Page 1 of 2
A Touch of Desperation
Posted: Mon Jun 29, 2020 1:21 pm
by Althalos
☿
Aemas 50th of Searing, 120th of Steel
Today had been an especially harrowing day for the painter. He had been working hard throughout the last few days, attempting to establish his business to the local population, and draw the attention of any customers. There'd been a few who would stop in, look around, and then leave without purchasing anything at all, but there had been roughly as many who had found something that they thought would look nice upon their walls or adorning their residences in some form or another. A few persons belonging to prominent Kinships, or at least associating with them had even stopped in for a couple of minutes, gracing his small workshop with their presence.
Althalos couldn't help but feel as if though he had been especially busy lately with all of his work. Already, he had managed to create a fully functioning small in the span of only a few weeks, and business while not booming was certainly progressing successfully. He'd need to purchase new paints and things eventually, but he had done the wise thing and purchased several gallons before he had begun his work. He doubted it would run out anytime during this season, or maybe even the next unless his works really took off.
Concluding with his final piece for the day -- it was starting to get dark outside and he didn't like to work without the sunlight shining on his easel -- he handed off the portrait to the customer who seemed satisfied enough with it to pay. If there was anything that Althalos was thankful for at that moment, it was the fact that his undead body didn't seem to tire quite so easily even after repetitive motions. Painting all day was certain to give anyone a cramped wrist and sore fingers, but as he glared down at his pale skin, he felt very little at all, perhaps just the gentlest kiss of wind as the customer left Stolen Moments.
His fingers were cracked still where the decay had set in, but it seemed his regular feast of neighborhood vermin and whatever animals he could squirrel away without trouble had proven to be enough to pause it in its tracks. He wasn't certain how long it would last, but perhaps he would be able to continue this way indefinitely, never feeling any worsening of his state. Popping the air from his fingers, he twisted about in the store, meandering to the lockbox which he popped open and proceeded to empty into a coin pouch at his hip. It was unsafe to leave the money here for too long after all, especially given the relatively simple lock he'd opted for in the box.
While he had decided to clean up a little, he didn't truly intend on abandoning the art shop for the night. Part of the reason he had felt so busy hadn't been associated solely with his work, but instead with the sudden arrival of Saej and Shasco in his life. He had spied the pair traveling throughout the market, and one thing had led to another. For the past three days, they had stayed with him within his home, making themselves comfortable. In truth, Althalos had been grateful for the company, though it did make certain aspects of his 'escapades' more difficult. Nevertheless, they were good to keep around, and he enjoyed not being quite so alone at all times. It was security too because a man living alone was a good target for any criminal elements that might've been snooping around his neighborhood.
He had invited Saej to stop by after the sun had begun to fall from the sky, and come see Stolen Moments for herself. He carefully began to adjust the leftover paintings in the room, attempting to set them up along the wall by category, putting all of the natural paintings together, and all of the more mythical and legendary ones at another point on the wall. The abstracts he kept in their usual spot at the back wall, where they could be admired by those who appreciated such things.
There was a sudden creak in the floorboards at the door -- an intentional sound that alerted him to the arrival of potential customers -- and he spun around with a smile to greet his roommate, ready to begin the brief tour of the workshop and show her his favorite pieces.
It wasn't her, though. Even as the sun vanished from the sky, and the shadows grew long, he could see that this was an inhabitant of the darkness. The way that his nose twisted to the side at an odd angle seemed to indicate that it'd been broken at least once in the past, and the way he pressed his fat lips together was indicative of swelling, probably from a punch directly in his mouth. Perhaps the thing that caught the most attention, though, was the thick blackjack he held in his right palm, his fingers squeezed around it so tight that his hand was white.
"The shop is --" He began, only for the brute to slam the door behind him and glare. "Hand o'er the farthings" he spat in heavily accented Kokalith, marking him as a local, albeit probably not a well-educated one.
Perhaps Althalos wasn't the only one to notice how busy he'd been lately...
Re: A Touch of Desperation
Posted: Tue Jun 30, 2020 2:18 pm
by Rhea
⌘ A Touch of Desperation ⌘
50th of Searing, Year 120, A.o.S
"Common Tongue"
"Kokalath Tongue"
⌘ If Rhea had known it would be this hot even at night, she would have never gone to do a patrol around the Alfsos. She was grateful to say the least, as it got her out of the house and allowed her to enjoy the peace at night. At least here she would have a chance to enjoy some peace, if there was any to be had of course.
As she did her patrol, she felt a little better about the state of things in the capital. The crime rate was low and the people were prospering well in these times despite everything that was going on. Even if trouble was brewing from the shadows, she chose to keep a positive outlook on the situation.
She would garner quaint nods and waves, smiles and hellos, and return them in kind. Another perk she loved about the job. The people were always friendly to her, despite how rowdy her kin could be, and she appreciated their kindness. It warmed her heart to see it making her job far more rewarding.
It was definitely a nice feeling, even if they were hiding the fear they held given recent events. But even the good bunch has some bad apples among them. She couldn't place it, but she was getting a feeling that something wasn't right.
Every once in a while she would see a figure or two hanging out as if they were waiting for something or someone. Was this an ambush, in the capital no less? She didn't want to raise their suspicions, so she let it be for the moment.
As she came around a corner, her ears caught a loud banging sound, taking her attention in that direction immediately. Racing toward the source of the sound she found herself running towards a shop. It seemed this was a portrait business and a nice one at that. She could see a figure in front of the door, the muffle of voices, and as she got closer, she could see.......a weapon!
It was clear to her this was a robbery, as she could see another figure in the shop as well. It had to be the owner or maybe an employee. Either way, she wasn't going to allow this to go any further. She knew the moment the door opened she would no longer have the element of surprise, so she had to precise in her actions.
Opening the door she drew her sword and pointed at the thug, the point of the blade caressing the skin of the man's neck with its cool steel. "I highly advise you to drop your weapon and surrender. I don't wish to stain these floors with your blood. Do that and you may keep your life, I implore you please." ⌘
Re: A Touch of Desperation
Posted: Wed Jul 01, 2020 1:11 am
by Saej Mirilla
¤
Making sure to keep her balance and posture correct she kept her shoulders relaxed and let the legs do all the work, just feeling the beat of her feet against the cobble. Passing homes she thought it was quaint to see their lanterns lit, like a secret view into their lives by the silhouettes that whizzed by. Something about this struck her as intimate. As she jogged past The Silver Lion she could tell now that it was sundown business was really starting to pick up, she could hear Rose playing some kind of dirge and the sounds of people singing in Kokalath to her song.
‘Must be a good one.’
She thought to herself as she passed by the propped open door headed back to her house.
‘No, not my house. The elf’s house-- Althalos. You’re not even renting that tiny hostel stop acting like you live there.’
It was odd how he let them just prop up their stuff and twice already in three days she had to pick up after Shasco who just left his clothes laying all over the place when he changed in the morning. It was even stranger how they both felt right at home.
‘Except for Poppy, she’s really hating not being able to sleep in the open air.’
That was when it struck her, she was going the wrong way. Early in the morning Althalos had told her to meet him at his business and gave her instructions on how to get there, he told her to meet at sundown. She stopped running and doubled over with her hands on her knees, deep breathing and swearing in Kyriac. All this way for nothing and she would have to make it the whole way back. Through the wooden houses and businesses roofs she could see the sun’s figure melting into the horizon, throwing its pink and orange last angry glare at the world in the form of a glorious sunset. Undoing her dreadlock bun she massaged her scalp as she thought about where he had told her to go. She thought she remembered and knew there was only one option, run there. Tying her hair back up into a bun with one of hr stray dreadlocks she hit the road again in pursuit.
Her body strained as she weaved through the streets jogging at a fast pace and it was hard to keep her breathing in the steady mantra needed to go long distances. She jogged past a woman with a sword at her hip and kept going, not thinking anything of it. That was until the slam of a door jarred her and she jumped, not pausing in her jog but looking back to see what was going on. She then noticed she had jogged past the clearly written sign “Stolen Moments" and stopped down the street, watching from a distance at the unfolding calamity. The woman had drawn her weapon, opened the door, and now was pointing it at someone who she couldn’t see in the doorway.
Saej blanched thinking Althalos was being attacked and slunk off as nonchalantly as she could to observe from an alley close to the business, close enough to her the woman talking,
“I highly advise you to drop your weapon and surrender. I don't wish to stain these floors with your blood. Do that and you may keep your life, I implore you please.”
Saej looked left and right with her eyes, blinking slowly, trying to process the scene only becoming more nonplussed when a man sneaked up behind the woman from another side alley, in his hand he had a workman’s hammer. It seemed he wasn’t expecting her and kept back at a distance, coiling himself like a cat ready to pounce on the sword-brandishing woman.
Not knowing what was going on she knew she had to do at least something to help. Spotting a flagstone on the ground about the size of her palm she grabbed it and jumped into the fray, now clearly seen in the middle of the street as she whipped it like a disc from her chest, following the movement through and letting the flat stone leave her hand when the toss has met its apex. It struck its target in the shoulder, causing him to cry out in great pain.
Re: A Touch of Desperation
Posted: Wed Jul 01, 2020 9:04 am
by Althalos
☿
Althalos had never been robbed before. He hadn't really expected it to really ever happen to him, even knowing the way that he had awoken was indicative of the fact that he had once knowingly traveled along particularly dangerous roadways. No one really expects tragedy to befall them beyond a simple understanding that it 'could' happen. Listening to the different men and women in the inns and the taverns had taught the undead elf that some people even fantasized about the opportunity. Finally, they would be able to demonstrate their nonchalant attitudes to the threat of direct physical violence, or else they would be able to utilize their own innate violent tendencies to overcome and defeat their attacker.
He wondered sometimes whether any of them had ever really been robbed either, or if they were just filling their heads with nonsense. Looking at the brute standing before him, he had no intentions whatsoever of resisting. He didn't think that he could shove the man to the ground, or bash him against the doorway, or somehow manage to twist his arm enough to force him to drop the weapon clasped within his steely grip. There was no chance of fantastic escapades on his part, and in truth, he didn't really want to lash out at the man anyway for fear of injury. The lightest bruise attained on his flesh wouldn't heal itself the way it would on the living, and a burst capillary would cause undue attention.
"You can have it." He offered, humiliation and scorn equally marring his voice as he absentmindedly worked his way back to the lockbox, scooping it into his hands and moving with slow and methodical steps as he returned towards the brute. Faced with the terror of the event, he had forgotten entirely that he had already emptied out the lockbox. His body was working on some innate instinct, moving to protect him from the potential harm. Perhaps that was the reason he flinched when he heard the singing of the blade from its sheathe, the glint of it as it caught a rogue ray of light, and then rested itself against the criminal's thick neck.
His eyes refocused, and he forced himself back, out of the reach of the man as he stared at the newcomer. It was a woman, standing at about his own height, and wielding the savior blade. Perhaps she had heard the sudden slam of the doorway, or perhaps she had been watching from an unseen watchtower, awaiting a potential altercation with the knowledge that such a thing could happen. He didn't smile, not quite yet, but there was an undeniable sense of relief that flooded him as he dropped the empty lockbox onto one of the display tables and let out a wheezing breath -- he'd locked in oxygen into his lungs upon first seeing the man, and had forgotten to release it for the past couple of minutes.
"Thank the Old Gods you came." He said, finally allowing a brief grin to crest his face. He found himself staring at the thug, and noticing the irritated look upon his own face. Clearly, he hadn't been expecting any company to interrupt his escapades. Yet, even with the blade at his neck, he hadn't dropped his weapon... was it stress that had forced him to seize up? There was a sudden cry from outside of the shop as another burly looking man was struck with what appeared to be a hefty stone. Althalos watched from the storefront, peering through the windows as he saw the fellow recovering from the blow.
There was a blur of motion and the thug who had first entered into the shop whirled around at the sound of pain outside, swinging widely with the handheld club. Althalos might've blanched if he possessed the blood flow necessary for him to change shades as he recognized the presence of a secondary robber who had been waiting outside in case something like this happened.
Perhaps there would be violence after all. A story to whisper of murderous intent and ill-advised assailants. He hoped it was a story he got to tell, and not the robbers.
Re: A Touch of Desperation
Posted: Sat Jul 04, 2020 1:43 am
by Rhea
⌘ A Touch of Desperation ⌘
50th of Searing, Year 120, A.o.S
"Common Tongue"
"Kokalath Tongue"
⌘ This was not a typical robbery and with the addition of another assailant, she had no other choice. Materializing her shield, she pushed it toward the second assailant, the blunt side facing forward, with her left hand hoping to knock him down. With her blade hand, turning her attention back on the first one, she sent an upward swing with her sword, cutting the club in half.
In a downward swing, she slashed the robber across the face. With him screaming in pain she turned to the one she hit with her shield. Sliding toward him she delivered another slash across the second assailant's leg, going for the tendon that way she could cripple him in some way. When both men were down, she moved to incapacitate them further to ensure they would cause no harm. Calling her shield to her, the first assailant got to his feet, and she proceeded to deliver a clean whack over his head with her shield.
With a loud thud, the man was out like a light. "If you have some rope tie him up by his hands and legs please." she ordered, moving to deliver a similar hit across the head to the second one. Moving outside she figured that if he was back up there had to be more. Standing outside the shop, she looked around, scanning to make sure the coast was clear.
From above, another one leaped onto her back bringing her to the ground. Wrestling on the ground, she found herself pinned to the ground. She could see the desperate look in his eyes. As much pity as she held for him, she would damned if she'd allow someone like this to kill her.
He was beating on her trying to smash her face, but she was not having it. Raising her leg, she smashed it into his groin, causing him both pain, and to roll off of her. Getting on her feet, she rushed over to were he was and yell, kicked him across the head. Catching her breath, she turned and saw a woman, her hair vibrant and red in the moonlight.
Picking up her sword, she called her shield to her and brandished her sword at the woman. "I've had enough violence for the day, are you with them? if so surrender, I rather not hurt you." she warned. ⌘
Re: A Touch of Desperation
Posted: Sun Jul 05, 2020 5:52 pm
by Saej Mirilla
¤
The dreadlocked woman hopped from one foot to another as a scuffle broke out with the other man and the savior woman. Terribly confused and afraid a whimsical part of herself wondered if he had paid some actors to come and create a brutal show, but by the look of the slash mark on the ugly faced man with a club she knew she was just trying to create a best case scenario.
‘No, this was certainly a robbery gone horribly wrong-- or right?’
‘Why would anyone steal from him? He’s a painter?’
But then she supposed that would be the perfect target, someone weak and gangly like those artist types would be the perfect target if she were a thief. They sure picked the wrong day. Watching as the woman bested the man with the hammer Saej couldn’t help but flinch when she kicked him across his face sending blood flying from his nose. Saej could hear the crunch of something breaking. Looking for another flagstone, finding one smaller than the last, she stopped to snatch it with her shaking hands. It was hard to think with everything happening so fast but she knew she wouldn’t be left with no weapon. It could still be some ruse?
The woman turned her attention now to Saej herself and so Saej gathered up all of her strength to look the woman dead in the eyes. Her hands shook with fear thinking she would be the next victim of the assault but refused to back down from the woman’s gaze.
“I’m not surrendering anything to you but I’m not a threat, I need to know what the hell is going on here. Who ARE you?”
Just as her words were spoken out loud the man was climbing to his feet again, it seemed he wouldn’t go down as easily as his friend. He was holding his jaw with a fiery hatred and rage in his eyes lunging to grab the taller woman.
Working fast Saej beat her feet again against the pavement, legs like jelly from the run previously, and got a vantage point away from the woman where she could have a partially clear shot against the man. Stopped now in the middle of the road she gripped the flat stone, hard, and realised with it being so small it would be little more than nuisance. Still, she let it fly from her hand and again struck him in the arm, this time much more gently. He whipped around to face her, battered and bruised with his nose running with blood, giving her an angry grimace before charging at her. She took off at a what should have been sprint but her legs were burning, it was slow and clearly tired. Trying her best to juke him he reached out and grabbed her by the shirt collar, shoving her then and sending her sprawling to the ground. Her glasses flew from her face clattering to the cobblestone a foot away from her.
“Stupid bitch! Fuck!”
He yelled in a high pitched wail of desperation and frustration. Saej saw some people headed this way obviously alerted by the commotion. She wasn’t sure if any were knights. Rolling on to her back she tried to get up but her legs were tired, she just hoped the next thing she saw wasn’t a hammer or sword.
Re: A Touch of Desperation
Posted: Mon Jul 06, 2020 10:53 am
by Althalos
☿
Everything happened far quicker than he had expected. All of the tales told at taverns and the bardic stories that he'd heard had painted combat as something glorious and slow, something filled with moments of valor and bravery in the face of danger. He'd heard of heroes coming up with cunning plans in the midst of their fights, and of villainous beings whose mental acuity was matched only by their physical prowess. Yet, even as the painter observed, untouched by hammer or hand, he struggled just to form a single thought.
There was the flash of metal as it flew through the air, striking against flesh with determination. A man fell, another man swung only to be parried and his blackjack torn asunder by the blow of the sword. Althalos hadn't thought it possible to cut through a club, in truth, and had always suspected that the advantage of carrying such a brutish tool was that its maintenance was simplistic and that its design didn't allow for many apparent weaknesses. Nevertheless, his assumptions on the nature of the tool aside, the valiant woman had managed to sever the thing about its center and promptly followed up her blow with another, this one carving a wretched line across the man's face.
He could see blood well to the top where the crimson made itself plain. The stroke had managed to miss his eye, but it had been a narrow miss, and there was little doubt that it would scar wretchedly. Had it been a deeper wound, she might've carved directly through the upper layer of his head and condemned him to a spastic and shaking death as his brain malfunctioned. Having dealt with one, she turned to strike at the other, managing to chop into his leg as though it were mere meat, and dropping him with a cry of agony. The two were down, it appeared... though it was difficult to ascertain whether they would stay.
There was a voice, and a request, but Althalos barely recognized it as directed towards him. He was enraptured with the conflict unfolding before his eyes, and while after a moment he managed to take note of the savior's voice, he moved sluggishly from his spot, his mind in a flurry and unable to focus wholly on the task. After about fifteen seconds of idle staring, he recognized that he possessed no rope, and that further searching would be entirely pointless. He was an artist, and a painter and neither occupation required the use of ropes. Perhaps there might've been one utilized when he had first brought his things to the workshop, but it would've been discarded.
A commotion outside caught his attention anew, and he observed as the woman was pounced upon from above and fiercely assaulted. The tide turned, however, and with some brutal skill, she managed to overthrow the hunter, striking him across the cheek with her foot and spraying visceral blood across the pavement. Althalos considered that it wasn't so dissimilar from painting, really, although the origins of it were far gorier than the mere oils and pigments he had purchased. Another voice, this one different from the warrior, and familiar.
The painter promptly maneuvered to the doorway, staring out at Saej in the hopes that she was alright given everything happening. She seemed safe, though -- why was she holding the stone? Althalos had missed the standing pouncer before the stone hurtled through the air and struck him, albeit with little effect other than drawing his attention. There was a brief chase, and the painter found himself stirring to motion, chasing after them and leaving the warrior woman with the two bodies to watch. His roommate was roughly thrown to the cobblestones, disheveled from the force, and the third robber stood over her triumphantly, perhaps about to enact some vicious cruelty for her role in interrupting the robbery.
Unarmed and perturbed, the undead beast still charged to the defense of his roommate, hoping that the warrior was close behind him. He didn't know what he was going to do when he got there, of course, but there was no time to think, only to move and act. In the mere second before he collided with the robber, his head filled with the image of rats, of their scurrying, of their clawing and biting, of the way they shook and throttled when they had been caught. There was desperation in their movements, a futile struggle as they did all they were able. In dire moments, and when stress became so palpable, was a man more than merely a rat upon two feet?
Contact was hard, enough to throw both the robber and the painter to the ground with a stumbling step and a fall. He didn't know how to fight, to throw a punch or kick, or to swing a sword or even jab with a dagger, and yet -- Althalos knew of the way beasts fought, and he fought with similar passion. Nails dug into the man's face, raking across his cheeks, and were it not for his flailing he might've bit him and tugged away with a chunk of muscle. He wasn't a strong man, but there was sting in his nails, and purpose even as they pressed around the robber's eyelids, clawing for entry into the soft organs. A howl like a beaten dog -- then a blow to the painter's own side as the fellow struck out with his foot, throwing the ghoul off of him and to the ground.
Blood dripped onto cobblestone... had the fight ended?
"Saej? Are you alright?" He questioned, rubbing a hand across his ribs and feeling for any sharp pains that would signify a break. Then, directing his eyes back to the warrior -- "Are you a knight? Will others come?" Other robbers... other knights... it mattered not. He wished only for the conflict to be over.
Re: A Touch of Desperation
Posted: Wed Jul 08, 2020 2:49 am
by Rhea
⌘ A Touch of Desperation ⌘
50th of Searing, Year 120, A.o.S
⌘ Rhea was somewhat ashamed, accusing the girl like that, but in the heat of the moment she could be to lax. These robbers seemed to be coming from out of thin air. Her chest was heeving as she was exhausted, facing three armed men at once being a lot for her. unbeknownst to her however, the thrid male had gotten back up, only to be hit by the girl with a rock.
That pissed him off which made the unknown woman take off running away from him, the thief not too far behind her. Rhea took a breath and was about to pursue, but the painter beat her to it, running after them. What was he thinking? He didn't seem the fighting type, especially being so willing to hand over his farthing like that. He was in over his head and she would need to go and assist.
"Rhea go, I'll handle these two!" the woman shouted, Rhea relieved to see her friend coming around the bend with city guards. With a nod, she took off after the others. She prayed the girl and shop owner were ok, the thug was angry and bigger than her, he could easily strangle her.
By the time she got there, the scuffle seemed to be over. The shopkeeper was checking on the girl, but the thug was still a threat. Moving in, the thug getting to his feet, he was met by the edge of Rhea's sword a mere breathe from his face.
"If you know what is good for you, you won't move a muscle." she ordered, hearing footsteps coming from behind her. It was Analine, a few city guards behind her.
"I got him, hands behind your back scum" she said, tieing his hands behind him. Rhea let out a sigh, a heavy one, falling to her knees. Looking to the two bystanders, she waved to them.
"You two are alright I hope?" ⌘
"Common Tongue"
"Kokalath Tongue"
"Analine Dialogue"
"Hellig Dialogue"
Re: A Touch of Desperation
Posted: Wed Jul 08, 2020 7:46 pm
by Saej Mirilla
¤
Forcing herself to sit up she fumbled around for her glasses keeping an eye on the situation at hand as best she could. Finally, her hand found purchase, and she shoved the glasses on her face with a shaking hand. To her groan they had a small crack in the left corner snaking out towards the middle, it was just enough to be noticeable but not enough to make her unable to see from that glass. To ass insult to injury, she gained her sight back just in time to see the grisly sight of Althalos raking his nails across a third man’s face and eyes. It was an absolutely disgusting thing to behold and made Seaj scream.
“Someone, Knights! Vikings! Vikinger!?”
Luckily her cry must have been heard or perhaps other sounds of the brawl as a troupe of Knights came flying around the corner. They addressed the woman as Rhea and quickly accosted the men. Saej looked at Althalos with a scowl,
“I’m just fine. What were you thinking! Good gods, at least I had a rock or two.”
Realizing her tone she let out a breath, clearly stressed out to her max.
“Look, you scared me. Okay? These men were trying to rob you then? Oh for the love of the gods, we need to figure something out about that door of yours. Or I-- something?”
She grimaced and took a hand up from a Knight, favoring the leg that got kicked.
‘Though, maybe this would send a message to future robbers and thieves. Who knows’,
She didn’t understand the mind of the desperate. Trying to let him know she was just scared she thought about hugging him but stayed away, they didn't know each other like that. Instead, she held her hands clasped at her heart and tried her best smile, it looked pitiful with stress and disheveled hair.
"I'm just glad we are okay!"
The Knights took a statement after hauling the men away, Saej told them everything as best she could and they seemed impressed with her rock-throwing. When it was all said and done she came up to the woman named Rhea and said,
“Thank you, the night is probably ruined and I just want to limp home-- but I’m glad you showed up when you did. Fate works in strange ways, I’ve always heard. Just, I don’t know what else to say. Thank you again. My name is Saej Mirilla, it was good to meet you on this day!”
She was frustrated and shaken badly from the experience. Blood was all over the pavement around his poor shop and she looked at him trying to figure out where the elven man’s mind was, if he was scared or as shaken as she. Waiting for him to decide what he would do she would head back home with or without him after giving Rhea a handshake and a wave. The way was spent mostly limping and with a lot of cussing in Kyriac.
Re: A Touch of Desperation
Posted: Sun Jul 12, 2020 6:17 pm
by Althalos
☿
He could feel it in his fingertips, the moisture of the gelatinous organs clinging to his nails. He hadn't managed to dig in deep enough to rend away at the tissues that made up the organ, but he had done damage of some form or another -- at least enough to elicit a number of tears and leakages. Casting his dead eyes towards the thug, he took notice of the way his face was marred by red lines drawn vertically and horizontally across his cheeks and his nose, and just how bloodshot he now looked from the assault. In a way, Althalos was both satisfied and disappointed in his performance. For one, if it had been a fight without assistance, then the meager lacerations he had caused here and there on the fellow's flesh would likely have done little to dissuade him from a follow-up.
On the other hand, it would be much easier to sleep later without the mental image of having gouged someone's eyes out with his own fingers. He knew that he was something different from the others, something ghoulish and repulsive in many ways, but his psyche was still as fragile as any man's, and he doubted he would recover quickly from such a gory scene had one played out. His side ached, and with a grumble, Althalos ran his hand along his flank, feeling where the skin had bruised in a circle around his ribs. It wasn't excruciating suffering, at least, but it was something he would almost certainly have to deal with for a very long time... he was dead, and everyone knew that corpses didn't heal.
Suddenly, Saej's words brought him back to coherence from his morbid analysis, and he felt immediately chastised by her words. He looked down towards the ground, appropriately shamed, not altogether so different from Poppy the guard hound. He mouthed a 'sorry', but it seemed she had managed to cool down somewhat, informing him that she had simply been worried for his safety and inquiring as to the nature of the situation. "One of them tried to rob me. The others must've been waiting just in case." He said, glancing over in time to see the scratched thug attempt to rise, and have a sword's edge firmly placed against his neck.
"I hadn't managed to lock up the shop, yet. I suppose I didn't expect anyone to give me trouble." He admitted, glancing between Saej and the valiant warrior who had managed to save him during the initial robbery. "I'm grateful that you arrived when you did. I'm not a fighter... he would've taken everything from me." Where the living had the thrumming of their heartbeats in their ears after such intense moments, Althalos had only silence, but still the anxiety manifested itself in a sort of neurotic spasm in his hand, a flinching and unflinching of the musculature there as he worked out his feelings.
He paused in his gesticulations for an instant as he looked toward Saej, listening as she expressed her gratitude for their mutual safety, and he felt himself nodding in agreement. "I'm glad you're alright. I saw him chase you and I was worried he --" He was worried that the man would bash her to pieces, that he would crack her head open on the pavement as recompense for her earlier strike against him. The mental image of Saej, lying on the pavement, her brain matter leaking out of her like the yolk of an egg suddenly pressed into the forefront of his thoughts, and a wretched gasp seized him, the oxygen in his body expelling itself forcefully in shock. "I'm happy we're both safe." He concluded after a moment.
Althalos directed his attention now to the warrior, allowing his companion to begin her march away from the establishment. "You really did save us, you know. If it weren't for you, I don't doubt at all that we would both have died." He chewed at his cheek in consideration. "Anything that you want inside of the art shop -- any of the pieces on display -- take one. Take it as gratitude from me." He paused for an instant, glancing back at the steadily retreating form of Saej before she managed to turn a corner out of his sight.
He made a mental note to make sure that he informed Shasco of the incident when he returned home... and to make sure that Shasco gave poor Saej a hug for her trouble.
"My name is Althalos Sil. Could I have the name of my savior? Will you need me to make a report?" He said, settling his dead gaze on Rhea.
Credit to Saej!
