10.10.3013: Would you like some stitches with that?
Summary: Two cloaked figures take on some thugs who make a mistake…
Date: 18 September, 2013
Related: None
BlueSister Morrigan 


The Drudge Quarter of Smog Alley in Obsidius
See the first paragraph
10 October, 3013

The drudge quarter has been some overhauling lately. In any other part of the civilized world, it would be considered a minor thing for an empty room to be cleaned out and some new beds put in. But this is the poorest quarter in Obsidia, the darkest corner of Smog Alley where the smoke hangs thickest, and the tenants can't ever seem to wash it from their faces.

<FS3> Klaudea rolls Electronics: Great Success

This is an old storage space, used for supplies for a nearby factory that went bankrupt almost a decade ago and everything was left as is. At least, it was until recently. Blue Sister brought a couple of 'friends' to The Alley a little over a week ago, and according to Basia Ingrahm, one of the friends gave The Sister an expensive necklace to pawn for money for supplies to set up a clinic here in the drudge quarter. But, wherever the money came from, the old storage place has been cleaned up, with doors taken off all but a few of the units, and cots installed. The few remaining doors have been electronically rewired again (probably the only ones in good enough condtion), and the Sister has set the locks to keep the supplies of oxygen and medicine safe inside. So far, only the Sister has the access code to these locks.

Morrigan has been spending more and more time in this quarter. Usually seen in the same old slum eatery playing cards or chess with a wizened old man. No one knows who he is. Keeping the hood of his holocaust cloak up when in public. This evening is no different. Still with the hood up, he makes his way through the streets and alleys quietly towards the clinic.

Hoods and cowls and holocaust cloaks aren't so uncommon here, so it takes a moment before the faced blue hood is noticed in the crowd. But, eventually it is, by a hardened fellow leaning in a doorway. He gives a nod to a friend across the street and they start to follow. One keeps his eye on the hooded figure, and the other keeps an eye out for the Watch. They're shortly joined by a third man, threading his way through the throng of homecoming workers and slowly gaining ground on the woman wearing a blue cloak.

<FS3> Morrigan rolls Alertness: Good Success.

Looking around for a moment shere he leans on the wall, Morrigan nods seing the blue masked one. there's a split second before he notices the others shadowing her as well. Pushing of the wall he was leaning on, a small wet patch left where hehad been resting against the dirty stone, Morrigan moves along the alley quietly. Brushing past the Blue sister close enough that his shoulder barely touches hers in his passing. From the recesses of the hood, a soft, slightly hoarse whisper barely reaches her ears as he says. "take 10 more steps, then either run, or be ready to fight." and with that, he continues. Moving casually towards those shadowing her.

<FS3> Klaudea rolls Alertness: Great Success.

"Three of them?" the voice from the hood is obviously a younger woman, and if she's spotted them, it probably means she's going to fight. "Alley to the right, won't hurt others." The term 'alley' is generous, there's maybe enough room for two people to stand side by side. She keeps heading in that direction, and crosses her fingers that whoever the black cloaked person is will take her lead. She slips to the side, into the less traversed and much smellier, if such can be achieved, space between two buildings..

<FS3> Morrigan rolls Stealth: Good Success.
<FS3> Morrigan rolls Unarmed: Good Success.

Weather Morrigan heard or not is left for debate as he keps moving. Slipping past the first 2, he draws abreast of the 3rd as Klaudea slips into the alley, the others following her. Pivoting on the ball of one foot, Morrigan trips up the 3rd attacker. throwing his weaight forward as the man tumbles forward, Morrigan drives his shoulder into the man, the pair of them falling together. There's a wet, meaty sort of crunching sound as the man's face connects with the urine and soot smelling pavement, assisted inn the impact by the boy's shoulder in the base on his skull. Morrigan tucks into a roll and comes ack to his feet once more calmly, walking towards the alley now as he looks over his shoulder to see if the third is getting up. All of this having taken less than 3 seconds and done in a near seamless chain of movement.

<FS3> Klaudea rolls Unarmed: Success.

Man number 3 is laying on the ground, groaning, and not sure he wants to move. Blood flows on the old cracked pavement that more resembles cobblestones from its decades of disrepair, from his nose, and mouth. It’s also possible a couple of his teeth are now permanent residents in the grimy cracks of the road.

The other two are not aware yet, that they are one less in number. They follow The Sister, who gives it one or two more steps, and then she turns suddenly, her booted foot sweeping to the outside of the first follower's knee. Then she's back a step, the space narrow enough that she can easily touch each wall, giving them little room to maneuver if they try and come at her together. "What do you want?" she asks curtly, set in a crouch and ready to strike.

The kicked man grunts as he stumbles against his partner, but when he straightens up, he pulls a thick stick out from under his long, patched coat. "Yuh know what we want, /Sister/," the last word carries a sneer. "Yuh've got that rich lady sponsoring yu now, an’ she won't miss those medicines yuh've got stowed away. Yuh can just tell 'em yuh lost it, see, an' they'll buy yuh more."

The other one chimes in. "It ain't AMP, but it'll still net us some money. We needs money."

<FS3> Morrigan rolls Stealth: Good Success.
<FS3> Morrigan rolls Bludgeons: Good Success.

Moving into the alley behind the others, there's a soft whisper of metal on fabric before the man at the back feels the angled underedge of a tomahawk style hand axe resting against his windpipe. the blade resting in a way that was merely uncomfortable at the moment, though sudden movement would fix that issue in a very terminal way. a Soft, quiet voice behind the men speaks out. "You need life more than money. But it's your choice. press for the money…lose your life. Choose to live…forget the money."

<FS3> Klaudea rolls Unarmed: Good Success.
<FS3> Klaudea rolls Bludgeons: Success.

A rather undgnified and surprised squack comes from the man who suddenly finds himself with cold metal at his throat. "Hey man…" his hands come up in front of him in a sign of surrender.
The stick weilding man, however, takes one look and decides he wants to try and even the score, hostage for hostage. He makes a lunge for the woman in front of him, intent on getting the stick around her neck to use her as a bargaining chip against the strange man.

Unfortunately for him, the smallish woman in front of him isn't interested in playing along with that idea. The swing of the stick is ducked, and as it slams into the wall behind where she was, the man gets a stinger in his arm, giving him pause just long enough for her to grab the arm and continue the twist it down, her hand coming up to stiff arm his shoulder into the wall. "That medicine is not for sale," she says quite succintly. "It is for the people who come to the clinic to be used as Talia has prescribed."

The Thug now in Klaudea's grip is surprised to say the least! his arm numb from the stinger, he mumbles and stutters "sorry. s..sorry. Don't kill us, we just needed the score! yuh've got so much!" face pressed to the wall, he closes his eyes. "Don't kill us, please? Only fair! we weren't gonna to kill yuh! didn't even want ta rough yuh up any. just wanted ta scare yuh!"

Morrigan watches the scene quietly. his free hand moving quietly, he gently steers his captive around until he's facing the mouth of the alley. After a moment, he places something in the man's pocket before speaking quietly. "That will buy you all a meal…and get your friend out in the street the medical attention he undoubtedly requires…it'll probably even pay for your stitches."

The man looks confused for a moment before replying "what…stitches…" then there's a yelp as Morrigan quickly draws a blade across the man's backside. Not actually deep enough that it will truly require stitches, but deep enough that it's going to hurt to do anything for the next couple of days. The tomahawk is removed and the man is gently pushed towards the mouth of the alley before the black and silver robed man turns back to see what Klaudea intends to do with her charge now.

With his face half smushed against the wall, the other man watches as Morrigan sets his friend free. Behind him he hears a little choke from the Sister as he receives an answer to his question about stitches. The mane she pins gives a little squirm, "can I go, too? Promise I won't cause no more trouble." His sullen whine now sounds more like a twelve year old in detention, rather than an attempted drug thief.

Shifting her grip, she backs him from the wall and gives him a bit of a shove. "Yeah, off with you. Get your meal, and thank the nice man on your way by, maybe he'll let you be able to sit down and enjoy it."

The man gives a stumble, and brushes himself up against the wall as far as he can get from the man with the axe, which isn't far, really. "Thanks" he mumbles, then slips out, hands held protectively behind his back to cover his rear, and runs.

Nodding to the man from beneath the hood, Morrigan leans on the wall quietly once more, wincing under the cloak, he watches Klaudea for a long moment before he speaks quietly. "Is this going to become a habit with you ma'am?"

It's impossible to see beneath the scarf. but from the crinkles around the eyes, it's possible to guess that woman is smiling broadly as she looks up to hooded man who came to her rescue. One shoulder lifts. "If you're asking if I plan to make it a habit of having men follow me and try to mug me, no. A habit of coming here," she gives a nod and looks out. "It's an old habit, and these people need help. I've recently run into some people who are willing to pitch in some of the necessary funds, which it appears causes as many problems as it solves." She shakes her head. "Well, not quite /as many/."

Nodding quietly, Morrigan considers that for a moment. watching her quietly. Even when the light changes and it might show parts of his face beneath the hood, all stays dark. possibly there's a scarf or Balaclava over his face as well beneath there His voice was slightly muffled. Though the timbre of the voice does indicate she's speaking to a younger man. After a moment, he nods. "Meant about getting mugged. I have cousins that work down here. You've treated a couple of them for Black Lung. For that, I'm in your debt, so if you need a hand, Ask for Karcher at the main cook hall. He'll pass the message along. It was hard to place, but the man's accent wasn't a native one either, but then in this place. That wasn't really strange.

The young woman's head tilts to the side, "and who shall I tell Karcher I am looking for?" she asks, before she gives a rueful shake to her head. "I did not actually do the treating, I just provided what was necessary. I don't have much knowledge of medicine. Bertram is the one who actually does the doctoring, I can pass along your thanks if you like."

Shrugging Morrigan grunts slightly. "Just tell him what your problem is. if Karcher can't point you to the right person, they don't exist. if it's something I can help with, he'll send word to me." There's another moment's pause before he adds. "You made it possible. all of you have my thanks really." Pausing for a moment, he straightens up once more, pushing off the wall. "I should be going. You be alright from here?"

There's a pause from the woman as she realizes the man is leaving. "I… yes, I can make it. I'll be all right. Thank you, for your assistance. I am sorry, I almost forgot." Her eyes crinkle again, and it can be seen that they are some light color, but which isn't quite obvious. "Are you around often?" the question is hesitant, but seems to carry a somewhat hopeful tone in it.

There's a moment's hesitation before Morigan nods. "More often I think. After all, what good is offering service to pay a debt of thanks if I'm not around?" Offering a slight bow, though it's easy to tell even in his current outfit that his eyes never leave her, he straighens up, takes 3 backwards steps then turns and slips out of the alley. A thin line of red droplets and a wet patch on the wall being the only things to mark his passing.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License