Shadows Within

Fawnheart: Good to see you're still lurking! I've been trying to make the best of what short inspirational spurts I get nowadays, trying to trim down the chapters and what have you, and focusing on some little things as well. I guess it's paying off, eh?

The faces all around me,
they don't smile, they just crack

Waiting for our ship to come,
but out ship's not coming back

We do our time, like pennies in a jar
What are we saving for?

"Believe" - The Bravery

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I hate this place."

Shyla glanced down at Kalderin, hoping to get some sort of intuitive window to his thoughts. Turns out she hadn't developed the odd psychic rapport with him just yet, so she had to settle with a quizzical look.
"Bu'choo said-"
"I know what I said," the rogue clipped across her, striding along the docks of Ratchet with what must have been malicious intent, if the wary faces of the guardsmen were any indicator. "But just because this is the best place for information doesn't mean it's good for anything else," he muttered.
"'Kay, den, so why ah choo whisp'ren at meh?"
"Goblins are touchy."

Shyla scowled at his back, but the human ignored it. She simply hadn't dealt with the little green bastards long enough to know that even a vague insult wasn't taken lightly by the Venture Company. Besides, she had weirded him out earlier today, anyways, and his temper had yet to even out.
"Come on," he said, making sure to use Orcish in the city at all times. The last thing anyone here needed to know was that his companion was bilingual.
The shaman gave an irritated huff and paced just behind him, trying her best not stomp on her friend's heels. Well, at least not on purpose.

"'Scuse me."
The innkeeper looked up, glancing at the pair and choosing to focus on the... well, whatever it was that had just spoken.
"What can I get for you today, bub?"
The stranger was quick and concise with his reply. "Two rooms, two nights, meals. Just the basics."
Damn. This guy knew his business. The squat creature crunched a few numbers in less time it would take a drunken and randy warrior to size up a well-known nightwalker. "Twenty-four and fifty-five," he answered. If this kid really knew how to talk the talk, then he ought to-
The stranger's shoulders shook with a suppressed laugh as he gave a rogue's flick of the wrist, tossing a closed bag of cash onto the bar. "Twenty-nine and some change should do, then?" he shot back.
The goblin's eyebrows raised just a little before sizing up the bag. Yeah, that sure felt like twenty-nine, almost thirty gold; this kid was slick. "Second floor, first on either side," the innkeeper directed, passing them a pair of keys. "Food's at the usual times, help yourselves."

"An' jus' why did'ja pay dat outaa'yo pocket, mon?" Shyla asked after following the rogue into his room.
"It was stolen anyway," the human growled back, "so thank whatever addle-brained yuppie decided to leave his wallet open. Now what the hell do you want?"
The trolless waited until he turned around, then poked him square in the chest. "Choo still feelin' it?"

"It hasn't bled for a few days."

"Good."

"Is that why you were staring at me this morning?"

"Yah."

"And?"

"An' wha'? D'ah need any'tin else ta be worried 'bout'cha, mon?"

"I don't think that was all you were worried about."

"So wha'?"

"So, what else was bugging you?"

"Non'na'yah damn buisiness!"

"Then why are you still standing here?"

"Cause choo ain' told me wha' de plan is, mon!"

"And if I told you I don't have one?"

"Da's a load a bull, an' choo know it."

"I don't question you when you dodge the subject."

It must've taken a phenomenal effort of will on Shyla's part to hold herself back, because she looked more than willing to break Kalderin's jaw. She took several deep breaths with her eyes closed, which were still very much bloodshot when she opened them again.
"Kal... look, Ah don' wanna be lef'tout'ta dis. Choo got a plan, an' Ah wanna know what it is, okeh?"
"I'm trying to gather information, and that's hardly a job for you."
The shaman's eyes flared with rage, her familial disposition threatening to overtake the waning self-control Shyla possessed. "'Oo put'choo in chahge o' figgain' out what Ah can or can't do?"
"Because I know how you work, Shyla," the rogue said through clenched teeth. "This take careful observation and subtlety, and to be honest, you lack the latter."

She'd had enough. "FINE! GO AN' GET CHA'SE'F KEELED, DEN, YA FOOKWIT!"
With that, the trolless stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her hard enough to rattle the single chair inside. Had Kalderin been in his right wits, he would have given an more level explanation of the whole job to her. But, as he locked the room's door and hurried downstairs, his brain was buzzing with anger, far too preoccupied to consider, or even notice, any small details.
Like the human who followed him outside.

Part of the young killer was spoiling for a good fight; barring that, he wanted to make life hell for any Alliance he saw. This was a simply accomplished task, as the rogue worked through the crowds, spotting anything that matched or exceeded his height (without being green or fuzzy), and jarred them, hard, with his shoulder; shunting them into other people, just trying to knock them over.
Outraged shouts followed in his wake, along with at least one or two goblin guards at all times, ready to move at the first notice that the rogue was going to do anything truly aggressive. But, for several hours of monitoring, all they had to show was unpaid overtime.
Kalderin finally took some time - and a few glasses of alcohol that he couldn't taste - to calm himself and take stock of his situation. He needed an informant, one he could actually trust to talk straight without all the mess of turning on him.
On second thought... two days might not be enough.

Shyla wandered the streets, perusing the various stalls and shops in a bootless attempt at calming herself. She came with Kalderin to try and help, damnit, and here she was, being brushed off like a fifth wheel. She was pissed, and rightly so!
Stupid, sto'bahn, arrogan' lil' sonuva bitch... When'd'ee get da nerve ta go an' tell me wha't'Ah can do?!
In her furious reverie, Shyla failed to notice the group of males prowling about until one of them forcibly halted her.

"Woah, there, girl," the orc said, not bothering to hide his face as he raked his eyes along her form. "You certainly look a little wound up."
"Yeah, why not let us help you with that?" a tauren chimed in.
"No't'in de mood, boys," she growled, trying to move around them. The cow moved to block her path, however, and another troll spoke up this time.
"Cold shou'dah, huh? Ah' tink we don' take too kin'ly to dat, mon."
"Come on. Who's it gonna hurt?"
"Choo, if'n cha don' cleah out de road!" the shaman growled.
The orc grinned, pacing up to her. "Ooh, spunk AND spite. I like it," he whispered into her face, getting much too close for comfort.
The meathead moved again, trying to grab her, and Shyla recoiled at the same moment that a dead, discolored hand shot out from behind her, pulling the trolless to a marginal position of safety as the lean body attached to it moved in front of her.

Shyla craned her neck to get a better view of the dead man, but the cadre of men wasn't going to take this sitting down.
"'Ey, choo gotta pro'lem, mon? De's plen'ny fa'choo, too."
The hollow, empty eye sockets glowered at the assembled group, but no words were exchanged.
"What, you dead and deaf?" the tauren snarled. "Clear out, kindling!"
The shaman saw a few of the corpse's muscles tense, but still no speech.
The orc, fed up with waiting, stepped forward again. The forsaken pulled back, then lashed his palms out, roughly shoving the bulky green frame back to his companions.
Shyla checked herself as well, taking a cautionary step away from the impending fight. "Boy," the orc said in a threatening tone, "you don't know what you just started."

The tauren lunged, trying to tackle the smaller, lighter forsaken, but gave a choked cry and dropped to the planks with a harsh impact. Within seconds, deep crimson began to pool on the surface of the walkway, and the shaman saw her defender rising up from one rotted knee, a longsword held tight in his hand, his face devoid of any emotion save for cool hatred. He moved with fluid, practiced grace into a defensive stance, angling the blade in front of him and daring the others to try their luck.
The troll moved, trying to grab his companion, and the swordsman shifted once more, the blade becoming an extension of his body as the offending hand sailed through the air with almost comical ease. In the same motion he lunged as well, the tip of the blade parting the air beside the orc's face to leave a hairline cut on his cheek. Only then did the forsaken back away, placing the tauren's badly injured form in easy reach.
The others needed no more hints. They hauled the cow up as best they could and drug his bleeding form away.

The forsaken sighed and shook his head, a tarry and short ponytail of ice-blue hair waving at the troll behind him. He turned, sheathed his blade, and gave her the same kind of half-smile she would expect from Kalderin.
"Ah... well, t'anks, mon," she muttered, suddenly bashful.
The corpse waived his hand in a "no problem" gesture as another fugire hurried up behind him.
"Sweet spirits, mon! No wondah choo neveah come 'round dis place!"
The corpse nodded again, glancing over his shoulder at the troll who ambled up along side of them both. Shyla gave the both of them a confused look, which the troll noticed.
"Ma buddeh 'eah, he don' talk much, yeah? Ah'm Cha'Dani, an' dis nutjob be Rive."
Something about the pair eased her nerves, and she sighed. "Name's Shyla. Cha mon's got dead-on timin', lemme tell ya."
Cha'Dani chuckled. "Ah notic'd. Tries ta play de hero all de time..." The troll leaned in, talking in a mock whisper. "Jus' b'teewn us, girl? De mon does okeh e've once inna while."
The shaman laughed with them both. "Lucky fo' me, Ah guess! 'Ey, choo two stayin' for a while? Ah migh' nee'd some good companeh fo' a bit."

Dusk fell upon Ratchet when Kalderin wove his way back to the inn. He had a few good leads, but none of them were night owls, so the digging would have to wait for a day. At the top of the stairs, the human paused, feeling a wave of regret pass over him.
You should apologize.
"How?"
How else? Knock, maybe?
"She won't answer."
Why so certain?
Kalderin didn't bother responding, but simply walked into his room and locked the door.

Coward.
"... shut up."