Fable - Ask The Bastard of Shān-jìn-tóu

[Valor]

Love's plan proved to be an excellent move. Had Valor followed Demise outside and caught sight of the Centaur trying to proposition his pretend-wife, things would not have gone as smoothly as the group would have liked. Instead, Valor opened the door to the lavatory, went inside, and took a seat, locking the door, all while whistling a cheerful tune.

Valor waited, pulling his trousers down to add an authentic effect should anyone try to barge in without the politeness to knock. Any knock or jiggle of the door would earn a casual response.

"Sorry! I'll be out in just a minute."

He would not be out in a minute, staying there patiently until the next phase of Love's plan.

 

[Yarrow]

Yarrow didn't watch Love weave his magic, but she could tell from the stillness of breath that it required a great amount of focus to pull off. Noticing this, the she-orc ordered herself a beer, kept a not-so-close eye on the other guardswomen as they chatted away, blind to the danger creeping up on them.

There was an air of normalcy to the place that Yarrow found reassuring. Normalcy was a good sign; it meant nothing bad was happening.

Or in this case, that they hadn't been found out by the locals. Not that they were a particularly curious lot. Most were more than happy to examine the contents of their cups when Yarrow looked their way. The barkeep was the only one who didn't turn away, but that was only because he mistook her look for a request.

Two beers plopped down on the table. Yarrow slid one to Love, fondled her own, like any road-weary merc would.

'Don't sweat it,' she replied, 'I'm on the guards. You just keep doing what you're doing and we'll be fine.'

It almost wasn't a lie. Almost.

 

[Love]

If there was any way to make him feel more at ease, knowing he had a warrior like Yarrow between him and those who would take advantage of his current vulnerability was certainly high on that list. However, what happened next was in the hands of fate; The Guardswoman's early rise had wrested away much of his control over the situation.

Most of it.

Love watched as she returned, a frustrated expression on her orcish features as she sat back down with a huff, muttering something towards the others, likely involving Valor's occupation of the restroom judging by the several heads that briefly pointed in that direction. As her large hand reached down for the cup that Abigail had just plunged into, Love's eyes widened, his pupils dilating like a predator spotting wounded prey.

Yes. Drink it.

The rim of the mug came closer to her lips. Closer... It was the tiniest sip, that passed into her mouth, but the assassin knew it would be enough. Abigail's shadowy form would slink through her body, making the contents of her stomach into something that quite disagreed with her. With the restroom out of the question, where would one go to upchuck? Why, the alleyway outside seemed discreet enough.

As the orc clutched at her gut in discomfort, he only hoped Demise would forgive him for the smell.

 

[Demise]

"Not really," Demise drawled in her local accent and had no job conjuring the irate expression on her face. It was enough to give the centaur pause but the drink made him more confident and he continued to saunter over until he leaned against the wall beside her entirely blocking her view of the doorway. A muscle feathered in her jaw. Anger never worked on drunks it only escalated the situation and right now, Demi needed people not to be looking at her. She took a deep breath and shoved her rage down.

"What's got you so upset, darlin'?" he reached forward as if to touch her face and Demise stepped back.

"My husband." Perhaps Valor had made a good choice with their disguise for the centaur balked momentarily, calculating whether or not it was worth his trouble to press further. A glance around revealing no anger looks in his direction clearly gave him the confidence to continue.

"I could make you forget about your husband," he grinned. The Vicar was about to offer some tart response when she heard the door open behind him and glancing round his bulk she spied the she-orc legging it into the alleyway round the back.

"Actually... that sounds like a great idea," Demise offered her best smile and the centaur practically beamed as she took his hand and led him after the she-orc into the alleyway.

 

[Valor]

With the orc driven away from using the restroom, Valor would nod, giving himself a mental pat on the back for performing such a task. He watched her leave, unsure of what to do after. Maybe Love wanted him to wait there the entire time? He shook his head at the thought; his uses would be squandered like this. Valor slumped into his seat with a sigh, disliking his role's seeming lack of purpose.

As Valor continued to wait, he soon found his restlessness overtaking the last remaining vestiges of patience mustered. Suddenly, Valor had what he considered to be an ingenious plan. He waited until a particularly rowdy individual banged on the restroom door. By the sound of his slurred curses, the tavern-goer was one bottle away from passing out.

In an indiscernible instant, Valor displayed why he kept his spot as an assassin for the church. He grabbed the man, putting him to sleep in a chokehold and letting his unconscious body slump into the seat. That would be a suitable substitute, and none would think the wiser of a drunken patron passed out on the toilet.

With that, Valor slipped outside of the tavern, able to catch Demise and the centaur walking away a fair distance from the entrance.

He was unsure what to make of it, deciding to leave his post just a bit to see what was happening between the two, not noticing the she-orc a few paces before them.