Adventures of Portson

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David had still not left the alley to find a bed for the night as he realised the conversation was not quite over. "What can we do, though?" David asked. "I presume he has many of his own personal thugs, along with the city guard. And what about the other people with any power? He must control them as well. There is little we can do to help this town." He paused to think,

"If we are going to do something, it has to be small, as Milo says. I suggest we rob him of as many things of value as we possibly can. This way he will have trouble paying the city guard and he will find it hard to bully anyone without their influence," He smiled, "and with money we gain, we may be able to buy us some help if things turn to a grander scale."

 

"That's a good way to start," Milo grinned. "For now, we have to scatter before we attract attention. Land a few punches to make your escape story plausible - don't enjoy yourself too much, now! - and we'll meet again tonight, in a different tavern. Perhaps the 'Witches' Teat'?"

 

Jon nodded and grinned as Milo finished, walking off back towards the inn he started realise what he had got himself into...

 

"Allright I see you guys there!" Talena said. Then she walkes of to do some preparations...

 

David shook his head. He had just arrived in this town! He lashed a fist out and cracked Milo on the jaw. "Sorry if that hurt." He said as the guardsman fell back. David helped Milo shakily to his feet. "Can you stand? Claraton, perhaps you could help Milo back into the tavern. It would spoil our cover somewhat if I carried him back in." He passed Milo onto Claraton's arm and turned to leave from the furthest exit.

 

"Here, let me help you with him," offered Simon. He looked sideways at Claraton as the impromptu gathering broke up.

"I don't blame you for wanting to help her. She's rather attractive, the little one. I take it the two of you have a shared past?"

He took a quick peek out the mouth of the alley then turned back to help with the guardsman.

 

Claraton did not answer the strangers question, but simply nodded, and took it in. He walked over to
the guard, lifting him to his feet. With the help of Simon, the two made their way back to the inn.

Clar ran into the back rooms, dragging Neshi along after telling the others he was "Getting a little water..."

"This is it, Neshi. We stay in this god forsaken town, and hope that this sceme works. Or we run." Clar spoke quickly and calmly, cleaning his face of sweat.

 

"This is ridiculous!" she hissed shrilly. "We can't go along with this! It's mad! We'd be better off buying our way out of here by telling Blackamon about these ... these lunatics, then we would going along and getting killed. I don't know about you, but I don't care enough about this town to die for it."

 

Clarton looked at Neshi. She had been his friend for a long time, maybe his only friend. But what choice did he have? The girls words had brought a new meaning to the 'plan'. This town, although it wasn't much, was the boys home. Kar and Neshi were the only people he cared about, and after listening to her, Claraton realise the truth.

"But I am." he said, starting to walk from the room. "I am prepared to die..."

 

Neshi just looked at him as he left and muttered to herself: "Boys are so stupid. Always willing to die just for the glory of being dead."
Still even as she said those words she regretted it. Clarton was her friend after all and she couldn't just let him go and get himself killed. She quickly went after him, all the while hoping she wouldn't get to regret her decision.

As the two left the inn they didn't notice the cloacked figure coming from behind them. As he got closer the cloacked man revealed a wooden club and prepared to attack them.

 

David stepped inside the inn signposted as The Witches' Teat. It was not quite so busy, as it was considerably late. He couldn't afford to buy himself an ale, and so he moved to an empty table and waited for the rest to arrive.

 

Simon excused himself after he helped Milo back to the inn. "I'll see you all at the other place."

For the rest of the day, he lost himself among the crowds of people, which provided reasonable cover as he scouted out the town. He also managed to get a decent blade (the borrowed one having been given back to its owner) and found a flophouse to catch a bit of sleep.

Later that night, he made his way to the Witches Teat to meet his newfound "friends". The only one there was the big one, David, if he recalled correctly. Simon had a bit of coin left, so he ordered two jacks of ale and sat down across from the man.

"I didn't get the chance to complement your fiddle playing earlier," he said, passing over an ale. "Hope this makes up for it."

Simon tipped his own mug back. It didn't seem to taste as good as the ale from the other pub. Oh, well. Pitching his voice so that none but David could hear him, Simon queried, "That business back in the alley. Would another blade, another pair of hands, be of use? I've no ship to sail with and almost no coin left. THIS face isn't going to land me in any rich lady's bed, either. So what say you?"

[ January 30, 2005, 03:06: Message edited by: el timtor ]

 

It slowing turned dark as Jon peered out of his rooms window onto the street below, people were hurrying in all directions trying to get home or finish up the daily shopping before the shops were closed.

When Jon had returned to the inn he had requested a small dinner and took it to his room with him, staying in there until night.

Jon hopped down from the crate he had to use to look out the window and crossed to his bed, kneeling down he took out a bundle of black cloth from underneath the bed. Jon stood with a groan his hand going to his lower back. "I'm to old for this." he said to himself. Unwrapping the bundle Jon layed it out on the bed, it revealed a large assortment of weaponry, most of which had been forgotten by Jon. Making sure his pistol and dagger, which had been returned by the sailor, where still inside his shirt, Jon took a small axe and a blackjack, tucking them into his belt, about to wrap the rest back up he put aside to short blades and there scabbards, wrapping them in a layer of the cloth to hide them from people he passed, Jon slung them over his back.

As Jon entered the inn he saw only the big fiddle player, who he didn't know the name of yet, and Simon.

 

"My thanks for the ale." David said, taking a sip, "It is well appreciated." He leaned back as Simon asked him if he was able to join. "Lord knows we need another blade by our side... but it's not really my place to say. If anyone, Milo is in charge of this little escapade. Ask him when he arrives, but you have my vote, nonetheless." David took another sip from his ale and caught sight of the man at the door. he'd seen him in the alley, and had made a note of his face. He gave him a slight nod and returned to his drink.

 

"You're welcome. Ah, the guests begin to arrive," spoke Simon, seeing Jon walk in.

"Something is bothering me, though. If the city guard is in this Blackamon's pocket, what makes Milo so different? Not to disparage a man I don't know, of course..."

He let his voice trail off, sipped his ale, and nodded to Jon as he joined them.

 

“Let me see…” Talena says, “A bottle of whiskey, a Pickaxe, a bottle of fine red wine, a long piece of rope, my crosbow, bolts, some false keys and of course my flute and some dice!”. "I don't know what will happen tonight, but I better come prepared!"

Then she leaves her house and walks to the Witches Teat. When she enters she sees that the men are allready there, she wants to walk towards them but something in her head holds her back... "Maybe it's a trap!" She thinks...

 

Simon, watching the door, saw Talena arrive. A smile was on his face as he noted her equipment.

"The party is always more delightful when it includes a well-dressed lady or two," he observed.

 

Claraton sat quiet and still. What the hell was happening to his life? He had started his day by serving drinks. Half way through he ran into his old friend seeking help. Now he was part of a possible rebel-like assassination. It was crazy. And still, he was ready. Walking very slowly, step by step, he went down to the common room of The Idle Sailor. All was quiet, although the room was not empty. Clar made his way across the room, out the door and into the dark streets of Portson. It was only time until he arrived at the Witch’s Teat, and his new companions.

It was a cold night and the stars lit the entire bay of Portson, with the help of the night’s full moon. The young bar-boy walked down the alleys and streets of his home until his destination was just across the street. It was now or never. Yes or no. With that being his last thought, Claraton entered the Inn. He saw a table surrounded by the drinking companions who had already arrived. It was just then when everything changed.

Claraton looked at the table of ‘friends’ and began to take his first step. He noticed they had all seen him arrive. There was no backing out now. Then the shouting began.
“You! Boy! Stop there! Get rid of the weapon too!” A man had stood up on the other side of the room. He was a medium sized, well built man. He looked like a smithy or a fighter. Or a guard. Claraton began to remove his sword and knives when another three men entered by the door behind him. They were guards.
“That’s a boy. Drop your sharpies and tell us where the girl is.” One of the men behind Clar said, speaking quietly.

The boy broke. Neshi! It had all been a set up! Someone had betrayed him! He ran!

Claraton turned around, barging through the three officials out onto the street. He heard the guards chase after him. Neshi was all he had to think about now! Where was she!?

 

Jon didn't realise Claraton had entered the room until the man started shouting. He watched as the boy started to shed his weapons, congratulating himself silently for hiding his own.

Then more men came in behind the boy, Jon saw them say something but he couldn't make it out, then all of sudden Claraton turned and ran through the guards out the door. Jon stood pointing out the action to everyone else at the table, before running out.

Jon used to be very fast, but he was now worn down, he was still quick enough to catch up to one of the slower men, drawing his blackjack and clubbing him over the head as he ran past. The man fell to the ground unconcious as Jon continued to give chase, he wasn't gaining on the other men, but wasn't falling behind either.

 

CLaraton was shocked when he saw the drunk stand up in the inn. Was he following? Was he helping? Calraton would have liked to know, but didn't really care. He needed to find Neshi. Probably being at the Idle Sailor, that was where the boy ran. It was impossible to get there without the guards knowing, so he had to loose them first.

He ran as fast as possible, but the guards were still gaining. Shouting aswell. Many shouts were un-audible, other no so nice. Claraton blocked them out and continued to twist his way through alleys into the heart and soul of Portson. With a quick glance behind, he noticed only three still followed. One must have fallen behind.

Claraton was young, and these men were fit. One and one added up and the result was bad. At last the fastest man became in range, and with a strong dive he tackled the bar-boy to the ground. Claraton began to squirm, trying to get free. It was no use. Finally he went stiff as a board as he felt steel against his throat.