Port Lorrel- Prison Break

[Jack Rothwell]

"The elf's a teleport, wields a Durus blade, there's a lot of strength in that thing." Eli replied to the disguised elf's question.

"Teleporting? Fucking coward tactics!" Myra interjected.

"Leave her to me." Gabriel replied bluntly. "I know her tricks now, and thanks to Logan I've got the right tools for the execution. Now, the cat-girl..."

"Kobold." The half-elf said.

"?"

"That's the right name for them, I heard it somewhere."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow before continuing. "The... 'kobold' uses magic, like I said. According to Aleron, it's a primitive art designed mainly for hunting and healing. This thing can make herself move faster or hit harder for brief periods, but..."

"...but she can't make herself bulletproof?" The banditwoman asked.

The militiaman shook his head.

"The woman is a marksman." He concluded. "A confirmed ally of the furball and her people, she's responsible for the deaths of Ralkin members on the Southern continent a few weeks ago."

"The elf was last seen in Goriel three days ago, the other two were last seen in this Port a few days before that." Eli picked up the thread smoothly from his companion. "As for their motivations... elves are heartless bastards who seek to murder my kind simply because we exist." Venom was dripping in his voice as he pictured the oppression his peers endured. "The kobold's people have been long standing enemies of the Ralkin for years. She's probably just carrying on tradition and bringing that friend of hers along for the ride."

[Alberich]

So, this Gabriel was ready to take on an elf ranger toe-to-toe? Powerful, brave, suicidal? Yes, this Ralkin organization was going to need to be taken down, or else purged of its errants and coopted. If Drusia got taken down a peg or two in the process, he wouldn't weep over that, though he didn't really expect that to happen. Since the stupid errant had just admitted he was Drusia's target, more likely Gabriel would just let nature take its course, and get on with his Farrelian power games.

"As for their motivations... elves are heartless bastards who seek to murder my kind simply because we exist."

Fair assessment, thought Jack. If you'd just stop existing we'd stop killing you. Don't worry - and don't get anyone pregnant in the next few days - and we'll help you out with that. He ceased his inquiries and smiled indulgently at Myra's hot-pepper belligerence. Unfortunately, he couldn't tell her all that would do her some good. But he could bring fun and excitement to her last few days alive. And if she got out alive somehow, even better!

[Jack Rothwell]

"Again."

It was long past midnight after the meeting was adjourned and the Ralkin returned to whichever places they were spending the evening in. Gabriel had stomped upstairs without comment upon entering Weatherby's old mansion, Aleron had intercepted the younger half-elf and taken him to the tree-lined backyard of the estate to continue his tuition.

It was a good area for summoning magic, the symbols he cast tore up the earth in explosive showers in a manner that was both pleasing to the eye and called to something primal in the younger man. The wooded perimeter blocked the view of a casual observer, the wards the Ralkin leader had put up covered the gaps effectively.

Eli raised his hand and concentrated; the link between him and hissing creature broke and it dissolved into dust. Moment later, a fresh symbol flared to life on a flat patch of earth, collapsed inwards and a fresh galdy leaped out of the void. He felt the creature's aggression tickling in the back of his mind and snarled involuntarily.

"Good. You've got it down."

"I have a good teacher." He replied.

"Do you think you can handle something more advanced?"

Eli's grin was answer enough.

[Jack Rothwell]

As the sun peaked over the horizon on a new day in the Port the exhausted half-elf stumbled into a musty bed in a vacant trance. He crashed onto the pillows as sleep charged towards him. A faint smile stole across his face as his eyes slid shut.

........

The new day brought further changes to Logan's company and a wave of gossip across Lorrel.

Carts arrived bearing munitions, building materials and weary looking men from Logan's rest. The train split under the observation of a hundred witnesses on the main market street and headed to their destinations at a pace, half to the waterfront, half to the recruitment outpost. Repairmen and engineers from the company would spend the day refurbishing the warships in preparation for a journey in the immediate future. Following the familar equation of 'time equals money, therefore money equals time', the task was accomplished at a fast speed indeed.

Gabriel had stopped by at the Black Guard recruitment outpost mid-morning to see a long line waiting to make an application. There were the usual delusionals and deliquents peppered among them, of course, but the ex-militiaman saw what we was looking for, hard faces, strong bodies, flat looks in the eyes. With the quality sifted from the quantity and the armaments distributed, by the afternoon the Black Guard were a small army.

The bounties were handed out, the officers who saw to the running of the group didn't need to say much to the men and women under their command, the rewards offered for the lives of 'Logan's' enemies were motivation enough.

Enquires began around the Port later that day.

.........

Myra panted, sweat trickled down her brow.

The banditwoman snarled, drew back her foot for the six or seventh time and drove it squarely into the ribs of a middle-aged and battered looking man who was lying prone in the alleyway. Some ten feet away from the pair, two large men lay motionless, one's breaths came in ragged but regular gasps, the other hadn't been so lucky.

"I'm really starting to lose my patience now." She took another deep breath and went back to work, kicking the downed businessman in time with her words. "Sell- the-fuck- ing- business!"

The last kick was punctured by a crack and a piercing scream. Myra knelt by the man, clamped a hand over his mouth and pulled a knife from her boot. The man grew quiet, whimpered, Myra felt disgust.

"You going to sell? Pay Logan back what you owe?"

A nod. A tear trickling down his cheek. The mercenary snorted and pushed back to her feet.

"That paperwork goes to the office today." She said evenly. "Otherwise I go to Berkley street..." The man made a strangled noise. "...and see about your wife, understood?"

Myra left the alleyway but paused at it's lip, she turned her head and smiled at Jack, leaning casually against a wall.

"Thanks for keeping a look out. These short-changers always go screaming for the watch if they're about to be held accountable for their debts."

OOC Just pitching that last scene as an opportunity for Myra and Jack to have a private talk about the Lorrel situation or anything else. Things should be moving forward shortly./OOC

[Alberich]

Jack grinned. "You're an artist for sure," he said. "Or at least a percussionist." He dabbed away some of her sweat playfully before they departed.

How interesting the developments in this city. It looked as if the takeover was well underway - so that these magical brutes could take over the whole barnyard at once. For a whole blink-of-an-eye or maybe two. But there was blood and danger coming - not for himself, at least not any kind that worried him, but for everyone else here. He could've made Myra safer by warning her to stay away from Drusia, that Drusia's only interest would be in killing the errant, that the whole structure might collapse if they stood in Drusia's way. Though it probably wouldn't, when this "Aleron" had the good sense to hang back a little, forget about his annoying brain-mad hireling, and live and let kill...

But, anyway, Jack never seriously considered issuing this warning. This Myra was an animal. An endearing kind of animal, one he liked more than he'd admit, but not the canine, bovine, or ovine variety. No, she was feline with a hint of lupine. Which was to say, vicious and disloyal, however cute and furry. Giving her the secret of his own priorities, his knowledge...well, it would give her a weapon to wield against him for her own two seconds of profit. It just wasn't going to happen. If she jumped the smart way, she'd live, and they'd celebrate with a goodbye tumble. (Ah, yes. Feline with a hint of lupine and lapine. Tasty!) If she jumped the wrong way...well, they had such short lives anyway. So he kept his talk completely in character, and mainly pedestrian - between the details of their next job and the fun they'd have in between.

He took the fun hard, heavy, and often. He lived each day as if it might be her last.

[Jack Rothwell]

The sun was past the horizon on a new day in Port Lorrel and, at the waterfront, a meeting was taking place.

Gabriel Averis stood by the newly refurbished warships with something like pride in his expression. The ex-militiaman, like the sixty or so men under his command, was sporting a new set of thick, black armour complete with spikes on the shoulder pads and skulls engraved upon it. Gabriel wasn't entirely sure whether the additional expense was really worth it, but he couldn't deny that Aleron's flair for the dramatic had imbued him with confidence for the upcoming mission. He looked like Young Death as he awaited any last minute instruction.

"Show no mercy." Aleron had said, before they'd left Weatherby's manor. "What can't be captured must be killed without hesitation."

A reasonable plan of action, Kobolds were notoriously awkward to enslave, that's why the price for them was so high on the sex market after all. But the ex-captain knew the real reason why Aleron was so eager to shed blood on the southern continent. The humanoids had been the biggest opposition he faced since he'd begun his studies in the ancient elven, forbidden magic, the removal of the local clans was a precaution worth taking, and so he'd decided to send the best man he had (in Gabriel's opinion) to deal with them.

The old half-elf had deigned to make a personal appearance that morning, looking strange in a nobleman's clothes as he barked orders to the soldiers boarding the ship. Eli had accompanied his master, and Gabriel couldn't help but notice the growing similarity between the two. The younger half-elf's cheeks had thinned, his skin was growing pale, and the bags under his eyes told of intense late-night study dedicated to his new magic. The ex-Captain was unsure of what Eli had learned since his arrival to the port, but the confidence in his stride was telling.

Upon his arrival the Ralkin had pressed a long bundle wrapped in silk into the mercenary's arms. Gabriel allowed himself a look under the delicate cloth, and broke into a wolfish smile.

"It was acquired by one of Logan's merchants late last night." Eli said, grinning himself. "I thought it fitting for a Captain of the black guard."

"You thought right." Gabriel replied, hoisting the bundle over his shoulder. He looked back at the ship he'd sail on as it unfurled it's new sails, they were a dark red colour with a circular symbol etched in black thread at it's centre. It spoke of menace, and gave cause to note the half-dozen cannon dotted along the sides of the vessel, it's twin was no less impressive.

"I don't see the new recruits anywhere."

"They're off another 'protection' job." The Captain replied. "I left the choice of acompanying me to Jack, it's an hour until the second ship leaves."

"I wouldn't count on him turning up." Eli muttered.

Aleron appeared at that moment for a final word to his employee.

"There's a smaller task for you to accomplish while you're dealing with the vermin." He said, in his insidious tones. "A staff was taken from from one of my men, and used by the Kobold's against us. It's likely that their elder would have it."

He pressed a scrap of paper with a designed writ upon it for the object in question. A three-foot affair, twisted, and almost organic in appearance. Gabriel nodded wordlessly and made his way up the gangplank.

"I'll keep these dogs in line while you're away." Eli called after him. "I've got more experience in the job after all."

"But less expertise." Gabriel replied, the smile still on his face.

OOC Up to you whether Jack wants to take a trip to the Southern Continent Al./OOC

[Alberich]

Jack, having been given the option, decided to stay in Port Lorrel. Despite Gabriel's extra bullet-belly-spitting powers, he didn't doubt Drusia's ability to finish him. And if his lack of doubt was misplaced...well, he'd need to be here, and well wormed into the organization, to take on the role of Errant Nemesis by himself. If he was right, she could take point and run the most risk, and that'd be fine by him. The death of Gabriel might even open up a few slots for promotion (and thus infiltration, and opportunities to frame the odd half-elf who needed framing...). The thought of Myra as an officer, or even a noncom, made him purse his lips with suppressed mirth. Though in fact she had been a leader in her old band of bandits.

If he'd known of Aleron's race, or had a real conception of the Ralkin's power, he might've been a little less cocky and even considered calling for backup. As of yet his understanding was limited both by the Ralkin chief's caution and his own natural disdain.

[Jack Rothwell]

It was later in the day when Eli returned to Weatherby's manor to give an update on the events since the Captain's departure. He met Aleron in the backyard, where the old half-elf was sat, eyes-closed and cross-legged, communing with the infinite or Gods knew what else.

"Report." He said, sensing the younger man's approach rather than seeing it.

"The expedition is clear on their tasks, one ship will return after landing in Grendell in case reinforcements are required."

"Send our new acquaintances along if that proves necessary."

Eli winced, Aleron opened his eyes.

"Speak your mind boy."

"Gabriel vouching for them or not, I don't trust Jack, and a banditwoman is a banditwoman at the end of the day. She's only loyal as long as a better offer doesn't come along."

"That's why we have Logan at our disposal." The Ralkin leader replied, standing up and brushing down his merchant attire. He walked on stiff legs to the back door with his student in tow.

"But the thief might get it into his head to help himself to our artifacts!" Eli protested, a note of anger in his voice that made the older man smile. Hadn't he been the same way when he was Eli's age? A young ruler in the making, determined to eliminate any opposition that could hamper his advancement? He held up a hand, and his pupil closed his mouth.

"Bring him to me. Just the thief. I'll see if he's any danger."

Eli nodded mutely, but he couldn't disguise a flash of triumph in his eyes.

"Now calm yourself and finish your report."

"Right. Recuitment has slowed but is still steady. One of the officers will take a unit to the outlaying villages to drum up more interest. And... there's one other thing."

"Yes?"

"One of Logan's men saw Brother Tim in Kiyoka."

"Interesting that one of Logan's men would know what the Brother looks like."

"I... used Logan to pass along his description to the traders in his employ."

"Without asking me." Aleron stared at the younger half-elf for a moment before giving a brief nod. "You used your initiative, I hope for your sake it pays off."

"I'll get a message to him." Eli said.

[Jack Rothwell]

Eli found the thief later that day, unsurprisingly, at a bar, and in the company of the savage-looking banditwoman. The half-elf had shook his head in disbelief as he'd approached the Clark; a ship turned into a tavern was exactly the kind of backward thinking he was coming to expect from the human species, and the flat look from Myra as she saw him arrive did nothing to contradict that opinion.

"Hey, it's the pointy-eared freak!" She called cheerfully as the half-elf approached. Eli noted the collection of glasses in front of her, and the mussed-up quality to her hair which suggested she'd just been fornicating with whichever farm-animal had been available. He suspected Jack, but found he didn't really care what what the answer to that pointless question was.

"Can it, whorebag." Eli replied. "My business isn't with you."

"Oh, are you feeling grumpy now your boyfriend's gone?"

Eli's mouth twisted, he opened his hand with a flash and began dancing a ball of fire in the palm in his hand. The patrons who weren't too drunk to notice began prudently sliding towards the exits.

"Keep pushing lowlife. I'll turn your head into a bonfire."

The pair stared at each other levelly for a moment before the half-elf slowly closed his hand and dismissed the spell. He held her gaze as he strode over and sat at the table. Myra pulled a knife from her boot and began pointedly picking her nails. Eli gave a derisive snort and turned to his only reason for walking into that shithole.

"You should put a muzzle on her." He said to Jack.

[Alberich]

"Naah," said Jack. "Ordinary leather wouldn't work on her. I'd have to cut off somebody's nutsack, tie it to his ears, and cure it in pig piss." To each listener was left the task of deciding the likely identity of the chosen donor. "So what brings you to the lap of luxury?"

"Boss wants to see you. Come on."

Jack gave an elaborate nothing-better-to-do shrug and uncoiled himself into a standing position. Whenever he was near Eli, he was invisibly scoping him. Like all errants, this one was fundamentally unstable. Unlike many, this one was obvious. Anything at all might send him over the edge. Thing was, that meant Jack needed less caution than usual. If Eli started a fight over nothing and simply had to get one right in the neck, that couldn't draw much suspicion. Or even dislike. Rumor 'round the ranks had Eli less loved than Gabriel.

Jack continued in his intuition that whoever headed this pointless pigsty outfit would gladly be rid of his rabid attack dog.