The Guild Hall

[rosallora]

She tenses considerably when the woman takes her hand, fearful that she's going to do something to embarrass or belittle her. Toustain grits her teeth behind her lips but then finds herself soothed after the initial bite of pain. She feels... different. Invigorated.

Toustain wants to argue against the idea of not trusting, but.

Roard had used a necromancer in order to restore his body.
Grace had been cruel when faced with despair.
Angelique had left when more favorable circumstances came to her.
Harina and Sophia had called her weak of faith when the straits were dire.

She doesn't like the picture any of that paints. She rubs her hands together, feeling the area where warmth still prickled on her skin. She looks to Harina when she finishes speaking, a question finishing her sentiment. Does she have any questions?

"...No, sister. No. But thank you. For the demonstration, and the show of... Light." She nods her head: once to her, and once to Roland. "I'll. Take my leave."

[relentless]

/Harina/

The vestal, would share a wider smile, nodding toward the vestal once more, their posture straightening into a more proud form, the smile maintained.
"Very well, Toustaine. The past is what it shall remain, The Past. Look yonder, for in the clouds, you will find the Light, and thus, your journey to enlightenment."

Harina provided one last, very slight nod toward the Vestal, before they resettled back into their usual self.

"Go on, Toustaine-" The vestal would turn, and begin to approach Ser Roland, "The knight of the Pentient requires aid, and I'm sure the priest of the Abbey requires your tender hand as well. Take care, for we shall speak again." Harina said without looking over to the woman, their part had been said, and they can only wish that Toustaine would grow from cowardice, and become braver. Harina approached Ser Roland, but stopped beside him, looking over her own scripture in silence, as to provide Roland with his own peace of mind.

[Bloodtrailkiller]

[ARRIVING FROM SANITARIUM : HLOKK, ELOHIM]

|HLOKK|

With a slow exhale, she managed to reach the Guild Hall; she wasn't sure if the pipsqueak had talked to her at all. She wasn't sure if she cared. She knew she cared about the pain that spiked up through her side as she raised her hand to push open the door and stumble through with a grumble and growled,
"Fuck..."

"... Do you have any water, boy?" Hlokk straightened again with a hiss as she looked back to the door to find it too blurry to spot any right shape, she scoffed and flicked some coagulated blood to the floorboards with a sigh,
"I want to make sure this girl knows it's her blood on my knuckles." She muttered, raising the so mentioned piece of anatomy for idle observation...

[EloHim]

[Elohim]

He followed her in silence. The time for questions would be later...
"Some."
He pulls out a small fist-sized iron flask - the only thing from his alchemical arsenal he was able to pocket, whilst the rest have been taken away by the owner of the Tavern as reimbursement. But he is in no rush to give it to her.
"But before we do any hitting, I need to close your wounds. If we're gonna have you beat the ever-living shit out of her, at least do it without losing any more of your own blood. For efficiency's sake." - he said before giving her the flask. He could interrogate the prisoner himself. But if there were people who needed to die - Hlokk needed to be present.

[Bloodtrailkiller]

|HLOKK|

With a scoff she took the flask and vigorously opened it, pouring a portion out onto her palms before biting the iron between her bloodied teeth.
"I'll 'e fin'." She grunted as she curled her arm about the hilt of her sword and balanced it in the couch made by her chest and arm as she washed her hands with some haste. The ugly tawny maroon of blood and dirt scattered on the floor as she walked on towards the dungeons and idly toed open the door securing the prisoners.

With her hands clean, she removed the flask from her mouth (though not after taking another generous sip) and thrust whatever remained back to Elohim.
"Every second she gets, is a second she composes herself. Thinks, plans, plots to hide her secrets." She gruffed uncouthly, loudly, into the dark depths of the prison.

"Bitch-Bandit? Are you still here?" Hlokk called out and brought her Hassemesser's blade from her shoulder to rest in the pit of her arm so she wouldn't clang against the ceiling; she moved to where she'd last left the woman, and peered into the dark expectantly...

[rosallora]

[Saoirse]

She was tired. Bloody. Her head hurt like a bitch and she felt more dead than alive, largely exsanguinated and stiff from the way she was tied. The guild hall smelled of sweat and blood. Not new smells, but they weren't accompanied with the sights and sensations or even the unique scents of the home camp. The one she'd never see again. The one she couldn't return to, even if she survived.

They'd thrown her somewhere in the dark, somewhere covered in stone, because they weren't any better than them, not really. Bandits or mercenaries, it was all money.

Her eyes shine dully against the light of the morning barely peeking in from the outside. It was cold - she could feel that. A piercing cold like a blade. If only it'd take her before these louts had their fun. The woman from earlier. Saoirse knows her, knows the blade. She killed Serra. Saoirse rights herself, moving and wriggling to an upright position, snot and blood smeared over her face.

"Don't... see why I wouldn't be."

[EloHim]

[Elohim]
"Afterwards then. So be it."- One way or another. He was not going to hunt bandits with a warrior that would collapse eventually. Not that he lacked faith in her abilities, she impressed him by staying alive so far... But perseverance and stubbornness are two completely different things.
He moves after her. Ready for anything.
He looks upon an imprisoned woman. He was already thinking of ways to get through her.
"How do you want to do this?"- he asks mostly a rhetorical question, aimed at Hlokk. They needed to be smart about it.

[Bloodtrailkiller]

|HLOKK|

The Warrior Woman's narrow brows rose in some surprise, a look beyond dogged determination played over her face as she pursed her lips and hummed,
"I forgot to lock the door..." Hlokk explained, pushing open the iron bar door with a squeak, then closing it emphatically, before opening it again to step through with a shrug.
"... I do not have the keys. You see? No guards know you are here, just me... Eh..." Hlokk looked over to the man in his grave jacket with a small nod, "... him. And The Man who crushed your man-friend's skull."
She chuckled cruelly, as she turned her blade over her shoulder and let the maroon blade dig deep into the floor with a relieved sigh. Even against the red, there was a clear stain where blood had clung and clotted.

Hlokk took a deep breath, the air in this dungeon was close and damp, like the dirt in a cairn. On her exhale, she looked to her comrade apparent for the time; vaguely motioning to him as she replied,
"I want to do this honorably, my friend." She levelled the word at the man, but swivelled her gaze to Saoirse.

"This raid was disgusting, and cruel." Hlokk's tone was sincere and eloquently composed, she couldn't betray the noble literature she'd built herself upon,
"What was your purpose here? Why did your friends come here to die ugly deaths?" She huffed, her brows furrowed as she shut her eyes and did try to seriously think, though she was light headed and a slight nausea bloomed in her belly before she leant against her blade.
"No one I saw had grabbed any loot. Your last man had only soiled trousers." Hlokk's fingers idly pressed against her temple, massaging out a migraine before she opened a strikingly blue eye that glimmered like ice yet smoldered like azure flame. Piercing in its intensity, despite her bloodied state.
"Help me, and I help you; lie if you wish. I'm not good with lies."

[rosallora]

Her lips smack wetly as she prepares her throat to speak. "You think you're some grand inquisition... I don't see badges. Not even townsfolk with the way you talk, are you." Saoirse's lip curls, ratty and worn fingernails already filed down to nothing in her attempts to escape. "Why not. Why not steal and kill, why not remind you of what's out there. What's waiting for you.

"Your kind's killed plenty of ours. You come into the woods and act surprised to see us when you're trespassing on our territory. So why not return the favor." She licks her teeth to rid them of grime and blood, spitting a globule of mucus on the floor nearby, pushing a few strands of hay to the side. "You're going to kill me. So do it." Her brow tightens as she thinks of Knox and Serra, cut down and bashed and bloodied just like the rest. Her eyes move from the woman to the man - he certainly was the straight-backed sort, wasn't he, pretending he was a lawman. So imposing, so posturing. She bets he was nothing at all.

The faces upturned in the forest, looking like boots had trampled on their faces. Limbs cut off, eyes poked out. Cruel. As if they had any space to speak. It was a dark world. At least they'd been dark and known it. Known it was wrong and did it anyway, that's the way it was, it was demanded of them like an organ demanded blood. Be fierce and be cruel and outlast a long winter.

[EloHim]

[Elohim, The Crimson Salamander]

"Could answer that for her to be honest..."- he pipes up, walking to Hlokk and Saorise. Wrong questions. Completely wrong questions.
"Now, i may be completely out of my goddamn mind but bear with me, please."- he sits his ass down on the ground in front of them, putting himself on Saorise's level, his only eye looking directly at her. He breathes in and starts talking.
"You and your friends didn't come here by themselves, as some simple band of robbers. No... you were sent here by someone. With a specific task. Because why else would you just aim to kill those who are armed and dangerous when you could just cut a few families and rob them blind, easy pickings, no trouble at all."- the question was a rhetorical one, as he continues to unravel his theory.
"We did cut plenty of you, as you've said. We did cut a lot of other things. Fishmen, pigmen, cultists, dead people...and who knows what else. Knowing all that, knowing what we deal with on a daily basis - why risk coming at us in such small numbers? You were sent here. And you were sent here ill-equipped to deal with the problem. Out of all of you there were barely two or three guys who were competent enough to be considered killers. One large fucker with cat-o-ninetails came very close to killing me before being pinned to the wall with a spear...but I digress.”- he looks at Saoirse, his lips pursing into a smile.
“You were sent here to die. Lambs to the slaughterhouse. The one who sent you - I assume you have a leader, someone has to provide brains to all that brawn - decided that it's time to deal with us. And what better way to see how much of a threat we really are than send a ten-fifteen weakest of the litter and a giant rabid dog. If all return - means we're easy pickings. If only a few or none return - that means that the other guys know that we are dangerous. And that means there will be more of you. With bigger guns. And better armor."
That's what happened to him. The Gunsche came. First... One. Then Three. And then there was a dagger piercing his lung. History repeats itself. Forever and ever. And Salamander could only hope to break the circle here and now.

"Now, we're not gonna kill you. We are not monsters. We are far worse than that, cause we are of a kind. We are humans. I initially thought I had that one figured out..."- he points at the red-head warrior with a movement of his head.-"But was surprised to be wrong. Anyways, you won't die. Too easy. Too merciful.” - he says words as if shooting bullets.
“And completely useless to us as of now. No-no-no… We need you talking. And we have quite the variety of ways to make you do just that. Beating you to a bloody pulp is one of them, though i don't really want to go to such lengths. Trust me, she could throw a lot of pain onto you, no problem.”- he again motions to Hlokk, as he entwines his fingers into a cage in front of himself.
“I could proceed to describe exactly what we could do… And trust me, I want you to hear that with all my heart, and maybe we’ll even get to a few…Bring you to the point where death would seem a blessing in comparison… Unless…”- he lifts up his index finger,as he got to The Point, -”you muster all possible honesty you still have...and tell this nice sword-woman where exactly your band resides. And then we will let you live. Unharmed, healed. Maybe even let you go after all is said and done. Who knows? Humans are not averse to kindness. Its all in your hands.”
He pushes himself off the ground.
Throughout his whole tirade he looked intently upon Saorise, scanning her for every twitch of her face, looking for what made her tick, what made her angry...what made her scared. He could only hope that his words had any effect on her.

[Bloodtrailkiller]

|HLOKK|

Hlokk groaned as the woman missed her point, her teeth grinding together for a moment as she shut her eyes and massaged her temple again; Hlokk was about to spell things out for the woman when Elorit spoke up. Quite a lot.
An uncomfortable chill ran up Hlokk's spine as he spoke, the words might not have been directed at her, but she was unsettled by the man's sudden, seemingly psychopathic and practiced recitation of lines. Her teeth were still clenched as she took in a breath and gave in with a small sigh.

Hlokk shrugged and rolled her shoulders, glancing to Elorit with a small gesture, "You're also right; we are not townsfolk from here, or guards. It is what I meant when only a few know you were part of the raid."
She straightened and winced, remembering the bolt the woman had fired at her. Recompense could come later.
"Tell us what we want to know, and I will let you go. I swear it."

[rosallora]

[Saoirse]

It'd be a lie to say she wasn't scared. She has the feeling that the man would go on as long as needed, too, that he wouldn't run out fo things to say to scare her. And he'd killed - if he was a part of tonight, then he had, he mentioned the cat of nine tales and she knows Hogshead was down. Most of them were. The ones that didn't escape, most likely. Yeah. It'd been harder than any of them had thought. They'd thought it'd be fun, that they're rage and raze and light some fires, loot some bodies, bring back gold and rejoice and know that the dark belonged to them. And they had been so wrong.

"I want money and supplies in return for the location." She wouldn't be able to return to camp, given that she'd been gone too long. Viewed as a traitor, maybe, or a mole. Perhaps she could pass off that she had been wounded severely and had passed out somewhere along the trail back... looking at the man, she doesn't doubt he'd try. Get her near death to say what he wanted.

"Since I can't go back, I'll have to start somewhere new." Serra was dead. Knox was dead. Her friends were dead, but joining them wasn't vengeance. "I think you've made up your own story about what was supposed t' happen. You're fine keeping that." Her voice is a bit of a growl, but it's more scratchy from lack of water than anything else. "You want the place, you let me go. Slicing me up any more isn't going to make me more honest."

She turns her attention more fully to Hlokk - you know, the one that wasn't an overt psychopath. She angles her chin up, face dirtied but still bearing a semblance of pride. "That is, unless you just want tot ake a few fingers for fun."

[EloHim]

[Elohim The Crimson Salamander]
"As i've said, we are not monsters. Letting you go is easy."-he claps his hands together.
"Supplies and money...well, that is beyond my personal realm of capabilities. I mean, look at me. I'm wearing dead people's clothes."- he says spreading his hands apart and doing a little spin. He felt oddly comfortable in his new acquisitions. For a time they will have to do.
And Saorise could notice...Knox's coat...Friede's scarf... and maybe she'd recognise Lazar's boots and gloves.
He thanked the gods that only Hlokk was here, Ezekeil would probably judge him even harsher than Hlokk could.The red-head woman seemed...amiable, to some extent. If that was even the right word for it.
Then he started thinking on how they might do this. Plotting courses of action was... not as hard as it was before. Seems like a shift in perspective helped him more than he knew.

"Actually, I might have an idea... Look, i'm gonna tell you what i think we could do and you tell me if that's alright with you or not. We are not the ones who dispense goods and services in this land. The one called Heir does that. Keep themself secret, sit in their guarded house like a bigwig they are. They probably already heard about the attack, but I doubt anyone is yet to learn about where it came from. You tell us the location. We go to the Heir, tell ‘em that we know where the attack came from, they do what they always did by putting a reward on the bandit's heads. You, while we are at it, kept here, safe, sound, fed and watered, healed and untortured. If anyone tries, they'll be in for a bad time."- He knows that's not what she wants. She wants to go here and now...but no one in their mind would do that. And he voices that concern.

"Let's be honest, we all know that you could lie to us and send us on a wild goose chase through the woods and there might be nothing there. And that's not a risk anyone of us is willing to take. We would look real stupid letting a source of information go like that." - he shrugs. It just was what it was.

"What we gonna do is - we go and dispose of your former mates, get the reward for their heads and your leader’s head and give part of it to you with supplies and send you on your way, wherever it may lead, without anyone there to thwart you. Might even put you on a stagecoach on route to whatever village or town is safest and farthest from these lands. And that's it." - he finishes talking. This way they all get what they want. Him and Hlokk get their target - she gets her freedom and enough gold and supplies to start anew.

[rosallora]

[Saoirse]

Her eyes travel over the man, and as they do, they almost seem to ignite, dark irises shining with pain and anger. "You..." she takes a long breath. Her hands shake behind her back, they pull at her bonds once, iron digging into skin.

"Even with the cold out there, their bodies aren't even iced yet, and you're parading around in their things. When you put them on they were warm from them. They don't belong to you." Her voice shakes with hatred, yellowed teeth clenched together. "I'm not staying here waiting for you to come back from a suicidal trip. They'll kill you. And when you don't come back, I'll swing anyway." The woman wishes that she could rip the man's throat out with her teeth. Do it herself, like the Hound couldn't.

"I'm not going to stay here like some pet. I'll tell you what you want to know and you can let me go, or you can kill me." She grins, laughs grimly. "You can even take my nice vest, wouldn't you like that? I bet we're near enough the same size that your vulture-beaked self wouldn't mind the lingering smell of blood."

[EloHim]

[Elohim The Crimson Salamander]
Salamander couldn't say he didn't expect such a reaction, he knew that one way or the other he'll gonna anger the prisoner by appearing to her as he did.

He laughs for a moment as she bares her teeth at him. That laughter is deep in his lungs, makes him shake a little. A brigand with a streak of honor? That was fitting to be in a book, but the real world was a little bit more cruel than that. He takes a breath before answering.
"Don't play high and mighty with me, girlie. We both know you are not above robbing the dead, no matter their temperature. Cutting their purses, taking their belongings, everything that they earned by doing hard work and putting their lives at risk? You can do that, rob and kill my friends, but somehow I shouldn't rob and kill yours?”- he asks, an incredulous smile on his face.
“Nah, don't think so. Taste your own medicine, why don't you." - Elohim spits that last phrase at her. That bitch had some mighty illusions about the world, ones that he will never support.

He considers her answer for a moment. Then shrugs. He was not going to spare more of his mental faculties on her. Enough is enough. He needs to rest awhile, have himself a bath. Enjoy at least some of his acquired money before going back to war with the bastards.

"Suit yourself.” - he answers as he rests his back comfortably on the wall, his arms crossed on his chest. turns to the Red-head woman. She kept silent during this exchange, which was somewhat his fault, since he's done all the talking. He can't help but feel a slight pang of guilt, which is countered by a thought that she wanted to reign him in - she would say something. Or hit him in the face with those battle-fists of hers. And he wouldn't blame her for it.

“Hlokk. I'm done with her. If you want to let her go - let her go. Kill her, beat the shit out of her. I'll respect whatever decision you'll make. There might be others captured elsewhere, willing to have a chat. There might be none. Your call.”