Two for the Wild Hunt (Zorolo)

[Selah]

She had found the notice lying torn away from the side of a building, crumpled in the spaces between the cobblestones, nearly unreadable. The fact she had watched the boy tearing it, trampling it, then fleeing as though pursued, made the notice interesting to her. She bent over it, when the boy was gone and no one was watching; the words “gold” and “payment” caught her eye, and she picked up the paper, shook it out. She glanced at the fraying cuffs of her shirt and cloak hem, the wear creeping up the toes of her boots, before she turned her attention to the notice. Gold. Payment. Those were nice words. Particularly when they were words no longer, but something real in your hand.

She picked out a few words between the soiled folds, but she could make little sense of it. She needed a local to recognize it, to explain it. She found a local a few blocks away.

“Morning!” she exclaimed.

“Morning,” said the old woman, not looking up from the pail over which she stooped.

“Could you please tell me what this is?” Amaranthine Lodwick asked, flourishing the paper.

The woman glanced at it. Glanced away.

Amaranth knew this game. She took several coppers—real ones, just in case the woman was one of those suspicious characters who tested every coin they were given with a bite—from a drawstring purse and extended both coins and paper.

“That’s the Jagets,” said the woman reluctantly, taking the coins, biting them, glancing at the notice as she bit. “Theys be lookin’ for escorts out of the city.”

“Why so?”

“’Cause of the Lady Mesulaine.”

“Whose the Lady Mesulaine?”

The woman grappled with something at the bottom of the pail; she did not appear to have heard the question. "She's declared 'em outlaws," she continued.

"Why?"

"What's it to you?" the woman asked, and she swiped at the yellowed hair brushing her forehead with a hand that dripped half-frozen brine down her face.

Amaranth shrugged. "I'm curious," she said. "And it's all very... new to me."

The woman eyed her. “You from down south?" she asked. "They never know nothin' down there." She bent again over her pail of brine; she had been peeling shrimp, and Amaranth saw slivers of ice and shell glinting on her thin arms, trapped in the hair that sprouted like grass from the skin.

“Maybe,” she said, kneeling before the old woman, turning her head so that she looked up into the woman’s shadowed face. “Or maybe I’m a bard, come lookin’ faer stories. Or a... mercenary, come lookin’ for work. You said the Jagets are hiring, lookin’ faer someone or another protect them from—what was it?” She trailed invitingly.

The woman scoffed. “You ain’ no mercenary,” she said.

“How come?”

“Too thin. No sword.”

“I could be another kind. Are they really lookin’ tae hire?”

“What other kind is there? And aye, they’re lookin’ tae hire.”

“You were telling me, earlier, what they’re lookin’ for protection from…”

“I was, wasn’t I?” The woman shook her head as though she mused upon the memory with disbelief. She seemed disinclined to further explanation.

“I gave you a bit of coin,” Amaranth prompted. “Do you want more?”

The woman watched her, eyes carefully blank, as Amaranth fished double the coins she had at first paid from the drawstring bag.

“That’s a fancy bag,” the woman said, taking the coins. “The mouth’s strung with gilt thread.”

“I’m a fancy mercenary,” said Amaranth cheerfully, and wondered that the woman did not note the fraying cuffs of her sleeves. “Have you ever heard of the pirates from the west? I might be one of them.”

“And no sword?”

“Who’s to say I don’ have one hidden up my sleeve?”

The woman looked at the sleeves, big enough to hide several children in, and conceded to the possibility.

“But you’re still too thin,” she said, returning to her peeling. “I’ve heard it told the Jagets’ve hired themselves a great big man, who fought in a thousand wars and slew a thousand men. He’s weapons ye’ve never dreamt of afore.”

“So they’ve hired someone?” Amaranth’s face fell.

“I didn’t say they did. I said I only heard it told they did. There’s a difference, girl, learn it. They’re payin’ a good price, those Jagets, for an escort.”

“And you were going to tell me where…?”

The woman considered. “They’re on their way to the desert,” she said, at last. “And between here and that great waste, there’re bandits and highwaymen and things with big teeth.”

“Why’re they leaving again?” Amaranth rolled to her heels, rubbed at the ache moving through the soles of her feet.

“Oh.” The woman smiled to herself. “’Tis the dogs.”

Amaranth suppressed a shudder. “Dogs?”

“Aye. Their dogs’ve set up a frenzy since the Lady Mesulaine declared ‘em all outlaws, and people say as when the dogs start their howling, there’s a bitter end waitin’ faer their masters.”

“And they believe that?”

The woman shrugged. “They’re all movin’ out.”

“The entire family?”

“Aye. The master and his wife and their children—though one of ‘ems a cousin, I’m thinking.”

“Because of the dogs? Or the Lady?”

“Both. No one stays in the shadow of the Lady when she’s called them outlaw. They’ve been lookin’ faer an escort since last week, but they ain’ gonna find one from us." She smirked into her pail. "No one in this town’s gonna help them now they’ve got the Lady for an enemy. Nor before, neither, but the before don't matter much now, now does it?” And the woman lapsed into silence, and bent low over her pail.

“Well.” Amaranth stood. “Do you know where they’re hiring from?”

The woman glanced to her left. Amaranth took this for an answer.

“Thank you,” she said. The woman ignored her.

Perhaps it was the idea of gold—real gold, and not coppers—that drew her, Amaranth thought, as she started away down the street. But she could not forget the look on the boy’s face, the violence in his movements, as he had torn the notice from the wall and trampled it into the street.

OoC: Hope this isn't too long, >> I'll edit it down as soon as I can.

[Zorolo]

Monroe walked through the back alleys of the town, not really paying any attention to anything or anyone that had passed by him in the dank and darker part of the town. The former assassin had found himself with one hell of a morning, and kept his head low, his back hunched slightly with his hands in his pockets as he walked. All in all, he wasn't in a bad mood, so much as he felt a twinge of annoyance. After all, it wasn't every day that a bar fight spilled into the streets, after all.

Now it hadn't entirely been the dark clad man's fault that the bar fight had started. Well, it wasn't entirely his fault, anyway. It had been a complex series of things that had created a hellish scene in front of the bar and the surrounding neighborhood. Well, that street would be fine in a little while. When the drunkards and warriors calmed down and came down to sober themselves up, they'd cease their futile fight. That, or they'd notice the guy they had started the fight over had fled the scene like the genius he was.

The dark man rested his back at the end of the alleyway where a young appearing woman and an old woman seemed to be talking about something. The elder woman was peeling shrimp. What the hell is this? Forest Gump! Monroe thought condescendingly. Despite the tone of mocking on the stupid and ignorant people, that movie had actually been rather good, the warrior of technology knew. Anyway, so long as some random black guy didn't come up and start talking shrimp, the enhanced human would be content.

“I’ve heard it told the Jagets’ve hired themselves a great big man, who fought in a thousand wars and slew a thousand men. He’s weapons ye’ve never dreamt of afore,” the old woman stated as the dark clad man noted as he rested laid himself against the wall of the alley and listened. That sure did sound familiar.

The next series of things the mercenary barely noted any of. A desert, some dogs, some crazy person trying to kill this family. A lot of **** that wasn't entirely relevant to anything at all. The only relevant thing that the dark soldier noted was the fact there was a good price involved.

Finally, the flamboyant old woman shut the hell up and gave useful information to the bounty hunter. The dark clad man strolled out from behind the alley towards the young woman and stepped behind her, resting his hand on her back and walking a step with her. Well, before...

BAM!

The woman had driven a fierce elbow into the enhanced human's gut, causing him to stumble a step back to catch his breath. Monroe coughed a few times as he looked at her and went from slight anger to a bit of annoyance. "I was just coming over to tell you something, and you elbow me in the chest. The hell is wrong with you?!" Monroe yelled in a fake manner, mostly joking.

"Aye... but... ye snuck up on me," she replied, looking at the dark warrior.

"Whatever, don't worry about it," the modern fencer noted as he stood up to his full height, the same height as the woman, and looked at her. "That old woman wasn't lying. At least, about the part about that really strong warrior they hired. Well... she wouldn't have been had it not been for this morning," he stated in honest, smiling a bit.

"Er... what happened this morning?" the oddly dressed woman, as Monroe felt it, asked.

"Well, I'll tell you since I was there," the dark clad man stated as he moved his hands into his jacket pockets with a smile.

o=)---------Earlier that day: the Pub---------(=o

Well, miss, you see, I had been going out to get a drink and was sitting in the bar, minding my own business when that guy came in. He was huge, standing about seven feet tall, with a massive sword strapped across his back, two large swords at his side, and a spear and shield when he entered in his hands. Needless to say, four or five small fries followed him in and sat down.

Well, a few minutes passed and the huge guy began ordering a massive amount of drinks and telling stories about how great he was. Hundreds of killed men, undefeated and a whole lot of crap that only pissed me off as I was trying to enjoy my drink. After a little while of that, I'd had enough and decided to kick this guy's face in. The only thing that made it completely certain of me doing it was when he said he had a very high paying job he was going to be leaving for soon.

Finally, I walked up to this giant guy and tapped him, gently, on his shoulder. The giant stood up and asked me what I was doing, and I told him to either calm down or I was going to beat his head in. He took offense to this, I can't imagine why, and stood up. He thrust his spear towards me, and I stepped to the side, carelessly, and broke the shaft of the spear and threw it away. The giant looked at his broken spear and then growled like a wild beast and tossed it away as I punched towards him. His wooden shield moved to block my fist, but wound up shattering into splinters as my fist ripped through it and crushed his hand a little bit.

The giant stepped back annoyingly and groaned about his poor hand as he pulled the two swords at his side out. He swung the blades, for him he would have considered their speed fast, and I merely caught them both, snapping the blades off effortlessly and tossing them away. I don't really know when I learned to catch swords, but hell, if it works, use what you've got, right? The man's eyes went wide as he pulled out his massive sword.

He swung the giant blade down and I merely stepped to the side again and rested my back against his chest. With a quick elbow, I sent waves of pain up his abdomen with a well placed elbow, causing him to drop his sword. After that, I grabbed his arms and swung him over through the table he had been sitting at. After that was done, a huge bar fight ensued as everyone in there, at first, tried to kill me, and wound up then killing each other. Well, as you can see, I got out, and they're running rampaging through a street a little ways away.

o=)----------Back with Amaranth---------(=o

"Anyway, yeah, so I took down their former guardian. So, I was wondering, since you got that old lady to spill the beans about the job that's up for sale, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind me traveling with you. I could really use the money, and I'm sure you wouldn't mind the help of someone as strong as I am, so what do you say?" Monroe asked, smiling at the woman, but keeping his weapons hidden. At the moment, anyway.

OoC: Yeah... >_>;; Now I'm sorry mine is so long. I just felt that the vivid redepiction of the flashback by Monroe would make more sense then having him say what happened. That, and his first person voice seemed like a much better thing then him just giving the play by play.

[Selah]

Amaranth laughed.

"I'm thinkin' ye did the Jagets a favour, trashin' their big strong hero," she said, her smile wry and loose. "He wasn't worth much, fraem the way ye described him, and I'm thinkin' ye saved some people the pain of findin' out his lack of worth on their own."

He took her compliments with a chuckle as wry as her grin, but he was still waiting for her response, and he folded his great arms across his greater chest and lifted an eyebrow at her.

"But won't ye be a magnate faer his vengeance?" she continued, crossing her arms behind her back, rocking upon her heels. "If he ever gets his wits back and come lookin' tae revenge himself upon you, I wouldn't want tae be in the way. Or the vicinity. If ye take my meaning."

He did, from the way he laughed and over the laugh fixed her with a glance that measured her top to bottom, considered her words, found a response. "You'd find that real disagreeable, would you?" he asked.

"I'll just remind you that yaer problems aren't mine." She smiled, and hoped he understood she meant no injury by her words, only the nod to caution it was often necessary to make in these types of situation. People appreciated one another all the better when such nods were made; they signaled accord, understanding. He took her meaning before she'd even finished making it.

"And I'll just remind you that any act of vengeance from the big, strong and very much disabled hero of the Jagets will have no bearing on you, whether you're in the vicinity or not." He uncrossed his arms, ran his hand along the bottom of his chin. "If you take my meaning. And the meaning of the little story I just told you."

She heard the implication, and it made her grin. "I'd take yaer story and its every description of yaer strength at face value if I could," she said, cheerfully. "But men do like their exaggerations, no? And women too, I suppose, but you're not a woman, so I'll drop that line of thought."

His mouth twitched slightly, and there was a dry humour in his eyes, though he narrowed them, reduced the startling green of his pupils to slits. "You doubt I can keep the Jagets' big strong hero from wreakin' hell on me and maybe you, if you happen to be in the vicinity?" he asked, challengingly.

She laughed again, rubbed at the elbow she had slammed into his chest and now vaguely regretted: the collision had sent splinters of pain coursing through her muscles. "I doan think so," she admitted. "No… now that I think about it, I doan doubt you at all. We'll check out that job as is faer sell, then?" And she bowed her head, like a courtier to a peer, and started off down the street.

[Zorolo]

"Sounds like a plan," the dark clad man stated as he crossed his arms again and gave a slight nod of his head. As the woman stood back to her full height and the two began to make ready to leave, a loud sound echoed out as a man flew out of the alleyway. "Wow, I'll be damned, it spilled out here already. I expected at least another ten to fifteen minutes. Wonder if that guy woke up?" Monroe mused to himself with a kind of almost demented smile.

"Eh... what aer ye talkin' about?" the yet unnamed woman asked as another few men flew into the first, ripping into the interior of a building. The whole scene was a mad house as people began fighting relentlessly as the man clad in darkness smiled as he rested his hand on his photon sword's handle. "What aer ye plannin' to do?" she asked, taking a step towards the bounty hunter.

"Just clean up all of my business here before we continue on, that's all," the mercenary stated as he spun the handle of his blade into his hand and pointed the handle at the nearby wall. A massive hand wrapped around the wall as a massive, blood form stepped out, still picking smaller warriors off of himself. "Well, he did get up, and they're actually trying to kill him and claim my glory. What an uncool thing to do," Monroe stated with a slight tsk.

"Eh? What do ye mean?" the rather odd woman asked as she stepped forwards, looking at the brute. "Is he the man from earlier?" she asked, pointing at the giant.

"Yes. Yes he is," he told the woman, taking a step forwards and smiling slightly. "I guess I'll clean this up quickly. Don't want to waste too much time with small stuff like this."

The woman seemed as if she were about to say something, but didn't as Monroe seemed to simply move forwards at such a speed that the human eye would barely be able to trace it. The former assassin stood upon the giant's shoulders. Not a second passed before a green, glowing energy blade shot through the center of the man's sternum. The giant screamed in pain as the energy blade shut off and the modern fencer jumped from his target, kicking the smaller people off as he fell and into building walls.

Monroe did a quick backflip, aided by kicking the air into a double jump, and landed next to the woman, turning to her and casting a half smile at her. "By the way, m'name's Monroe Vossler. Nice to meet you, miss..." he halted, realizing he hadn't even asked her what she was known by. Rather embarrassing, but at least he was correcting himself now.

[Selah]

She was astounded, despite herself.

"I doan suppose that story of your's—bar fight, sword catching, that one—was all exaggeration then, no?" She glanced at the knots of injured men sprawled across the cobblestone, at the giant in their midst, gasping in a pool of his own blood. She forced herself to look away him only very slowly.

"Still doubting?" Monroe examined the blade of his strange sword.

"It's more a matter of seeing my faith confirmed," she replied.

He seemed to wait for her to continue speaking, and when she did not, he glanced up.

"I still don't know your name," he said.

"It's Ama—yee. Amy." She spoke, perhaps, a bit too quickly.

He looked first as though he might ask something, next as though he suspected her of lying. She didn't doubt he did.

"Amy Maddock," she elaborated, deliberately this time around. "And we'll be going?" She cast a final glance at the giant, at the "small fries" surrounding him, and turned on her heel.

"Did that scare you?" Monroe asked suddenly. He drew level with her faster than she could turn, and nodded to the brawl in its final throes behind him.

"It seemed brutal," she said.

"But necessary. And now it's over. Can't stomach brutal?"

She felt a surge of grim laughter swell into her chest. One didn't know brutal until one knew the Fair Folk, the fairies, she thought. Or so she'd always thought. There was always room for her to be wrong. The brawl, etched into her mind's eye as though drawn there with an ember, seemed only to prove her wrong. The brawl and Monroe Vossler both.

And then she caught sight of a woman, grey of tress and dressed in the deepest of purples, the richest of sables, striding toward them from an alley.

"Sir." She gestured to Monroe; the movement was singularly fast, singularly commanding. "You're the man my husband hired, are you not? My husband, Niccoli Jaget. Come, quickly, please. Your job was to begin this evening, but we've changed that; it begins now. Come, then; Lady Mesulaine's creatures will be prowling, looking for the source of some riot in a bar from this morning, and we… we must be gone before they're out. Come."

She waited for no response; she only gestured again, spun on her heel, and strode back into the alley.

"I think," Amaranth said, glancing up at Monroe with a crooked smile, "you've got yourself a job under the name of our big strong hero, no questions asked."

[Zorolo]

Well, there went the guest work in doing anything overly required. No meetings, no questions, not even a proper overlooking. What a dumb woman that person had just been that had hired him, but still, it worked out nicely. Monroe shoved his hands into his pockets and began to walk off, the sound of footsteps behind him, meaning Amy was following. He didn't really mind, since it worked out nicely. Maybe the woman behind him would be helpful.

As the two began to move, another few guys fist fighting made their way out of the alley and further forwards. The dark clad man rolled his eyes and bashed their heads together just hard enough to knock them out as he continued to walk on. The mercenary's strength had no exaggerations in the explanation, despite how insane it sounded to normal people. Then again, having one and a half times the strength and speed capacity of a normal human made the bounty hunter all that mightier.

However, even with that much more strength, the soldier had met stronger people still. Humans several times more powerful than the human body should have been capable of holding, and each with some kind of special power. That, perhaps, was what set Monroe apart. He had no magic or special powers like Zorlo and Cadenza, but instead had his technology and pure skills. Even so, the dark clad warrior knew he would need more to defeat mightier warriors. He had to find a way to reach that power to overcome those foes.

Monroe shook his head and came back to reality. Bad time to be daydreaming. The enhanced human began to run a little bit, Amy following closely behind, he noted, as he moved along. Before long, the two had gotten out of the dangerous area of town, the two were now making their way towards where they had been directed. To make sure he hadn't lost the rather eccentric woman, the dark wearing warrior turned his head backwards to make sure the woman was still there.

"Hey, Amy, what brings you here anyway?" the dark warrior asked as he adjusted his trench coat.

"Just an adventure," she said in a rather excited voice. From all things the bounty hunter considered, she definitely didn't sound like she was lying. This woman, for as odd as she seemed, truly was looking for an exciting adventure. Well, as long as it kept the mercenary's back covered, things were good.

"Well, then it seems we found it. The gold was just an added bonus?" he asked her with a smirk.

"Naturally. After all, in this material world, don't we all need money?" she responded, only to get a nod from him.

"Ain't it the truth. Ain't it the truth," he said twice as they exited the town, only to find the caravan getting ready to go.

However, before Monroe was willing to take another step, he needed to check one thing. "Amy, you got a weapon or something to defend yourself? Otherwise this will be dangerous, ya know?" the dark clad man stated as he looked at her. The rich ninnies could wait. This was more important at the time.

[Selah]

Amaranth heard the caravan before she heard Monroe's question, and it was to the caravan she gave her attention for the briefest of moments.

The sight of the thing belied the first name Amaranth thought to give it: eight horses and a single wagon - carriage in fact, a ridiculously gilt and cushioned affair with glass windows - made up the caravan; the parts seemed too few to constitute the sum, and Amaranth felt cheated. A crowd of people encompassed it - most on foot, three hanging from the carriage windows: a young woman in silks and lace, clutching for someone outside the carriage and outside her reach, her voice loud, grainy, frustrated; an older woman, hanging from the opposite window, black sleeves fanning about wrists wrinkled as prunes and run through with veins of purple - she reached for something held by a servant; and a little girl with ribbons in her hair, chewing her nails at the side of the first and younger woman. Amaranth found the scene vaguely was depressing.

"Amy, you got a weapon or something to defend yourself? Otherwise this will be dangerous, ya know?"

Monroe, speaking to her, paused in the mouth of the alley a few feet behind her. Amaranth had moved farther toward the scene than she had realized, and she skipped back to him before anyone noticed her.

"Sorry..." She glanced at the caravan, then back at him as though to explain with that glance her reason for stepping ahead. "Weapon, ye say?" He nodded, she shrugged. "Well, if ye mean one on me right now, that I could draw from a sheath or a sleeve or some such place right this minute—”

“And what other kind is there?” Monroe interrupted. “It’s a simple question; yes or no.”

“I can whip one up in a pinch,” Amaranth replied, evasively.

“But you don’t have one on you.”

“Well if yaer gonna put it that way, no. I doan.”

The look Monroe gave her was all reprimand.

"But defense doesn't always depend on swingin' a sword or flail, does it?" Amaranth glanced over her shoulder, saw to her surprise a man in black - the colour did nothing to conceal the richness of his clothes - had peeled himself from the throng and was coming toward them, lead by the woman who had discovered them in the alley; she had her hand upon his arm, and was gesturing in their direction. "I can defend myself, if that's what ye mean by havin' a weapon. I find a weapon rather inconvenient, actually, luggin' it at all times on my person."

She glanced again at the two coming toward them, and Monroe followed her gaze. The woman and man were closer, but their positions were reversed. The woman still clung to his arm, but she had fallen back, and her pace was faltering, her glance confused, her eyes flickering between Amaranth, Monroe, and the man in black. The man himself had thrust himself forward, laid a firm, reddened hand upon the hilt of a sword at his hip. In a moment, the two were scant yards away, and the man snatched his arm from the grasp of the Lady Jaget.

"My wife tells me one thing," he said, loudly, "but these things must be done properly. Who are you? What are you? And have you anything to do with me, Niccoli Jaget?"

[Zorolo]

Monroe couldn't help but look at the man with a half glance and an almost smile as he watched the rich man's hand ready to draw his sword. "Who, what and why, you ask?" the bounty hunter mocked as he looked at the fancily dressed man with a strong restrain to laugh mockingly in his face for asking such stupid questions. After all, if someone is helping you, why the hell would you first ask them what they're doing there? It was something comparable to striking an ally in battle. You generally shouldn't think the worst, but for these guys, the mercenary almost understood the reason. Almost.

The former assassin crossed his arms and was about to speak when Amy stepped in front of him and held her arm before his body. Vossler halted in his thought and allowed her to speak, knowing what she would say would probably be vastly less insulting than the next few sentences from his mouth. "Well," the woman began, "ya see, we're here to help ya with traveling and protecting ya." Her words were solemn and stern, keeping a straight face with a partial smile. She had said everything Monroe wanted to and possibly then some.

"Well, that answers what you want and what you have to do with me, but who are you?" the man asked curtly as he removed his hand from his sword.

"Amy Maddock, and adventure and mercenary," she stated, taking a partial bow with her introduction to seem more formal.

"And you, sir?" the rich man asked, looking at the dark clad man, who hadn't moved since crossing his arms.

"Vossler. Monroe Vossler is my name," the bounty hunter stated as he uncrossed his arms and looked at the man, not liking this guy in the least. "As for what I am. I guess I'm a mercenary, although bounty hunting is my normal job."

The man was taken aback by the statement about being a bounty hunter, and looked at Monroe careful, sizing him up as Niccoli reached for his sword. "I see, and you've come to bring us in for that devilish woman!" he stated, nearly drawing his sword.

Well, at least he would have drawn his sword, had it not been for Monroe placing his foot on the pommel of the sword and forcefully resheathing it. "Nope. I'm here as your big, strong champion and am going to save you and your family's ass from this woman chasing you. Now are you going to remove your hand from that sword, or am I going to have to break both your hand, and your sword?"

Niccoli, again, was taken aback and stumbled backwards, falling backwards and crawling back through the sand, the woman next to him shuffling to help him to his feet. "I-I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to... get you angry. You just... can't be too careful around here. You're hired! Both of you are hired! Just please don't hurt me!" the rich man squealed in terror as the woman with him lifted him to his feet and he regained some composure.

"All right. Now that that's taken care of, where to, boss?!" Monroe asked mocking, jamming his hands into the pockets of his trench coat.

[Selah]

Perhaps it was a detestable trait in Amaranth that provoked her to laughter before it provoked her to good sense, a trait, she later thought, she might consider suppressing, for the comfort of herself and everyone else involved. But at the moment, she did not think, only snorted at the look upon Niccoli Jaget’s face, the image of him sprawled in the sand, floundering about like a fish out of water.

The Lady Jaget, hand upon her husband's arm, brushing at the dirt upon his coat, stiffened at the sound. And slowly she glanced up at Amaranth, and Amaranth could not tell if behind the blankness of her expression lay some venom, a hatred born of wounded pride. The expression was certainly blank enough.

"We're traveling north," Niccoli Jaget said, jerking his arm from the hands of his wife, brushing at the dirt she had already removed from his clothes, "taking the main road as far as it'll go. We mean to leave the kingdom in three days, for my Lady Mesulaine--" He spit the name, but for all the poison of his pronouncement, it seemed still to shake him; the hand brushing at his sleeves balled into a fist, and his face reddened, "she gives us but one week to be out of her sight - and the sight of her creatures, her guards. Should we linger, she will track us down without mercy. I have wasted two full days requesting a guardian for this trip." He chuckled mirthlessly.

Amaranth lifted an eyebrow. Niccoli had either forgotten being laid out upon the ground by the authority of his guardian, or was very stupid. Or forgetful. Or rash. Or perhaps all four things at once.

"It is too much, taking three days to leave Mesulaine's kingdom," said the Lady Jaget. "We should make use of every minute of the time she gives us. Please. We'll tire my mama."

Amaranth glanced to her, saw Monroe, from the corner of her eye, turn his head to the older woman as well. The lady carefully avoided the gazes fixed upon her; she stared at a point above her husband's head, chin lifted to an almost unnatural angle. There might have been something regal and poignant to the manner in which she held herself, if only she had not been trying so visibly hard.

Niccoli growled, turned on his heel, stalked close to her. "I won't have your complaints again!" he hissed, "not when you know as well as I do what danger we're in!"

He spun away before she could gather herself to answer; he stalked toward the carriage, calling over his shoulder, "This way!"

"But we cannot travel that fast; it is usually five days on horse that we would get anywhere near the border!" the lady cried, her posture breaking; she turned and ran after him.

"It will be three days, it will be three days!" Niccoli barked, but he did not deign to glance back at her; he only lengthened his stride and was soon again among the crowd. He began to shout, wave his arms, and the more plainly dressed of the party drew back to the outskirts of the throng. And once they had done so, few were left: only Niccoli and the women and child in the carriage, and a smartly dressed young man who watched Amaranth and Monroe narrowly from the back of a horse.

"Those others are servants, I'm thinking," Amaranth said to Monroe, pointing to the dispersing crowd. "It looks like the Jagets're leaving their entire household, family excepted, of course. But my! Have you ever seen such a carriage as that?" She gestured and shook her head; all extraneous movement, for she had watched Monroe take in the caravan with a long glance some time ago. "It'll slow them all down; do you think they mean to take it? If the lady is right and it's a usual five days to the north border of this kingdom, and he means us to take it in three - gods! Is he mad, you think?"

[Zorolo]

Monroe crossed his arms again and scoffed at the rich people. He felt somewhat offended by what had just transpired. "We'd better be paid damn well for this, or I'm gonna take it out of this family's hides!" the bounty hunter yelled, drawing a stare from Amy. The mercenary turned, sensing her glance and looked at her quizzically. "What's wrong? I can't help the fact I don't like nobles. The world of property is annoying, but what can you do?" Monroe asked jokingly in his remarks. He doubted this girl understood that notion he had just hit her with.

"Never mind," the dark clad man stated as he walked back towards her. "As to is he mad, if he doesn't trust us to protect him as his guards, then he's already lost. Might as well let the dogs drag him off... then again, we don't get paid at that point," Monroe stated as he thought about it. "This is annoying. Well, anyway, no matter how insane he may be, or proud, or stupid, we need to follow him. At least until we get paid, then he can rot in hell for all I care. Hell, I might feed him to the dogs at that point," the former assassin noted as he spit into the sand and kicked more sand over it.

"Well, if he is mad, the following him could be dangerous to us, can't it?" Amy asked the enhanced human. For Monroe, all that followed was a heavy laughter that flowed from him.

"Dangerous to you and I?" Monroe paused between his fits of laughter just long enough to speak again. "The only thing dangerous to us is them when we sleep. Luckily, I don't need to sleep. Or I won't until we finish this mission," Monroe said as he reached into his pockets, searching for something. "I should have a pill that will remove the need of me to sleep for a week in here somewhere. And it's..." the mercenary stated as he began digging through his other pockets, finally deciding that it wasn't in the first one he checked.

After extensively examining his other pockets, even going so far as to look within the inside pockets of his jacket. After about ten minutes and about eight pockets, Monroe finally through his hands into the air in frustration. Somehow, somewhere, he'd either used or lost that pill. But when and why? He didn't recall. All he knew was...

"Not here..." he finished his started thought. Amy laughed slightly at Monroe's failure, and he laughed with her after a moment. "I may not know you very well, Amy, but we're going to need to watch each other's backs, okay?" he asked her, smiling rather casually at her. He could leave once he had an answer.

[Selah]

Amaranth didn't like the sound of Monroe's question.

"Watch each other's backs?" She felt the laughter seeping from her like the tide from a beach. "But faer how long?"

"As long as we're stuck with them, that's how long." He jerked his head in the direction of the party, gave her an odd look. "You heard me, didn't you?"

"But we're not beholden to them, are we?" She took a step back, clasped her hands behind her back. "We're not... obligated tae put up with them, are we?"

He was silent, but there was a question to his glance.

"I mean, we've not even started out--they've not given us anything to make this job worth our trouble--and it's nothin' solid, just us promisin' tae guard them and them promisin' tae pay us. But nothin' solid." She unclapsed her hands, flexed them.

"But what's that to do with what I asked you?"

Amaranth paused as though she considered, though in truth there was nothing to consider: she knew the wherefore of her hesitation. It wasn't that she balked from Monroe himself, or found offense in his question - it was that she knew herself a bit better than most people were given to knowing themselves - or supposing they knew themselves.

"It'll be hell for both of us if I have to answer yes to that question," she said. "If I'm tae be honest."

And hell it would be, she knew without a doubt. She would only be tempted to renege.

OoC: What do you say to a pack of dogs chasing Monroe, Amaranth, and the Jagets from town, next few posts?

[Zorolo]

OoC: I say I concur, madam. Also, I can't wait to see what occurs in LEA's new thread that we are both a part of. Shall be interesting to have Amaranth and Zorlo meet, methinks.

BiC: If Monroe were a strong man, he wouldn't have stood as if he knew he could win. He would know very well that victory was the only chance to survive. That was it, even if it meant helping these fools out, despite how much the two may not have wanted to. The dark clad man knew he wasn't strong, even if he was brave, but he would have to appear strong to these people. That was how the world worked, after all. Appearance meant everything to getting a job or winning a fight. Well, that and actually being strong.

If Monroe were a cunning man, he wouldn't have questioned if this choice he were making was truly an intelligent one. He would know what he was doing was ingenious. In this case, not knowing if your choices were bad or not wasn't a good thing. Certainty was the only strength that people had, mostly in times of great danger. For that, Monroe would throw on a smile and be confident and not second guess himself.

For now, the dark clad man crossed his arms again and tapped his foot. He was strong and he was clever. He wouldn't let himself say otherwise right now. Mostly since no one here seemed to have any super natural qualities, aside from Amy, but even she didn't seem to do anything too out of the ordinary. Vossler spun his gun out of its holster and spun the weapon quickly around his finger; his keen ears were ever watchful of approaching people. And, naturally, the bounty hunter heard them.

A mass of people began to pour out through the narrow alleyways of the city towards where the group was. "Well, looks like they elected to follow us. Time to get going," Monroe said as he clicked the hammer of his gun back and pulled the trigger, blowing a hole clean through his target's head. Too easy. "Time to go," the mercenary noted as he ran and lifted Amy up by her waist and over his shoulder, running quickly. With a powerful push, he moved them atop of the vehicle and smiled as he placed her down.

Monroe put his foot down, literally, just hard enough to cause the carriage shake but not break. "Get this heap moving!" the bounty hunter whispered as he drew his gun again and laid bullets into five more of the drunkards, the rest retreating as they watched the simplicity of their friends, or possibly foes, deaths. The chamber clicked and the cartridges dumped from the gun as the dark clad man reloaded his revolver.

a strong whip of the reigns set the horses in motion. The gun's chamber clicked closed, and the group was on their way. However, an unnerving noises entered the air as the horses began to run. A loud howling echoed through the empty air.

"That's not good," Monroe stated as he sat down. "So, what's your story?" he asked, keeping his keen eyes on the lookout. "I'll keep lookout for the dogs, but I think I might have gotten us off on the wrong foot," he told her, partially smiling. "Let's try to be something close to friends, as well as associates. It'll make the rich people more bearable, right?" he asked her, chuckling a bit.

[Selah]

OoC: And after a year and a day, she posts. Sorry for the delay, :<

BiC: The speed at which those first few moments passed - the moments that saw the throng of drunkards spilling from the alleyway, later found Amaranth and Monroe clinging to the rooftop of the carriage - left Amaranth gasping. The carriage ride was unlike anything she had ever endured: she could feel the jouncing wrench of wooden wheels over uneven stone like a hammer striking her heart; her heart felt as though it were jerking loose from whatever held it between her ribs. It would come flying out of her mouth at any moment.

The imagery was fascinating and might have given some amusement on another day. But Amaranth was not of a humour, at that moment, to be amused, not when a sudden swell of howling overarched the hubbub, broke into a series of bays, and filled her mind with the image of hounds at the hunt--

The carriage shuddered through a section of battered cobblestone; Amaranth clutched for purchase at the luggage rails. The right wheel of the carriage dipped into a ragged pothole, lurched out again, and Amaranth's teeth clamped down with the force of the movement. Another howl rent the air, and her heart dropped into her stomach.

"Dear gods," she gasped, as the carriage heaved again and made jelly of her innards. "Gods, gods, gods, gods..."

It would be a while before she remembered she believed in no gods. But gods were always useful for the occasional, exclamatory convenience.

Monroe was speaking, saying something like, “I'll keep a lookout for the dogs.” He was saying a great other many things as well—she thought she heard "your story" and “wrong foot” and “more bearable” and now he was chuckling and now all she could hear was the carriage driver barking nonsense at the horses and clipping the whip over their shoulders. And then there was the baying again, that damn, damn baying, getting closer—

She snatched at Monroe’s arm and gripped it like a lifeline, trying to swallow the fear building in her stomach and swelling into her throat, cutting off her air.

"You all right?"

She felt a dry urge to vomit.

"Sure!" she gasped. Her voice felt remarkably dry, and it scraped the tissue of her throat like sandpaper; it left her throat raw. "Sure, I'm fine... fine." She grinned weakly at him and ordered herself to be fine, and when she felt the nausea begin to wane, she detatched herself and took hold of a luggage rail. "What's my story?" She attempted a shrug. The carriage jounced her so badly that her shoulders felt, for a moment, dislocated from their sockets. "Nothin' spectacular, really, just... I don't think I can--"

A howl, a bark, a snap, all too loud, too close, and followed by a wet heat on the fingers she curled outside the protection of the luggage wrack.

Amaranth had always imagined herself a strong woman. But there was always room to be proved wrong.

She screamed.

She snatched her hand from the rail, clutched it with her other hand, and at that moment, the carriage lurched. Amaranth pitched sideways, nearly into Monroe, and only just managed to catch herself.

She could hear the women and little girl screaming in the carriage beneath her, and in the moment that she could see the road behind them, she saw, around Niccoli Jaget and the smartly dressed young man on their horses, a single flash of black, sleek and streaming over the cobblestones, stretching its long legs in chase.

A dog.

"Oh gods," she said.

[Zorolo]

OoC: *Laughs* WOrry not. Five days isn't so bad a wait. I've had people make me wait months, and I think I had one guy make me almost wait a year. It was insane. >_>;;

BiC: Monroe stood up and smiled as he looked out over the edge of the railing at the approaching beasts and smiled. "Pair of idiots," the bounty hunter muttered as he opened his revolver and slipped out one of his normal bullets and slipped in a shatter shot. "They should just leave it to me, damn bastards," the modern fencer muttered as he placed a foot on the railing and readied to jump. Before he did, without turning his head, he addressed Amy. "Don't pray to things that don't exist. It's a waste of time," he stated cold and firmly as he leapt from the carriage.

"Yahoo!" the dark clad man yelled as he soared through the air, kicking the air hard and Moon Stepping forwards with such speed one would think him an arrow towards its target. With another powerful kick, the modern fencer shot forwards, almost spiraling past the two men on horseback, leaving them only the words, "Slow idiots. You hired me for **** like this!" Monroe was clearly out of control and completely out of his mind, but the adrenaline high made his blood rush and gave him a strong smile plastered across his face. He lived for this!

The large, black dog was upon him now, ready to bring its massive jaws closed upon the mercenary. As the fangs clamped down, the enhanced human kicked himself backwards and slightly higher, keeping his eyes set on his target while aiming his revolver. The massive hound leapt upwards and opened it's jaws again, snapping down again towards the dark clad man's boot, but only getting a cloud of smoke as he kicked himself higher into the air and backwards a bit again, this time doing a back flip in midair for some flare. After all, what good was a fight you weren't testing yourself in?

The mongrel lunged one last time, and finally, it was show time. The curtain rose and the fangs of the foul, wretched creature came closer to snapping upon the man's leg than before; however, this time he came prepared. Moving just enough to get his leg out of the way, Monroe grabbed the monster's jaw and adjusted himself so he forcefully locked it shut by wrapping his arm around the side of the beast's mouth. The mercenary placed his gun against the head of the beast and cocked the trigger.

BANG!

Blood splattered heavily from the blast from the muzzle as it released a large number of pellets of titanium into the creature's skull. Vossler placed his foot on the beast's head and pushed off, Moon Stepping quickly back to where the pompous men were and landing between them as they came to a stop.

"Quite a show you put on," Niccoli commented as he looked at Monroe.

"It's what I do," the modern fencer responded as he looked back. Something seemed... wrong...

The dog rose and gave a long, drawn out howl and growled loudly. "Damn, didn't kill it," the bounty hunter muttered as the beast stalked back where it was, keeping its distance. "Let's get back to the others. I think that'll stop it for a little bit. What's bad though is I think that thing just called for backup. GO!" Monroe yelled as he began to run, hopping onto a horse and moving back towards the carriage. When the three finally caught up, the bounty hunter leapt back onto the roof and looked at Amy. He wasn't sure if she would say anything, but it didn't matter. That had been a hell of a lot of fun!

[Selah]

"Don't pray to things that don't exist. It's a waste of time," Monroe said. And then he was leaping from carriage rails to cobbled street - or, more accurately, soaring over the cobbled street - and was, to all intents and purposes, gone.

Had Amaranth been of a more sprightly mood, she might have retorted with some semblence of wit and humour: "But the gods are convenient like that!"; something of that nature. But between the carriage, the dog, and the screams from below, Amaranth had no time for words, much less wit. Her terror had drained her of everything outside of fear's suffocating grasp.

She crouched on the carriage roof like a wild animal frozen before the predator, and from the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the smartly dressed young man drawing level with the carriage. He wrenched at a sword belted to his waist - one buckled into an obscenly ornate scabbard, and one that would not come loose for all his struggle. He barked something at her. The wind tearing past Amaranth's ears made off with his words, but she heard his tone, the command in them; she saw how he gestured at the interior of the carriage. And then he was falling back, still yanking at his trapped sword.

Amaranth tried to glance over her shoulder, to see how Monroe was coming along, but the wind in her eyes blinded her. She dropped to her stomach and gripped the rails, dragged herself to the edge of the carriage.

All the wind in the world could not muffle the screams from inside. Amaranth grasped what handholds were available and eased herself over the edge, far enough that she could see the window, the women behind the glass. The older woman was clasping the little girl like a frightened child grasps her doll, and the Lady Jaget's face was pale, her eyes wide and white; her lips moved in what Amaranth wagered was a prayer. The fourth woman was gripping her bundled skirts, her face frozen. She alone wa