellars.
"Time to pay a visit to the Harbourmaster." Jerod says to Flannel, then looking at the bosun. "Go collect your crew."
And with that, he's off.
Last modified: 8 July 2012