Book 1, Part 3: Threat of the Red Jills

pi4t · December 24, 2023

Star

Star twists her tail uncomfortably, not meeting the imp's eyes. On the one hand, a part of her wants to kill the creature, to kill all the spawn of Asmodeus. On the other hand, looking at the pathetic sight reminds her uncomfortably of herself, and other tiefling gutter-rats she's known. Is such a small thing really any more evil than she herself? "Can we...I dunno, let 'er choose or somethin'? Make 'er swear an oath, somethin' to make sure she won't harm anyone or work 'gainst us, then let 'er choose whether she wants to 'elp us an' get 'er own back on the ones what wrote that 'tract in the first place? Or just go off an...I dunno, whatever, long as it don't harm people." She looks at the contract uncertainly. She can speak infernal - it's in common use in the Devil's Nursery - but reading it is another matter, especially when it's something as complex as this.

She's relieved by Laria's interruption, and when she hears "Cloven Hoof" her own hooves are already taking her toward the stairs up to meet the visitor.

ccanary · January 2

Maria Callus

Maria Callus — Human Monk (medic)

Imp Finding

Maria was also quite certain she had little to offer in the contract end of things. So when Star went up to speak to Laria about their visitor, she was eager to follow.

"You should probably do the talking," she mentioned to Star on the way up. Cloven hoof society preferred to talk to Tieflings.

Mechanics

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ripleycat · January 13

Blosodriette nods eagerly at Star's suggestion. "Yes! A fair chance, that's all I want! I'll give you my word, I'll swear however you like, as long as it won't hurt me. No putting my hands on holy symbols." "You can't just promise to be good! Hell's in your very blood and bones."

Temperance finds the contract dreadfully dense and also simply dreadful, with ample mention of the horrors of Hell that can be inflicted on your (doubtless quite numerous) enemies by your new loyal servant. Rexus trails along, and assists where he can, while not making the prickly tiefling any more prickly.

What they find in the slow, careful reading is that while there's a terrible price, it's already been paid - Mendarius Sarini's soul was promised to Hell long ago - and also, a curious loophole. Blosodriette is entirely correct. The contract is phrased so that the bearer(s) of the contract may command her. Any bearer. Doubtless intended to allow any member of the Sarini family to take advantage of the hellish bargain. In practice, well, here we are. A gun with no safety setting.

If the contract is destroyed “or otherwise rendered null and void”, Blosodriette is free to act of her own volition. The Ravens seem sharply divided on the wisdom of that idea. As Star suggested, she could swear an oath or otherwise be compelled Looking at the little creature, sitting on the edge of the desk, kicking her legs like a child on a swingset, nursing a shot glass of coffee, the imp seems deceptively(?) harmless, and also very, very tired. "So, what do you think?"

Waiting upstairs is a ganging, teal-skinned tiefling lad of about 10, a street kid, who Star recognizes by sight but not by name. He’s sitting at the kitchen counter, wrapped tightly around a mug of hot chocolate. A patched messenger’s bag sits on the counter next to him. “Oh, it’s you! You’re the ones who chopped up those horrible fairies! Zea said she was gonna ask someone important, but I didn’t think you’d be important important!” He eagerly passes Star a slightly crumpled letter.

Laria starts putting together a plate of the dead man’s requested pastries, pausing to refill the kid’s mug and let him choose his favorite. Two favorites. And a cookie. Hard-edged, ruthless fixer indeed.

The note is written in Zea’s unmistakable “got into a fight with the pen and lost” handwriting.

Quote

“We’re getting the Society back on its hooves! Treat our new courier right, the kids run all over the city all day.”

“Nursery’s got another crisis. People getting mugged and beaten and robbed every day. It’s the Red Jills. Something’s changed with them. A new leader, or some kind of bargain with the Thrunies? Don’t know for certain. Never had many ties with them in the old days, and they're not real keen on talking now.

They’re not skulking around jumping drunks in dark corners anymore. Out at all hours, in streets that definitely weren’t theirs a month ago. Never seen so many red cloaks in my life. Dottari aren’t going after them at all. Not that they ever did, but so long as they leave anyone wearing Thrune’s colors alone, the Jills have free reign to do whatever they like, and they’re getting mean and stupid about it, preying on everyone who touches their turf, even folk from the Nursery with two coppers in their pockets, beating and sometimes killing the ones who resist now. They need to be dealt with, give them a good hard smack, like the Torrent would, but the Torrent’s all run to the winds, and the dottari aren’t shit.

But if you handled them, that’d show everyone there was still a force for good in this city. Someone other than Thrune. Someone legitimate. "The Ravens put things right." People might start listening to that. They might help out, join up. Just an idea, but I think it’s real, and either way, some pest control’s not gonna do anyone any harm.

Come on by if you want a hand, or just to chat. It’d be good for me. Be good for the whole neighborhood. People still whisper about what you did for us."

Star and Kyla know the subject of the letter well. The name even sparks something in the dead man's mind. The out-of-towners, less so. The Red Jills are thieves, mostly. Bullies and muggers. In normal times, they persisted by being secretive and small enough to make dottari crackdowns too much effort worth the trouble. They're mostly sly and greedy, though, not bloodthirsty. If Zea's right about them suddenly being willing to kill their targets, something very bad has happened.

Kintargo doesn’t have any gangs big enough to act as a Thieves’ Guild - the last to claim the title, the Grey Spiders, a band of slavetakers and smugglers, were utterly destroyed after they assassinated the lictor of the Order of the Torrent. The Hellknights came down on them with such crushing force that the underworld’s crown has been vacant for 40 years. The Red Jills might be eyeing the throne, or maybe they’re just taking advantage of the current chaos.

“They’d be useful recruits, but I wouldn’t hold my breath. The Jills never gave a single damn about any of the underground organizations before Thrune showed his ugly face. They’re only in it for themselves. Pure greed.” Laria shakes her head as she finishes reading from ~~over~~ under Star’s shoulder. “I like this Zea’s thinking, though. If your rebellion’s gonna win through, at some point you’ll need to prove you can keep things from flying to pieces after Thrune gets toppled. Good start, this. It's good for regular folks, and nobody’s gonna shed tears if the damned Jills get thrashed like naughty children.”

Some time earlier...

A large sign made of eclectic, artistically rendered letters of copper and iron stands over the broad entryway of this establishment, reading, “Vespam Artisans.” To Temperance, it immediately feels, and sounds, like home. Not "home" as in Westcrown, but home. A place to belong.

A raucous symphony of steel spills out onto the street while several skilled metalworkers practice their art within. The bulk of the building’s interior is taken up by a large open area that serves as workshop, warehouse, and market. The rancid smell of slurk grease and other industrial chemicals lies heavy in the air, but the crafters and tinkers toiling within don't seem to notice the foul odor.

They are not actually employees, the small, bespectacled, white-haired man who appears at her side as if by magic quickly explains - they merely rent space and equipment here, a modest cut of their earnings in exchange for the many conveniences of a shared workspace.

Vespasio Vespam quickly clips a set of retractable magnifying glasses to his spectacles, and eagerly examines Temperance's offerings. "Mmm. Hm hm hm. Look at that. Firearms aren't where I dabble, personally, and you're not the first to claim Alkenstar's work, but I can tell you've got the real thing, and probably a good hand and head for it. Are you looking for a workspace for yourself, or something more particular?"

Vespam is an affable host, eager for more patrons, and protective of the clients who already work within. He clucks over the soot- and oil-stained tinkerers like they're his own apprentices. Temperance notes the presence of a few gunsmiths among the crowd, stealing curious glances at the one-of-a-kind rifle. Solid work - no cheap scrap-iron designs from the Shackles or Belkzen here, but largely traditional, at least as far as anything to do with gunsmithing is "traditional". Some potentially interesting work with bullet shapes, a clocksmith working at the gears of a laborious, bulky multi-barreled design that's going to change the world, or blow up and kill seven people. Temperance's caplock is genuinely new, at least to Kintargo, and soon the curious glances become a curious crowd, eager for a closer look, and willing to barter for one.

Edited January 14 by ripleycat (see edit history)

theredshirtwholive · January 14

Kyla

Kyla nods. "I agree with Laria-we should probably deal with the Red Jills. We may not be the Order of the Torrent, but we're still gonna bring a whole flood of whoopass down on the Red Jills' heads."

OOC

Edited January 14 by theredshirtwholive (see edit history)

ccanary · January 15

Maria Callus

Maria Callus — Human Monk (medic)

Imp Finding

Oh, she didn't want to know what Maria thought. It was a good thing she was headed upstairs. No good in mentioning bags and rivers again. Rexus and Temperance would do what they thought wisest. She just had to trust them.

"We're not that important Son," she crouched down to the boy's level and smiled at him.

"Zea is the one doing the important stuff. And her helpers. So, gangs of thugs preying on the helpless and they want us to intervene. It's like we should be paying them for the privilege!" she seemed eager to 'stretch her legs'. And crack her knuckles.

"And don't worry Laria. Some of us can be charming! Maybe even win some allies. Not me, of course, but some of us!" The rest, well, they needed the, what did Kyla call it, the 'whoopass' department too.

Mechanics

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Mister Doctor · January 15

Dead Guy - Character Sheet

KAC: 19/18 Fort: +10 Ref: +5 Will: +6
HP: 31/40 THP: 0/6 Hero: 1/3 | Perception: +6

"Krrh-Charr...ming," the corpse said around the remains of an eclair it had placidly masticated into an unrecognizable paste. A few chunks fell from its mouth and landed in its lap with a faint and forlorn pattering. It still had not seemed to grasp that it was supposed to swallow pastries after chewing them.

"Nnn-I go? Khh-k-keep Jills from hhhurting mmmore. Hrrn-Yooou do sssmart. Find... nnnest?" The corpse offered, stumbling its way through the complex thoughts as it attempted something approaching a strategic application of manpower in addressing the problem. It was needing to apply itself more these days now that the group it was a part of were soundly beyond the point where throwing oneself mindlessly at a problem until it was reduced to bloody scraps was a suitable tactic.

Fletcher · January 15

Kjersti Volden

"What's this 'bout some whoopass?" Kjersti joins the group that has met the messenger from the Cloven Hoof, briefly towering over the smaller ones until she joins Maria on her knee to speak move closely, less imperiously, with them. The courier is just a kid, after all. And even if he considers them to be heroes, that doesn't mean he couldn't be afraid. After she has been given the rundown and taken a passing attempt at Zea's handwriting, the farmgirl reaches out and adds a little drawstring pouch of coppers to his plate next to the cookie. "You keep care with that, y'hear? 'Specially with the Jills an' the dottari. You tell Zea an' your friends that this place is safe - long as ya'll listen to Miss Laria, here. An' you see any of us in the street, ya'll play it cool... but always come to us for help."

Craning her head up to where Deadman is absolutely annihilating the eclair and scaring the rest of the pastries with his mouth spatter, she chuckles faintly at the both-amusing/gross process. Kjersti looks to Star, knowing the two have developed more connection than the rest of them with the Deadman. "I reckon that's a fair idea. Sure put the fear'a gods in them Saltworks hooligans. Whatcha say, Star? Let 'im go'on ahead?" She regards him again. "Long as he's careful... well... careful as y'can."

Later that evening, the tall farmgirl is back at the odd 'shoreline' that borders their underground lair (now that it is thankfully giant-reptile-free) with the Falco ancestral hammer. Her jacket and heavy chain shirt are haphazardly 'folded' on a boulder leaving her muscular upper body bare, but for the wrap about her chest. While she is no expert at 'forms' or 'motions' - and maybe such things don't really exist when wielding a literal block of iron on a handle - she knows how best she would hit someone with the thing, and so that's how she begins. Alternating two-handed to one-handed swings, feeling the new weight and balance on the slightly shorter weapon, she is working up a sweat and a pleasant burn from the exercise.

Letting the hammer drop to the ground with a gravel-muffled thump, Kjersti swipes a forearm across her forehead, slicks back her hair, and takes a knee with her waterskin. Her bright blue gaze takes in the work of tidying and organizing their new home and a faint smile comes to the corner of her mouth.

Home. A weird thought, but... it didn't feel like she was going to be going anywhere soon, so...

Kjersti gives the courier a little pouch of 15cp

Edited January 15 by Fletcher (see edit history)

Toraka_Stormheart · January 15

Temperance - Character Sheet

AC: 19 Fort: +6 Ref: +10 Will: +4

HP: 24/24 Rebel Points: 4/3 | Perception: +6

Ammunition: 20/20 (40 Reserve) | Alchemy PreparedAlchemical Cartridges: 20 | ConditionsNone

At Vespam Artisans

"Both, to be honest. There is much more that I could learn and do, I'm sure of it. Perhaps in tandem with your other artisans new breakthroughs can be made. If you have the space and willing, I would like to come here more."

Once the blessing was granted, Temperance introduced herself to the other gunsmiths, noticing the gathering of artisans in curiosity at the technology she was offering. In her element, the tiefling started laying out her drawings in an organized fashion.

"What I'm offering is something that can be implemented in your own creations with simple modifications. Just change the casting on your hammer and primer port. The percussion caps can be stamped with ease, and I will teach how to mix the primers so that they remain in the caps."

Pausing, she looked at some of the other works, the wheels turning in her head. "In open exchange...any chance we could maybe make that into something..handheld? The primers could perhaps work on the back, with a simple gear and lock mechanism to affix the barrels..." Temperance went on, sharing ideas and working with them, expanding her craft in a strange sense of community connected through progress...

At the Wasps' Nest

Finished with her perusal of the contract, Temperance fixed her glasses on her nose before slowly standing up. Looking at Rexus, she handed the academic the piece of paper. "For safe keeping at the moment." Turning to Blosodriette, the tiefling knelt down, her eyes narrow as she spoke low, evenly, and with intent. "P'shau basch ku'rotahl. Chaghagh, zerul bazal: nik gheel, nik jorbath, nik corton. Ja mestil?" *Infernal: "Your fate is yet undecided. But understand this for now: with this group, no pranks, no mischief, no disruption. Are we clear?"

Making her way upstairs, it did not take long for the blonde to be caught up with the current affairs. Crossing her arms under her chest, the tiefling nodded towards the others, affirming the intent. "Methinks we are in agreement though. This faction is a problem to be solved. Deadman can unsettle things, and in the meantime, we prepare." Taking a sharp breath, she glanced towards Kyla and Star hesitantly, as if studying them.

Later that Evening

During Kjersti's reverie, after a lingering moment of silence, the farmgirl would hear the sound of a couple of steps approaching. "Could hear you from my space and I'm frankly done with numbers for the day." The prim, professional voice of Temperance clipped in as she made herself known. As she approached, the redhead could see that the tiefling was dressed down from her customary fineries and coat. Simply wearing her breeches and a white linen shirt, her boots clicked on the graveled ground as she stood a few meters away from the woman, gently carrying her sheathed rapier in her left hand.

"Your swings are strong. But if they're blocked you'll just get tired. How about a moving target this time?"

Show Mechanics

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Edited January 15 by Toraka_Stormheart (see edit history)

Fletcher · January 16

Kjersti Volden

Kjersti's head turns back round to see an unexpectedly under-dressed Temperance approaching. She hadn't seen the tiefling in aught but her fancy coat thus far, and she takes it as an overall good sign that she is... well, maybe not settling in but at least not 'one foot out the door'. The smile grows on her flushed face and she nods apologetically. "Di'n know my gruntin' was carryin' on so far. We c'n find somethin' to help block the sound a bit better." Using the boulder to push herself up from the kneel, the redhead stretches her arms up and back before moving to pick up the hammer.

"It's smaller, but ain't lighter... maybe some dwarvish craftin' in there," she muses, lifting it (mostly) effortlessly with one hand and letting it clap into her other palm. The weapon begs to be used, somehow, whether because of the years mounted as a display on the wall or to avenge the family who it was taken from by the fires. "You sure? Don't seem fair..." A wry smile finds her lips, a tease in mind. "I ain't used to it yet even if it packs a whallop... and you gots that slim blade there... I just reckon you're fixin' to dance 'round me and poke holes." Instead of an insult to the smaller woman's style, the farmgirl easily self-deprecates cause she knows a skilled fighter might get the better of her. She just picked up that old hammer less than a week ago, and all the heads she'd caved with it so far were nowhere near skilled.

Smirk still intact, Kjersti hefts the hammer onto one shoulder. "A'ight, Temp'rance... Don't go easy, but I do like my blood on the insides." Without any more pretense, she waits til the rapier is drawn before coming in with a big, downward swing to force Temperance to dodge. All she ever saw was that quick, stiff, boot-clicking walk and she wants to see how nimble she really is.

Toraka_Stormheart · January 17

Temperance - Character Sheet

AC: 19 Fort: +6 Ref: +10 Will: +4

HP: 24/24 Rebel Points: 4/3 | Perception: +6

Ammunition: 20/20 (40 Reserve) | Alchemy PreparedAlchemical Cartridges: 20 | ConditionsNone

Evening Training

A brow slightly raised, Temperance deftly raised the rapier up, drawing it in a smooth motion before tossing the scabbard aside. "No blood intended." She simply said, raising her blade up, wrist and posture relaxed as she let the redhead make the first move.

"Predictable" said the tiefling as she stepped to the side at the last minute, her strength applied in a way to redirect the hammer away. Her yellow eyes did not blink once as she stepped to the side, ducking under the follow-up sideswipe from the farmgirl. Before Kjersti could recover from the second swing, the tiefling's free hand was on her wrist, stopping her momentum as the hilt of the rapier connected with her chin: nothing damaging, but jarring. A second later she was at blade's length, the tip of the rapier on Kjersti's chest.

"Think. Focus. Leave your enemy guessing." The stern tone of the tiefling was likely grating as she kept moving, hardly taking the offensive but rather nullifying Kjersti's attacks.

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pi4t · January 17

Star

Star looks slightly uncertain, but allows herself to be persuaded by Kjersti. "Jus'...make sure they are the Jills what you've found 'fore you do anythin'. Not jus' some poor guy what wore a red cloak on the wrong day." She pauses, still looking uncertain, and as Deadman turns to leave she calls after him. "Hey, Deado...try not ta make too much 'f a mess? Kill 'em if you need to, but make it quick. We're tryin' ta get folks to join us, not be frightn'd of us."

After Deadman leaves, Star looks at Temperance and Kyla. "The Jills' were based on the Redroof side o' Temple Hill last I heard. Dunno where 'xactly, but we can probly find it if we look hard 'nuff."

Edited January 18 by pi4t (see edit history)

Fletcher · January 19

Kjersti Volden

"Well." Kjersti chuckles as Temperance falls immediately into the role of harsh trainer. She imagines her motions are probably pretty sluggish and obvious to someone quick as the tiefling. Honestly the only reason she had been swinging a hammer was because it was that or fists. And something about their encounters so far made her think the fists could only go so far. With her arms extended at the end of an arc, Temperance easily restricts a follow-up and kisses her on the chin with a teeth-clacking hilt.

Kjersti rubs a wrist across her face and chuckles again as the tip presses at her sternum. "Temp'rance... I'm a big girl. Anythin' they guess is gonna be right. I'ma try to smack 'em." She takes a step back from the rapier and brings the hammer up again, hands separate enough that she's not swinging it like a giant log, but could maybe even pivot the weapon if she wanted. If she could.

The redhead closes the space, aiming to sweep the blade off to one side with the long haft between her hands, then punches the head of the hammer like a ram or spear into the tiefling's... well, it would have been aimed for the gut on a taller being, but was more chest-height on her.

Mister Doctor · January 19

Dead Guy - Character Sheet

KAC: 19/18 Fort: +10 Ref: +5 Will: +6
HP: 31/40 THP: 0/6 Hero: 1/3 | Perception: +6

"Chuh-Charrmmming," was all the dead thing seemed willing to say further on the matter as it stood and pulled the hood of its ragged cloak up around its ruined features. Even so, as it moved past Star, that heavy hand landed on her shoulder and gave as light a squeeze as the necrotic muscles seemed able to manage. It was still a little too hard but the corpse was starting to dial in on such delicate gestures.

At least in Kintargo's poorest neighborhoods it might fit in a little more.

The corpse did not seem terribly put out by being asked to direct the endless, implacable rage in its heart towards a target other than Thrunist lackeys. Fury is easy to transfer to new subjects, often unjustly. It was fortunate the corpse had people more in control of their faculties to help make sure its rage was pointed at those deserving of it.

Cruelty is an easy thing in this world. For those of weak will and small mind, nothing soothes the constant irritation of seemingly never amounting to anything of worth better than lording a temporary position of power over those weaker than they. It is a hollow but addictive assurance that their existence has any meaning beyond simply being another person in a sea of people. After all, they hold power now so surely they must mean something, right? Much easier than trying to build meaning and purpose with the people around them.

It was so easy for them to single out a washer woman hurrying back to her tenement after a long day on the estate of her betters. The red cloaks should have been a give away, a flashy affectation that ruined attempts at stealth but these three were practiced hunters of people. The red cloak only showed up when it was too late. A final twist of the metaphorical knife before a much more real one showed up.

The corpse was just as practiced.

The poor woman did not, perhaps want to run face first into the unyielding form of the dead man in the blind alley she had found herself herded into but the corpse hardly seemed to care. The large raven perched on its shoulder fluffed up in irritation as his perch was disturbed and the corpse turned a ruined face down to the woman.

"Hhhrn-Open... dooor. Sssaffee. Go!" The corpse ordered and pushed her behind its bulk.

With an idle disregard for anything so petty as pain, the corpse pulled the dagger sticking out of its stomach and tossed it aside. The first of the Red Jills had not stood a chance. As rough and battered as the old bastard sword was, when applied with enough force and fury it served perfectly well to turn someone's rib cage into bloody flinders.

The corpse stepped over that red ruin, leaving its avian companion to give the remains a few desultory pecks despite not needing to eat, and only gave a passing glance to the second of the Red Jills. She had thought she had the corpse with that dagger to the gut. She was probably surprised when the corpse simply grabbed her wrist, unhinged its jaws, leaned in, and excavated a significant portion of her throat. Her head had flopped at an alarming angle as she fell, shock writ large across her face.

The third however... the third was still alive, though not for long if that leg was not treated. When he had turned to run, the corpse had simply hacked into the back of his thigh and likely even into the femur. The corpse knelt in front of the sole surviving Red Jill, a cold spark flickering in its single cloudy blue eye, fresh blood painting the lower half of its face and torso scarlet.

This final survivor clearly assumed something horrid was about to happen to him as well, having crawled backwards until his back was flush against the wall. Surprisingly, the corpse did not simply kill this last footpad as well. Instead, it idly chewed and then swallowed the chunk of flesh it had ripped free earlier.

"Hrk-k-you... live. Tell Reds. Grrkss-Streetsss nnnot theirs. I... killll." Message delivered, the corpse promptly grabbed the ankle of the deceased Red Jill nearest it and stood up, dragging the fresh kill behind it as it retreated into the dark.

Edited January 19 by Mister Doctor (see edit history)

Toraka_Stormheart · January 19

Temperance - Character Sheet

AC: 19 Fort: +6 Ref: +10 Will: +4

HP: 24/24 Rebel Points: 4/3 | Perception: +6

Ammunition: 20/20 (40 Reserve) | Alchemy PreparedAlchemical Cartridges: 20 | ConditionsNone

Evening Training

The rapier was deflected easy enough, and Kjersti would feel the hammer's head connect and yield a little. A soft grunt escaped the tiefling's lips as she was pushed back a few inches, heels digging into the gravel. Looking down, Temperance's left hand was holding the hammer head in front of her chest, absorbing some of the blow.

"Nnh. Self aware is good. But you have to do better." In one move, the left hand grabbed the head of the hammer and pulled while her body slid forward to the redhead's right side. "You won't be helping anyone this way." A pommel went straight to Kjersti's side, followed by a pushing kick to give the two some space.

Adopting a defensive stance again, Temperance stepped, her back to the water. "Again."

Show Mechanics

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Fletcher · January 19

Kjersti Volden

A quirk of Kjersti's brow shows her surprise that the Temperance caught the weight of the hammer blow in hand, and she possibly only drove her back because of the gravelly ground they are standing on. A surprising realization comes to the redhead's mind, regarding the smaller tiefling. She's strong. And now that she thinks of it... she has held Temperance's firearm which was much heavier than she had expected. Admittedly, Kjersti doesn't know much about tieflings, but this one here was surely interesting.

Caught up in her musing, the farmgirl is yanked off her balance and receives a sharp punch in the side from the rapier and the ensuing kick to capitalize on it. Kjersti kind of staggers in a small circle with a chuckle as she recovers, a hand pressing against what will surely be a ripe bruise in the morning. "That's a bit unkind of ya," she says, the ratio of humor to tension in her mood beginning to shift. "An' y'dont gotta say it. Y'ain't here to be kind. I know." The hammer tosses faintly in the air and she chokes up on the grip, holding it one-handed though her other lands lightly on the butt.

Kjersti steps in over those few feet, raising the hammer for a long swing from high to low... expecting Temperance to catch the hammer's "chin" (cause she don't know what any part of these weapons is really called) with her rapier, since she has been taking advantage of this opportunity to display the unrealized power. While Temperance's arm is raised to deflect, the redhead releases the hammer with one hand, stoops under that contact and hooks the tiefling under the armpit with the crook of her elbow. Wrenching on the joint gently to encourage Temperance to flow with the motion, she spins her away from the water's edge and gives her own little shove this time.

"Thing is... the hammer been a nice tool for the job since I got here.... But I don't fight with hammers." She drops the Falco heirloom with a thump into the gravel and clenches her fingers til her gloves creak and fingers pop. Now she is standing at the water's edge, water licking at her heel, where she sets herself and gestures for another 'go'. A little smirk finds her lips.

Edited January 19 by Fletcher (see edit history)

Text_1	Text_2	Text_3	Bold_1	Accent_1	Mood_1
Warm_1	Warm_2	Warm_3	Bold_2	Accent_2	Mood_2
Cool_1	Cool_2	Cool_3	Bold_3	Accent_3	Mood_3
Bright_1	Bright_2	Bright_3	Bold_4	Accent_4	Mood_4

Book 1, Part 3: Threat of the Red Jills

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