Open Chronicles Spilled ink and Broken Glass

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Vulpesen

Vulpesen

Ain't Dead Yet
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Character Biography
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The sound of shattering glass was drowned out by what would no doubt later be described as a manly shout of astonishment, though those who heard it in person would liken it more to a shriek. Wrapped in the lithe arms of his body guard, diplomat Menoric Conniel of the Vitae Alliance wasn't entirely sure what he thought of his protection's competence. On one hand, the crossbow that had been pointed at his chest had missed its mark. On the other hand, he was currently plummeting out of a window towards a busy market street.

"Hold on!" Vulpesen shouted over the shrieking diplomat as he did his best to angle their descent. He succeeded in slamming his back through the canopy of a fruit stand, splattering mangos, apples, and other assorted fruits over his black uniform. It was the best he could hope for, but his left shoulder still didn't agree with the course of action. What's more, Conniel's body forced the breath out of him, making the Tenevi agent think that his lungs hadn't merely been deflated but forced into another plane entirely. "Lay off the pastries," he wheezed, thankfully unheard by the diplomat who rolled onto the street, bruised but alive.

"Are you crazy!?" Conniel demanded, his golden gilded suit splattered but foods and his head bleeding from a cut sustained from being lightly bounced off a beam. To his credit, the question was repeated in every mind around them. A fair sized township just west of the spine, Elkgrove was a quiet place with its usual gossip resulting from tax evading merchants and the occasional mistress slipping out of an official's back door. Now, its good citizens, who had only heard whispers, of the reclusive Vitae Alliance, saw its representatives falling from the sky.

"Maybe," Vulpesen gasped, "but we need to move. Now." Pain was temporary, but crossbows had long ranges and could cause a far more permanent affliction. A simple look to the window he had just fallen from showed a town guard already pulling back the string for another bolt. Safe to say, negotiations had broken down.
 
Elkgrove.

Of the townships that the sage-skinned Orc had visited, it seemed the most to his liking. It wasn't due to the mistresses slipping out the doors of officials, or the tax-evading merchants, or any combination of their illicit affairs. Rather, it was the township's size. Though the main avenue was busy on most days, it did not hold a candle to the mammoth stronghold he called home. In Sardok's mind, Elkgrove was quiet - and he much preferred things that way.

Today, he had intended to make a brief visit to pick up supplies. While living off the land was his usual, there was only so much he could do about deteriorating equipment. Beyond that, he spared a thought about seeing if there were any odd labor jobs available. A day or two chopping wood would see some coin in his pocket for later. Thus, he strolled down the avenue, making a mental checklist of what was absolutely vital and what was simply nice to have.

Fruit? Now that was nice to have...but tempting.

He took a step closer to the stall, intent on browsing the options, when the gods themselves said No. Before he could so much as oogle an apple, the stall practically exploded. Two men came hurtling from the sky and obliterated the selection. Sardok's mouth gaped for a moment as he processed what just happened. "What th-" he began. He would have said more, were it not for the crossbow bolt which impaled the ground in front of his foot.

Looking up, he saw guardsmen standing out the window the men must have leapt from, aiming at the street. Were they fugitives of some sort?

Fugitives? Bounties? Money.

Sardok stepped directly in their path.

"I was looking at that." he said, pointing at the stall.

 
Vulpesen had barely had time to get to his feet when he found himself faced by a towering wall of green muscle. 'Great,' he thought, his hand already moving to the hilt of his sword. One look and Vulpesen knew instantly what that hungry look in the orc's eye meant. It was the look of a man staring at his next purse of gold. "I beg your pardon. I appear to be wearing it," he retorted.

"Mr. Conniel, find an alley and move! I'll cover you." Vulpesen hand swept behind him then made a pushing movement. His golden eyes flashed and a burst of wind snatched another round of bolts from their path. He turned his attention back to the orc, a third of his shimmering weapon sliding from its sheathe. "Now sir, if you don't mind, its been a very rough morning. Please move."

All around the three, vendors, merchants, and shoppers took to cover as they watched. Guards at the periphery of the situation started to move forward to see what had caused the commotion. The Vitaes' window was rapidly closing, and it seemed that their dwindling chances were drawing an enlarged crowd.

Sardok
 
The Orc's eyes moved to the blade.

An opulent soul and a knife-eared warrior had survived crashing into the stall, but they weren't out of the woods yet. Regular denizens began to retreat from the escalating scene whilst the guards cried out from the rear. Sardok was largely unbothered, raising his eyebrow as the man revealed the blade of his sword. It was not a full draw, but the message was clear - he'd fight his way out.

Saying nothing, Sardok then moved his gaze to the man's eyes. He stared, unblinking, whilst descent gripped his form. What was he doing? Simple. A half-intact melon laid within reach and the Orc claimed it for himself. Once within his grasp, he rose to his full height again. Unlike the knife ear, his dominant hand went nowhere near the wicked sword on his waist.

"Rough morning huh?" he began, punctuating his words with a bite of the melon. He continued, speaking through each chew. "Ironically...my boots are feeling a bit rough."

Another bite. Swallow.

"Perhaps we can help each other out." The Orc's offhand rested casually on the pommel of his sword whilst he discarded what remained of the melon. His meaning was simple - coin could buy his movement, hell maybe even his aide.

One could only imagine what rebuke would buy.

 
"Perhaps you should get a new pair. I'm sure I can help you find a shop when my schedule clears." The one benefit of their spectacle was that crowds were not intangible and proved an obstacle for the guards who shouted and ordered an implacable mob of onlookers. "And I'm sure my friend here can pay for a couple of melons. Those ones seemed a bit hard. Unripe maybe?" As he mentioned the fruit's durability, Vulpesen's left hand went to rub his back. He was pretty sure one of them had caught him on his lower right.

"Agent Torr-" Conniel started.

"I've seen the wine you buy. Better than the deal they offer!" His pointing upwards was followed by another arcane gesture to protect him from further shots. Then another, followed by a hissing incantation which sent a bolt a lightning upwards. The crossbow men, bright enough to keep the high ground, were also bright enough to duck for cover. "Gettin' annoying up there. We have an accord?"

Sardok
 
And thus, a mutual understanding was reached.

Though the Orc had not said it plainly, the knife-eared one came to understand that money talked. There was a meager bit of protest from the opulent one hiding nearby, but the dire situation put that to bed almost immediately. Sardok parted his lips to remark on the price range of the wine that was mentioned, but the smell of burning ozone assaulted his nostrils.

His eyebrows raised slightly at the display of lightning that went hurtling over the crossbowmen's heads.

"I think we're speaking the same language." he said, before stepping aside. His offhand gestured towards where the opulent man was hiding, as that just might be a better way out than through the crowds. "Shall we run for our lives?"

 
Inwardly, Vulpesen heaved a sigh of relief as the deal was struck. Letting his blade fall completely into its scabbard, he lifted his hand to bring up more arcane defenses. Whirling wind and flying sparks beat back the archers as he motioned with his head for the orc and his charge to continue on. "By all means, I'll be right behind ya! Counselor, go!" Conniel needed no further encouragement as he turned and quickly as he could, started to run down the alley. Thankfully, even as a diplomat, the counselor was still a Veran citizen and as such was quick to produce a dagger as he made his way from the commotion.

After giving Sardok a moment to push ahead Vulpesen was quick to follow behind. The timing couldn't be better as a group of guards finally pushed past the crowd and started to sprint towards them. "Sorry gents, we'll explain later!" he called before shooting a hand up in the air. The ground before him responded by shooting upwards, building a wall at the mouth of the alley. "That should buy us some time!"
 
In but the span of a moment, an accord was struck. The knife-eared warrior ordered for his charge to run - and run he did. The Orc was right behind him, pausing only to draw the wicked-looking weapon at his side. At the very least, the counselor could feel comfort in knowing he had one hell of a mage and a brute intent on keeping him alive. Yet, he did not just settle for their protection, as Sardok noticed the dagger clutched in the man's hand.

"Won't come to that." he called to the Counselor confidently. "We'll see you out of this."

With thus said, the ground rumbled and the knife-eared warrior created a wall behind them. Good. That would buy them precious moments to advance. "You got transport arranged for this guy?" he then asked of the warrior.

 
Running quick as he could, Vulpesen brought himself to the front of the line before slowing to something that wouldn't leave the diplomat behind. Leading the way with Collien firmly in the middle of the two fighters, he smiled as he heard the Orc's question. "'Fraid not. But we don't plan on leaving anyways. There's a safe house a bit aways. We can drop him off there. Then my job really begins."

The Vitae were relentless. In war, they yielded to no one. In diplomacy, they tirelessly searched for allies and evaluated possible enemies. Elkgrove, they had thought would land in the former category. In truth, it might still be. Its mayor however, had found himself firmly on the naughty list. First the howlaw court, Collien's organization, would assess their potential as an ally. If the town were an enemy, then the Armis would happily fill the streets. But for a single man, it required a more delicate touch. That touch would come from the man in black who was presently leading the way through the alleys.

"If you're looking for a new pair of trousers, perhaps you could stick around. Of course, we can leave your name out of any reports if you so wish." Help was always welcome when it came to giving a town new management. It was a risky business, and Vulpesen preferred to have as many odds in his favor as he could get.

Sardok
 
In short order, the knife-eared warrior took to the front of the group. The plan seemed simple enough: a safe house would tend to the gilded one. There was only the matter of getting there which posed any trouble. But, between Sardok's sword-arm and the knife-eared one's magic, they would manage.

Within the next breath, the warrior offered the Orc continued employment. Sardok chuckled slightly as he ran, saying: "You have quite the full plate, eh? Let's make it to the safe house and we'll see how my trousers are holding up."

Having said as much, Sardok grimaced as movement could be seen at the far end of the alley. Apparently some of the guards had wisened up and had gone around to cut them off. Lovely. "Going straight through?" he called to the warrior.

 
Even as a soldier, Vulpesen had always liked mercenaries. He didn't particularly trust them, but a lack of trust didn't mean a lack of understanding. They followed coin. They were business men with swords. In the agent's experience, all you needed to stay ahead with a merc, was the best deal on the table.

Thankfully, excitement was usually seen as a bonus to the deal, something he was eminently grateful for as a trio of guards appeared down the end of the alley. A couple of raised voices later, and Vulpesen was certain they would be on a time limit to the engagement. "Try to keep them alive! They're doing their job." He had always been a merciful man. But the way his blade swept and flourished in the air, the way Vulpesen leaned forward into a full charge, and the way he roared his challenge all agreed that he was not a peaceful man.

Steel rang through the air as his sword clashed with that of the first guard, batting it aside for the zorren's shoulder to issue a staggering blow to the man's chest. "Move aside!" If they hoped to make it to the safe house in one piece, they needed to stay ahead of the pack. He didn't have time to get bogged down in a prolonged fight.

Sardok
 
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