Chapter 2: Tiptoe Through The Thorns Part II [The Spurious Sanctuary]

Bronn


"Bugger me sideways. Come on! Get the little bastard!" Bronn snaps out of his reverie, motioning for one of the others to follow the hob. "Watson, someone, come on!"


OOC: I go away for two hours and it all goes to hell. :P
 
Watson


Watson snarls, lips curling back from yellowed fangs.


"Fuck. Fuck. Micah, remember what you said to me about being cautious and not leaping at things? I'm going to go leap on something."


Watson chucks his pack towards the counter of the shop, and begins loping down the path, faster than jogging, slower than sprinting. Eyes are opened. Nostrils flared. Preything is in the woods.


[Wits + Composure + 4, 9 dice, 4 successes [ 7 8 6 8 6 0 2 9 2 ], 1 reroll, no success, total 4[
 
To Watson


Green smells linger in the shade between glistening grasses wet with dew and fear sunk in the ungentle Thorns. Thisaway, thataway, all paths go on: except for this one.


You explode into a bustling marketplace, a cacophany of smells assaulting your nostrils all at once.
 
Watson


Before he can be overwhelmed, Watson switches his focus from scent to sight, yellowed eyes darting from corner to corner. The hob had gone past him on the path, and there would be a wealth of hiding places in a goblin market...


[Wits + Investigation + 2, looking for either the hob, a good place to hide in a hurry, or, just maybe, any sign among the crowd that he had simply passed through. 7 dice, 1 success.]
 
To Watson


The briefest of gaps ahead of you, moving as people are seemingly shoved aside, as if by someone passing in a hurry. One figure, clad in a shadow-black trenchcoat, screams and falls against a trio of sprights, causing a great commotion even above the babble.
 
To Watson


A pit of some sort with a latticework of metal above it, and the hob is staring at the Hedge wall as if looking for a way out. He turns around, catching sight of you, eyes bulging comically. The knife, which almost magically appears in his hand, however, is anything but funny.


"Take one step closer and I'll gut you, filthy dog."
 
A what? We're in a pit now?
Click to expand...
Watson


Without a sound, Watson's lips pull back from his teeth again, and he leans slightly, his hands coming up and curling. His voice is rough, shaking, pulled back and forth by his adrenaline surge. "You failed. This can end with you all fucked up, or it can end with you coming to your senses. Decide now."


He takes a step closer.


[Presence + Intimidation, 4 dice, 2 successes
 
Sorry, you're BY a pit, not in it - it's just there.
Click to expand...
To Watson


"Y-you don't scare me, p-pup!"


Results for 2 dice: 1 success [ 8 6 ] (TN: 8)


...except it's clear you do. The knife is shaking so badly now it's a blur. "I just wanted to get out of t-there. Y-you dunno what it's like..." His voice has lost any semblance of false courage. "The jingles... always with the jingles... and the customers... those stupid FUCKING BITCHES! 'Oooh, I need a refund!' TOO FUCKING BAD! And I can't sleep, I can't move in there, there's nothing to read but the price tags, over and over again. 'Price - your soul. Price - your soul. Price - 2.99 and your soul.' And all you can eat is anything stupid enough that stands still and too close to the bars." He breaks down and weeps, big black tears rolling down his cheeks. "It's maddening!!! I needed to BREATHE!"
 
To Watson


"...oh. There is... it could be anyone to take your friend's place in the shop... all they have to do is shake his hand..."


You can cut the silence with a knife.
 
Watson


"Well. I don't think that's likely. Nevertheless...drop the knife, get over here. We're going back."


Without looking away from the hob, Watson raises his voice. "Oi! Hugo! You there, lad?


"Oh, Bronn, aye? We've a bit of a dilemme here, so we do. This lad's got to come back to the shop, then we oughta consider a few things."
 
To Watson


Hugo coughs stickily and looks up at you questioningly.


To Bronn


"You stay back, you great pile of shale!"
 
Watson


"Be nice. We're about to decide what to do with you."


Watson crouches and rubs Hugo behind the ears. "You kept up. Good boy Hugo, good boy."


I don't like the sound of that cough. Maybe I'll see if one of the healers will look at him this evening, back in the Hostel.


He focuses back on the hob.


"Now, listen...fuck." He sighs, and glances down for a moment. "Freedom...we can't give you, at the cost of our friend. And, to be honest, if the same deal that stuck him in there is the one that got you, then...I dunno if I'm good enough to give up my life for your daftness, and I'm gonna hafta have words with him. Still, what you wanted...better food, stuff to read? I can give you that. I'll swear it."
 
To Watson


"You get your friend there to back off." He gestures with the knife at Bronn. "I don't like being look at cross-eyed."
 
Watson


"That's not how it's gonna work. I'll take your hand, and I'll swear an oath, for as long as it takes, whenever I can, to bring you good food and new reading material, and never to interfere in any other escape attempts you make. That is my offer, dependent on you letting our friend out."
 
Ok, can haz rollings for combat arrangements...
Initiative 11 [base 5, rolled 6]


Defence 3
Click to expand...
Watson


Watson is now angry. If he's getting stabbed, then the hob in front of him is gonna fucking die.


Claws swipe through the air as Watson surges forward, blood roaring in his ears, his face twisted.


Stone 1, 5 dice, 1 Glamour, 3 successes [ 9 6 0 9 4 ], reroll 1, 1 success [ 0 ], 1 reroll, no success. 4 total.


Clawing the hob's face off, Strength + Brawl + Specialty (Hunting you, you fucker) + Willpower + 4, - Defence 2, 14 dice, 3 successes [ 2 6 1 9 1 0 8 3 3 2 4 5 5 5 ], 1 reroll, 1 success [ 8 ].


Total 4 lethal. Aww. Wuz hoping to actually rip his face off.
 
To Watson


The screech is deafening as pitch-like blood fountains from the hob's body, like a high-pitched siren clashing with a drowning cat. Everyone is looking at you and him but nobody's making a move as a partiularly violent spurt splashes across your chest like sticky black ink.


...well, almost no one. Two giants - actual giants - somehow rise up from the ground, pushing aside earth like it was water, towering over everything in the Market... and a tiny, withered looking, bat-eared creature hobbles out in front of them. "What appears to be the problem here?" he asks, his voice borrowed from some cavernous crypt, a booming echo completely at odds with his frail body.
 
Mr. Lapwing


Lapwing watches the display, dispassionate.


"I expected better than you, Micah... but then, he was a compelling little bastard. I suppose I'll stay here and keep you company until the others catch that Hob."
 
Watson


Watson turns round, grabbing the half-cocked hapless hostile hob by the shoulder as he does so.


"What? What! Yes! This little bastard just pulled a knife and tried to stab me. Knife here!"
 
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