Sunday, February 12, 2017

Wilting Away (Part 7)

He was trying to come up with something that was worse than walking through sewers. Thus far his attempts hadn't been too successful. Even with a solid twenty minutes of thinking behind the little project, he had produced little for the effort. Most of his list consisted of the lesser duties that kept the Ebon Hold running. Dealing with and cleaning up after ghouls. Making sure that rotting individuals were preserved in a timely manner. That sort of thing.

He wasn't entirely convinced that those were worse than walking through a sewer.

The other two didn't seem to mind. Or rather, Simmons didn't seem to mind. The elf seemed like someone who at one point did mind, but had probably wandered down these winding paths enough to not be bothered any longer. At the very least, neither of them seemed to be as offended by the space as he was. Where they had started off from wasn't anything terrible, mind. But he could tell it was going to get worse the moment they had started moving. It was like knowing an enemy was around a corner. He could practically sense the stench.

Light knew he wanted to think about something else at this particular moment. But nothing was presenting itself. Conversation starting had never been Redamous's strong suit, and wandering through a bunch of samey stone passages that occasionally ran by a long stretch of darkened waters wasn't exactly prime pickings in terms of topic selection. A sigh managed to escape him as they turned a corner, only to be met by stairs. Stairs that were likely to bring them up to the streets above them.

Which they thankfully did. Emerging back into the light of day was a delightful sight, even with the fact that they were deep in enemy territory. The stairs had spit them through an archway, and they stopped alongside a far cleaner canal than they had previously seen. Off in the distance he could see gondolas making their way up and down the stream, though if anyone happened to actually be rowing he couldn't tell. Knowing this particular breed of elves, he could only assume that there was a high chance that they were driven by magic over anything else.

It was at here where their vague set of ideas resembling a plan started running out of steam, just as expected. Once they were in the city, the specifics all fell off the wagon. The biggest idea they had come up with was to find a few guards to knock out, given that the elf believed that in doing so they could potentially garner some marks to use via glamours. Should she be unable to get the little baubles, they were a bit worse off. Simmons could probably pass himself off in something resembling a believable way, so long as no one saw his face, and assumed he was a rather short elf with no ears. The worgen, not so much, though part of the reason for that was because he refused to toss out the idea of giving up his wolfish shape for something a bit more human-like.

The death knights remained back, waiting for the elf to stare up at the buildings above them long enough that she seemed to recognize where they were. When she had decided on their path, they set off again, winding around the canal until it brought them to a ramp which lead them to the busier streets above. From there, they dropped into darker alleys until they were most certainly out of sight of most of the elves going about their day. Regardless of the chance of running into a few sympathizers to the Nightborne cause, and thus people less likely to report them to the guard, it was hardly worth the chance.

Red tilted his head up to look around where they were passing through now. Going off of the various banners and now abandoned wooden stalls, he could only assume the more open space of the back alley had once been a market of sorts. How long it had sat without any vendors or customers, who was to say. That was not to say that it lacked entirely in any sort of life. Based on the slight flickers of light he saw in a few upper windows, a couple of individuals might be using the now empty shops that peppered the area to squat in.

Just as they were about to turn a corner, they were forced to double back due to the light of an approaching torch. Soon enough they found themselves met by another, similar light, whose owner raised his voice to shout, likely at the owner of the first torch. Whatever it was he said was in some elven tongue, and the worgen could barely make out a word of it. Something about finding something, maybe.

A response from a woman was shouted soon after, a voice that grew closer with each word spoken. Soon enough they were sandwiched between the two, with no further places to go, save an old wooden door whose lock had long since rusted. Simmons gave the door's knob a turn, letting out a sigh of relief when it allowed them to enter, which they did, ducking in before they were overcome by the guard.

Inside the dimly lit remains of whatever business was housed beyond the door, they idly wandered about, a sense of irritation and concern filling the room. They had been forced deep inside, due to the guards being right outside the door, torches in full view from the windows. Red let out a grunt as he pressed himself against a wall, doing his best to not stick out like the sore thumb he was, while the other two did similarly.

Off to the Worgen's left was a long shelf filled with old merchandise. Chains, collars, leashes, and harnesses lined it, with various price tags having long since covered over in dust to the point where he couldn't even decipher them. Across the way Simmons was poking at a few bags whose labels were no longer present. He glanced up at Redamous, whispering, "I think this must have been a pet shop or something."

The worgen just shook his head, deadpanning, "Sure as hell hope it was."

To his right he could hear the elf preparing to make some remark, probably a smart one at that as most would be wont to do, but she silenced herself at the sound of the shop's door opening. Torch light filtered in directly after as the guards meandered their way about, moving up and down the various shelves and counters, apparently looking for something. Whether they were just checking for squatters or looking for a more particular individual, none of them could say. All the worgen knew was that they were getting closer, and weren't likely to miss at least two of them. Due in no small part to the fact that their bloody eyes were glowing.

The pair passed by the elf with little notice, worming their way down the two sections of the shop. The one on the far side of the show was bound to walk right past Simmons, and the other was set on a course that walked right past him. Sharing a short look, the two death knights offered each other short nods. Simmons slowly unsheathed his blade, preparing to swing straight at the elf that approached him. Red just clinched a fist, bringing and readied a swing.

Redamous's elf passed first, with his helmet slowly coming into view as he peered about the store. The lock on his face turned from a rather bored expression to one of shock as he turned to find the lumbering worgen standing half a foot above him. It twisted in pain as said worgen's fist came down to slam straight into his helmet, saronite armor meeting whatever metal the elf's own protection happened to be made of. Whatever it was, it made a satisfying clang as it rebounded, sending the elf skittering across the room.

The elf's companion soon rushed forward, looking to help her companion at the sudden attack, only to meet a rune-filled blade, which slashed her across the chest. She too crumpled to the floor. Red turned, noting that the elf he had struck was stirring. Not that he was given the chance to fully do so. The worgen walked on over, bending down to grasp the elf's helmet and pull it up, only to slam it straight back down to the floor. Simmons gave an approving nod as he noticed the male elf's eyes flutter shut.

His approval didn't last too long, as taking the time to check that one elf was down, he failed to keep track of his own target. She soon rose behind him, drawing her own sword and slicing it across the human's back. Red blinked, dropping a foot back to strike at the woman, but he didn't get the chance. Their own elven ally struck first, bringing one of her spindly arms around the woman's neck, throttling her. As the woman's sword dropped to the ground, landing right next to where Simmons had dropped after the blow, she brought her armored gloves up to try and pry the woman from her back. When that proved to be harder than anticipated, she began slamming the other elf up against the walls in an attempt to free herself from her tormentor.

It was a vain attempt. By the time she had managed to free herself, she was forced to her knees, gasping in air like there wasn't going to be enough of it in the world to sate her. Her desperate attempt to take in oxygen was just enough of a distraction for the worgen to swing in and kick the woman straight in the head. The elf's head dropped with a thud, armor meeting wood.

Bringing himself to his feet, Simmons dusted off his armor. Looking at Red, he gave a quick mutter of "I meant to do that."

Xanthe rose from where she had been tossed aside, giving a nod of approval, "And now we have a set of disguises."

"Well," Simmons muttered, looking down at the unconscious elves, "We got two of three. Don't know what we're gonna do about him." He brought a hand up to point at Redamous.

The worgen canted a brow, frowning, "Who the hell says you ain't gonna be the one to go without?"

"Me. I call dibs," Simmons said flatly, crossing his arms.

The elf sighed, "Well if he is to go without, we will have to figure out a way for him to at least trail along without drawing too much suspicion. He looks like a beast that belongs in the menagerie."

Simmons blinked, looking past the worgen at one of the shelves, "Menagerie like. Something full of animals, right?"

Redamous frowned, turning his head to stare at the very shelf he had been peering at earlier, before turning to look back at Simmons. Opening his mouth a few times, only to close it since he hadn't properly come up with a thought, the worgen just stared at the other knight. Eventually he managed to determine just exactly what he wanted to say to the idea Simmons was potentially proposing.

"Try to put one a those collars on me, and I'm gonna strangle both of ya with 'em."

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