9th of Frost, 120
The dark of the sewers hid all society's unsightly things from the eyes and ears of the citizens. Among those unsightly things were the nameless survivors, whom Arkash had rallied against the opposition of the higher castes by stoking the flames of their hate. They'd found a common ground, and they were to launch their raid on the Outer district that night.
The tunnels they took refuge in also served as their key in and out of the walled-off area of the city, as Arkash had explored in the season prior. Of course, if they were caught in the streets of Outer Nivenhain, they'd be recognized by their clothes alone. If such a fate were to befall them, they'd be run down and either killed on the spot or thrown back into Lower Nivenhain. Given that the Agent had butchered thousands of them just days prior to that night, he didn't doubt that they wouldn't hesitate to execute them.
With such high risks, why did they even bother infiltrating the Outer District? A lot of the nameless he'd saved were holed up in the sewers. As a result, they'd grown sick, some of their wounds needed cleaning and wrapping to prevent infection, his chest wound included. Food was scarce, and they hadn't the weapons to defend themselves if the Argent discovered them and attacked The Delve to put an end to their schemes.
So, he offered them his knowledge in stealth. All at once, he taught them to engage their cores and to hold their weight as they moved to take quieter footsteps. Furthermore, he taught them to remain as flush to the walls as possible until they were certain it was safe to proceed. They gathered the belongings that shined and coated them in a layer of mud to make them harder to notice. All leathers, metals, and the like were dulled of their glare as a result; the moon wouldn't betray them that night.
When they were ready, Arkash had the strongest two lift the manhole that proceeded to streets above. Once the lot of them had climbed to the snow-covered street of the alley the manhole led to, he peaked about the corner to gather his bearings, then returned to the group when they closed the manhole. "We's close to a medicine shop," an apothecary, he declared. "If we 'it i' firs', we'll 'ave'to lug all th' supplies through the gun raid..." he began and paused when another spoke over him.
"Why don't we just leave the bags outside with an appointed lookout to guard them?" By their common alone, he could tell that the man was foreign, the french tint to his accent suggested he came from somewhere in Daravin. Arkash met his brown eyes, and the scrawny human looked back. Immediately, Arkash took an interest. The man wasn't a malleable tool like the rest of the nameless; he thought; he had ideas.
So, he nodded with a smile and snapped his fingers. "Good thinkin', we'll just 'ave'to make su'a no one finds th' lookout or th' stuff, else we's fucked." His brow furrowed then as he looked about them discerningly. He could make them a brute that might be able to stand against an Argent long enough to for them to gather the ammunition then return, or he could appoint someone small, lithe. When he considered that there was no way any one of them could stand against a knight for more than five seconds and that he and Asmodei both needed to enter the factory, the choice was clear. "You'll be th' lookout," he declared as he set his eyes on the scrawny man.
"Why me?" he begged with a furrow of his brow.
Arkash grinned. "Well, it's you'a idea faw one, an' faw two, you'a smalla' than th' rest of us, ew'll hide easia'. Point isn't to fight 'em off, jus' not get caught, rite?"
Several nameless nodded in agreement, and the lanky one breathed an exhale of acceptance.
"Alrite, 'en," Arkash spoke as he looked to Asmodei, the towering velsign who was without his armor for a change. "Let's get to i'," he declared with a motion of his claws and prowled across the floor to the edge of the alley, where he lowered his muzzle and peered around the corner. There, he saw them; a Chevalier and their Hollow were approaching some thirty feet away. At once, Arkash waved down his claws, then moved back across the floor. Immediately, the nameless shifted and took to hiding behind the various crates and props that were stowed in the alley for storage. Most of them, he knew, were filled with bones and waste that weren't worth salvaging, but that was a stray thought, and he shook his head to keep his focus on the current situation.
A shiver ran down his spine as the argent passed by the alley. The thud of their sabatons accompanied by the lumbering monster that was the hollow ensured that they'd always be able to tell when their men were near, but it still frightened him. Knowing what those things were capable of, hearing their shriek as they charged him. It brought him to shake quietly behind his chosen barrel... Until the sound of their footsteps had receded. He was at least getting a better handle on his phobic panic. "Jus' a patrol," he declared, then stepped out from the shadows to prowl across the street. Again, he motioned his claws for the lot of them to follow him.
As they stepped out into the broad lamplight of the snowy streets, he held his breath. It was much too clean for what he was used to. Being in Outer Nivenhain or anywhere beyond the reaches of Lower Nivenhain at all for that matter always put him on edge. He'd felt like he was trespassing even before the walls had been built. That was largely due to the looks of disgust he received from Lorien's citizens, but on a baser level, he felt out of place in higher society.
One at a time, the gathered nameless left the alley and followed Arkash up the street, where he tucked himself into the indented doorway of the building's front and crouched down. With a reach of his claws, he tested the doorknob gently, then hissed quietly when he found it to be locked. "Enyone gor'a pick?" He asked as he looked about the crowd, then furrowed his brow further when he found a bunch of shaking heads. Right... So they were breaking in.
When he turned to face the front, however, he found the scrawny big-brained one fiddling with the lock from the inside. Arkash blinked in surprise, then stepped aside to allow room for the man to open the door. A glance up revealed that pesky doorbell that was rigged to ring whenever the door was opened. Faster than he'd ever moved before, Arkash shot up to snatch the piece of metal, and held it in place as the scrawny man opened it. The angle he held the bell at assured that it wouldn't ring. "How'd 'ew ger'in?!" He called with a curl of his nose.
"Back door was open," the man returned with a sly grin. Arkash furrowed his brow at that, it began to feel as though the human was stealing his thunder. "Hey, nice save," he spoke when he found Arkash's claws around the bell."
"Thanks," he returned, then let the bell down when the door was propped open with some merchandise. Perhaps it was his paranoia, but something about the short daravinic man didn't feel right. He wasn't like the other nameless, far from it. In fact, Arkash began to feel that the man might have been smarter than him. Ideas came so easily to that human, he thought outside the box.
With all the nameless inside, he kept his voice low and spoke "put all th' supplies 'ew gatha' in one bag. We need rubbin' alcohol, bandages, bitta'cress if 'ew can fine' i'." Petty Bittercress was a powerful painkiller that would help put some of the more egregiously wounded at ease if they could get their claws around it.
Soon enough, they were done, and had amassed two full backpacks of medical supplies. They'd go a long way in fighting the sickness and infections of those gathered in the sewers. Afterward, they proceeded to the bakery and various produce stalls to steal all sorts of food, which they carefully wrapped and stowed in their bags. Then, toward the end of the night, they moved on to the gun manufacturer. The whole way there, his eyes were set on the small Daravinic man. He, in turn, watched Arkash with equal interest. It was almost as though they were playing a game; who could figure the other out first. Unfortunately for Arkash, the small man seemed to be winning.
