Port Lorrel- Prison Break

[Alberich]

Jack took a deep pull of the wine, and gave it a few compliments - about its "black fruit nose" and "olive palate" - and grinned back at the ill-dressed captain. He was exaggerating his opinion of the wine - but then, what did barnyard animals know of aging a real vintage? No more than of how to dress themselves, by the look of it. It had its points anyway.

"Well, it's true, I am seeing the sights just now 'til I look for work again. I like to look in on the landmarks and the local celebrities. No one told me about this place, though. I think it deserves to be on a traveller's list, don't you? 'specially if they keep this stuff flowing in."

His intent was to share drinks and make small talk a little while. He'd seen enough of the world to hold up his end of that. If someone mentioned this Samuel Riekstien spontaneously, so much the better! If not, he'd look for the chance to make a low-voiced inquiry to the bartender with a couple of clinking sweeteners. He had no idea who or what Riekstien was, but if he was friends with a disgraced Eisenfaust ex-captain, his name might not be one to bandy around too openly.

Now, to make this adventure ideal, the information would have to be in the hands of a pretty girl with a good shape but bad self-esteem...but he'd take it where he could get it.

[Jack Rothwell]

OOC Random character generator! Go!/OOC

"Ahh... fuggit." A mountain of a man siting at a table declared, his bald, monolithic head propped up by the slab of his hand. His voice fairly boomed as he spoke. "There's no way in the fiery pit of na'ar that we're getting the boss back. We're wasting our time here."

"Oh, grow a pair, Desmond." A woman's voice reprimanded him. The lady in question looked anything but; like her companion she was dressed in furs and hides, her bare arms were covered in tattoo's, and her angular face was streaked with ash-colored warpaint and framed by black hair plumed with hawk feathers. "If they wanted the old wolf dead they'd have killed him on the spot, the bastards are angling for the monies he stole."

"And we should just what? Give it to them?"

"Not in this lifetime. Samuel would never allow it anyway, you know his policy on giving money to anyone who isn't a bartender or a brothel owner."

"Now THAT sounds like a plan of action."

"Can it." But there was a smile on her face. "We're going there at first light and scouting the place out."

"Once the hangover clears up."

"First. Light." She said firmly.

"As you say, Myra."

[Alberich]

Jack smiled a little at that one. So their leader was a "Samuel" - and an outlaw of some kind, a likely friend for Gabriel - and in the custody of someone or other who wanted to get his stolen money back. On top of which they actually had a pile that might be used for a bribe. Odds were good it was Riekstien, and maybe he was supposed to be in the very prison Jack had just left to look for him? Such was the adventuring life. His own mission hadn't covered all the solitary cells. His target had been easy to find by his moaning, and his escape had been prevented by his capture.

And there was a woman -- well, 90/10 it was a woman -- not the kind he'd usually go for that way. There was someting charming about her furs and paint in a barbaric way. But she seemed to be in command and at ease with it. Well, if he got an opening or a sign, he'd take advantage, and if not, there were plenty of other animals to rut with when he felt like it. He'd have to stay limber - ready for any random violence they tried while getting acquainted. But he wasn't worried. Even the knife he'd pinched, and the improvised weapons you could grab up around here, made him a lot more dangerous than he'd been in the Gallows.

Well, it was about time to expend the rest of his stolen wealth, easy come easy go, as it were. So he said to the bartender - "This is the best I've had this side of the Gallows - a round for everyone!" - and he handed over the coins with nary a care. If the strangers came up to the bar for theirs, that was easy - he'd get a whisper in the girl's ear. And if not, then he'd make sure to carry hers over to her himself, with an "allow me," and get in the same whisper that way. It would be the same whisper either way - "Looking for Riekstien?" If the answer was as he thought, well, they'd have something to talk about for sure, off in a quiet corner somewhere.

[Jack Rothwell]

"Captain Averis."

Gabriel stood still, looking around the large cell he'd been led to with professional observation. It was a least twice the size of the pit he'd been unceremoniously thrown into and well-furnished besides. Old tapestries hung from the walls and framed Old Roland, who sat on a worn, but comfortable looking leather-bound chair. He'd addressed the younger man as the warden's had shoved him through the bars, but did not deem to look up from the book that lay open on his lap. The old man bodyguard's, however, glared at him in the routine manner of meathead's everywhere.

"An old title." Gabriel replied neutrally.

"Yes... but old titles have a way of hanging on past their welcome." He raised a hand and flapped it at the wardens, who locked the door as they left and disappeared into the darkness.

"You have one minute." He continued. "Get to your offer."

Gabriel had assumed he'd been led to Roland's cell for the sake of discretion but, given the luxury he was afforded in his personal space and the circumstances he'd arrived in, Gabriel suspected that it also served the secondary purpose of hammering the point home that there was little the old man actually needed, so an offer made would have to be a good one.

Fortunately, the Captain had one.

"Your freedom, and wealth."

"Talk no fairy tales to me, boy. You're two days from the noose at best, and have nothing but the rags they wrapped you in."

"Tell me where Riekstein is, and I'll get you out of here." He said, flatly.

Roland glanced briefly at the man to his right, who strode forward and backhanded the mercenary. This time the captain didn't bother to feign pain. Instead he stepped forward and sharply snapped his head into the man's face with an ugly cracking noise. The guard's eyes rolled up, and he collapsed unconscious to the ground. Gabriel twisted his face into a snarl, staring at the convict who was finally paying him full attention, although the returned expression was closer to mild interest than surprise.

"You forget your place, boy."

"You don't take well to dissension, I understand that." The cuffed man said, a single line of foreign blood dribbling down his face. "Well, I'm not big on it myself, and I stand for fucking around even less."

Roland leaned back in his seat and made a steeple with his fingers, a thinking man's gesture.

"You've got some fire, Captain, but it will serve you no purpose here."

"Humor me then. If I fail, I die anyway..." 'Like hell I will.' "If I succeed, I make good on my promise. On my oath."

In the silence that followed, Gabriel dimly registered the approaching footsteps of the returning guards. He held the man's gaze and waited.

"Zakara ward, basement level." He murmured. "...much good may it do you. Now kindly fuck off and leave me to my book."

Gabriel was still smiling as he was dragged away.

OOC I'll add in more to the clark scene a little later./OOC

[Jack Rothwell]

"This is the best I've had this side of the Gallows - a round for everyone!"

"The Gallows huh?" Myra mumbled to her companion. The bandit woman got up and sauntered to the bar and the man who was stood there, earning an appreciative glance from the short man the bartender had called 'Captain' still slumped on his stool as she drew up. She put a hand on the glass held out to her but didn't take it immediately, instead she faced Jack and looked him up and down, nakedly assessing him, before taking the drink and then holding eye-contact as she took a sip.

"Like grapes kicked down a chute with a pair of leather boots." She said, smacking her lips. "Why the generosity, pretty boy? You a merchant in disguise, naive about flashing your money around, or are you just trying to get laid?"

OOC If jack isn't a 'pretty boy' just consider that an attempt to throw him off balance on her part. Myra doesn't look gender-ambiguous in case you're wondering, but a fur-clad bandit with warpaint and tattoos is about as far from 'lady-like' as you can get ./OOC

[Alberich]

[OOC: Jack definitely is tall, dark-haired, and handsome, and knows it. Unless "handsome is as handsome does." His 90/10 thought reflected his (extremely well-concealed) attitude rather than a literal assessment of what he was seeing.]

Jack gave the woman's body a cool up-and-down, equally naked, and grinned ferally. He casually shifted his own seat so she could get a good look at how he was put together. And to make the next seat available so she could join him if she liked. That would put them quite close. Which suited him.

"Naah," he said. "I wouldn't've just spent my last penny if I was looking for that." He dangled his empty purse. (Well, not actually "his," if you wanted to get technical.) His looks and tone suggested he was not at all averse to the idea - as, indeed, he was not - but he was not coming as a suppliant.

The way she'd started at the mention of the Gallows, maybe she'd be bringing up "business" to him without his having to speak the names of Averis and Riekstien. And if she wanted to get personal first, so much the better.

[Jack Rothwell]

"Naah, I wouldn't've just spent my last penny if I was looking for that."

"So, what are you looking for?" Myra asked him in a playful tone, parking herself on the stool as she did. She crossed her legs and leaned back on the bar, propping herself up with her elbows. At the table across the room, Desmond rolled his eyes. "Did I hear you mention something about the gallows?"

[Alberich]

"So, what are you looking for?" Myra asked him in a playful tone, parking herself on the stool as she did.

Jack kept it equally playful. "Good times!" he said. "To enjoy the treasures of the world!" He propped an elbow on the bar and laid a temple on his fist, allowing himself a leisurely, appreciative look over her well-displayed body as he spoke. (What use subtlety here?) "Or failing that, to get more money so I can spend it all again. Money is made for the free-handed and generous, and where is the injury in taking from another what he has not the heart to make use of himself?"

[OOC: In keeping with Jack's character, I stole that last line. But it's public domain by a wide margin.]

"Did I hear you mention something about the gallows?"

He rolled his eyes. "Those bastards!" he said. "Got through with them not so long ago. All they think about is money! They're worse than my landlady back in Salaband!" - a distant town in Farrel. "Never enough for them - they'll pump you dry!" (Again, what use subtlety?) "Luxury hotels are cheaper. More comfortable, too."

He laid a hand on her shapely thigh to check out its firmness while he talked about "comfortable hotels." Boldness, here.

[Jack Rothwell]

OOC I know I created this character on the spot, but I'm starting to like Myra, I'm picturing her personality as a vague cross between Starbuck from battlestar galatica mixed with that amazon-type slave of Lucius in the second season of Rome, with the look of one of the forsworn from skyrim (although a little more conservatively dressed).

Anyone getting these references or am I pissing in the wind?/OOC

Myra looked down at the unsubtle hand and arched an eyebrow. She opened her mouth to offer another line, probably something along the lines of 'Which hotel were you thinking of?' when a shadow fell across the bar and a ham of a hand seized one of the glasses the bartender had put there. Desmond drained the glass at a single draught and slammed it back down on the table with casual force, not enough to spook the man his companion was flirting with, although the short man in the large hat, who'd passed out on the bar, woke up with a yelp and fell out of his seat.

"Many thanks, my cully." He growled (then again, more or less everything Desmond sounded like a growl). He remained there, folding his arms and looking down at Myra, who sighed, but didn't bother to turn to face him.

"Yes Desmond?"

"The Gallows." He said.

This time she did turn, surreptitiously moving Jack's hand a few more inches up her thigh as she did. She propped her chin on a hand and stared up at the man with an expression of boredom.

"What about them?"

"If the flash bastard's done deals with them." He eyes bore into the smaller man for a pointed moment. "Don't you think you should be asking about it?"

"I was." She murmured flatly.

"About Riekstien?"

"I. Was. Going. To." She intoned.

[Alberich]

[OOC: Liking her myself, though I haven't watched those shows or played that game.]

Jack acknowledged Desmond's thanks with a nod, and didn't worry about the "flash bastard" - he wasn't feeling any malice in it. His smile stayed viciously pleasant. And genuine. He was feeling double pleasure - things were falling into place with remarkable speed on both fronts. But he'd often had luck like this and made a point of taking it for granted. And seizing the opportunities it afforded. He gently palpitated her thigh higher up where his hand lay, and if there'd been a table to do this under, might've tried a bolder move yet.

He wasn't looking a challenge at the big hog -- animals like that weren't so good for the other kind of subtleties. But in the event he decided to start something, he was already scoping out where he'd need to hit and what improvised weapons were handy to deal out some pain. (He had the knife already, but sharp things upped the stakes, and it wasn't really hog-slaughtering time.) If he had to, he was ready. But he didn't care to add another brawl to the jailyard fight from earlier. It ran contrary to an ancient proverb he'd learned at his father's knee a long time ago. He'd spoken a different language then (though you couldn't tell it from his accent now). The traditional sayings of his people did not translate well into Farrelian -- the subtle nuances were lost -- but it might be rendered something like this: "When you get in a fight over pussy, you never end up getting any." It didn't always play out like that in the Big Barnyard, but it was pretty sound, anyway.

"About Riekstien?" "I. Was. Going. To."

Jack leaned forward to whisper. "Let's talk about names like that in private." A sound option from a couple points of view, so he thought. He might be dropping a hotter name in a moment.