Lady of the Cake (M)

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Kella, having been frozen in shock of it all, didn't even say a word when Aryn left the table. In fact, the soggy remains of bread was lost on her, as was the cooling goat, er, turnip soup.
The Duke of Turgall.. why did he mention her brother? Paling, her gaze followed him to where he was approaching the more seedy crowd in the tavern and she found herself holding her breath as a bald, burly looking man, who was about twice as wide as Aryn and about twice as muscled, gave a snort as the man approached and sneer as he looked him over.

"Here comes the lady's man. ANd what's that?" Baldy gestured to his arm. "We got us a gimp in this inn?" and the man laughed at his own joke, a few of the other hairy fellows following suit in his amusement. Kella, not interesting in this sort of speak, tucked back her lip and leaned forward in her seat, straining her ears in hopes to catch wind of some sort of information as to why he would have mentioned Blaith.

[Cambie]

The Ironhand only grinned wickedly at the bald behemoth as he pulled back his sleeve to reveal the full extent of his prosthetic. Even in the dimness of the inn, the flickering candle flames shimmered in its reflective surface. He strode right up to the man and, with a wink, retorted, "Aye, the ladies fall for a real man with battle scars. Ask your sister, she loves it."

That comment elicited another bout of laughter from the man's own companions even as he bristled in anger. But before he could say another word, Aryn leaned down against the table right in their midst and said, "But we're not here to talk about that. No, I need information and I'm looking to buy. Not pennies here. Real money."

And with that he withdrew a singular object from a pocket underneath his shirt. He rapped it lightly against the tabletop and, seeing it in the light, all of the men froze for a moment. A gold piece. Real gold.

"Right, now that you're listening. You boys have been around, I can tell. I need to know about the Duke of Turgall. And her sister. What she looks like, where she has been, everything you have seen or heard."

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"The Duke of Turgall?" A tall, gangily fellow of the group gave a guffaw at such a request. "Haven't you heard? The Duke of Turgall's twin sister has gone missing."

"I heard she's a pretty thing," a rat-like man chimed in. "Though I've only seen her once, you can't forget her eyes. Perfect and blue like the sky."
And the men all laughed at him for his outward day dreaming.

"Yeah, Wesley here wants to marry her!"

The rat like man gave a hiss and recoiled.
"Shut up, Harod! You were drooling over her too!"

"Yeah, but I heard rumors speculating she was around the capital. Or something like that. Some odd rumors that she's actually running away from her brother. Probably upset he wants to marry her off or something. Who knows. No body cares. That's nobles business." And it was here the man rubbed his chin and turned to Aryn. "Say... that pretty gold piece, don't suppose you're a man looking after her or something? Like her... betrothed?" He looked the man over, no wonder the girl would have run from him!

[Cambie]

Aryn grinned wickedly at the man but quickly closed his hand over the gold piece before any of them had any funny ideas. If they gave him good information he'd pay them., but not before.

"What's it to ye? Maybe we're betrothed. Maybe we're not. Maybe go suck a lime," he shot back. The less they knew about him, the safer it was. After all, guaranteed he wasn't the only person hired to find this pretty little royal twin, with her golden hair and her 'perfect blue eyes'. If someone else were to benefit from what he learned, he might miss out on that huge payday. And if she was as drop-dead gorgeous as they said, then finding her shouldn't be so difficult.

He took a quick glance back to the girl. She had stopped eating and seemed to just be sitting there, motionless. The mercenary gave a small shrug (she was probably just full or something). Turning back to the group of them, he continued, "So the last you'd heard, she was back in the capital? How long ago was this?"

Reajh, his hometown... he hadn't been back in years. It was such a sprawling city that if the Duke's sister really was hiding there, he'd have to double his efforts.

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"I don't know," the one man said with a sneer and picked at the wax in his ear. "It's just some sort of rumor. For all anyone knows, she's probably dead on the street."

"Yeah, maybe the Duke of Turgall killed her," a weasly man added with a giggle, but the rat-faced one seemed unimpressed as he jabbed him in the rib-cage which made the other yelp in protest. With those two growling in each others faces, the large, burly man from earlier finally chimed in.

"Why would we help you anyway? So you've got gold... for all we know you're just planning to use the girl against the Duke. That would be treason."

And the rest of his men grew silent at that. And it was Kella's turn to perk up as she stared over at the men, before avoiding any gazes her way by looking back down at her cooling soup.
Had she heard Aryn properly? Was he... was he looking for.... her?

[Cambie]

"Whoa now," the Ironhand said with a slight frown on his face, holding both his real and fake hands in the air in a sign of innocent protest. Sure, times were hard these days, but the threat of treason during wartime had everybody slightly on edge. Even the merest of accusations could lead to a nice quick hanging. Besides, if anything, he was helping the Duke in his cause!

"Right, let's not say things we cannot take back now. I'm no traitor to anyone. I'm just a man trying to do his job, and I'm as loyal as they come." These other men, if they found any humor in the mercenary's antics before, now looked as serious as could be. Yet he couldn't reveal to them the reason why he asked all these questions; the fewer in the loop, the better. Knowing his conversation here was nearing its end, Aryn shrugged his shoulders again and added, "Your drinks are on me. Thank you for the information, however little good it did."

His eye still on the group of men, he strode back over to where Kella sat and plopped back down across from her. "That went well," he muttered under his breath. "Get ready, we may have to leave at a moment's notice."

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When Aryn returned, she gasped, her spoon falling onto the table as she winced at the noise. But at his warning, she looked warily over at the men, just as they peered back suspiciously at the pair of them.

"Why... why were you asking about the Duke of Turgall's sister?" she found herself asking the moment she found her voice. But she made sure to keep her voice low. She was afraid others might hear it, but in truth, she was genuinely concerned. After all, the Duke of Turgall's sister was none other than her!

[Cambie]

Aryn's eyes occasionally glanced over to the girl, even as he took some of the cold pieces of bread, dipped them into what was left of his soup, and thoughtfully stuffed them into his mouth. His peripherals were more focused on the group over there, though. Maybe it had been a mistake flashing that gold piece. Folks like were likely to rob him blind before turning him over for treason.

"Oh, nothing important. Don't worry about it," he initially said in a calm, soothing voice to the little waif. Couldn't be too careful. Now that he looked at her, she also had those piercing blue eyes that the ruffians had spoke of when describing the Duke of Turgall's noble twin sister. But plenty of people had those striking features. Besides, no noblewoman would be caught dead in a ramshackle dive like this, much less on the cold streets starving to death.

He gave it a moment of thought before throwing in a not-so-helpful "Just some work I have to do for someone. They paid me coin to look after her, make sure she's not bothered, not troubled or hurt." Maybe not the entire truth, but it was technically accurate. After all, he couldn't deliver a dead girl and be paid for it, now could he?

"Try not to think about. We've got more urgent business."

And as he said that, two of the men rose from their seats, whispering to one another. Were they going to come near? Out of habit, he surreptitiously reached to his belt and loosened a dagger from its bindings.

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Kella's heart was already hammering within her chest. Her lips trembled slightly as she shrunk back in her chair. Yes, it definitely seemed like the men were heading their way, that was, until they turned and began heading towards the bar.  Blinking, Kella found herself wilting a bit as the men ordered themselves more to drink and peered up at Aryn with some questionable relief-
But just as it seemed the coast was clear, the two men came back and this time, they stopped at their table-
and took a seat.


"You know, we's was talking, and we thought, 'Hey, that guy over there has got some nice taste in coin, and women-' so we figured, since we thought highly of ya, that you wouldn't mind buying us a second round of drinks," the overly muscled man said, grinning as he turned from Aryn then over to Kella.

Kella shrunk back, hoping the dark corner hide enough o fher face in shadow, but the dancing flames of the fire only helped to outline her features as the man noticed the way her lips were glossed over by the orange fire light.

"And so we's was thinking, you're looking for a girl, yet you got your own, so hey- maybe you won't mind sharing this one, eh?" And before Kella knew what was going on, she was yanked onto the man's lap and gasped when she felt something prod at her dress. Scrambling within his arms, the man laughed and clamped down on her gloved wrists roughly, her hood nearly falling off her head.
"Just sit still girly or we'll have to take this upstairs!" he laughed, and the man that joined him (now sitting beside Aryn- the weasly one) joined his superior in laughing as well.

"Seems like she's even got those pretty blue eyes, too!" and the weasled man laughed and laugh. Muscle-man rose a brow and grabbed onto Kella hood and yanked it off to get a good look at her, and when he did, his grin became a lot more greedy.

"Say, maybe we should take this on upstairs..." he said, with a heh, heh, heh, and that sort of laughter made Kella squirm.

"Please, don't touch me! Let me go!"

"Let you go?" Both men were laughing, and soon the rest of his table was rising to join them. "But why? The parties only just begun!" ANd whatever he meant by that Kella did not appreciate as a hand suddenly slapped across his face and the men only laughed heartier as the big muscly man tried to weasel in a kiss.

[Cambie]

Aryn's flagon of ale was still half full. He gulped the rest of it down even as the muscled behemoth sat down next to the girl, while the man's smallish companion took a seat on the bench next to him. He gave each of them a glance, then one to the frightened girl. When the leader snatched Kella onto his lap, eliciting a slight yelp from her, the corner of his bearded mouth twitched.

And yet he just sat there.

This was just another street urchin that happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. In all his years, he'd seen such unfortunate occurrences many times, and understood that in the disgusting underbelly of Connlaoth it was a way of life. These men sold their swords to the highest bidder, just like him. And they took what they needed, just like him. What was another wretched girl in the hands of these animals? So he had fed her and aided her on the windy streets. It didn't make him her guardian.

Eyes falling to the table, he let out a low chuckle of amusement. He didn't need to help her. By Angsar, he shouldn't help her. And yet, for some unexplainable reason, the Ironhand knew what was going to happen next. His hand secretly slipped around the hilt of that loosened dagger. "It is what it is, friend," he said to her muscled captor with that wry grin on his face again. "Everyone's got to do what they got to do." He joined in their laughter.

The others approached their table. The leader went in for the kiss.

And in one fluid motion the heavy iron hand came up from under the table, catching that weasel of a man beside him square beneath the jaw, its irresistible force smashing that snake-like grin right out of his mouth in a shower of teeth. The man toppled backward onto the warped wooden floor with a gurgle of blood and a loud crash. The barmaid let out a high-pitched scream at the same time the barkeep shouted in surprise.

Aryn nearly overturned the table from the urgency with which he nearly leaped from his seat, a rusty dagger brandished in his good hand. His eyes rapidly darted to where his cloak and pack lay on the ground, too far away to get to. His axe still sat in the leather loop of his belt, its long handle bumping up against his thick thigh with the exertion.

Clamping his boot down on the fallen man's chest, he brandished the dagger to go along with that excited sneer that splayed across his face. The Ironhand could feel his heart pulsing heavily as he eyed the other men down, almost daring them to do anything. "Right, this conversation's over, so just drop the girl all gentle-like and we'll go our separate ways. Otherwise you're going to find out why they call this place Thorny's."

There were four of them, and one of him. Something had to give.

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If he wanted a fight, a fight it was as all of the four remaining men stood clean up, and glared dangerously back at the iron handed man, some brandishing a few weapons at their sides. Kella, still too frightened, began to sob when the man grabbed her by the hood and shook her at his side.

"You're going to pay for that!" the burly man growled deep from his belly and threw Kella at the rat-face companion to his left before he used his muscly-mass to scoop up the entire bench he had been sitting on and turned and ran, directly for Aryn, aiming to crack him over the head with it as he gave a cry of manly rage.

OOC: For he'd only have the manliest of rages

[Cambie]

((They laced the ale with extra testosterone tonight))

The Ironhand was always willing and ready for an extended bar melee, but this was somehow different. For one, these four men and their wounded companion seemed more intent on running him through with a sword than just knocking him across the back of the head. And on top of that, he'd barely had one drink! No, this was something more serious entirely.

That sentiment came to a head when he burly vagrant tossed the sobbing girl into the arms of one of his filthy henchmen and lifted the entire wooden bench off the floor. He barely had time to take a step to the side before the entire thing came crashing down on him. Raising his metal arm to take the brunt of the force, the crash of heavy wood against his body still succeeded in knocking the wind out of his lungs, the dagger out of his hands, and the Ironhand off his feet with a loud CRACK! He stumbled back a few steps and crashed onto his back, the impact eliciting a loud groan from him.

The adrenaline coursed through his veins now though, and he had the good enough sense to scramble backward and back on his feet. Aryn wasn't smiling anymore; instead, his expression was a grim one, lips pressed firmly together and eyes frantically darting around even as a small trickle of blood ran down his face from that nice gash over his left eyebrow. He reached down to his side and drew out his axe now. There were still four of them, and space was confined. But it wasn't a matter of beating or killing these men... no, he had to get that girl out the door. The rat-faced man had both arms wrapped around her tightly, and the four of them had all the confidence in the world. How was he going to do this?

Behind him, the barkeep scrambled across the floor on all fours and slipped out the door in panic, likely to get the guards. He'd have to do this fast. Before the others could join their boss, he charged back into the burly man, who was in the midst of drawing his own sword. The Ironhand swung his axe with a wild downward chop which just barely missed the larger man but interrupted enough for him to have to abandon drawing his weapon in lieu of avoiding the mercenary's sharp blade. It was the right hand that clipped him on the chin though, as Aryn swung out with his prosthetic. It just managed to connect, but the heavy iron had even this behemoth stumbling and in pain.

Aryn breathed heavily as he surveyed the situation. It was looking dire, but if he could just somehow get that little rat to release the girl...

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The situation went from bad to worse, as Kella found herself within the rat's possession and flinching against him as Ironhand was nearly killed by a tavern bench. Though she'd be lying if she said she wasn't entirely shocked at how the battle was turning out, she knew better than to assume one man could get the upper hand- especially when baldly cried out, "Get him, men! Gut him and search for his gold!"
But it seemed only two of them would obey, as the rat man kept Kella within his arms, even as she struggled and tried to get away.

"Please! Unhand me!" she pleaded, and the rat man only cast her a leer and a laugh.

"As if we'd oblige, girly. We'll get the gold and the girl." And he held her more closely towards him as she watched in horror as two of the men began swinging shiny, steeled weapons at Aryn's head.

"Look out!" she found herself sobbing, and she grit her teeth when she saw the men actually cut him, blood splattering into the air. And as the man holding her began to laugh, she realized she just couldn't do nothing. So when the man wasn't looking, she stepped on his foot as he let out a yelp and then she did the unthinkable, she removed her glove and took a brief hold of his wrist- and before the man knew what was happening he, he let out an even louder scream himself and could have leaped clean out of his boots, for the brief moment her skin was in contact with his, it felt like a terrible, seering pain- one that gripped all over his body and pulled at everything within him. To Kella, it felt like a tingling pull, her own body being lulled, and as the man yanked his hand away from her he back handed her and sent her to the ground- which was enough of an action to draw the attention of the bald man over to him.

"What the hell are you doing!?" the muscled man shouted, clearly pissed rat-face just punched the girl.

"She.. she bit me!" Or something! He couldn't say, but stood there in dismay as baldy yanked Kella clean off the ground by her hair.


OOC: Hope it's ok I assumed Aryn got cut :T you can decide where but if not, I can edit my post XD

[Cambie]

When the other two men began circling Aryn with their own swords drawn, he drew in a sharp breath and held his axe up menacingly. Eyes darted left and right to keep tabs on both of them, while his brain furiously admonished him for getting himself into such a predicament. These brigands weren't just any hoodlums; they were seasoned mercenaries.

The taller one to his right saw an opening and advanced rapidly, his gleaming short sword swinging right for his head. He ducked, and managed to deflect a second swing with the haft of his axe, but let out a roar of pain as the second man's sword found its mark and left a nice red gash across his chest, droplets of blood splattering against his shirt. Aryn clenched his teeth together and retreated even further back, the fiery pain of the wound just barely overpowered by his racing heartbeat and the urgency in his eyes. He felt a bump against his lower back and realized he'd backed right into the bar. With a growl he shrunk behind the safety of his metal arm and the blade of his axe, preparing for the worst.

And then he heard the screams. His twitching eyes somehow found their way past the two men and to where rat-face had suddenly released the girl and given her a mighty slap that drove her to the ground.

Apparently the other two men also heard the man's agonized cry and turned their own heads in dismay, shooting their rat-faced companion looks of confusion. This was the Ironhand's only opportunity to get out of this corner. With his own yell he charged forward out of his crouched stance and bowled right into the smaller man, who lacked the time and space to properly defend himself in his confused state. The two of them stumbled forward for a few steps before Aryn, gripping tightly at his shoulder, used the momentum and his own brutish strength to throw him to the ground directly in the path of the second man.

With a heavy downward swing, Aryn brought the gleaming edge of his axe straight down on the fallen man. His own scream echoed off the stone walls of the inn as the axe bit through his leather jerkin and into his collarbone. Aryn could feel the resistance of bone and flesh give way in a splash of blood that covered both him and the taller man in a crimson shower.

The shock of the moment gave him just enough time to wrench his axe free with some effort and scramble over to where his pack now lay strewn about the tavern floor. That cut across his chest seared him with every movement and he let out another roar of pain as he slid to the ground and snatched up his thick wooden shield. "RIGHT, WHO IS NEXT!?" he shouted across the room to the three men still standing, daring them to fight.

Whatever the girl had done, it'd been effective. Now if only she would recover from that backhand that had dropped her...

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The grip on her hair was enough to sober Kella as she tried to wrangle herself free. Now with one gloveless hand, she'd have to be careful. But these men weren't about to play fair, and neither way she. So as the man continued to hold her near the table, she reached out for the remains of the turnip soup and thrust it at his head. Not expecting it, the man let out a cry and carelessly dropped the girl as she let out a yelp, and while he was floundering while wiping the vegetables from his face, Kella found herself scrambling to Aryn's side as she trembled and breathed heavily, not knowing what else they could do. But hey, at least they had made an impressive mess of the goons.

[Cambie]

Aryn shot a sidelong glance to the girl as she scrambled behind the safety of his shield. "You alright?" he muttered under his breath, looking back out to the mess they made.

Aside from the spilled food and ale and the shattered bench, there was a small matter of blood and bodies littering the inn's dark interior. The one with the weasel face likely had a shattered jaw, maybe a concussion. He'd live.

But the other one... even now his breathing was shallow and ragged as his blood pooled underneath him, no doubt staining the already warped floorboards. If the others acted quick he might yet survive, albeit a cripple. If he died, it was murder. And that too was a nice hanging for the both of them. At least for him; no doubt they'd ravage her over and over before the execution. But she wasn't his concern. She was nobody. He ought to just leave her here and take off.

That grim look settled on his face again. Of course they'd escape together, despite his common sense screaming otherwise at him. He glanced forlornly at his pack and cloak still strewn about the ground, too far away from him to retrieve. There was a good week's worth of dried meat and oats in there, not to mention a ratty blanket for when the nights got cold. And a tin of black pepper. There wasn't a chance in hell he could afford another, not now as a fugitive. A low frustrated "SHIT!" escaped his lips.

"Right," he hissed from the corner of his mouth to the cowering girl, "we're going to run around the bar, out the back, turn left, and make a run for it before the guards get here. On the count of three."

The burly man and his two remaining companions still loomed large over them, and now a rage burned in his squinted eyes. "You little bastards, I'm gonna gut the both of you and leave you out for the dogs!" Their advance was only halted by the faint sound of steel-toed footsteps emanating from the doorway behind them, the unmistakable sound of the barkeep returning with armed town guards. Another curse escaped from his lips. No time left.

"THREE!" he screamed as he stepped foward with his shield upraised in front of him, just enough to afford Kella that window of opportunity to scramble around back and to safety.

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At his inquiry of her state, she drew her arms around herself and grit her teeth as she looked over as her glove was trampled on by the bald headed one. She wasn't sure how she was as she shook her head and whispered, "I'm as good as I can be." And at his indication of making an exit, she glanced over her shoulder towards the door. And no sooner were they planning their escape did the guards enter and instinctively, she rose as her partner in crime shouted, 'THREE!'

Scrambling out the back door, Kella nearly lost her footing on the ground. The cobblestone was beginning to slick over with frost. The winter storms would be settling in, perhaps earlier this year than most would like. But autumn still hung on, and icy leaves were hard to navigate through, considering her boots were becoming quite worn from her travel, but once she had made her way around the corner, it seemed the girl was fairing alright.

Pausing only to make sure her new companion was making his way with her, she gasped to see the blood and wound across his shirt.
"You're hurt!" and her eyes wavered. "We should seek a healer." Though they were hardly out of the clear, Kella still feared the for the man's life. Though he'd probably hardly die from the wound, one could never be too cautious. Also, in a town like this, it was hard to say if they would even possess a doctor.

[Cambie]

The three ruffians stood stunned as the girl bolted around Aryn's back, out the rear door, and into the cold. The Ironhand, still cowering behind the safety of his thick shield, followed shortly behind them. Muscle-man scowled and took a step forward to chase after - only to screech to a halt as a gaggle of town guards spilled in through the front door.

Out in on the street, Aryn breathed heavily as he tried to keep up with the smaller, more agile girl. Without his cloak he could feel a noticeable difference in the wind as it chilled the skin of his face. Each panting breath brought about a small wisp of foggy condensation in the cold air. The cut across his chest didn't help. He tucked his shield arm tight against his torso, letting the blood drip disgustingly over his metal arm rather than leave a trail of blood on the cobblestones.

"No time for a healer, girl," he called out to her as they continued to run, "they'll be lookin' for us. We need to get out of this town. I'll be fine."

Just around the corner, the sound of clanking footsteps emanated, to go along with some hurried shouts. More guards! Reaching forward with his good hand, he grabbed a handful of the girl's cloak and yanked at her backwards to stop her from rounding the bend.

"Quick, in here!" he urged, before kicking open the back door of another stone building. Immediately the sweet aroma of sugar and icing wafted out and struck him directly in the face. Aryn groaned in irritation, but pushed her through anyway. By Angsar, did those ovens smell good...

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Kella let out a startled gasp as the man yanked her by her cloak and she, found herself nearly crashing into him for it. And as if she had little else to do in that moment but listen, she followed after him, scrambling in behind and clutching on more desperately to her cloak-

and she too, was greeted by the same, sweet smells from Armand's Bake and Cake shop, and felt herself grow dizzy for it. Though while she and Aryn were undoubtably getting their barrings inside the place, the bakers wife rounded the bend, carrying a giant sack of flour, but having turned aroudn and seeing the pair of them- she dropped the sack onto the floor and screamed- just as a puff of floured smoke consumed the room, and coated the poor three sods, whose very presence shocked one another there in.

[Cambie]

The exploding cloud of flour completely coated Aryn head to toe and had him hacking and wheezing as it got in his mouth and up his nostrils. He must've looked simply horrendous with blood and flour caking his face and beard, and the wound in his chest still dripping on the floor, because the baker's wife let out another high pitched scream. She started backing out into the shop's main floor.

"OH SHUT UP!" the Ironhand roared at the elderly lady even as he tugged at Kella's cloak to usher her into the next room. Immediately regretting his demeanor, he hissed in a lower voice, "Look lady, we're sorry for the mess and we'll be out of here real quick."

Out in the front counter and hidden amongst the towering cakes, Aryn took a quick peek out the front window to check if the coast was clear. As several more guards ran past the window he quickly ducked back down under the glass. That's when he found himself face to face with that five-tiered vanilla tower he'd seen earlier. The baker's wife, terrified as she was, immediately recognized the desire in the mercenary's eyes and shook her head frantically. "Oh no no no! Not that one, please!" she begged.

But it was too late. Aryn had dug his free hand right into the base of the cake and had pulled out a huge spongy chunk of deliciousness out. When he bit into it his eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head in ecstasy. It was the most beautiful, most complex thing he'd ever tasted.

Turning to the now sobbing baker's wife, he gave her an apologetic "I am SO sorry," before tossing her that gold coin he'd flashed earlier at Thorny's.