[spoiler]i know, i know, it's been nearly a month, and for that I apologize. I fell off the saddle and ran into some walls stuck with the next part of the story, which is kinda dumb to say because right now I'm a little ahead of you guys. Hopefully, I can get my -blam!- together soon, and we can have at least semi-regular chapter updates. [/spoiler]
Fortunately, the lamplighters of the Outskirts were prepared for Nightpass, and almost immediately orange flame flared up along the road. Unfortunately, there were hardly any lamps, and most of them were torches anyway. They stood on tall, thin poles that teetered about; one small bump might send the entirety of the Outskirts ablaze. They wandered around, the faint hope of finding a gate in the moving Wall fading swiftly. Nona quickened his step and stayed in the light; he didn’t like the looks of cloaked and hooded figures gliding about or nor the cross, burly thugs leaning against ramshackle establishments, weapons glittering on their hips. Finally, they reached a large, sudden gap in the road, enough for 6 carriages to pass through with room to spare. He looked to the right and there was a perfect, unobstructed path to the City Walls. There was a huge, tunnel-like arch in the wall, both ends settling down right on the borders of the gap. The arch was covered with a sparkling cyan-fading-down-to-violet sheen, and a faunish guard, shaggy hair and goat legs splaying out from underneath sturdy studded armor, stood behind it, his features wavy and distorted by the barrier.
Nona approached the barrier, but he could feel its force pushing back against him the closer he got, while the guard leaned on his spear, smirking. Watching a fool try to push past the main Ward of the Imperial City was the most entertainment he’d probably get all night. Nona didn’t get very far before it knocked him back on his rump, then the guard barked at him, saying that there nobody was allowed in after Nightpass. Giving up, Nona left, entering the other side of the gap, ad began searching for an inn.
“You know, I’m really glad we wasted an hour or two chatting it up with Thespians,” Reke muttered sulkily.
“But hey, we got some good pants!” Nona said, trying to brighten the mood.
“Oh awesome, we got pants! But, in case you haven’t noticed, Nona, we’re on the wrong side of the Wall.”
He had a point. In the day, it wasn’t so bad when they could hide in the crowd, but at night, anybody that wandered the streets was a varying degree of sketchy, ranging from the hooded fellow hiding out in the back alley to the cutthroat covered in blades with a hard, compassionless eyes. Occasionally, they stopped to ask the least-threatening looking locals for the best places to stay, which, maybe not the best idea, but between the rapid-fire Outskirt dialect, the incomprehensible road system, and the buildings all sporting the same style of rotten disrepair, it was impossible to find even a single place to stay. Multiple times they stumbled into the wrong places: the lairs of shady arms dealers, smoky rooms of experimental alchemy, and other unsavory sights better left unseen. They did manage to find one inn, at least it sort of resembled an inn in that there were “beds”, but they were pretty much just dusty, moth-ridden cots laid out in unorganized rows. The other bed inhabitants moaned and groaned, most sporting pockmarks, rashes, sallow skin, and other marks indicative of disease. By silent agreement, the travelers thought they could find better arrangements, even in the Outskirts.
They considered their next move outside the “inn”, with Nona scratching his head, trying to figure out which direction they came from. Reke, from his perch on the human’s shoulder, kept glancing back at two hoodlums, an Orc and a Lizardfolk, with weapons on their belts. They looked strangely familiar, as if they passed by the same two around more than once.
“Were they worth it?” Nona suddenly asked, filling the silence.
“What?”
“Your new pants. Were they worth it?”
Reke tore his gaze away from the strangers. “I would much rather be pantless and be on the other side of the Wall,” he grumbled.
“Well, yeah, me too, but are the pants comfortable?” Nona repeated.
Reke’s suspected stalkers eased up, carefully sauntering in their direction, cool eyes fixated on easy prey.
“That’s beside the point, Nona. We have bigger things to worry about; I’m pretty sure those two guys behind are following us…”
“So they are comfortable!”
The burly orc calmly loosened the hammer tightly bound to his belt, while the lizardfolk’s tongue greedily licked his lips.
“Nona, now is not the time, we need to get going,” the lizlai warned.
The human smiled to himself, taking Reke’s sudden change of subject as a sign of defeat. He started walking, letting his feet take him where they pleased, until the long shadows of their two tails began creeping up behind him. He quickened his step, his eyes darting around for any potential exit points. He saw one, a long, dark alley between two wooden buildings; it must lead over to the next row of the town. Nona stuck to the shadows then ducked into it, but, when he got to the edge, there was the back of a canvas tent blocking the way. It was too heavy to push to the side, too stable to sneak under, and too slick to climb, so he whipped around, hoping to escape the trap he set for himself. It was too late. Nona’s throat went dry as the shadows of the two thugs rounded the corner, marching side-by-side. The orc grinned, a single brass incisor gleaming in the darkness, pulling his hammer from his belt, swinging it comfortably by his side. The lizardfolk brandished his pair of small daggers, clicking them together as their slow, deliberate steps crunched the loose sand underneath.
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Edited by Merribor: 2/26/2022 10:08:13 PM[spoiler]but, good news, I decided to give solitha pictures! I'm not that great of an artist, but I figured it'd be a fun idea to try to exercise two skills at once. Both the drawings and the writing are subject to criticism![/spoiler] Suddenly, a small orb, not bigger than a pebble clattered on the ground between them. The two muggers looked curiously at the hissing black bulb which had come out of nowhere. Suddenly, a white smoke burst forth, and filled Nona’s vision, stinging his eyes. The human doubled over and coughed his lungs out, while a crossbow bolt whizzed overhead, thudding into one of the thugs with a vicious squelch. The other thug belted out a hissing curse and charged forward, slashing his daggers into the gas. They hit nothing, and the white mist swirled around his sudden movements. Eyes protected by a clear membrane, the lizardfolk peered into the smoke. That puny man’s trick would not save him, even if he dealt a harsh blow against the thug’s companion. Stepping carefully into the thickness, he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. The mugger whipped around, swinging both blades across each other in wide arcs, but nothing but the smoke was disturbed. Another tap, on the opposite shoulder, and the lizardfolk lunged to the side, stabbing his knives blindly. Again, nothing. “Where are you?” the thug growled, eyes wide open and poised for a strike. A rough hand shot out behind him, grabbed him roughly under the shoulder, and dragged him out of the smoke. The assailant kicked the thug’s knees out from under him, and jammed a long knife clean through the lizardfolk’s body. The last thing he ever saw was Death smiling down at him as his life bled out from his body. Nona had just found his way out of the smoke, hacking and rubbing his eyes, when he heard the thump of the lizardfolk’s body collapsing. The human looked up, and there was a shadowy figure, hood obscuring his face, staring down at him. Their savior was covered in pouches, bandoliers, and pockets, each stuffed with gadgets and tools. He wore a short quiver of crossbow bolts on the left side of his belt, and the crossbow itself hid behind his waist, the limbs covered by the quiver. He drew back his hood and pulled out a torch from one of his pouches. He lit it, and soft orange light illuminated half his face. “Who are you?” Nona asked incredulously. The stranger wore a plain, round white mask, with tiny, sloppily cut holes, deep enough to obscure the eyes behind them. A giant, black smile adorned the bottom half of the mask, lopsided and uneven, and dried paint dripped down to the bottom in some spots. He jerked his head back and spun on a heel, striding out the threshold of the alley, flaming torch held high. When he saw Nona hadn’t followed him, the stranger wagged his torch around at the human. “We’re not going anywhere until you tell us who you are,” Reke called out. Nona nodded his approval. The masked man threw his head back and let out a long, silent sigh, then strode all the way back over to them. Digging around in one of his pockets, he flourished a small wooden plate, then affixed it to the collar of his hood. Nona leaned in for a better look, eyes adjusting to the closeness of the torchlight, and read out aloud: Hi! My name is: JEROME. Then, Jerome pointed to himself, pulled out a long knife from his waist, made stabby-stab motions with it, then held his hands to his throat and mimicked a death. “You kill people?” Reke asked. Jerome shook his head, then repeated the charade, but this time, added another act after he made stabbed into the air. He folded his hands together and leaned against them, then mimicked the death scene again. “Oh, so you kill sleeping people! That’s much better,” Reke guessed sarcastically. “You’re an assassin?” Nona guessed, and Jerome gave him a hearty thumbs-up. The assassin then stepped out of the tight alleyway, with Nona hesitantly following on his heels. Reke shifted nervously on Nona’s shoulder, opening his mouth as if to speak, then closing it back again. The lizlai kept glancing down Jerome’s gear, most of which looked like cleverly designed ways to kill as fast as possible or cause as much pain as possible. Nona tried to keep his face as neutral as possible, but Reke could feel his neck and shoulder tensing up, and he walked close against Jerome’s heels, even clipping them with his toes once or twice. Still, he saved their life once for whatever reason, and in the Outskirts, hanging around an assassin was about as safe as they could get. Jerome received mixed reactions as he hurried to his destination, always staying in the torchlight. His mask proudly smiled at everyone he saw, whether they waved, joked, or called out to him or slunk back in the shadows and spat at his feet. Jerome treated both of them much the same: shooting finger guns to his friends or waving cheerfully at those who cursed his name. Once, while walking on the rooves of a long, shambled clay house, a stone shot out from the darkness, directly striking the side of Jerome’s smile with a loud plonk. The assassin wasted no time; he grabbed Nona by the sleeve and shoved him forward, then whipped out his crossbow, keeping it trained in the darkness below. His perceptive eyes searched the alleyway while they cautiously moved forward, Nona in front. They got to the end of the house with no more incidents, and Nona hopped down on to the small stack of pallets that served as the “road’s” stairway. Jerome made sure to make an obscene gesture at the darkness before hopping down beside his charge and continuing as if nothing had happened. After following Jerome through a few more shortcuts, they finally arrived at the gate with the rude faunish guard. “I thought I told you two to—” he sneered, then his eyes widened when he saw Jerome. “H-hey Jerome. Wha- what do ya want?” he stammered; his massive ears trembling scrunched up beneath the helmet. Jerome handed his torch to Nona then made some rapid hand signals, which included folded hands and hooked fingers. The guard nodded, then stepped into the guardhouse hidden behind the wall. A second later, the barrier dissipated, and so did the pressure pushing back on them. Jerome escorted the travelers through the gate, but before he left, the faunish guard caught his arm. He lowered his voice, beyond earshot of Nona and Reke, asking desperately “This clears me with the Dame, right?” Jerome’s smile seemed to widen, and he simply booped the faun’s bulbous nose. Then, strode back into the darkness of the Outskirts, leaving the guard bewildered, irritated, and very afraid. He swallowed, reactivated the Ward, then turned towards Nona and Reke. He gave them directions to the Praying Mantis Inn, where an elf named Ahsante was supposedly waiting for them. He glanced about, making sure nobody saw him sneaking anyone in from the Outskirts, then told them to scram, and anxiously returned to his post. Next Chapter: https://www.bungie.net/en/Forums/Post/260635989 Previous Chapter: https://www.bungie.net/en/Forums/Post/260431863?showBanned=0&path=0