The night markets of Dairsmuid were not to be missed, even by a man with little coin. Ashaad browsed a rack of fine javelins as he planned for his trip to Kont-aar in his mind. From there, travel onward to Par Vollen would be easy. He wouldn’t have any further need of coins where he was going. Qunari merchants were more like quartermasters; they’d issue a scout like him whatever he needed.
To be honest, the people here unnerved him. Their mages weren’t just free and unbound, they ruled their communities. Any Rivani woman he talked to might be one of those mysterious seers. Dangerous things.
Oh, but the food stalls here smelled so good. Things that were familiar were prepared in unusual ways, like fried or baked bananas. Cinnamon tea. Ashaad finished bartering for supplies and worked up his courage, buying a pot of tea and a generous slice of Raider Queen’s bread full of Par Vollen bananas from a bent old woman’s counter. He sat at a table in view – lest she fear he’d run off with her pot and cup – and rested his glaive against the other chair.
It was a pleasant way to while away an hour or so. The spices in the tea turned his mouth tingly and numb – a slight shame. Not a good pairing with the subtle sweetness of the cake. Ashaad returned the pot, gathered his weapon and other purchases, and began the long, winding walk back to the hostel where he’d rented a bed.
Mercenary, Loyal to Nairn, Assassin, Stalker, Jack of all Trades
Played by: Bach
Supporting
Danny moved silently through the shadows, his eyes fixed on Ashaad as he navigated the bustling streets. Nairn's orders were clear: follow Ashaad, wait for the right moment, and then confront him. Danny's heart raced with anticipation, a predator closing in on his prey. He could feel the tension building, knowing that soon he would have to step out of the shadows.
Finally, Ashaad turned down a narrow alleyway, its dim lighting and secluded nature providing the perfect setting for what was about to unfold. Danny's lips curled into a sly grin as he quickened his pace, his movements precise and deliberate.
Stepping into the open, Danny's voice cut through the silence like a knife. Oi, Ashaad, he called, his tone laced with a dangerous edge. My boss fancies a chat!
He didn’t pull his daggers yet, but they were clearly there, but he was confident that should things come down to a fight, he wouldn’t need those extra seconds of drawing his weapons, bit cocky, but also figured if a fight could be avoided and he could just get Ashaad to come with him, it would just be easier in the end.
Look, mate, Danny began, his voice low and menacing, I've been trailing you on Nairn's orders. Now, you’re gonna come with me, nice and quiet-like, or else... He let the threat hang in the air, the unspoken consequences clear in his tone and expression.
Nairn had sent Danny off to retrieve an asset. They were just up ahead, and he lingered in the shadows, observing his Right Hand's actions. Shadows gathered around him, seamlessly blending with his person.
Acquire the asset, a voiceless whisper, as the rogue stayed concealed. He'd only leave his shadowy corner if Danny required the help.
[Ashaad rolled a combat check vs. Danny – and failed.]
Footsteps — of a particular cadence. Not another traveler fresh from the night market, just hoping to make it back to their bed. Anticipation made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. In a way, Ash had always expected this. Some enemy of the Qun would figure what he was; take umbrage. Perhaps they noticed the cords beneath his clothes, or had followed him for some time.
Still, they wouldn’t have known his name and purpose. What was this? He turned, slowly. The stranger was tall and broad, a rough looking human of indeterminate age. Ben-Hassrath? Their agents might look like anything; be anything.
No. The more the stranger spoke, the less likely that seemed. Speaking would only waste breath. Ashaad’s glaive flew to his hands, an inconvenience in the alley. Perhaps he could fend the other man off, at least. Keep him too far away to strike out with those knives. As the stranger trailed off, and all Ashaad could hear was their breathing, he heard it.
A whisper. He couldn’t risk taking his eyes off the first stranger to look for them. A mage?
Fuck. This was bad. His only hope of escape would be to act quickly and the glaive was worse than useless. He flung it down and dived at the first man, armored fists flying in a bid to overpower him quickly.
Mercenary, Loyal to Nairn, Assassin, Stalker, Jack of all Trades
Played by: Bach
Supporting
Danny’s grin widened as Ashaad lunged, the swift movement of the man as much a challenge as it was a threat. His daggers flashed into his hands like they had minds of their own, the steel glinting faintly in the dim alley light. He sidestepped the punch just barely, a sharp whistle escaping him as the fist brushed past his ribs.
Bloody close, eh? You nearly had me there, big guy! Danny quipped, his accent dripping with mockery and charm. He spun on his heel, one dagger slicing through the air just shy of Ashaad’s neck—not an attempt to connect, but enough to keep the tension tight between them. Easy, mate. Gotta give me a bit of credit for makin' it look good, he jabbed verbally, weaving side to side. Wouldn’t do to have you think this was too bloody easy, now would it?
Nairn watched the scuffle, and moved into proper view, his face covered with a dark face-mask, hair pulled back into a braid. Danny. His voice held warning, Stop playing with your prey. He wanted to get this over with quickly, and disappeared momentarily.
The longer you fight, the less time we have to brief the subject. Nairn grumbled, leaning against the wall of the alley, unconcerned about the two of them.
[Ashaad rolled a combat check vs. Danny – and succeeded. Actions described have been discussed with Bach beforehand.]
Ash dove, kicking into the glaive’s pole, a tripping hazard he sent skittering across the cobbles. He missed the stranger – this Danny person, named by the other one behind him. Oh, how he hated knives and the cagey bastards that favored them. Any bid to control the other fighter’s arms and he’d likely end up bleeding.
Except … There was some hesitancy there, along with far too much talking. That swipe at his neck had not been meant to hit. Ash recovered from his previous overextension, ears pricked. Briefing? Subject? They might not be Ben-Hassrath, but that one spoke like one of their agents.
Was leaving Danny to subdue him alone a mark of faith or of indolence?
Ashaad lurched inside Danny’s guard, heaving them both into the side of the dwelling to Ash’s left and Danny’s right. Ash put his whole weight on the other man’s bicep, shoulder grinding painfully against the bricks. A knife in the ribs did not come, proving the theory. Ash was the subject. They wanted him alive and aware. You could not brief a corpse.
“You talk too much.” Ash raised his gauntleted fist and punched Danny square in the mouth.
[For expediency – and since Ash is outnumbered – I forfeit further combat rolls. Get him!]
Mercenary, Loyal to Nairn, Assassin, Stalker, Jack of all Trades
Played by: Bach
Supporting
Danny's head snapped back against the wall, stars bursting behind his eyes. For a moment, the world tilted, and then—oh. Oh, that was good. That was *real* good. His tongue flicked out, tasting copper, and he let out a short, wheezing laugh.
Alright, mate, he muttered, rolling his jaw as he grinned through bloodied teeth. Now we’re bloody talkin’.
He didn't need to see the other bastard’s expression to *feel* the shift—Ashaad thought he had control now. That was the best part. Danny *liked* when people thought that.
Without warning, he twisted, shifting his weight like he’d practiced a hundred times before. He let Ashaad have the moment, let him feel solid, victorious, until Danny buckled his knees and *dropped*. Ashaad lurched forward from the sudden lack of resistance, just enough for Danny to slam the heel of his boot into the bastard’s shin and twist out from under his grip.
See, that’s the thing, mate, Danny rasped, backpedaling smoothly, daggers still dancing in his hands. He wiped a thumb across his split lip, smearing the blood absently. You lot always think silence makes you the bigger threat. But me? I like a bit of conversation. Keeps things...*civilized*.
He took a half-step forward, shoulders loose, grinning like a wolf that just found an injured deer.
’Course, if you *really* want, we can skip the chit-chat and go straight to me breakin’ every bone in your miserable sodden body. I ain't fussed either way.
