Open Chronicles Birds in the Bush

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Gavril Dan'kosi

The Stray
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Steel rang with its sweet tone, and the hurried steps of men dancing for their lives continued its staccato beat.

Another blow, but Gavril had been anticipating the attack. With the dull length of steel held handle high and tip low, he caught the brigands' next attack in a sweeping upward motion, striking with considerable force to throw the man's guard wide open. Even as he did, he stepped forward and a booted foot caught the fellow hard in the gut. In the next motion, the No'rei brought his blade down with all of its considerable weight and his own considerable strength.

A gruesome, wet crunch...and then silence save for the screaming of a downed horse and the now distant wails of two women. Even as the mercenary straightened, blood dripping from the side of one of the overturned carts nearby, the sounds faded beyond his ear.

Closer, another sound raised his attention.

Clad in leather, with dripping two-handed blade in one hand now, the mercenary followed the sound to its source. The man lying face down in the dirt in front of him was middle-aged, and crooked angle of one leg and the bloodstains marked him as another casualty of this nightmare he had simply had the misfortune of stumbling on.

"...he....p me..," a breathy whisper, imploring his aid. The No'rei looked down at the traitor - the Sundered, as they were called among his people - in silence and with a measure of disgust. Still, there might be money in not letting the man die even if he, Galvis Dan'kosi, and no stake in his life or death. The mercenary used one of the dead men lying near to hand to wipe his blade clear and then slide it back onto his back before bending over and taking the survivor by the scruff of his neck. The shriek of pain and following silence meant little to him as he threw the man over his shoulder and turned back the way he had come. There was a town perhaps a tenth of a wheel of the heavens behind him, and there might be someone there who could help this one, at least.

****

The body hit the table in the local watering hole, leaving a red smear on the stained boards. If he hadn't gotten their attention simply walking in with a prone figure on his shoulder, this action ensured he had all the patron's attention. The sharp in-drawn breath from the fellow indicated he was not only still alive, but aware to some degree at least.

"What in the seven hells," one of the occupants of the table exclaimed, but before the man could rise and take offense - or anything really - Gavril cut him off.

"Help, he needs," the mercenary said. Despite the simplicity of the request, the accent was still strong. The warrior shrugged at the incredulous stare, and then took a seat as no few people quickly exited the building. It wouldn't be long before what passed as this settlement's guards arrived and started asking questions. So close the the savannah, certain accusations were already quite likely to be made. He had a reputation in these parts, at least. They probably wouldn't bother him.

All that was needed was to wait for a local healer to come and revive the man enough to collect whatever reward he could wrest from the merchant. Or whatever he was.
 
Percy, who was in the middle of pick-pocketing the man next to him, startled and dropped the man's bracelet, and hurriedly scooped it up, placing it on his own wrist. "I have no ways of healing," he admitted, and walked around the table to observe the man. "I'm afraid this is past my expertise."

Percy's nose twitched, and his rabbit ears stood alert as he carefully looked over at the mercenary. Such a strange man, he thought, and squinted to look up at him. Percy was a very small boy, and he felt himself shrink near the man that had thrown the other injured one on the table. He looked curiously at the injured person, and poked him, earning a sharp gasp from him and a weak grunt as he attempted to speak.

"Probably has a broken rib," he said matter of factly, and continued to prod at the man, ignoring the grunts of discomfort. The rabbit wiped off his bloodied finger on the man next to him, and ignored the man's offended sputtering.

The rabbitfolk tapped his foot impatiently, causing a thump everytime he did so with his powerful legs, rising and falling of his chest signalling a rapid heart rate and breathing pattern.

Percy, sadly, was slightly afraid.
 
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For his part, the No'rei simply grunted in response to the quick words from the diminutive fellow. He had only been aware of the boy in the periphery of the room - a backdrop, a part of the scenery. In his world, everything was broken down into threat and non-threat; the ever-present reality of violence something that had been ground into his very he had been able to walk and talk.

Percy, in his estimation, was a non-threat.

"Along, someone will be," Gavril said, his voice low and gravelly. He looked to the boy, and his dark eyes from beneath the head gleamed in an appraising way. Almost as if his comment had summoned them, a pair of men in boiled leather with the long staves of the local guard pushed through the door of the tavern, quickly sweeping the room and its diminished occupancy. They fixed on the wounded fellow on the table, then on Gavril with a tightening of the eyes. A moment later, recognition.

"Knew you'd be trouble," the one on the left said. A quick glance at Percy, disapproving in a different way, before returning to the threat. "What d'ya do to this one, then?"

The plains warrior shrugged, an intimidating motion in and of itself. Broad of shoulder, the action also drew attention to the ridiculous weapon slung on his back. "Nothing. Highwayman, there were. Killed them did I, and this fellow did I save. Others, captured." He shrugged again. "Healer, this one needs. Maybe reward for saving?"

"You'll get no reward from us," one of the guards said flatly. He nodded to his companion, who left in a hurry. He stabbed a finger at the bun-boy, and scowled. "And I thought we told you to take your sticky fingers elsewhere."

Percy Slayer
 
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Percy watched the exchange curiously, and jumped slightly, nose twitching as he was pointed at. He sniffed, watching the guard with distaste. "And I thought I told you it's a lifestyle I choose, and to keep your ugly mug out of it. " Percy gritted his teeth and gave a forced smile to the guard, noticing his look of obvious anger and his grin turned slightly less forced.

"Anyway, I'd pay the man if I were you, " Percy stated, ignoring the groaning man on the table in favor of stealing someone's unattended drink and taking a sip of it. His nose wrinkled in disgust and put the drink back down.
 
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Gavril watched on with concealed amusement. He was not entirely fluent in the common tongue, but fluent enough to follow along. "And I tell you now that it's a lifestyle choice of mine the stretch the neck of petty thieves." The guardsman paused, almost seemingyl for effect, nd then gave the boy a nasty grin. "That means stringing you up, in case you didn't follow."

The door banged open behind them, and a harried looking fellow in a stained robe hurried through, followed in short order by the other that had gone off looking for a healer. The robed man stopped at the table, ignoring the grizzled mercenary, and focused on the man. "Well," he said, and shook his head. "Well." Without any further preamble, he went to work. The acrid tin-and-copper taste of some kind of magic suffused the air shortly afterwards.

"We do not pay rewards to random strangers," the one guard said, and then turned to Gavril. "If you want money, talk to that fellow. If he lives."

"He will live," the healer said, voice strained by the concentration required for his work. "Quiet please."

Gavril, at least, gave them that.
 
Percy snapped his mouth shut and impatiently continued to tap his food on the wooden floors, much more gently than previously as to not disturb the healer. He kept glancing at the tall brooding mercenary, curious as to what he was going to do next. Why had the man assumed that Gavril was to blame?

He shot an irritated glare at the guardsmen, debating whether or not to jump him later. The expression looked rather strange on his boyish features and overall cutesy appearance. He was a bunny, after all.
 
More people left before long. While magic was common enough all through Arethil, there were still plenty who were leary of it. Common did not mean the average soul could use or understand it. Didn't stop them from relying on it when they needed it, of course.

Gavril watched on in silence, casting an occasional hooded glance to the small...whatever it was. He had seen so many things since leaving the self-imposed isolation of his people, some of them quite hard to credit without actually having seen them with his own eyes. The world beyond the Sea of Grass was wild and varied, and completely and utterly bereft of any sense of honor. In that, at least, his ancestors had been right. He looked at the ceiling, and nodded towards the unseen heavens, and made a gesture with one hand - one half of warding, half of placation. Perhaps they would not mind his criticism.

The greasy feel of magic ebbed, and then melted away. The healer took a step back, and wiped a hand across his forehead. "He will live, but I imagine he won't be very happy." Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, the fellow on the table opened his eyes, blinked once, and then sat bolt upright. He looked round the room frantically, eyes blood-shot and wild, fixing on Percy, then Gavril, then the guard standing by.

"Wha....how..," he began, then shook his head, swaying from unsteadiness. "You have to go back! Go back and....and get them back...."

He slumped forward, and clutched his head.

Gavril sat, impassive, and waited for him to come round. The guard sucked air through his teeth, and shook his head.
 
Percy looked over at the hooded man, and smiled brightly every time the man glanced at him in return. Turning back to the man on the table, he let out a startled honk noise at seeing the man's bloodshot eyes fixated on him. He was awake! Which was good news, yet Percy squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. The man turned to the hooded man.

"Wha....how..," he began, then shook his head, swaying from unsteadiness. "You have to go back! Go back and....and get them back...."

Percy gave him a determined look. "Sir, I would love to help, however, I do not know what you speak of. Perhaps you could give us more information?"

The young bun turned towards Gavril, pleading eyes wishing to weasel more information out of him, though he knew the mercenary couldn't speak well.
 
Percy was under a misapprehension. It was not that the stony warrior could not speak well - his common worked well enough for his trade - but rather that he seldom spoke at all. Words were, most times, a waste of effort. Nothing spoke as loudly as violence, and it was as thing that the No'rei were quite good at. "Not there, was I. Only came too late." Gavril shrugged again.

And then he simply waited. After a time, the fellow straightened and let his hands fall to his side. "They took them. Wife. Daughter." His voice was a dead, hollow thing filled with grief. "Killed my boys when they jumped us and they fought back. Stole what little we had..."

"Great Sea, dangerous for outsiders." The gruff warrior was remorseless. "No place for weak. Weak, they die. Or worse." And he shrugged again.

"They are still alive," the man said, shaking his head, listing dangerously to one side.

The robed healer tsked under his breath, muttering about fools pushing themselves too far. "And so are you, but you won't be if you go rushing after them." He looked to the No'rei, and spat to one side. "Fortune favored you that this savage happened to be near when they were taken, else you would be dead too."

Gavril grunted. He was well used to being referred to as a savage. It even suited him, after a fashion. After all, brutality was his stock in trade, and here on the edge of the so-called civilized world, it was a coin that was worth its weight.

"But...you could..," the fellow began, and Gavril laughed cruelly.

"Not free. Coin you pay, or walk I do. Not char-it-ee, not here." He crossed his arms.