The Guild Hall

[Bloodtrailkiller]

|HLOKK|

A bitter scowl had slowly pulled Hlokk's thin and sharp features into a tired look of disappointment she leveled at the wall above Saoirse's head; Hlokk had hoped to get answers, not listen to mindless bickering.
"Ah." She offered dryly as the one named Elorit seemed to take a step back, "Good."

Admittedly, Hlokk's weariness was not entirely born from straining her ears to follow the conversation; the wound at her side had only now begun to coagulate, and the small puddle at her feet seemed to stop growing as Hlokk rolled her shoulders and used her sword to straighten her posture.
"I think you might have forgotten this is a prison cell, not a lecture hall." She chuckled with a half glance to Elorit.

Her blue eyes settled back on Saoirse, roaming over the woman's battered and bloodied frame. The hand-crossbow she'd used was what instigated the attack, and she had been the one that fumbled the ambush. It was clear, even without the prodding, she was beaten.
"You say you will tell us what we want to know. I've been waiting." Hlokk shrugged and brought her attentions to cleaning the dirt and blood from beneath her nails,
"I think we are done with the insults and threats, so go. Talk."

[rosallora]

[Saoirse]

"I don't know if you heard me or not over the man's incessant fucking blather," she says, spitting in Elohim's general direction, spit tinged with mucus and blood, "but I'm establishing terms. So you can fill them, or not. Which is it going to be, swordwoman." She has no doubt that the woman could, would, kill her. Easily as she had Serra, blade ripping through tissue, muscle, and bone.

[Bloodtrailkiller]

|HLOKK|

She noted Elorit's position at the wall with a small nod, taking it as a queue for her to step up, she grunted as she removed herself from leaning on her blade. Standing properly on her own two feet was painful, but it helped hone her senses.
"The Heir works indiscriminately--" Her tongue rolled and caught itself on the word and she took a moment to orient herself, "-- I can arrange a reward for us to accomodate you wishes."

Hlokk furrowed her brows again, looking frustrated as she counted off on her hand what she could recollect from the bandit's request,
"Money. Supplies..." She didn't get far, it seemed a bit paltry in Hlokk's opinion but she shrugged,
"... We can get both, but only after we kill the rest of the bandits." Hlokk shrugged crudely, "It is simple law of exchange, you see?"

"So I say; we will take you with us, to guide us. To scout out your Big-Boss hideout, then we go home, get our reward, you get your cut for helping. And boom." Hlokk smashed her fists together with what little energy she had to splay out her hands like a blackpowder explosion.
"You get the spare supplies from our scouting expedition. You get your cut for helping us. And get a taste of Hero's work."

In truth, Hlokk saw a lot of herself in the girl. In the girl she'd killed, and the men she'd squared against in their raid; there was a proving in their extravagence, in their vitriol and adolescent fury. She still had a similar flame in her belly after all.
"And... your friends." She spoke on carefully, glancing to Elorit's graverobbed garb. She hadn't noticed it before but she noticed it now; it was a grizly affair. Hlokk recognized trophies, the need for looting... but she despised it still. To disrespect the dead, especially from an inglorious death, was shameful for all.
"Do you know how they would like to be buried? I can see to it." Hlokk's wounds flared again and she brought a hand apply pressure to where Serra had plunged her billhook into Hlokk's sternum.
"By the Flame, I will burn them if you do not know. It will be merciful, if the stories of this place are true."

[rosallora]

[Saoirse]

The woman wasn't happy with the options provided... but they were better than death. She didn't want to have to talk to the one who looked like he'd love to get some thumb-screws again, and agreeing with the woman before her would at least prevent that from happening. She's tired. She wishes she had more fight in her, more ire to draw upon so she could curse the woman and be done with it. But the chance to live is promising. And maybe she could start a new life. A clean one, a free one.

"Can't see you burying them in your graveyard," she says, a mutter. "Put them under a tree somewhere." Saoirse's face is dirty from the ambient mess about here, sticking to her sweaty face. Even in the winter, she had reason to do so. "And as far as me... guess I don't really have a choice."

She isn't a hero. But she will commit to living.

[EloHim]

[Elohim, The Crimson Salamander]
He watches Hlokk's movements and listens to her words... Her wounds are having an effect on her, that much was certain. He could only hope that she would take care of herself later, otherwise she might die from a simple infection. But that was on her head, Red knows he offered help multiple times.

The whole thing worked like magic. The prisoner was hating his guts now, and was more inclined to listen to the red-head’s words. Which is exactly what they needed. She got played like a fiddle, either by design or by mere chance - who knows? And if Salamander had anything to say...she would still die. For all of them. Like a good atonining brigant. If she wont...well, that would be a welcomed surprise.

"Wunderbar."- he claps his hands as he separates himself from the wall. His eye peers onto Hlokk.
"Well, since she agreed to your option rather than mine - you'll get to talk with the Heir about the reward. And I do suggest you get yourself and our new friend some medical help...for obvious reasons. And i'm gonna go take care of myself. We’ll see each other when we go. I’ll be there.” -he says, walking away from them both...out of the Guild Hall, into the cold of night. If Hlokk decides to go right then and there - she’ll be doing that on her own. He wants to hunt bandits almost just as much as she...but he’s not suicidal. No one is that suicidal. She might be...but he's not.

[Bloodtrailkiller]

|HLOKK|

The Warrior-Woman fixes a passive but icy glance to to the peculiar Quack; his judgement was plain to read and certainly served to ground Hlokk in the grave reality of this Darkest Estate. Heroes all corralled into a corner of the world to be ground to paste, to die forgotten amidst the throes of civilization and progress.
She offered a small nod to the man as he left, and rolled her shoulders to test the pain her wounds inspired. She was getting used to it.

"You might have almost killed me... but I can still work a shovel." Hlokk offered Saoirse with a thin smile that looked pained, though there was a comradic warmth in Hlokk's blue eyes that fell in line with an outstretched hand, which she offered to help Saoirse to her feet.
"I will bury your friends in our graveyard." Hlokk's smile tamed itself to a hard but sympathetic look, "You will have to come with me. If the others of this Estate know you were part of the raid... not a drop of your blood will get past the Ancestor's statue."

[rosallora]

[Saoirse]

She grunts as she's pulled to her feet, her legs half asleep and her arms aching from their bound position. "Might want to ditch the chains then," she says, half for her own sake and half for... well. Also her own sake. "...I can work a shovel. I doubt there's any trinkets left on them with vultures like that circling." She spits a gob to the side, her mouth pulling into the beginnings of a sneer. Then she sags a bit, tired. She hadn't slept, she'd been in a failed raid... there was little to celebrate, and much to be exhausted about.

"So... lead the way. I guess."

[Bloodtrailkiller]

|HLOKK|

"Ah! Yes. Right." Hlokk tried for a chuckle but her lungs caught a spit of blood and cut her short as she hoarsely coughed as she worked the chains off the bandit. Ginger, as much as her clumsy hands could, she cleared her throat with one last cough and spat the phlegm to match Saoirse's own with a small wink that summoned a smile in Hlokk again.

"My Ancestor's once said; in spite, do we find our dearest friends." She sighed and looked to her Hassemesser, then Saoirse. Hlokk decided to leave out the fact they also said "let no blow go unanswered."

As Hlokk hefted her Hassemesser to her shoulder and moved to leave the cell, she paused and considered Saoirse with a quietly sympathetic glance,

"I have no home here, but... we can find you a room." Hlokk sniffed indifferently, "Did you ever have a home?"

[rosallora]

[Saoirse]

The chains fall away, scratching at her meager armor and roughshod clothing as they go. At least there were no cuts that they dug into. The woman stands, feeling herself ache all the more at the movement. And the words, well. She isn't sure if those are any better.

She doesn't like where this is going. Hlokk was trying to be friendly, little smiles and gestures that felt odd, coming from someone who would've gladly killed her right-out just an hour or so before. Her body is sore and bloodied, bruised up in an array of purpling, awful marks that would endure on her skin far longer than the conversation would in her ears. The cold air of the Hamlet curled around her as she left the cell and opened the door, looking out at the sight beyond. Viscera on the doorstep, one could say - she doesn't want to think about it. They'd lost, and that means that the blood she saw where she stepped was more than likely someone she once knew. Not that she was all too invested or even friendly with most of them. She had hers. Some could go fuck a cock for all she cared, but. There a body was.

"I was born for the road," is what she says. "Yeah? Why not just... stick with that. My mother was a signpost. My father was... I dunno. A carriage." She snorts. "Room'd be nice, though."

[Bloodtrailkiller]

|HLOKK|

A volcanic bark of laughter escaped Hlokk's mouth, her head tossed out and a plume of mist escaping her maw; only for her to wince and keel a touch as she held her stretched wound. A fresh flow of blood leaked out from where this newfound comrade had just shot her.
Hlokk grit her teeth in a wicked grin, still amused, still proud to have saved a life. Given a poor girl a chance at redemption... Maybe she could make her life better. Together.
"I like that..." She hoarsed as she waited for Saoirse to pass the threshold of the doors before moving on to the bitter chill beyond.
"...Leiddottir; Road Daughter." Hlokk motioned to Saoirse, "I am sure we can think of a good story from this."

With that, Hlokk departed the confines of the Guild Hall into the Hamlet proper once again; even with a bandit in tow, everything seemed to be returning to normal as swift as a bad rain... Such was the resilience of the town, she supposed, and she could admire it.

It wasn't difficult to find a hand cart large enough to rest both the bodies of Saoirse's comrades; it was a grim affair, and summoned forth memories of digging up corpses from the snows around her House Meadhall. Some more mangled than the corpse Hlokk had made; when bears or rats or hounds had gotten to them before they'd gotten cold...
Hlokk knew too well how cold a corpse could be.

[ TRANSITION FROM GUILDHALL TO GRAVEYARD : HLOKK, SAOIRSE ]

[rosallora]

[Saoirse]

She's spent nearly all day in here after a light lunch, sparring and stretching and trying to feel like everything's in the right place. There's a sense of paranoia that surrounds Saoirse, an inescapable cloud that lingers on every pore of her skin - maybe she's secreting it. It's not coming from what's around her, it's what's in her, seeping out when she wasn't looking. What she knows is seeping out of her is sweat. And a bit of blood. A bout with a rather overzealous graverobber had left her with a razor-graze on her arm, already wrapped in linen and pinned in place.

She sits on a wooden bench, drinking heavily from a rusty-tasting pitcher of water, her breath coming out ragged. There's a small breach of newly warmed air and she glances to the door, liquid dripping down her chin. Slightly open. Was it ajar before?

She squints, taking another long draw from the pitcher. It was late. She should go to the barracks, not wanting to waste her gold on the inn. Nice as it was, it'd eat through the meagre amount she had quick enough. The woman starts to stand, flexing her good wrist.

[Kidney]

Darkness. So much of it it nearly purveyed the very nature of the Guild Hall itself. Dark wood and brick enveloped in a new layer of ebony that bathed and oozed and smothered. In that dark, some dared to extend in wicked black tongues through the crack by the front door. Saoirse was where she stayed, and she would remain there, delicate, yet rugged. Blood lingered on the air, and Dane could taste it. 

The man's softened footsteps gently echoed between the folds where shadow and torchlight mingled, and his helmet was once more cast between them, half in the light, half in the gloom. A hand extended to gesture vaguely about the state of Saoirse's person in general, and the other stealthily pulled a half-inch of his blade from the sheath, in preparation for an attack. "Do you often reject divine callings in favor of wrestling in the sand-pit, Bandit?"

The harsh ending to the word soured its meaning, and Dane withdrew back into the darkness once his words met air. 

[rosallora]

[Saoirse]

She starts when he speaks, not noticing him until he was within her immediate field of vision. There's the glint of a blade - and the stark shade of him against the black and browns of the hall. "Divine callin's," she echoes, mostly out of instinct. Her hand grips the bench, the other holding fast to the cup. She doesn't have a weapon quick enough to draw on him, not like this. Her eyes stay focused on that flash of silver, knowing it was the thing to watch.

"I'm just here to practice," she says. "Ask anyone who was here today, I was just workin' on my aim an' mindin' my own. Didn't even wound anyone, in fact I was the one who got a nice gash fer my work." She squints, trying to find him again in the dark. Night was descending quickly.

She should go before the torches gutter out and she's left in the true black with some sort of crazed hunter. She pushes to her feet, the cup clattering to the stone ground.

[Kidney]

"Good. Pain is the reward for violence. Learn to give it, not receive it. I could teach you." His voice is trance-like, once again, his padded foot makes impact, closer to her. HE had circled her like a shark, now practically breathing down her neck, his own hot breath bathing his face with heat that could cause a glow in some metals. "Do not make the wrong choice." He says, harsh and commanding, voice like rough rock grinding on dry bark. A growl that reverberated against the ring-mail-veil that concealed his features. 

"Learn. Do what you must. And what you must...is accept the Divine Calling." 

[rosallora]

[Saoirse]

The torches were too low. She knows this feeling - she's felt it before. Too many times. Bigger wolf in the pack tries to get the drop on the smaller wolf in the pack. Usually you could gather up a few - a call and they'd be there, she can't count the amount of times she'd run into camp and pulled someone off of someone else, ripping at them for pummeling too hard or scratching too deep during some regular fighting, "training". And there was no one to call for, not here.

Kind of hard, when she'd gotten the rest of her pack killed.

She watches the guttering flames, steadying herself. "Y'know I'm not real sure why the fuck you think you can do this." The hair on the back of her neck was pricked, goosebumps covering her flesh. But he didn't know that. He couldn't see anything. "First you single me out on the street for fuck knows why and now you're back. Talkin' about divine callings. I don't have a fuckin' divine calling." She takes a step away from him, away from the breath she could feel puffing against the veil of mail. "I'm survivin'. That's what I'm doin'."

She turns to face him, hands bunched into tight fists. "Don't know why I should learn Anythin' from you."