TheOasysMaster

I'm back, FML, sorry about disappearing.

*looks at the camera* Who knows? It might even be relevant later?

I. Will have to continue this tomorrow.

Burrow Heights is a unique neighborhood-in-a-neighborhood. Here, on a cluster of small mounds, once sheltered on the west by trees and on the east by the Millstream, the wide stream that runs north to south through the Free City, dozens of short demihumans rent homes that have been built completely underground. Halflings from Elmshire, dwarves from Greysmere and elsewhere, and gnomes from Grossettgrottell stay here, usually on merchant or diplomatic business for long periods of time (several months to several years). Few humans wander here, simply because there’s nothing much to see or do. Crime is low, though a mugger and other ne'er-do-wells have hidden in the western trees in hopes of overpowering the smaller folk, who often carried daggers and other weapons close at hand. The trees are gone now, felled in response to rising violence in the Free City and to provide shelter for the city's exploding population. Instead of trees, Burrow Heights is not ringed with piles of burning piles of refuse and makeshift barricades, hastily erected in order to try and control who comes into the neighborhood. Taking the carts into Burrow Heights would be impractical, with the terrain and the high tensions of its locals but resourceful as she is, Taty knows she has other options... she could continue eastward, to the Processional and then head south to the hopeful safety of the Low Market or she could go south right away, skirting the edge of the rioting Foreign Quarter and self-defense-minded Burrow Heights until reaching the main road which would quickly take her into Low Market. This way would risk exposing the little band to the chaos but could be faster than the more indirect route of the Processional road, which could be quite crowded with the curfew breaking. From her seat atop the wagon, Tatyana can see some of the inhabitants of Burrow Heights on 'guard' duty, watching from their 'posts' among the garbage and barricades, armed with what looks to be repurposed rakes and gardening hoes and what appears to be colanders fashioned into attempts at helmets. Times like these turn neighbors into strangers and strangers into something even worse.

Theldrat looks confused. "Other matter?" he carefully lowers his son back to the floor and manages to use the doorframe to get to his feet. "Connected to this? What..." His gaze falls on the thugs, lain out on the floor. "...what they did to my son?"

Havner's handshake is a firm one and he does not use the opportunity to try and crush Sareem's hand in an attempt to intimidate the man. When they release their hands, some of the black film coating Havner's body sticks to Sareem's palm. Havner nods, his lips moving without speaking, feeling the name out and remembering it. Again, Havner nods. Havner had been listening intently to Sareem's words, only now does he cross his arms and flash a smile. Without looking at Lily and Novak, he replies, "Ask them. The people I work for... after a fashion, they do not really bargain, my friend." He then holds up one of his black fingers and wags it before Sareem. "You..." his grin widens, "...shall not pass. I cannot allow it, Sareem. I have my orders. But if you're as smart as I think you are, I am sure I'll see you on the other side of the Free City's walls." He lowers his hand, shifting so they're placed on his hips. "I would love to hear about where you come from," he continues, "I've recently met another foreigner, a Flan nobleman! He told me about the elf woods in his homeland. And crossing the great waters to get here. Imagine it! Greyhawk is all I have known all my life." Lily and Novak are somewhat familiar with Havner; not friends, obviously, but his reputation precedes him. As far as they can recall, this is the closest thing to respect or even interest they've ever seen or heard him show anyone beneath him. While this friendliness is a new side to the man, it is clear he is not budging on the issue of letting them pass through this pipeline.

Outside, over Theldrat's sobbing, Red Mask and Max can hear a crowd gathering and in the shifting light of the setting sun, make out curious bystanders approaching the front of the locksmith's trying to peer inside. Show this OooC 6 minutes ago, evedgebah said: Can, he's not in the habit of resurrecting enemies. Particularly since this one was nonlethal-ed and immediately rose to try and stab him. Understood!

Theldrat turns. His eyes are bloodshot and red. Tears stream down his jowls. He lets out a wet, choked cough and says, "Who? Where?" Still cradling his son in his arms, he tries to look around the shop and groans with the effort.

OooC On 3/3/2024 at 2:47 PM, evedgebah said: Max has Lay on Hands, and he doesn't really do discreet...he can, if asked though. Understood! EDIT: Wait, so he could have healed them this whole time? lol

Just reading that sent a chill down my spine.

Havner had been watching Lily walk off when his attention is pulled back right to Sareem. His expressions flash from surprise to something akin to respect and admiration. "You are, obviously, not from around here," Havner says, meeting Sareem's gaze. His eyes are black pits surrounded by a stark, almost shining white. Sareem can see that he's blinking a lot to keep sweat out of his eyes. "...but you are with the right people to show you how things really work. I have a feeling that you are going to be a fast learner, outlander." Havner hesitates. Then he extends his hand toward Sareem. "What are you called?"

More OoC Also, I'm realizing the dynamic that Red Mask and Max have here... has noted that he's trying to be discreet... is Max trying not to be overheard, ?

Show this OoC Between your two characters... do either of you have the means to actually pull either of these guys into conciousness? =P

Theldrat is already breathing heavily as he stumbles into his shop. The Red Mask can see him looking and turning about, looking for his son. "Junior! JUNIOR!" Theldrat reaches the storefront and gasps, falling onto his stomach in a cry of grief. The man lets out a hoarse gasp and crawls to his son's side and clumsily pulls the corpse into a tearful embrace. "Ah! My son! My son!!"

It was flu, really bad (I didn't get the flu shot this year). Now, though, I might have undercooked pork, based on what the other people who ate are going through. =/ This is why I gotta stick to my diet.