1
There was something to be said for the swill that was served in the tavern. It tasted like it had been made inside a chamber pot, and then aged ever so delicately in a tub filled with rotting old (and we mean moth-ridden, old ) clothes. It was a good thing the bartender did not charge for it for it did not raise the morale. Not one little bit.
Paracelsus was staring inside the empty bottle that had contained said alcohol with a leery expression on her masked face. She hadn't drank any of this particular vintage, nor was she planning too, but she was curious about the content. If she could harvest it into a deadly concoction to be used on the battlefield and what affect it would have on the flora and fauna of the Hamlet.
Since having come to the Hamlet, her collections of poisons and toxins had dwindled to a paltry three vials. She was in dire need of more ingredients. She couldn't afford to leave on another adventure without replenishing her stock, but replenishing her stock meant she had to go out into the Weald (and she did not want to go alone).
She'd been sitting alone at a table when the door to the tavern had swung open and a couple of Bounty Hunters had strolled in. One had gone to the bartender with a rolled up parchment which he unrolled and showed to the barkeep while the other leaned against the counter on one elbow and took a look about the room.
Paracelsus had tilted her head to the side (very much like a bird) and had stared back at the Bounty Hunter through her goggles with interest. He was masked (like she was) except his rounded helmet was slightly different and more beneficial (her hood wouldn't protect her from a blow to the head, his would). He had a veil-like cloth that descended from his helmet that covered the bottom half of his face (his partner had the same armour on). The rest of his armour looked like scales overlapping each other in a descending pattern, there was a nasty looking axe on his back, a hook dangled from his belt (there was a length of rope attached to it) along with what looked like some water gourds.
He broke contact first and turned his head towards his partner. She didn't hear what they talked about, but watched as they left the tavern. She got to her feet and followed after them curiously. She was standing outside the inn when she caught sight of them heading towards the Heir's house.
She grinned behind her mask and clapped her hands excitedly. They were going to be signing up with the Heir! Which meant they would be available to go on adventures soon! She giggled excitedly and ran back towards the Barracks to look over the posting board (where missions were posted) totally forgetting that she couldn't go on anywhere until her poisons were restocked.
She was definitely getting ahead of herself (she hadn't even asked them if they wanted to go on an adventure or not) as she scanned the postings that the Heir had put up at the beginning of the week. There wasn't much left available this week that she wanted to do, but still she looked. She hadn't gone back out since she'd returned from killing the Siren, and she was getting admittedly restless. There was a nice, short scouting mission in the Weald...
Paracelsus was still staring at the board when the two Hunters finally entered the barracks. She turned her head and stared at the pair through her goggles. The first Hunter scanned the room, and without looking at his partner, grabbed his shoulder and pointed across the big room.
The Plague Doctor turned her head to see what he was pointing at. It was Dismas… one of the Heir's favourites (not that she was jealous, on the contrary, being a favourite meant he went out more…). She tilted her head to the side and glanced back towards the Hunters. They were both staring in Dismas' direction now. Uh oh...
The big room (which was bustling with voices from all the occupants) seem to zone out as she focused on the Hunters. They separated, the one she'd made eye contact with at the Tavern stayed by the door while the other approached Dismas, his steps were slow and deliberate.
He didn't get close before the Crusader Reynauld (the other favourite), intercepted. He stood more than a few inches over the Hunter and shook his head very slowly. "Whatever bounty you think you will get," his deep voice echoed hollowly from within his helmet, "it has been nullified by the Crusaders of Light, he has been Conscripted."
There was a heavy silence that suddenly encompassed the room. There was a muffled grunt as the Bounty Hunter reached up and grabbed the rolled up parchment on his shoulder. He unrolled it and showed it to the Crusader. The latter grabbed the parchment and glanced down to peruse it.
It was a wanted ad, a wanted alive ad. That paid out the ridiculous sum of fifty thousand gold pieces. For Dismas. Wanted for the murder of the Duchess of Ferrington and her son, Viscount of Mayberry. There a small notation that he (Dismas, he presumed) traveled with a Crusader and that should he interfere to bring him along for an added bonus.
Reynauld rolled the parchment back up and handed it back to the Bounty Hunter. Paracelsus licked her suddenly dry lips and blinked rapidly as she watched fascinated. She didn't know what that parchment had read, but it didn't look like it had fazed the Crusader any.
The doors to the barrack creaked open and in entered a familiar, behemoth of a man, the Doctor noticed it from the corner of her eye and he fully caught her attention (the Heir had apparently sent reinforcements to the Barracks, she must have known something would come up). The Hunter that had been guarding the door moved and slowly backed away from the big masked man. The Leper (or the Heir's lap dog if one listened to the rumours) tilted his head slightly to gaze down at the Hunter.
"The Madam warned you," the Leper spoke impassively from within his mask, his twisted lips lifting briefly. "No trouble, Hunter."
The Bounty Hunter by the door eyed the Leper from top to bottom and then glanced towards his buddy who was still face to face with the Crusader. "Jason!" he called, his voice muffled by his own mask.
Jason glanced back and froze. The Leper had lowered his broken blade so that it pointed downward, he was holding it up with one armoured hand. He was a good head taller than Tardif (the second Bounty Hunter) and much wider. His hand fisted and he made to reach back for his axe when a gauntleted hand grabbed a hold of his wrist.
"If you disobey the Heir, then you forfeit your life," Reynauld spoke slowly, enunciating his words carefully.
The Hunter glanced back towards Reynauld, who was joined by Dismas. "Who is the Heir to have so much power?"
"Didn't ya see the eyes watchin' ya on the Old Road?" Dismas asked, lowering his scarf.
"She keeps the undead and Fungal swarms at bay," William explained from his cot.
"And the Fishfolk keep to the Cove cause of her!" A Musketeer piped up from the corner.
"Her blood has power on this land of hers, like a monster repellent of sorts" Paracelsus exclaimed, running towards the Leper and the other Hunter, "It's all tied in with her Ancestor!"
The Hunters glanced at each other and Jason nodded towards Reynauld. "Fine then, but he dies here," he nodded towards Dismas, "We take his corpse."
Reynauld remained still and silent while Dismas shrugged. "Doubt ye'll want my corpse if I am felled 'ere, maybe ye need to go on a 'venture into the old Ruins to really appreciate my words."
"Oooo! Oooo! Oooo! I'll go with!" Paracelsus almost shrieked in excitement (she didn't notice both the Leper and Tardif cringing at the pitch of her voice) and then she stilled (Toxins! Fuck!) and her head dropped suddenly, "Nevermind…" she muttered, sounding deflated, "I have plants to gather first."
Her shoulders drooped and she marched ever so slowly towards her own cot and fell in it like a stone. She really needed to stop jumping into everything without preparation. Her impulsive nature had gotten her into more trouble than she could remember, including getting booted from medical school (she didn't want to think about those particulars details right now).
Without her poisons and her toxins, she wasn't going to be much use to anyone. She needed to make more of her special cures and her potions too. She promised herself a long adventure if she could fill her entire satchel by the end of the week with everything she needed to cause as much damage as possible while being as beneficial as she could be for her team. A really long adventure with so much plant gathering that she's going to be overstocked for weeks.
She fell asleep just as the sounds of the room were returning to normal, the tension easing dramatically. The Hunters had been advised that the gold offered for Dismas was paltry in comparison with what they could make here in the Hamlet if they fell in with the Heir's plan. It was also reiterated that should anything befall Dismas that was not caused by their surroundings, the Hunters would not leave the Hamlet alive.
Period.