Dross on the streets [White Tower Group: Patrol]

[Lugh]

Beron

Beron watched as Natlya slipped through the window, and was impressed by how well she ascended the wall. He felt his curiosity peak when she appeared, her climb apparently effortless.

Light this Gaidin is like a mountain cat Beron thought to himself as she moved over the floor soundlessly. Then he was surprised to see her lower her ear to the floor. Realization suddenly dawned, and he wondered how often she had used such a trick to estimate the foes numbers.

Three bandits on the first floor, she signaled to Beron, and he nodded in reply. Wondering if they should capture one or simply subdue and eliminate the thread, Beron felt himself feeling unsure.

With his Drin rank, he knew the best course of action would be to allow the Gaidin to plan and use her greater expertise to subdue the men below. Beron moved slowly, sitting down on his heels as he used the dust to quietly scribble a message.

What would you like to do next Gaidin? he wrote into the dust, hoping his deference to her experience would allow her to show him more of how the Gaidin worked together on the field. He knew many of the Gaidin were peerless warriors, but he also knew the strength of the Grey Tower was in its cooperation.

[Bella]

Although it was a little hard to read in the dim light, Natlya was able to make out enough of the words to understand what he was asking and she nodded once in acknowledgement.

The truth was that while Nat was indeed a Gaidin, and a not a brand-new one, she was still comparatively junior within the Yards and had usually been out with contemporaries (bloody, flaming Terric...) or senior Gaidin that she was meant to follow. It was a somewhat new experience to be in the leader/trainer role outside of the Yards.

So, she felt a little out of her element, but made sure that it didn't show. She thought fast.

She had heard three voices on the floor below, but that didn't mean there weren't more--either silent or in another room. They didn't know the layout of the room, or the armor and armaments of who was there. They needed to know more. So, she pointed between them to indicate the both of them and then gestured 'walking' toward the door and down the stairs.

Then she pointed to her eyes. We need to see more, was the message.

It was risky, she knew, but she also knew they were likely able to handle anything there. She hoped. Rising to her feet, she pulled her sword again and--checking that Beron was with her--she moved toward the partially open door.

[Lugh]

Beron

Beron watched the Gaidin as she thought for a moment then signalled that they would be advancing to the door. A brisk nod was all he allowed himself as he Natlya draw her sword smoothly and crept towards the door.

Following suit, Beron drew his dagger as he decided the weapon was probably better suited to his needs. Taking care with his steps, he wished he had mastered the Emptiness; that constant balance and alertness that allowed Gaidin to move like stalking mountain cats.


The door was luckily open already, sliding through it easily accomplished and a thick railing helped obscure sight lines from the bottom floor. The narrow hallway that extended behind them showed litter and other signs of abuse, some of the doors even bore the telltale gashes left by an axe. The owner tried to resist, but help never came, thought Beron to himself as he noticed the rusty stain of old blood just at the top of the landing.

Moving down the stairs proved trickier as the wooden risers were littered with pottery and books, among other shreds of clothing torn in a search for wealth.

“All this time and we just found dresses and a few necklaces. Hardly enough to risk the noose for,” grumbled a raspy voice, the clarity of the sound leading Beron to believe he was in the large common room. A muffled reply came later, the bulk of which Beron could not make out although he caught the clear baritone as the bandit entered from another room, “...the pay was plenty and you’ve food in your belly instead of steel. The Lotus aren’t messing around, and once the island starts to feel the hunger we are set.”

Beron stopped for a moment and let the import of the words settle in his mind. Someone was clearly organizing the looters, and Beron could feel his anger rising as he gripped the hilt of his dagger tightly.

[Bella]

Nat set her teeth, focusing on being quiet until they got closer. She could spot one door with lights burning inside, so it was clear that some of them were in there. That was likely the large room she'd heard the three. Someone entered from a door attached to it, and there was another door across the hall. It was closed, so no checking that out without alerting anyone.

She turned to catch Beron's attention and pointed to the closed door, gesturing at her eyes. Be wary.

Then turning back to the main room where the voices were, she contemplated their best approach. A Gaidin and a trainee versus three bandits... It shouldn't be a problem, she reckoned, but she always knew that the Pattern had a tricksy sense of humor so she wasn't going to take anything for granted.

Nat gestured at the door, and then a punching motion. The way through is straight.

One finger, crossed wrists. Capture first. Two fingers, throat slice. Kill if need be.

She waited to make sure he understood and see if he had any questions.

[Lugh]

Beron

Beron stood against the wall as much as he could, his body twisted to provide less of an outline should anyone glance briefly into the stairway. He had learned as a scout that a man shape stuck out far more against the backdrop then anyone expected. A single man creating a ridge could give away a company if the telltale motion of how men walked was seen.

Natyla quickly assessed the situation, her hands signalling quietly that she wanted Beron to be especially wary of the entry to the Kitchen. Beron signalled his agreement, he knew the other room would be a blind spot, so in his mind he was already thinking about the best way to handle it. He did feel a swell of pride when it became apparent that she was going to trust him to help her subdue these bandits.

Capture first, kill second Beron thought as she flashed her signals at him, and he nodded his understanding as he readied his dagger. Thinking for a moment, he slide his dagger into the sheath on his hip and drew his throwing dagger instead. His aim was much improved after spending many hours on the sands of the Warder Yard, and he hoped to use a thrown dagger as an advantage.

Knowing that surprise would be one of their best allies, Beron carefully walked down the stairs, wrapping himself in the Ko’di, the sense of oneness that helped Gaidin fight as warriors without peer. His control was shaky, but as he solidified the Void, he could tell that it had helped calm his nerves and steady his breathing.

A moment to pause at the base of the stairs, and Beron then dashed into the room. Through the edge of his vision he could see that one of the men stood apart from the others, much closer to the kitchen door than the table. Fearing an alarm or escape, Beron snapped his arm smoothly through the motion of the throw, and sent his blade through the air. Curses and the scraping of chair legs let him know that the men behind him were reacting to his sudden appearance, but he trusted the Gaidin to fight two, he needed to stop this man.

His blade, well balanced and forged of fine Tower steel, caught the bandit in the arm as a sudden jerk had moved the man farther than Beron had thought possible. With the speed of long practice, Beron Unfolded the Fan his dagger sliding smoothly out of the sheath as he advanced.

Seeing naked steel backed the bandit onto his heels, the other hand fumbling with his handle as it tied up in his belt. Cursing he backpedalled into a corner, his own blade coming out as Beron finished closing the gap.

Mindful of the request made by Nat, Beron tried to press in forward to keep the bandit on the defensive. But this was no raw villager, even if he lacked the training of a Drin; no one lived the life of an outlaw without knowing something about violence. The bandit swung his blade down awkwardly, but with the large blade and corner it had the desired effect of forcing Beron to adapt his attack.

Sliding smoothly into a high guard, Beron stopped the descending knife before it could strike over his arm, quickly thinking to grab the bandits greasy clothes. Struggling to keep the knife held aloft, Beron twisted his body to absorb the sudden blow of a knee striking his hip. Keeping the knee from winding him, Beron could feel the bandit’s balance shifting and with a heave he brought his off hand down in a sharp pull and back stepped away from the falling man.

A few seconds later he had the man’s knife kicked away on the floor, and the bandit pinned beneath him in an arm lock, with his blade close at hand. Panting from the adrenaline, Beron turned to survey the rest of the room, dragging the man up or forcing him to tear his own shoulder.

[Bella]

The Gaidin and the Ji'val advanced into the room, moving in a way that managed to be both quick and cautious. It was something of a Warder Yard Skill that all trainees were taught, and Gaidin continued to practice as frequently as possible.

And nearly as soon as they had breached the room, the fight had begun. Beron was instantly engaged with one of the men, which left the other two for her. Naturally, she wasn't too concerned. She was a Gaidin of the Grey Tower, after all. With her sword already drawn, she quickly advanced on the two who were scrambling to meet her. Neither had a weapon in their hand yet, although she wouldn't count on that to last for very long.

She moved in and swung her blade, aiming for a disabling but not killing blow.

Such plans were usually the ones where the Pattern wove that one crooked thread, and that odd turn happened. The foot hitting the one slippery spot out of a million dry ones. The wagon wheel falling off when the road was smooth. Tugging on that one loose thread, only to learn that it was critical to the structural integrity of the entire shirt. This was that moment for Natlya. The fluke.

As she swung, one of the bandits held up a piece of wood like a shield. She hadn't the time to identify it, but it was hard as all anything. Her sword hit it and lodged. She worked to tear it free, but it wouldn't. At least, not in time. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me," she hissed when she realized it, being forced to let it go and leap back. She was setting the air on fire with a stream of invectives as she instinctively stepped back in a defensive posture.

Both bandits smirked--she thought of them as The Redhead and his friend Snaggle Tooth--and moved on her. They thought her helpless, now that she looked like an incompetent swordswoman.

Nat quickly shifted her body around, the three of them moving like the bizarre-looking hands of a clock as she put the table they had been sitting at between her and them. They didn't seem to notice her position. Maybe they thought she was trying to get away? They always underestimated the women. She was okay with that. It had been a fact that helped her survive and thrive since she'd run away from the orphanage as a child.

When angled right, she gave a hard kick to the edge of the table. It went flying along the floor, running into both of them and shoving them into the wall. She ran and jumped on the table, kneeling beside her and grabbing their heads. The room echoed with a resounding thunk as she knocked them together, hoping to use each hard head to take out the other. One hit wasn't enough, but she didn't have time for a second.

She heard the heavy steps coming up behind her and shifted back, starting to turn around, but there wasn't time. Hairy arms wrapped around her and yanked her violently off the table. He was tall and broad, she could tell without seeing him, and he tried to use that to his advantage against the smaller woman. He had her arms trapped to her sides as he held her up, her feet off the floor while he stepped back.

With a growl and a hiss, words emerging to disparage his maternal lineage, she leaned her head forward and then slammed it back. Pain blossomed at the point of impact, but nothing incapacitating. She felt the rush of warmth hit her neck and knew she'd broken his nose. Shouting right in her ear, he suddenly leaned forward. It was enough to get her feet on the floor, which she did and then squared herself off. With a little determination, speed, and leverage, she yanked him forward and flipped him over her shoulder.

The large man, named Hairy, hit the wooden table top and cracked it in half.

Of course, now that the table was in pieces, The Redhead and Snaggle Tooth had an easy time getting around it. They charged her at once, trying to overwhelm her. She planted her feet and stood her ground, counting three heartbeats before they were close enough. Nat dropped to one knee just in time to avoid the wide swinging punch from The Redhead. From her knees, she drove her fist up and hard between Snaggle Tooth's legs. As he was shrieking at an unnaturally high pitch, she hooked her arm behind one knees and sweeped his leg out.

He fell, and hard. Once he hit the ground, she dove over him, rolling the way she had been taught during her unarmed combat training and coming back up on her feet. She spun in an instant with her hands up, ready for the next attack. This was just in time to see The Redhead stumbling over the body of his friend as he came for her.

This time, he had a knife.

Natlya eyed the glinting metal, preparing herself for it. He had it held in his right hand. Forward grip. Good for wide slashes and forward thrusts.

His first move was to stab at her, a clear forward thrust. She used both hands in a quick sideways sweep, moving it off-trajectory and away from her. He wasn't a novice bladesman, though, and didn't overcorrect or go sailing to the side. Instead, he used his free hand to backhand her across the face. No novice either, she didn't fall. But she did her the snap of flesh hard against flesh and her head jerked to the side. Heat blossomed over her cheekbone, and she thought she felt blood.

Her body didn't hesitate. With her hands slightly to one side, it was easy to bring one back around in a wide arc that slammed her fist right back into his face. It sent him stumbling back, holding his eye and shouting.

Natlya smirked a little. Every muscle was taut and thrumming, and she felt the adrenaline pumping through her. She was ready for anything, though. This was the sort of thing she was beginning to feed on, just like she used to feed on the thrill of a well-played con or a big score. These were her big scores now. How far could she go, how much could she do, and still come out the other side?

Now she saw that Hairy was back on his feet. There was rage in his eyes, nearly red, as he lunged for her. Her feet moved fast to carry her back to the wall, where he followed her to, but a very convenient table with a vase happened to be right by her hand. She grabbed it, along with the dead flowers still inside it, and swung. It hit the side of his face, cracking into pieces as it sent him to the floor.

That was when she saw The Redhead coming for her again. She almost rolled her eyes. Although she was a little impressed to see that he still had the knife in his hands and hadn't lost it in his flailing before. He came at her fast, and she couldn't move back since she was already pressed to the wall. He made a wide slash, the knife at midsection level. She spun out of the way, rolling along the wall like it was a floor. The tip of the knife still scratched along her side, but her leather armor took the brunt.

From where she stopped, she jumped forward and got behind him before he could come for her again. She pushed him into the wall and kicked the back of his knee. He fell, screaming.

"Oh, come on!" she shouted incredulously when she saw that Snaggle Tooth was back on his feet and coming for her. She brought her hands up quick, but he got his own around her neck just as quickly. Growling and spitting in his eyes, she ignored the sensation of air slowly being kept from her. She brought her hands together and up through his arms, twisting at the waist and hips to bring her arm over and down against his inner elbow.

This broke his grip, but she wasn't about to let up. With her hands still clasped, she used that leverage to drive her elbow into his sternum and immediately sent a right hook for his chin as he staggered back, wheezing.

Snaggle Tooth was a fighter, though, and didn't let that stop him. He drove toward her again with his hand coming in for a right cross, looking to crush the center of her face in. Of course, Natlya didn't think that was quite as good an idea, so she brought her own right hand up fast. The two met, her gripping his hand as she shifted her head just enough to let it go past her. But she didn't let go. Instead, she drove her fist up hard into his elbow. Making it try to bend the right way, and hearing the cracking sound to follow.

As he screamed, she jammed the heel of her boot down on his foot. That made him scream again, reflexively bending forward, which was when she brought her elbow down on the center of his back. Sending him sprawling.

The Redhead, Snaggle Tooth, and Hairy didn't get up again. She would check to see if they were alive or dead in a moment, but for now, she just stood and caught her breath. As the adrenaline began to sweep out of her, she felt vaguely nauseated but knew that she couldn't give into it. Her hazel eyes swung around the room, checking to make sure that the Ji'val was still alive...

[Lugh]

Beron

Beron was kneeling, his knee against the back of the bandit he had captured; with his mouth open in awe. He had just witnessed Natyla subdue three men, and while the table scattered into shards was evidence of the struggle, the Gaidin had still been a force to reckon with.

A hush fell over the room, as Natyla stood catching her breath and Beron signalled to the Gaidin that he was unharmed. Looking around he was glad there seemed to be no signs that their disturbance had been noticed from outside. Although as he considered that fact for a moment, it was more luck than anything. Obviously the men had dispersed throughout town, and with that in mind Beron took the bandit by the elbow, keeping his knife handy as he ensured he stayed out of reach from a head blow. As he dragged the man forward, the bandit became more and more agitated, and Beron cursed as he finally had to club the man at the base of his neck or risk another fight.

After the man dropped like a barley sack, Beron cautiously made his way to Natyla, careful to watch for hands that could grasp or clutch at his legs. “Do we wait for one to wake up, you left an impression on the man I had taken prisoner. He was shaking like a leaf in a hailstorm when I brought him close to you Gaidin,” Beron commented as he surveyed the room once more.

[Bella]

Natlya laughed quietly, mirthlessly, darkly. "I don't take kindly to people attacking me," she said, waving at the men. "Nor did they, but I had the upper hand."

With that, she moved between all three of them to see if they were still alive. Amazingly, they were.

"Let's find something to tie them up with," she said, her breath finally caught up to her. "Then we'll search the house from any information while we wait for them to wake up. Once one of them does, we'll see if we can find anything." She rolled a sore shoulder, tracing back through the fight to figure out what did that.

Touching her sore face where the backhand had landed, she stifled a wince. "Can you find that? Something to tie them up while I keep an eye on them?"

[Lugh]

Beron

Beron was impressed that all four men lived, although that did present a new problem of having to deal with them. He also saw that the Gaidin was favouring her one shoulder, so when she asked if he could find something to tie them up with, he nodded.

“Of course Gaidin. I will check the Kitchen’s quickly,” Beron said with a duck of his head as he headed into the other room, pausing for a moment to listen at the door. When no noises sounded to his ears, he slid the rough wooden door open, sucking in his breath at the chaos revealed behind it.

Filth and refuse lay threw all over the floor, the various pots and pans of the home scattered across the stove and butcher’s block. Flies spun in lazy circles, and as he searched through the
pilfered kitchen he saw crockery smashed against the floor. Clearly the men had not been here long, the amount of refuse spoke to a quick search for valuables and maybe a meal or two prepared in the kitchen.

Spying a bundle of rough twine, the spool filled with hopefully enough, he reported back to the main room and with quick practice tied the men’s hands and feet. Just like tying up an ewe for shearing, or calf for branding, thought Beron with disdain as he ensured the knots remained out of reach for any questing fingers.

“And now we wait. That was always the worst part of scouting, long stretches of boredom and then a room full of shattered furniture,” Beron jested as the last vestiges of battle nerves wore off.

[Bella]

Natlya rested down on one knee, watching the group of men for any signs of regaining consciousness. None of them did and for that, she was grateful. She'd fight again if she had to, but for the moment, a bit of respite was better to her than the alternative. And she was further relieved when the trainee returned with the twine, also making quick work of tying them up.

When he spoke, she laughed softly, a touch of weariness to her words. "It's the waiting that gets to you," she agreed. "Fortunately, we don't have to sit here and stare at their ugly faces the whole time. While they're sleeping off their Tower-borne nap, let's go search the rest of the house. They said something while we were listening..."

The Gaidin tried to recall, although the details were a touch hazy. "It seemed like they weren't disorganized," she recalled, "so any evidence to that end is useful. See if anyone else is in the house, either alive or dead, previous occupant or bandit, and so on. Why don't you head upstairs and I'll start down here."