Open Chronicles A Slip

[Lazarus of Minaris]

"Hmm." He replied thoughtfully, kicking the floor with the tip of his boot and swaying. The smell of the pipe had begun seeping into the room, filling the wardroom with hints of burning hemp and tobacco. The cook had moved into the room, setting down a large cauldron on the serving station. He was large, rather quiet, and wearing the bare minimum to pass for clothing. Yet, despite his appearance, he was dutifully taking to stirring the brewing mixture and the smells, admittedly, were quite appetizing to the boatswain.​

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"What's ya plan then? Ya get a bit of needle and opium and just..." He shrugged. "Trudge on? Seems things went awry for no obvious reason. Even a pigeon-livered flapdoodle like Terzine over 'ere..." He gestured towards the barber surgeon, who was feigning an expression of insult. The older man decided to not translate.​

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"Would be intent on elucidation. If I were inclined towards speeling, I'd wager that whoever took that dingy, loaded it up, and flung it into your breadbasket...well, seems a might personal to me." He sniffed loudly. "Might be worth sorting, particularly this blower of yours. 'Less your occupation become pernicious for your personal well-being."​

 

[Kala]

"Generally." Kala shirked slightly as she felt the stab of the needle through her abdomen, letting out a whining hiss.

She'd never been good with pain.

"Generally." She started again. "I don't like it when people try to get me killed."

Had this been a set up? It certainly felt like it, but the informant she'd had held no reason to want her killed. At least she thought so. A frown touched her lips, and she looked up at Lazarus with a rather determined expression. "I intend to get to bottom of this fuckup."

Whether it was her own of Volron.

"The twit who sent me into the palace lives in Ragash." She would be paying him a visit before the day was done.

 

[Lazarus of Minaris]

"Not in this condition, you won't." Terzine intruded, working on a square knot to tighten up the wound. The barber surgeon had been particularly careful and meticulous has he sorted out the wound, painfully aware of the tender nature of the wound and the Tieflings aversion to pain. "I am not as well versed in your anatomy as I am of, say, a human? But skin is skin and knots slip. I can't guarantee the longevity of this twine if you are moving about."​

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Lazarus watched the barber surgeon work and shifted his attention back to the Tiefling. Taking to puffing the pipe vigorously, he leaned back in the sway chair and begin rocking.​

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"Bottom's for coins and rocks, luv. You should be aiming to get above the chop, yeah?" He was aware of his contradictory attitude but it was the nature of the business. He was inclined towards double speak. "'Sides, if this blower of yours lives in Ragash, I suspect it's not soon to change...hmm? A bit of brick and mortar goes for more than a few coppers in Amol-Khalit, especially in a port town so illuminated by prosperity." And shit. Lots of shit.​

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"Or...could burn the wound, hmm? Iron poker in the fire. Quick sizzle and on your way?"​

"I don't advise that." Terzine stood up straight after snipping the suture.​

"Yeah well you wouldn't advise on portside bags o' mystery either and look where that gets us."​

"Safe?"​

"Hungry. And without no bags o' mystery!"​

"This is hardly a sausage of uncertain composition, Captain."​

"I don't recall asking you, Terzine. And 'sides, you know as well as I do that a burn doesn't pull."​

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Terzine went quiet, quickly understanding that he likely lost this argument before it had begun. "Look, luv. You're going to find yourself a kip here on ship for the wound to mend. Or...we cauterize that bit of nastiness on your nancy and then we move on, a proper finny and foal." He shrugged and went back to rocking. "Or you do whatever you want. 'Not your boss."​

 

[Kala]

Kala bit her tongue for a few seconds, considering. She didn't like pain. She wasn't good with it, and the stitching already had been enough to push her to the end of her rope.

But she was also a Reckoner.

Vengeance sat down to the middle of their core, and what she wanted more than anything was vengeance. Her fingers flittered for a brief moment, and then she motioned to the Barber Surgeon. "Burn it."

She sighed.

"I need to pay that motherless fuck a visit." Kala said the words with a scowl, doing her best to take a few breaths. The pain would be worth it when she figured out why the fuck she'd nearly been killed. The palace was supposed to have been empty, and she wanted to know why it hadn't been.

More than that, she wanted to know how someone had actually beaten her to the punch.

She didn't like other people honing in on her scores.

 

[Lazarus of Minaris]

Lazarus nodded and Terzine sighed heavily. After a brief moment, Terzine approached the wall and flicked open a brass tube. He cleared his throat and spoke into the pipe.​

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"Please bring a poker from the top deck, on the Captains orders." The sound echoed as it carried through the copper pipes, resonating along the ceiling beams and exited through a hole cut coarsely in the wood. A grunt echoed back in affirmation and Lazarus sighed, opening one of the glass cabinets above Kala.​

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"A couple bits o' flannel..."​

"Canvas."​

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Lazarus grunted. "Some flax-seed and mustard. For...flavor." He looked towards the Tiefling and smiled.​

"For healing." Terzine corrected Lazarus as a small figure walked in, brandishing a steaming shaft of iron that was red towards the end.​

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After a few moments, the barber surgeon had propped the canvas cloth above the poker and was allowing it a few moments to heat up.​

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"Nothing like an impromptu boucan to produce a bit of sea smoke. And so close to port, at that."​

"Quiet now." Terzine retorted. "Alright. We'll do both sides but in all earnest, you will likely pass out from the first cautery. Once you arrive back with your senses, you should be as right as rain." The old barber surgeon stated quietly as he withdrew the poker and inspected the tip. "Alright. Deep breath now."​

 

[Kala]

Kala was now standing against the table that two hours ago had been practically a torture rack. Her side was still hurting, and she had to try her damndest not to touch the brand new burn marks that she was sporting on the right side of her body.

"Fuck." She whispered quietly to herself, shirking slightly as she leaned the wrong way and caused the burned skin to pull.

The pain of it was...well, not exactly something she had dealt with before. There was also the fact that iot had messed with her tattoos, something that annoyed her to no end. Her head shook, and tail flicked behind in her agitation.

"Alright." She declared, pulling herself upright with only a small wince. "I need to cut that fucks ear off and ask some questions."

She was still well aware that she owed these two men some kind of payment, but neither of them had really mentioned that part yet.

 

[Lazarus of Minaris]

"Better a temporary hobble than a permanent limp, hmm?" Lazarus pulled air from one side of his mouth and puffed vigorously from the pipe. Ringlets of smoke lifted and dissipated on an odd rhythm that could have seemed purposeful, if one didn't know the man.​

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"And while trophies are a bit of game for the pot-hunters, I do fancy it from time to time." He turned to look towards the wounded thief. "Imbues the world with a sense of equity, yeah? If only fleeting." He approached, turning the stem of the pipe towards the woman and indicating towards the wound. ​

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"Gotcha a poultice is what we did. With the charring and mustard seed, it smells a might bit appetizing." He took a deep breath, free of smoke. "Perhaps a ramshackle duffer of vittles, down on the quay?" He gave the woman an accusatory glance, though entirely unintentional. "This or that. Whomever this fuck may be..." He cleared his throat. "Hopefully he's got a small beak." He tapped the end of his nose with the shaft before nodding towards the exit.​

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"Gets some air in ya, luv. Then lets chat about trudging on the cobbles."​

 

[Kala]

Kala took the poultice and then nodded her head.

She broke off from the table she'd been leaning against and quickly stepped up the stairs.

A rush of air hit her lungs almost as soon as she reached the top, the sea setting into her as she closed her eyes for a brief moment. Fingers clutched tightly around the railing, calming herself before she continued to walk over towards the railing of the ship.

The calm lapping of the waves would ordinarily have made her want to vomit, but in her current state the soft swaying of the ship was rather pleasant. She took In a few slow deep breaths.

"His name is Collf." The informant who had given her the job. "Not his real name, just the cipher that he goes by."

Kala did not know his real name. "I think he set me up."

In her mind it was the only real explanation.

The men inside the palace had most definitely not been city guard. They had fallen on her like a pack of wolves going after a rabbit. There wasn't really much else reason that she could figure for it.

 

[Lazarus of Minaris]

He let the women talk and where needed, the silence pass. The sound of the chop, the clap of brackish water against dock and hull alike, were the only sounds to echo in chorus of Kala indictment of this Collf. That and the sound of fluttering wings and the occasional cawing laughter of an airborne gull.​

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He pinched his thumb over the chamber of the pipe and burlesqued a puffing motion with his cheeks, pulled out air. Feeling the burn of the embers on his finger, he waved the pipe in contentment of reignition.​

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"Well..." He finally broke the silence after smoking pensively for some time. "As much a leader as we're bound to conjure. Though more for metal trappings than twine..." It felt thin, this Tieflings hunch. But if it was all they had to go on, he wasn't in a place to riposte or recommend otherwise. It wasn't his habit to caution prudence.​

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Turning, Lazarus pressed his back against the solid wooden railing, and gestured towards the wounded woman with the shaft of the pipe. "Much more than that, hmm? An abode, perhaps? A casual place of dwelling? I don't think I need to tell you this but...interrogation is troublesome when more than air separates us, hmm?"​