-==# Sergeant Kylon #==-
Another bloody massacre, and this one has been the most gruesome yet.
Kylon had just arrived back into the market district's main square after visiting the latest scene of a silent murder rampage that had been kept as much under wraps as the city patrol could make of it. No doubt that something was leaking through the cracks, because even the veteran sergeant could see it in the eyes of the people he saw every day. A certain underlying fear that threatened to consume them, after rebuilding so much of their lives from the Blight, now some unknown threat was picking them off in the shadows, and there wasn't a damned thing they could do about it.
These killings started to gather Kylon's attention less than a year ago, not long after King Alistair's coronation. They were only confined to singular incidents over periods as long as a few weeks apart, often women and often non-humans, dumped in alleyways or ditches, and all of them showing signs of being heavily sedated and tortured mercilessly before their throats were slashed. There was no evidence of rape or sexual assault, but that was where things became even more surreal. Sometimes, there were things... carvedinto the victims' bodies. Strange sentances written almost so haphazardly that they were indecipherable. But soon enough, the sergeant could pick out a pattern in these carved messages.
They were script from the Chant of Light.
No sooner had Kylon discovered this when he headed straight for the Chantry in his district and began to question the sisters, the templars, the researchers, anyone he could find. He asked about suspicious activity from someone they worked with or a patron who came in regularly, anything he could use. No one could help him at all. The sisters and templars have seen hundreds of people who flocked through the doors daily, they couldn't keep track of who looked "suspicious", not with all their other duties.
Kylon wasn't getting any answers, and the bodies were continuing to pile up in front of him. This last one had been the worst yet, an elven man of about eighteen summers branded repeatedly before being slashed and hung on a rafter beam by his own entrails near an abandoned wharf by the docks. His boys, the spineless bastards that they were, swore that they would have nightmares for weeks after seeing that, and Kylon silently made one of his rare agreements with them. Maker knew he barely got any sleep these nights, ever since the killings were brought to his attention.
Sergeant Kylon always felt twenty years older than he actually was, but this new complication doubled that estimate. He knew the job was taking its toll on him physically. His face was stretched and unshaven, eyes somewhat glazed and dark-rimmed from lack of sleep, premature crow's feet and wrinkles around his mouth, strands of gray in his mud-brown hair. And his sorry excuse for guardsmen were not helping his stress in the slightest. Even now, they were clustered together, taking out decks of dimaondback or cracking jokes when they should be spreading out on their daily patrol. Maker's Breath, Kylon was going to maim every single one of their hides...
Before he could manage that, however, Edwina from the Tavern came running up to him in a hurry.
"Kylon!" she shouted over the din of the market, "Kylon, please, you haveto help me!"
Making sure that his frustrated sigh never left his lips, Kylon turned his eyes on the older woman and asked patiently, "What's the matter, Ed? The Oars come back in, have they?"
She gave a scowl and replied, "Stubborn freeloaders not budgin' an inch! They sit and guffaw, smackin' my waitresses 'round and drivin' my customers out! I want ya to get your boys t'gether and thrash those thugs right out the front door, have 'em run cryin' back ta their ships!"
Kylon nodded. Those mercenaries would be the death of him, he swore. No matter how many times they drove them out, somehow they found their way back into the Tavern to cause more trouble. No matter. After giving his assurances that he would deal with the problem, Kylon headed over to address his guards, saying in a loud, commanding voice, "Right, up off your arses, you sorry lot, we got a job. The Oars are back in town-"
One of them shouted out, "Wha, back already? Shouldn't found their way here til least midsummer!"
There was an outbreak of laughter from the others until Kylon shut them up with a glare, and continued in a firmer tone, "-so, like it or not, we need to get them back out again."
Another voice piped up, "Ah, wha's the use, sir? They'll just find their way back like they always do! Gots noses like bloodhounds, they do!"
Yet another voice quipped, "Yeah, 'n the rest of their faces don't look so good, either."
More laughter. Kylon simply set his hand over his eyes in a tired fashion. What he wouldn't give to have some decent help on his side at the moment...
-==# Kaytaryn Desmarais #==-
Occasionally, and more and more often as of late, there were days like this one when Kaytaryn Desmarais would find herself wishing for the quiet and solitude of her previous life on the road. It wasn't that she minded assisting those who needed help (that was the whole purpose of her "job," wasn't it?), nor was it that she'd had to lose a night's worth of sleep. That had happened on many an occasion. But when she began losing several night's sleep in a row because the information given to her was inaccurate or incomplete ….
Growling softly to herself, Kayt crossed through the Market District on her way home via the Alienage. The job had finally been completed in the wee hours of the morning, in no small part because she simply refused to give up. Le Renard Blanc does not quit! And, now that the … incident was over, surely she could get away with sleeping the rest of the day away, right? Maybe two days? At this point, Kayt was even willing to forgo a day's worth of meals if it meant uninterrupted sleep.
As she began turning towards the alleyway in the direction of the rooms that she rented from Sybilla, Kayt began to hear the frustrated, pleading rantings of Sybilla's sister, Edwina, of The Gnawed Noble Tavern. "Kylon!" Her voice rang out loud and shrill above the rest of the marketplace. "Kylon, please, you have to help me!"
Kayt paused a moment and turned to watch. She knew Edwina fairly well, aside from their mutual connection to Sybilla. Kayt often would frequent The Gnawed Noble for an evening meal or a drink, plus one of her best friends rented rooms there. At the moment, however, Edwina was acting far from her usual dour self, which concerned Kayt. These men must REALLY be causing problems ….
Kayt watched the diminutive woman approach the sergeant-at-arms. She had met him before once or twice, though only in passing and usually only with a nod of the head as acknowledgement, and she pointedly avoided him any time that she was … working."What's the matter, Ed?" he asked, his demeanor one of patient exhaustion. "The Oars come back in, have they?"
The Oars? she wondered. Then she recalled an incident several months past. Ah, The Crimson Oars. Her face turning to a severe scowl, she recalled the last time the louts had been forcefully ejected from the establishment. It had been right as she was arriving, however, so she had not witnessed the entire altercation, but she had seen the sergeant "encouraging" their leader to depart. Kayt had found no small amusement as a result of that particular incident. Particularly once she had entered the tavern and heard more from Edwina and the rest of the staff.
At the moment, however, Kayt saw that Edwina was scowling up a storm as she roared, "Stubborn freeloaders not budgin' an inch! They sit and guffaw, smackin' my waitresses 'round and drivin' my customers out! I want ya to get your boys t'gether and thrash those thugs right out the front door, have 'em run cryin' back ta their ships!"
From the little she knew of the sergeant, Kayt suspected that if he did not follow Edwina back to the tavern at this moment, he would be following shortly, and she decided that this time she would prefer to see the entire show from the beginning. Changing her direction, Kayt headed towards the Nobleand entered quietly, her eyes scanning the dimly lit interior.
Stepping forward into the common room, Kayt approached the bar, ordered herself a drink, and moved to take a seat nearby. She removed her bow and set it aside, checked to make certain her dagger was sheathed at her waist, and then sat back. Though she did not see the men causing the disturbance, she could hear them well enough … and the startled cry of alarm coming from one of the serving girls. Kayt had no plans on getting directly involved with anything, particularly given her current state of exhaustion, but she knew that should anything start moving in a direction that suggested even the slightest bit of danger to any of the staff or patrons, she would offer her assistance.
A crash, a cry and many male toned drunken chuckles later, Kayt lifted her gaze towards the door to the establishment. He certainly is taking his own sweet time,she thought a bit tartly as she found herself wondering where Kylon and/or any of his men could be. Another cry, a deep voice making thickly-voiced suggestions, and Kayt could take it no longer. Approval or no, she would not, could not, let this continue any longer.
Rising to her feet, though concertedly reining in her anger, Kayt reached for her bow and shouldered it and loosened the dagger at her waist in preparation. At least I'm still in my armor.Taking a deep breath, she stepped around the table and walked into the side room, actively searching for the source of the commotion.
Her attention was caught immediately by activity to her right. There … five … No, six of them. Kayt sighed. What she wouldn't give to have Leliana or Diana or both at her back right now. She was about to step towards the fray when she felt a strong hand at her shoulder, squeezing it. Glancing up, she found the sergeant had arrived. "A bit late for the party?" she muttered, trying to pull from his grasp. Instead, she felt him nudge her aside as he moved into the room. Damn, she groaned inwardly. I'm going to have to apologize for that one ….
-==# Lairentes #==-
Another fist slammed into his side, causing Lairentes to fall back towards the table. He pressed his hand against it and stopped himself, grunting in pain as he did so. The punch was sending waves of pain that cascaded through his body, and he wanted dearly to just collapse and wait out the blow. But the drunk man that had struck him was not going to let him regain his strength, and so the elf had to push himself up in to a standing position. He took a quick breath and ignored his bruised ribs as he straightened his back.
The Crimson Oar grinned and showed off his yellow teeth, and the man rammed his fist into his other hand. "You took that well, elf." The Dalish nodded slowly as the Oar started to laugh, and his friends returned the call, letting out a few short, brutish chuckles. "Course..." The Oar cracked his knuckles, eyeing Lairentes with a violent glint in his eyes. "I can throw a fist much harder than that."
"I don't doubt that, sire." Lairentes winced as he took a step back, the movement sending up a sharp stab of irritation up his side. He looked upon the grinning thug, and bit down a rising wave of anger in his stomach. Fighting now would only result in the Oars tearing him apart, limb by limb. He had to simply bow his head and wait for a chance to escape, or a chance to reach his daggers that had been piled upon the table. He swallowed his will to fight and leaned against the wall. "Can I take a rest though? I'll be better prepared to recieve your punches then."
The thug chuckled, and smiled at his friends, who were seated around the wooden table with their mugs at their lips. They grinned back, glancing at the Dalish with a satisfied smirk. "Take a break." The man nodded, and looked downwards. Lairentes took a breath of relief, and stepped away from the wall in order to make his way to a chair. The man suddenly turned about suddenly and slammed his meaty fist into the cheek of the elf, his laugh echoing in the Dalish's ears as he fell upon the floor.
Lairentes moaned involuntarily, casting his eyes about the room in order to better survey the situation. The door was closed shut, blocked by the five Crimson Oars. Two of them were over by the fire, tossing a slender serving girl between them and grinning lecherously at her. The poor girl had a wide face and big eyes, her features twisted into a fearful cringe. That left three Oars between him and the door, weapons at the ready in case he tried anything. There was no escape, yet.
About an hour ago, he had simply strolled into the Gnawed Noble for a drink, tired from wandering the Market District for the entirety of the morning. The elf had been sitting a table of his own, minding his own business when the leader of the Crimson Oars had strolled out into the common room, and had spotted him with a grin smeared over his face. "Look at that! An elf, a brave one for wandering into a human tavern." The leader had offered the Dalish a drink, and while Lairentes had qualms about staying in his company, it was a free drink.
As soon as he was finished, though, the leader had dragged him into the side room and introduced him to his gang as "Some good fun." The elf was thrown into the corner, his weapons liberated from him, and had been used for the amusement of the mercenaries for the next hour. When they weren't tossing around serving girls, they lashed out a kick at him and laughed as they did so.
The girl the two Oars in the corner were throwing around collapsed upon the floor, letting out a cry as the mercenaries gathered around. "Well, boys, looks like she wants to get right to it!" They chuckled, and one of them knelt down on the floor, grabbing her ankle and tugging at her dress. Lairentes pushed himself up, and stayed completely still as the gang encircled the serving girl. He glanced back at his weapons, and swallowed down some blood as he debated on his next action. He could grab his daggers and leave, but that would leave the girl to her fate... and he didn't want to feel guilty for the next few days over these louts.
The girl was thrown against the wall, and she cried out in terror. The Oars all let out a chuckle, and Lairentes took a step towards the table. If she kept distracting them, he would be able to grab his weapons and actually do something.
Then the door slammed open, and the elf jumped from the shock of the action, ramming his back against the wall as a woman stepped inside, clad in armor with two daggers in her hands. The Oars all turned towards the new woman, and Lairentes saw his chance. He jumped towards the table, and pulled forth his two blades, turning towards the mercenaries and held them in front of him in a defensive position. He wasn't sure if the woman was on his side or not, but the Oars were certainly not.
He watched as the town guards filed into the room, and he nodded at them. "The shrieking finally catch your attention?"