Neither shouts nor footfalls encourage her to slow down, long legs stretching out as she picks up her stride, dashing out of the alley, then seeking to break line of sight as quick as she can, unenthused by the idea of a long chase through a strange city, and seeking to lose her pursuers as quick as she can
Neither shouts nor footfalls encourage her to slow down, long legs stretching out as she picks up her stride, dashing out of the alley, then seeking to break line of sight as quick as she can, unenthused by the idea of a long chase through a strange city, and seeking to lose her pursuers as quick as she can
VIEW CONTENT:
She gets away, at least for now.
But there are people out in the night. Lanterns. Moving firelight shadows. Hushed voices and soft footfalls in the gloom. It is damned cold, with frost on the mud puddles. Kat stepped in something foul and chill which seeps into her footgear and stockings.
She catches her breath in a black alley.
Sounds and lights move away...
And then a mournful howl.
A hound, surely.
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
Kat shimmies halfway up the corner of a brick building, loses her grip, and skins a knee sliding back down to the pavement.
Then she sees the hound.
A pale canine stalks down the lane, sniffing her trail. The beast is surrounded by an eerie softly- glowing nimbus, like congealed moonbeams.
Cloaked figures--at least three-- move behind it in the murk.
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
Kat gapes at the things, suddenly seriously alarmed. A MAGIC HOUND? in a town festhall? She had never expected security on this scale. She never imagined a place like that could organise a pursuit. Her mind reeled as she tried to realign her situation assessment and come up with a plan.
Fortunately, her reflexes had not been hanging around waiting for her conscious mind to catch up. To late to climb: break line of sight as stealthily as possible, and then run for it. Avoid straight streets: as soon as they actually saw her it would become a straight footrace. Keep them following a scenting hound. It had to be having trouble with so many human scents. Speed was the thing.
As her thinking mind caught up she began to look around for strong scents, or easier climbs. anything that might break her scent trail: something she could run through or scatter behind her. If she could just lose the hound it was over. She could stroll around the human pursuers, but that dog...was a problem.
Kat scrambles up on a roof, runs and hops and leaps...
and falls!
She rolls as she hits the ground, going right through a big half-frozen pool of manure and gods-know-what-else.
Stinking and freezing, she staggers out of the street into another alley.
She looks around. Not much to see--a dark winter night in the northlands with only a sliver of moon and a few cold stars glinting through the clouds. Phlan does some lamps lit, but if she gets too close to such lighted areas, she might well reveal herself to her pursuers.
Creeping now, and shaking off a slight limp from her tumble, Kat moves in what she hopes is the direction of her second inn.
She recognizes the stables. Maybe.
Hay scattered near the closed doors, soft horsey sounds inside.
She hears the footsteps behind her just a bit too late to run again.
Turning around, Kat faces a tall thin man holding something glowing softly in his right hand.
The man opens his palm and the greenish light illuminates his face and Kat’s, too.
It’s the illusionist from the festhall.
Caught but not at a loss for wits, Kat rapidly formulates plans to confuse him somehow, make her escape before the situation gets worse.
The illusionist says “I don’t know who you are working for but you’re in a lot of trouble. We’ll find out everything anyway, so just come along and confess it all and I prom-“
The illusionist crumples, gasping. A knife sticks out from his back.
A second man, shorter, swiftly moves from the darkness to retrieve his blade.
He lifts the fallen wizard’s head up and slits his throat without taking his pale eyes off Katrin.
“You don’t want to hang? Better come with me.”
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
Kat lets her "okay, you caught me I'll come quietly" speech slip away... and slips her sap back into her sleeve. With a queasy feeling in her stomach, she looks down at the corpse. Not because she's concerned by corpses as such, but this just went way beyond the plan. She was not intending to kill someone who was, in the end, just guarding their property from a thief, and she is aware that this is, indeed, now a hanging matter. No one is going to believe this stabbing wasn't her.
She is not at all convinced this man is a good person to follow, but she concludes she is out of options. Her escape plan now looks far too thin against the opposition she's getting, and if she gets on the wrong side of him, he can lead the pursuers or the watch right to her. There seems to be only one option from here.
The man leads Kat through lightless alleys and murky lanes into a rundown part of town. The darkness seems not to trouble him at all; he never stumbles or steps in a cold muck puddle.
Reaching a house with boarded up windows, he motions toward a side door.
"This way.You first."
Inside, Kat finds the floor before her clear of obstructions, at least.
A moment later the door clicks shut and firelight fills the room, revealing a small room with one interior doorway and a fireplace.
Kat's rescuer -- if that is what he is-- regards her with an expressionless and almost too regular face. It looks like a wax mask for just a moment as her eyes adjust to the heatless glare of the green stone he holds in his left palm.
His eyes are the color of the Musarde on a foggy night.
" You need to be perfectly honest with me. Your name? Your purpose at the Velvet Glove tonight? Alone in town or with others? Does anyone know where you went tonight, anyone but our mutual enemies out there?"
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
Kat steps into the house and looks around. She is well aware that she probably isn't making the kind of impression she usually likes on new acquaintances. The ruins of her party dress hang around her, lank and stinking, and her shoes are covered in muck, as is she. Nevertheless she tries to adopt a jaunty look, and an air of confidence.
"Katrina, adventuress, at your service. Adventuring is a profession with high costs, as you may know, and I needed a financial windfall. The brothel looked like and easy score. I guess it wasn't quite that easy..."
She thinks fast, but decides to be honest.
"I'm with a group, but they are a bit legit. I didn't mention this little trip to them."
As she admits no one knows where she is her hand rests on her hip...near the slit in her dress that leads to her dagger.
The pale man moves about the room, silently checking things, including a peek into the next room, as he listens to her talk.
After Kat has finished, he turns to face her with a bucket in his hands.
Water sloshes in the container. He must have picked it up from the adjoining chamber.
"I'm inclined to believe you. Now, then... You reek and I don't want you getting sick. Strip off. You can use this to rinse. Cold, but I think we shouldn't risk a fire in the hearth just yet."
He indicates the floor to her right.
"I've got some dry clothes and blankets stashed under there, which you can borrow, so do your bath in the far corner."
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
She hesitates very slightly, but she is dressed in filth, and she has to admit she wouldn't leave herself alone if the positions were reversed. She peels off her garments down to the skin, wasting no time on efforts at modesty, especially since she is beginning to suspect the revelations he will be paying attention to are the masterwork dagger and the sap, at least the former of which is never out of reach. She retires into the indicated corner and bathes. Getting that muck off her is enough of a relief that the cold water feels like a scented bath, and she takes a moment for a sigh of relief as she dries herself as best she can, before investigating the indicated clothing stash.
"I'm much obliged to you, master...?"
She pauses for him to insert a name. She doesn't imagine for one moment it will actually be his, but his choice might tell her something
"and I have a feeling its not an obligation I'll be carrying long. You don't seem like the altruistic type. I'm sure you'll tell me soon enough why you needed a thief owing you a favour. But first... I've never seen security like that on a festhall before. Who ARE those guys?"
She hesitates very slightly, but she is dressed in filth, and she has to admit she wouldn't leave herself alone if the positions were reversed. She peels off her garments down to the skin, wasting no time on efforts at modesty, especially since she is beginning to suspect the revelations he will be paying attention to are the masterwork dagger and the sap, at least the former of which is never out of reach. She retires into the indicated corner and bathes. Getting that muck off her is enough of a relief that the cold water feels like a scented bath, and she takes a moment for a sigh of relief as she dries herself as best she can, before investigating the indicated clothing stash.
"I'm much obliged to you, master...?"
She pauses for him to insert a name. She doesn't imagine for one moment it will actually be his, but his choice might tell her something
"and I have a feeling its not an obligation I'll be carrying long. You don't seem like the altruistic type. I'm sure you'll tell me soon enough why you needed a thief owing you a favour. But first... I've never seen security like that on a festhall before. Who ARE those guys?"
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The man watches Kat as she bathes, but he seems to be paying more attention to her clothing and to her hands than to anything else. If he feels excitement or lust, it doesn't register on his face.
He retrieves a dry cloak from the stash even before she's done, and tosses it to her as soon as she's finished washing.
She finds dry clothing suited for a man of moderate size under the floorboards. It will be a bit long and loose on her but she can roll sleeves, tighten the belt, and so on. The footgear doesn't fit and the stockings sag. There's a wool blanket at the bottom.
He tells Kat, "You may call me Sergor. You’ve been straight with me so I’ll tell you as much as I can at this time. You picked a bad target. Members of a very dangerous secret society were meeting at that festhall. They doubtless suspect that you are working for their foes. Stick with me and I’ll help you stay alive and free and get you back to your group. I'll think about what you owe me. However we settle it, I won't expect anything that you wouldn't do for hire as a professional adventurer. Fair enough? You ought to take a nap. We’ll move locations early this morning.”
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
Kat wraps the cloak around herself and rolls out the blanket, bundling up some of the clothes as a pillow.
"A very dangerous secret society? I don't suppose you'd tell me which? I would like to know who might have my description and who to avoid in future..."
She is aware of the risk she is taking in sleeping in his presence, but she is weary, and he has been only helpful so far. Its a risk she decides to take.
Kat wraps the cloak around herself and rolls out the blanket, bundling up some of the clothes as a pillow.
"A very dangerous secret society? I don't suppose you'd tell me which? I would like to know who might have my description and who to avoid in future..."
She is aware of the risk she is taking in sleeping in his presence, but she is weary, and he has been only helpful so far. Its a risk she decides to take.
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''I can't tell you that now, but if it doesn't compromise my mission, I will tell you more about the group before you depart Phlan. I don't want you to fall into their hands. You could hardly pay me back, then."
Sergor moves about setting up tripwires and rattling alarms in this room and the next. He uses a small wooden wedge to block the street entrance.
"If we are attacked, there's a trap door in the next room, under a heavy stone. Go down it and run through the sewer. It will take you to a place near the river. Good sleep, Katrina."
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
Kat slides the dagger under her makeshift pillow, a bundle of clothes, and lies on the folded blanket for a moment, covered only by a borrowed cloak. Well, she has slept in worse places.
She relaxes, finally, listening to the sounds of the city and the slight movements of her companion. Sleep will be difficult, given her host's obvious expectation that an attack is likely.
On the other hand, given she launched her robbery not long before mid night, if they are moving in the early morning that won't be a problem for long. Great.
