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CL Character: Sheridan Sommerle (Homer2101) Campaign Objective: Trading caravans have been disappearing in the passage between Townshed [northern Midguard] and Sharadoch [southern Jewel Cities]. The Seran Trading Co. has advertised for a group of hired swords, or mercenaries, to investigate. General Info: At the same time, there is growing unrest within the Jewel Cities’ population. Priests of Krim, god of power and honor, are preaching a holy war against the ‘inferior races’. A number of trading companies are pressuring the Syndics, lords of the Jewel Cities, to take measures against the competition posed by the elven Blue Havens. Assassinations and murders are on the rise; several elves and dwarves have been stoned by gangs in the streets. Special Weapons in the Realms Geography: The jewel cities are seven cities running along the eastern coast of the Five Realms. To the south lie the grass hills, beyond which stands the powerful Kingdom of Midguard. To the north is the City by the Sea, a huge free city without any real rule of law. To the west is the Second Empire of the Winds.
Three more participants until startup, I guess . . .
------------------------------------
With measured yet easy step, Sheridan strode down the broad High Way of Sharadoch. A few men and women scurried on their way in the oppressive sweltering heat of early morning. Most preferred to stay indoors, every window thrown open to tempt a nonexistent breeze.
His slugthrower hanging at his hip, Sheridan walked briskly, his wide black hat pulled over his eyes. Taking a shortcut, he walked through a few abandoned, narrow alleyways. The yellow stone buildings glistened in the too-bright sunlight.
His little shortcut prioved to be fortunate for someone. Turning a corner, he spied a trio of youths throwing stones at figure huddled in a doorway.
"Hold it," he said in his businesslike voice, slugthrower raised. Its cool steel glimmered dangerously. Cr'chish, he cocked the thrower, the sound echoing ominously. The three youths backed way. "Get the hell outta here," he commanded, "before I change my mind." They scampered off, desert-brown robes flying. "M'am" he tipped is hat at the woman. She did not look hurt, only frightened. "Th - thank you," she stammered. "No problem," he said, lowering the slugthrower.
The Seran Trading Company building stood on Lower Merchant Way. Built in the old Midguardian style favored a hundred years ago, it bore an ornate five-story facade. The iron grills on the windows were obviously a new addition. Carriages stood parked before the entrance, empty but for the loitering drivers.
The interior of the company building was just as lavishly arranged, though showing signs of wear. The only people in the high-ceilinged room were a bored receptionist and two guards. Their deep navy tunics soaked with sweat, the guards stood stiffly at attention, slug throwers at heir sides. The receptionist glanced at Sheridan, looking bored as every other receptionist in the world.
"Mercenary?" the receptionist asked in a bored voice. "Up the stairs, fourth folor, third door on your left," she pointed at the staircase, not waiting for a reply.
Shrugging, Sheridan quickly ascended the three flights. It was actually hotter here than outside, if such a thing could have been imagined. if he was hot, he did not show it, as he walked down the high-ceilinged corridor.
The third door on his left opened with hardly a sound. He stepped into a large square room. Tall windows, thrown wide open, lined the side opposite the door. A large ship, white sails billowing in the soft wind that avoided the city like a plague, was slowly drifting itno the harbor.
Soft, upholstered chairs and couches were haphazardly arranged around a low wooden table set at the center of the room. A single ceiling fan spun lazily above it. There was another door, closed, leading to what was probably an office, set in the middle of a wall.
Sheridan sat down heavily into one of the chairs, pulled his hat over his eyes, and leaned back, propping his feet on the low table.
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Khalon softly hummed to himself, the ever-present hint of a smile twinkling in his eyes as he walked down the hallway. The place was familiar; he'd been here many times before, and the receptionist was even able to dredge up a rusty smile from somewhere when he had first entered the building; they were old friends.
As he entered the waiting room, the song he hummed died suddenly in his throat, surprised to see someone else there. He quickly grinned, and walked over to take a seat next to the stranger.
"I'm surprised to see anyone else here; I'm usually the first person to show. You here for the jewel caravan job?"
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"Sure, why else," Sheridan smiled his customary smile, a smile that was warm and open yet revealed nothing of what went on behind it. "Sheridan Sommerle," he extended his hand. Only two katanas for weapons, he marked, taking in the stranger at a glance, a brave man, a fool, or a mage.
"So what's a half-elf doing in this place?" he continued. There was a commotion somewhere in the street. The fans whirled lazily above.
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"Khalon Laringean," he said, taking the offered hand and smiling easily. "Glad to meet ya. Grew up here in Sharadoch. Where do you hail from?"
He wasn't too surprised at the half-elf question, although it did make him a bit suspicious. He took a moment to take a good look at Sheridan. A slug thrower? A rarity, for certain sure. Wonder if he's rich or something? From the look of him, he can probably use it.
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OOC: Guardia is the capital city of Midguard, more or less 350 miles south of Sharadoch. Midguard is a society that makes extensive use of both steam technology and magick [primarily alchemy]. The more radical priests of Krim call Midguard, and a good portion of the rest of the world, an “abomination to the human race”. --------------------------------------- Sheridan sighed inwardly, noticing the direction of Khalon's stare. They -were- common in Midguard; and unlike firecasters, they didn't get you killed by priests of Krim; not yet, at any rate. Alchemy was still considered permissible, if barely, by the Priesthood. He chose not to explain.
"Guardia," Sheridan replied, shrugging, "but that was long ago. Looks like we're the only ones for the job." Something hard bounced off the glass of one of the room's windows.
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OOC: ...I did mention that Khalon is black, right? ;;;^^ -------------------------------------- Khalon quirked an eyebrow. "Seems like it," he replied. "Now we wait for our employers to show up, I guess." Why is it that employers are late? 'Fashionably late, isn't,' or so I was raised.
He flicked his eyes towards the window at the sudden thumping noise. "Another fight outside? Just your typical day in Sharadoch, I suppose," he chuckled.
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OOC: In another universe, black and white would have mattered. In this one, white, red, black, and sundry have all called a truce and ganged up on green. For those who are wondering, you can join anytime so long as your introductory post and char are at least -somewhat- sane. -------------------------------------
The second yet-unopened door opened smoothly. Another armed guard stepped into the room, "Sers, if you are ready," he made a slight motion towards the door with his gloved left hand, his right never leaving the handle of his slugger. "Thank you," Sheridan stood up, quickly yet without apparent effort covered the distance between his chair and the door.
The office was a moderately-sized room, furnished in the same fashion as the rest of the building. A number of hard, wood chairs were placed before a large, redwood, exectutive desk upon which were neat stacks and piles of documents. Portraits and book cabinets lined the wall behind and before the desk, all the way to the single tall window that reached to the cieling.
The man behind the desk was of middle age, somewhat portly perhaps, his face bearing semblence to the classic Midguardian [OOC: think Victorian British]. He looked a bit tiredly at the people entering through the door, his eyes slightly bloodshot.
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Khalon's eyes were filled with pleasure as he followed Sheridan through the door. He wasn't entirely known for his patience, and had he been forced to wait any longer he would have started fidgeting - an odd exercise for a bulky merc.
He stepped to the left once he had entered the room, barely glancing around - the place was as familiar as the rest of the place; the man was unfamiliar, but then again, they always were. People looking for Mercs came and went, each with no relation to the one before.
He held himself straight, carefully eyeing the man behind the desk. The person hiring began the conversation, usually. ----------------------------------------- OOC: Must resist urge to make Khalon act like a ditz...*mutters to self* I hate being hyper. ;;^^
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Shinyuuki stepped into the room silently, but the other two sensed his prescence anyway. The employer and fellow mercenaries stared at each other for a few seconds, the mercenaries waiting to see what the others would do, their employer sizing up each of them individually. As their soon-to-be employer started talking to them, Shinyuuki noted that he had failed to introduce himself. He seemed to be relieved to see them, yet there was not much hope in his eyes as he spoke to them. He started out with find out who they were. Pointing across the room to the latest arival, he looked Shinyu (OOC:i'll call him that as an abrieviation, I'd expect you wouldn't want to call him shinyuuki the whole time either, and he probably wouldnt appreciate it too much himself if you did) in the eye, and said "who are you, where are you from, how did you get here, and how can you help?" Shinyu looked back without blinking, "My name is Shinyuuki, I'm a shinobi. Where I'm from and how i got here i none of your business. You wanted the dissapearances of caravans checked out?" said Shinyu as he fingered the long knife slung across his back, "I can take care of myself, and there aren't many people that don't know that ninja's pride themselves on stealth and gathering information." Shinyu noticed Khalon and Sheridan Looking at his ears, and then exchanging somewhat worried glances "yeah," he said, "i know our favorite priests of Krim are making sure elves and half-elves arent' the most popular people in town these days, but like i said, i can take care of myself. I'm not the perfect fighter, but i can hold my own."
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OOC: Welcome! *is happy* *restarts Mr. Exposition* Now, back to explaining the storyline . . . Erm . . . the dude behind the desk is a DM-controlled NPC for now, since he is a storyline char. Sorry I forgot to mention that. ----------------------------
The man behind the table considered the three persons standing before him. Two of them he knew -- their files were in the company's central records back in Guardia. The latecomer he did not know, but that was not unexpected. There were many things that Sir Aaron Ralenson knew he did not know. The Jewel Cities attracted anyone and everyone who could and would kill for money. He chose to ignore Shinyuuki's little speech. Some people thought they were tough and could handle everything; Shinyuuki looked to be one of them, words nonwithstanding.
Sir Ralenson's demeanor hardly changed as he quickly and expertly sized up each mercenary. He would have preferred more people, but you had to work with what you got. That was why he was here in the company's most-dangerous outpost.
"Stand, sit, up to you," he gestured. "Lord Sommerle, ser Laringean, ser Shinyuuki," he inclined his head. Sheridan nodded his head in turn, and assumed a relaxed position in one of the chairs placed before the wide desk. "I assume you know the general details, so I'll get right to the point. The Seran Company is Midguard's delegate in this region, tasked with bringing trade and civilization to the jewel Cities. Trade is the way we accomplish this mission. Without free trade, ideas do not travel. Without new ideas, this place will remain as backward and violent as ever. More importantly, investors do not like to see their profits vanish, especially not without explanation. "With the current unrest, I do not want any attention drawn to this matter. You will take the next caravan schedueled to leave for Townshed. There will be a detachment of six guards, and four drivers. That is all the company can spare. You leave in three hours. Any questions?" "New terms," Sheridan said quickly and easily before Sir Ralenson even closed his mouth. "I want double the offered amount for each of us; full and free acess to the company storehouse and stable; and the ability to convert our payment to company stock. Don't bother haggling," he raised his hand, "we're all you will get." "Fine," the reply was instantly shot back. Sir Ralenson had free reign to saccept any terms that would resolve the issue. If the bravos resolved the problem, then the company would fully recover its investment. If they did not, then the company lost little.
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OOC: call me a n00b, but i have no idea what a "DM controlled NCP" is (i know what an NCP is, just not the DM part) ---------------------------------------------------- Shinyu allowed himself a half-smile. He wondered if the man at the desk actually cared that about the amount he was paying, but his quick acceptance of the terms showed something. Whether he owned the funds being spent or not was unimportant, whoever was in charge was willing to pay most anything to get their company back on track, and the rich types were never too eager to dish out valuables to men off the street.
Shinyu could tell the officer thought of him as a punk teenager who thought he was invincible, but he didn't really care, he'd been underestimated by just about everyone for the past two years since he came out of the jungle village (while it wasn't a primal tribe sort of thing it's structures weren't anywhere near the stength and beauty of the big cities). he also knew his response was arrogant, but that too was on purpose. he honestly didn't like to share anything with employers, he'd tell his fellow merc's when they were on the road. It also gave him an advantage over them because they'd instantly nail him for the typical cocky teenager but having spent the first 14 years of his life in a ninja clan village in a vast jungle he had turned out a little differently than most overconfident teenagers. If he came out on top of a situation it would prove the condescending employers wrong, and he liked that. As a final note he reminded himself that most rich types always thought they were above the law that everyone else followed, and the less they though about you when you were freelance, the less likely they were to put up a fortune and a half on your head after you found out something on the job that you weren't supposed to know.
Noticing that Sheridan and Khalon were looking at him nearly the same way Aaron was, Shinyu made a mental not to prove himself to them as soon as he could. He could understand what they were thinking about him, and he didn't mind Aaron thinking he was a punk kid but it never helped to be treated like a puffed up weakling by your partners. Shinyu stepped back one pace, put on a blank poker face, and waited for someone to say something.
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The Dwarven Exile, Malis the Hammer, trudged doggedly on through the desert, sweating profusely under the sweltering heat of the sun. Cursing continuously as he walked, Malis wearily gazed about seeking Townshed. As he walked, Malis warily kept an eye on the carrion birds flying overhead, holding tightly his twin hammers, named Talis and Relis.
Finally after a long journey, Malis finally arrived at Townshed. After gazing down cautiously from atop a sandy dune, Malis wearily began to trudge down the slope towards the city.
When Malis the Hammer entered town, his twin mithril hammers glistening dangerously under the sunlight, he began to notice the oppressiveness of the air. From the dirty glances, the blasted humans were giving him, Malis snorted in exasperation. Keeping his two hammers out, Malis made his way down Lower Merchant Way until he recognized several runes on a building announcing it as the home of the Seran Trading Company. Wary from the dirty glances given him, Malis entered the building.
The receptionist looked up from her tired work and glanced sourly at the presence of a dwarf in her reception. In a tone laced with venom, the receptionist said, "Another mercenary? Up the stairs, fourth folor, third door on your left." Quickly, she returned to her work.
Malis shrugged at the venomous attitude of the receptionist. Glancing at the two guards standing stiffly at attention, Malis said, "Well laddies. You seem to be sweating some, eh?" Without waiting for an answer, Malis trudged up the stairs, quickly climbing the three flights.
Reaching his destination, Malis walked to the third door on the left, but stopped before he opened it. Malis quietly listened to the conversation within, waiting until a lull. When the awkward conversation stopped, Malis tied his two hammers to his back and opened the door.
Entering the room, Malis snorted as he saw the finely furnished room, mumbling, "Rich, arrogant bastard," under his breath. Walking to the center of the room, Malis glanced at the other occupants of the room and said to the man behind the desk, "Well laddy, I hear ye got some jobs available? Ye still need some help?"
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OOC: Eep! Sorry I'm late. Less attention to AF and more attention to this RP is needed...*mutter* As a result of me not showing up, this is going to be a bit of a "meantime" post. Oh well. DM – Dungeon Master. Commonly known as the Campaign Leader (CL). ----------------------------------- Khalon nodded courteously at their employer as he sat down in another chair. He kept his expression to one of absolute neutrality, since it was the best one to use when haggling. His gaze was tinged with disapproval when Shinyuuki walked in; he didn’t appreciate latecomers, since it was a mark of disrespect towards the employer, as well as their fellow employees. He felt a jolt of surprise in his chest when he saw Shinyuuki’s ears; the surprise quickly turned to a confused mixture of almost-kinship, uncertainty, and mild disapproval.
Continuing to listen to Sir Ralenson—although rather absently, it must be told—he pushed away the confused emotions and looked over the boy. Shinyuuki, hmm? That would be the language used in the Southern provinces… He didn’t know the word “Shinobi,” but he did recognize “ninja.” Ninjas aren’t usually seen away from the Southern provinces. To see one here, and as a freelance Merc? And so young? How...interesting. While his mind was busy, his face had slipped back into an impassively courteous set. Well, he seems to know what he’s doing; his body language is that of one well-trained.
While he was busy looking over the ninja, he noted with approval Sheridan’s haggling skills. It was a very nice deal, even considering that their mission was rather dangerous. Krim knows I haven’t ridden a decent beast in quite some time…
He turned to glance at the now-open door as the Dwarf walked in, and this time his gaze had a hint of disapproval in it. Late people.... he thought with a sigh. He looked over the Dwarf, and this time his thoughts were colored with satisfaction. This one seemed to definitely know what he was doing; he held his hammers with relative ease, and the glare that he had set his face into while walking the streets had not faded—although it looked like it never did.
Maybe this mission won’t be as dangerous as I first thought…
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Shinyuuki observed the mercenaries who would soon be on a mission with him looking at him questioningly (OOC: is that even a word???...i think so...) "i've got some explaining to do, looks like they've sized me up, but do they trust me?"
he looked at the dwarf who came in after him. he, being part elf, wasn't big on dwarves. They're build made them slower, but they generally made up for that with raw strength. Shinyuuki hadn't encountered many dwarves where he was from, but when he had met them they usually fit into his stereotypical classification of them. strong, but clumsy, slow, and sometimes stupid. This one had two hammers, and was short. "typical dwarf..." thought shinyuuki. Not a despising thought, but simply thinking that he would be a weak fighter because as a shinobi, he could run circles around most dwarves, and even though it took a while to take one down, (there were a few nasty dwarves who came out of their gem mines in the jungle) it took them longer to land a solid hit on him. Shinyu was left to his thoughts for a few seconds, then he suddenly looked sideways Malis the Hammer caught his eyes He did not underestimate the dwarf anymore, this one was different.
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OOC: You -can't- go farther east than the Jewel Cities. Well . . . there are the Thousand Isles sitting in the middle of the Sundering Ocean, and those might or might not have jungles, since I never realy bothered to check. . .
What I meant was that the dude behind the table is a storyline NPC. Just don't control him and everything will be fine. . .
Note -- both Dwarves, Elves, Mages, and anything else besides native Eastrealm humans are severely hated in the Jewel Cities. You've been warned. A dwarf walking through a deset with daytime temperatures of 125F @_@ . . . and night-time temperatures of 55F . . . ------------------------------------
Aaron Ralenson waited for everyone to settle down and size up each other; while maintaining an impassive posture that betrayed nothing without being noticeable. "I assume there are no other questions," this was not a question. He took several sheets of paper, marked them in several places, and handed them to each of the mercenaries. "The commission is yours. Central office will distribute payment upon completion." He might have said more, had not a blue-uniformed soldier burst into the room. "Ser, mob outside, armed, Capt'n Less requests your presense," he saluted at the door, his words coming out in gasps. "Gentlemen," Sir Ralenson stood up heavily, inclined his head an inch, and walked calmly out of the room.
"Well," Sheridan shrugged, standing up moments behind Sir Ralenson. A few more large stones bounced off the glass windows, causing one pane to display a web of cracks. "I suggest we leave before thigns get interesting," he smiled wryly, folding the paper given by Ralenson.
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Another stone came up, this time the window broke. Shinyuuki blinked. "Gentlmen", he said, giving a nod to everyone. "I don't know what this is about, but being an elf its I'm not exactly guaranteed safe passage out there. The mob doesn't worry me, but i might as well be useful instead of running away, I'll create a diversion and meet you at the gates. Oh, and you might was to take a different way out"
With that he tossed a smoke bomb in front of the window, thick purple smoke flooded the room and the area outside the window. Shinyu hopped onto the windo paine, and climbed up the ledge over the window, from there he jumped onto the roof. Now the real fun began. There wasn't much water nearby, so using ice jutsu would drain his Chakra faster than just about anything else he could think of, he wasn't great at earth jutsu, but his power there would be boosted by the sand everywhere making it easer to pull some off. Using a earth clone skill he created the likenesses of himself out of sand on the ground, then used Genjutsu to give them human color. Two clones ran behind some buildings, while on approached the mob from the side. (clones can perform basic physical attacks, but the cannot perform jutsu and will dissintegrate if delt a direct blow) One of the clones walked right up to a man on the edge, then called out in a totally unconcerned voice "what seems to be the problem?"
Immediately one of the men in the center yelled out "there's on of 'em, get 'im!" The clone still had some of Shinyuuki's speed, dodging the first few he jumped over several more, then broke through the crowd as fast as it could and stopped right in front of the man who had spoken. "you seem to be the leader, once again i ask, what seems to be the problem" "you elvish folk, yer all so arrogant, I'll show you what problem i've got with you" With that it pulled out a dagger and stabbed the clone in the chest. He looked on with surprise as the clone sent up a small puff of smoke, then dissintegrated into the sand "how the!...what on!..it..it must be on of those blasted magic users, hurry, lets-" the clones had snuck into the crowd, one of them tapped him on the back. "excuse me", it said "I'm afraid you just killed the wrong me" the man raised his dagger in a flash, but the the other one tapped him on the back "pray reconsider, sir" The man swiftly stabbed that on in the chest too, and it dissintegrated "bad idea" said the other clone before the man could strike it too it swiftly struck him in the solarplex, knocking him down. "hmm, interesting" it said, looking around Then it started running again, throught the crowd. It made it to the end when a burly redhead jumped on it, and it dissapeared, like the rest. "that oughta do it for now" thoght shinyuuki, "mobs are always fun to mess with, and that should've given the other enough time to get out the back way, but you never know..."
with that he jumped along the flat roofs of the desert dwellings, running and jumping, running and jumping, till he came to a house near the gate, he sat on top, and waited.
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OOC: ....I'm sorry? But it's really not our fault; you never *told* us these small details. I've found that in general, when someone is using Japanese, you generally say they're from the "far-off Eastern section of the world over there *points*." I've changed it, but...it's not our fault for not knowing every little detail about your world, or even how it's set up. Shinyu, your post strikes me as a bit powergame-y......but I'll let it slide for now. Make me think of powergaming again, though, and I'll warn you. *fanged grin* -------------------------------------------- Khalon took the proffered slip of paper and tucked it into his belt-pouch with a deep nod to their employer. His brow furrowed a little at Sheridan's statement; he hated to leave while a mob was destroying things outside, but they didn't really have a choice. Even if they did get paid for breaking up the mob - which they wouldn't - crowd control was low pay.
Hearing the ninja's words, Khalon felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Things usually go wrong when kids try to act gung-ho to prove themselves...
Too late he saw Shinyuuki throwing the smoke bomb out the window. "NO! You idiot, it'll flood this room as--" Purple smoke flooded the room and he choked, scrabbling for the handkerchief in his pocket as his eyes teared. Mentally screaming a long stream of curses at the half-elf, he quickly stood, his chair screeching as it scraped roughly against the hardwood floor, and headed towards the door. One hand he held his handkerchief close to his face while the other he reached for the hilt of one of his katanas.
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OOC: sorry, thought I posted a pic of the area . . . *shrug* . . . when my compy gets fixed, I'll put one up. --------------------------------
Sheridan moved to the door before Shinyuuki had even finished speaking. If the kid wanted to be a hero, he could be a hero. One thing Sheridan learned over the years was that heros died like flies. So, when smoke flooded the room, he quickly stepped outside and away from the doorway.
The whole building had only two entrances. The front would be blocked. The service entrance was rather out-of the-way, but would probably be safer.
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Malis shook his head at the idiocy of the youngster. Shrugging, Malis watched as one of the occupants of the room stepped out of the door. Covering his mouth with his left hand and protecting himself from the smoke, Malis quickly trudged towards the doorway, his two hammers clutched loosely in his right hand.
Stepping outside, Malis eyed the man, definitely a human, and said, "Eh, laddy, I see ya got out in a piece, eh?"
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OOC: Who are you talking too there? i'm supposed to be closer to the gate, but i can alter that if you were talking to me. (by the way, i'm elvish, if it was me, and i love the scottish accent...)
PS: watch it not be me he was talking to...heh heh...
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"Good idea," Sheridan nodded, closing the door that led to the cabinet.
He emerged into the hallway, and walked briskly, though not hurriedly, down in the opposite direction of the main entrance. Some moments later, after going through a series of staircases and corridors that were empty save for a rare soldier or worker, he emerged into an dead-end alleyway that was well-lit even though it was crammed in between two tall buildings.
"They never learn to use the back door," Sheridan sighed. Half-dozen soldiers were standing outside. "Coming?" he asked. "After you, ser," their commanding officer grinned.
"That way," Sheridan indicated to his two companions, indicating the bright end of the street, from which were coming a myriad of shouts.
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OOC: My appologies, people, i didnt' see that windsong was back, or maybe this thread is permanantly dead....i don't know
IC: Spoting his partners, Shinyu climbed down a couple ledges and hanging onto windowframes, managed to make it to the ground in one piece. Walking nonchaulantly over to his new aquaintences, he said unconcernedly, "Glad to see you all made it out alive," Quitckly withering under the Icy glares that quickly followed, he had the good grace to look a little sheepish, and muttered an appology "for the smoke hazard". Shinyu remained motionless till the others had walked past, noting that at least they seemed less hostile after the appology, he quietly fell in behind the others, silently reminding himself not to repeat that day's foolish actions in any way in the near future...
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OOC: This place isn't dead, it's just barely clinging to life! *poses and then falls over* ---------------------------------- Khalon sighed as he walked forward, saying to the ninja, "Just....don't try to be a hero, okay kid? The world doesn't always need saving, and half the time it can't be saved anyway."
Turning away and settling into the brisk pace Sheridan set, his gaze settled on Malis, who walked ahead of him. "What's your name, dwarf?" He asked; the words might have been harsh but the voice was amiable. "I'm called Khalon."
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Sheridan stride into the bright street, turned right, muttered something that sunded like a curse. Mobs formed in Sharadoch evey day. Perhaps the heat did something to men's reason. Sheridan could sense that this was not a regular mob. Mobs would sometimes break windows in Midgardian property, but Sheridan had never seen one stand off against the Midgardian army.
The Company officer, the same who hired Sheridan and the group, was saying something along the lines of 'get out or else'. It didn't work. Stones began to fly. Sheridan kept his eyes on the priest.
Whatever happened, happened to fast for the man's eyes to see. Stone spikes erupted from the street, throughout the mob. Poeple screamed. Sheridan cursed again, spun around, and began walking quickly but calmly towards the Company warehouse near the South Gate, hiding his weapon beneath his trench coat in the meanwhile. They had a few hours; then the city would erupt.
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