RP:A Robbery and a Chase
Mrs Mallard's Bakery and Tearoom
Emilia was back to her thin figure, too skinny for her own good. Normal farm attire was back with denim jeans tucked into worn leather boots and a button down plaid shirt. Here for business the blonde choose to stop by the bakery to get a few treats for the way back to Venturil where her newborns were with their father. Curls pulled back into a braid that skimmed the floor of the shop as she made her way toward the counter so that she could place her order.
Ohan sits quietly, lifting up the pot of tea and pouring the liquid into a freshly emptied cup. After setting the tea kettle down, he pours in a bit of milk and begins to stir it. A nod is given to Emilia as she passes by. Once she is past, he lifts up his cup and takes a sip of the lightly brown tea. A soured face is given as he lowers the cup and quickly adds sugar to the mix, and begins to stir it in as well.
Emilia returned a nod to Ohan as she’d passed him. Her order was already placed when Krice had entered the little establishment. As those blue eyes landed on him the blonde offered a smile his way, quickly moving to embrace the familiar warrior in a quick hug. “Hello, Krice.” Her tone was more chipper than it had been in recent months, but she was indeed still cold as ice. “It is great to see you.” She said softly giving him his personal space back. She’d already broken a few stiches in her trip to Cenril, having yet to actually get them fixed.
Ohan downed the last of the tea in his cup after the added sugar. The rogue inhales slowly prepping himself for the next task. Reaching into a pocket he pulls out a hood and a mask. Both items are quickly placed over his head and face respectively. He stands and drops a hand down to his waist, where a loaded crossbow lay in wait. Upon removing the weapon he flips the table over causing the tea kettle, milk jar, and glass, to crash upon the ground. In the midst of the sudden noise-induced confusion. Ohan quickly moves to a patron and grabs her by the arm, wrapping his left arm around her throat, he pulls her in close to his front and aims the crossbow toward Mrs Mallard, finger on the trigger of the weapon but not pulled.
Krice stiffened slightly when Emilia embraced him, but he lifted his right arm to give her back a gentle press in response. Despite the fact that he wasn't a particularly 'huggy' person, he seemed respectful enough of Emilia's want to bestow a hug upon him. Around her blonde head, the warrior passed another glance toward Ohan. When the farm girl withdrew, he returned his attention to her face, dipping his head in a nod acknowledging her words. " You too. Clearly you're not pregnant anymore." Despite the fact that the warrior was apparently comfortable enough making small talk, Ohan had other ideas. The other male's movements - mask and hood - drew Krice's eye and he stepped forward, just a casual, passive movement, which obscured Emilia from Ohan's view, and vice versa. The warrior's suspicions were confirmed when the masked man procured a crossbow, overturned his table, and rushed to grab a hostage. Krice's jaw tightened but he did not advance, instead keeping his arms down at his sides as he offered to Ohan a simple, " It won't end well for you." The silver-haired man was aware of the other's aim on Mrs' Mallard, yet made no move to dissuade Ohan otherwise.
Emilia nodded slowly to the simple statement from Krice about her lack of pregnant belly. “Indeed.” She managed to say before Ohan had chosen to turn a peaceful moment into something more chaotic. The blonde soon found herself staring at the back of the warrior as he stood before her blocking Ohan from her visions. Curious. The blonde lifted herself to tip toes to peer over the shoulder of the warrior. She could barely see much other than what appeared to be a masked man and a panicing female customer being held. Lowering herself down the farmer stood quietly just listening to what it was that was going on. The baker woman stood with eyes wide staring at the masked man as if she’d been turned to a statue by the sudden onset of fear with that crossbow being aimed at her. The tea she’d been pouring into a tea cup continued to pour, over flowing onto the countertop.
Ohan 's crossbow moves from its original target, now aimed at the stranger. With his eyes locked onto the other mans he replies “Don't go being a hero now...” he tightens his grip with his elbow onto the woman's throat causing her breaths to be harder to be produced. With his message sent he returns the aim of the crossbow back to Mrs. Mallard and speaks with a calm yet firm voice. “This can go one of two ways. The first is very simple very easy. You are all going to put every last copper you have on your person, and you're going to take it, and give it to our fine hostess over there. Then she'll bring your money mixed in with the bakerys money and she'll hand both over to me slowly.” His eyes move back to Krice though the crossbow remains pointed at the shop owner. “Then I will leave and nobody will get hurt, you all can go home tonight and enjoy the rest of your evening with your family.” he then moves his gaze scanning the rest of the room, looking at the occupants “Or the second way. I shoot Mrs Mallard here, releasing her of her position as baker. I take her money, this pretty thing here will probably be hurt in the process, I get the money and I leave. Not as simple or as easy as the first option. But it's not my choice as to which happens. Its all of yours.”
Krice seemed to pay no attention to Emilia - his focus set forward, on Ohan, on that crossbow. When it was pointed at him, those crimson eyes darkened, as if being a target - no matter how briefly - made clear in his mind how the situation was going to unfold. Being a target was irritating. He was silent whilst Ohan spouted off his two 'how it'll go' options, and hesitated a moment in the silence thereafter, perhaps considering both options in order to decide upon the best one. First order of business? Negate Ohan's. " Nobody move." It was spoken calmly, without arrogance, or anger, or haste. To Ohan himself, the silver-haired man said, " If you fire that weapon, I'll have to relieve you of it. And then I'll have to hurt you just enough to pay back the pain you caused. So there's a third option - you can release that girl, unharmed, and walk out of here under your own power, by yourself, and I'll forget all about your transgressions against these people."
Emilia had listened to the options that were given by Ohan toward the establishment. That voice. So familiar. She’d not seen him put the mask on like Krice had, no. She’d not been paying him that much attention today. She didn’t move by the instructions of the warrior only because she knew he had better judgment than she normally did. When the silence hit after he offered up a third option the farmer ever so slowly, and stubbornly, move to peer back over his shoulder to stare at the man. “Ohan? Are you really being an idiot right now?” She asked almost out of nowhere.
Ohan 's aim changed once again. The arrow of the crossbow bolt now touches upon the hostages head. “The transgressions I have caused these people far underweigh that of the church which Mrs Mallard here thought it would be ideal to fund.” At the moment his name is given he looks in Krice's direction only to look through him as if looking to the one he was shielding. “An Idiot? Hardly. This dosent have to end in anybody's harm. Including your boyfriend, I warned you last time there were those here who meant to do Ill harm.” His gaze moves back looking at the silver haired man. “Nobody needs a hero now. If these people do as told I assure you, you and your girl can get back to the little ones unharmed. Though, I don't really want to be here any longer then I have to, and...” his finger taps the trigger enough to cause it to jiggle a hair. “My finger's getting twitchy.. so I'm not sure how much longer I can hold it.”
Krice disregarded any comments relating to him and Emilia as a couple, instead listening to the latter's familiarity with Ohan, and then to Ohan's answer, and finally offering another of his own. Granted, he wasn't terribly pleased by the crossbow's new point of aim, but he kept his calm, hardly swaying on the spot. " I'm not a church-goer myself," he said, honesty evident in his tone. " If they're truly ill-doers, tell me about it outside. I'll sort them out, myself." More honesty. His gaze did not sway from Ohan's eyes, which hopefully further conveyed his truthfulness - but would have also conveyed a lack of complacency, and a depth of conviction that, should Ohan truly be an 'idiot' as Emilia had called him, the warrior would follow through with his threat.
Emilia shook her head slowly watching faintly from behind Krice where his form kept her still hidden from the man with the crossbow. She didn’t exactly understand the whole bit about what the church had to do with anything that was happening here now. Perhaps it was because it was late. Part of her argued that she should just step out from behind the warrior, but she knew better with her luck on things. “If you want copper pieces I’ll give you copper pieces and you can just let the innocent people here go. They didn’t do anything.” She offered. Though it wasn’t the clearest with Krice hiding her.
Ohan nods “Thats exactly what I want.” he keeps the weapon pointed at the hostage though his eyes move looking at the rest of the terrified occupants. The sweeping gaze ends landing on Mrs. Mallard. “Now, get out a bag, and start collecting from these fine citizens, and add your own into the mix,” he turns his head to look at Krice mid-sentence “And I will be on my way, no harm to anyone will be done. This is being drawn out much longer then it needs to be so if everybody will do as they are told. And I mean everybody...” his gaze hardens upon Krice as to give reason why the repeat “... Then I will be on my way as will all of you. It'll end well for all involved.”
Krice glanced over at Mrs. Mallard, who looked back at him. They shared a look, during which it became clear that the woman was familiar with the warrior, who then offered a nod to let her know that he'd allow things to play out as Ohan wished. She acquiesced, retrieving those copper pieces for the calm hostage-taker. Krice remained where he was, his body language loose but poised for movement at a moment's notice. He observed in silence, and once Ohan presumably began to leave, the warrior would reach behind him to gently press against Emilia's arm to ensure that she remained behind him, away from Ohan, with each step the other man took. Despite the familiarity she apparently had for the man, the warrior looked at Ohan no differently.
Emilia watched as everything fell into place. Copper coins being collected before being ever so slowly and cautiously handed over to the masked man identified as Ohan by the blonde. The blonde would remain hidden behind the warrior as everything fell into place after the copper had been given to the man demanding it. She wasn’t about to run out of the bakery after the man she knew slightly. She had no plans of it. As Krice’s hand fell to brush against her arm, keeping her still hidden from sight, she moved to pat it with her own ice cold hand. She wasn’t sure what to say now waiting to hear that Ohan was fully gone from sight. “I’m sorry.” She’d finally say after so long of waiting in silence.
Ohan reached out and took hold of the bag of coins he was given. A slight nod was given as he backed toward the door, woman still in arm. When his back was against the door he gives the poor woman a shove sending her back to the table she was at before the misshap. As she stumbles to the table, the rogue turns grabbing the handle and leaves from the bakery running out into the night.
Krice didn't accept Emilia's apology; there was no need for one. Instead, with his gaze still in Ohan's direction, the warrior said quietly, " Wait here two minutes. Then you can go home." He stepped forward and reached out, catching the woman's hand - which had been outstretched toward him - and helping her back into the bakery. She whispered something to him along the lines of 'my gosh, that was scary' and 'thank you, Krice' as the warrior rushed forward to pursue Ohan, shoving the door open with his left hand before he turned in the thief's direction. The warrior was swift, though he held back his speed for reasons unknown.
Emilia would for one of the few times in her life actually take orders given to her. She’d wait longer than the two minutes before heading out to go home. She’d stay long enough to help clam the people within the bakery and clean up some of the mess that was made, mostly the over flowed tea all over the counter top. She would also leave an extra tip, enough to make up for the trouble and stolen coins, before timidly making her way out of the shop. She knew Krice had gone after Ohan, but time had passed and who knew what was going on with the two. Homeward (bed for player) bound.
Ohan pressed his way through the doors onto one of the main streets of Cenril running with crossbow in hand. He has all intentions of stopping and slowed down until he turned his head back and saw the silver haired man chasing after him. A curse is mumbled under his breath as he turns back and continues to run to keep his distance in the chase.
Krice 's features were as calm during the chase as they had been through the duration of the hold-up. Even when Ohan slowed and then looked back at him, the warrior continued at a consistent pace, perhaps finding no reason to speed up. Did he intend to follow Ohan until he got tired - or reached his destination?
Merchant Street
Ohan pressed his way through the doors onto one of the main streets of Cenril running with crossbow in hand. He has all intentions of stopping and slowed down until he turned his head back and saw the silver haired man chasing after him. A curse is mumbled under his breath as he turns back and continues to run to keep his distance in the chase.
Krice 's features were as calm during the chase as they had been through the duration of the hold-up. Even when Ohan slowed and then looked back at him, the warrior continued at a consistent pace, perhaps finding no reason to speed up. Did he intend to follow Ohan until he got tired - or reached his destination?
Ohan continued his run. He intentionally ran into an unfortunate bystander. Quickly grabbing the man by the shoulders he runs a knee into the mans stomach pulling him down to hunch in pain while in the fetal position laying in front of Krice's path.
Krice wasn't so close to Ohan as to trip on the man he felled as an obstacle. The warrior stepped sideways, parrying the victim to continue his pursuit. Perhaps it was Ohan's decision, in stepping up the 'ante', that compelled the warrior to hasten his pace. His gaze darkened with displeasure and he leaned into a sprint, lips slightly parted, closing the distance between chased and chaser unless the former had reserves of speed to tap into.
Krice wasn't so close to Ohan as to trip on the man he felled as an obstacle. The warrior stepped sideways, parrying the victim to continue his pursuit. Perhaps it was Ohan's decision, in stepping up the 'ante', that compelled the warrior to hasten his pace. His gaze darkened with displeasure and he leaned into a sprint, lips slightly parted, closing the distance between chased and chaser unless the former had reserves of speed to tap into.
Ohan keeps his pace even as the chaser closes in on the space. Knowing the intersection was coming close, he moves to left side of the road to allow an easy turn, should he be able to get up that far.
Intersection
Krice truly didn't want to let Ohan escape - especially not after he injured someone. So when Ohan turned left, the warrior did too - on him around the bend with the speed of a vampire. Presuming the thief possessed no attributes that would allow him to escape, the silver-haired man reached out to grab the back of his collar, whilst the other hand went forward to relieve him of that crossbow. The accuracy of his reach was clear, and if he managed to take hold of Ohan, he'd shove the man chest-first against the nearest brick wall - not to injure, but to restrain.
Ohan grunts as he is pushed against the wall. His crossbow removed from his hand, turns his head to keep his nose from hitting the wall and risking the chance of it breaking. The rogue pushes back once in attempt to throw his chaser down off his guard, though if the first attempt failed he would simply rest with his hands down his side inhaling deeply to catch his breath from the run.
Krice held the crossbow in his left hand and kept Ohan pressed to the wall with his right. When Ohan pushed back, he'd manage to retreat from the wall only briefly before the warrior insisted with his grip that he remain in place. Lifting the crossbow, finger poised alongside the trigger, Krice sought to press the mouth against Ohan's temple, along with a quiet, clearly displeased, " How does it feel?"
Ohan 's voice grunts as he lays flat on the wall though no words were given. Swiftly a pair of bladed claws emerge from his gantlet over the gap where his finger lay under the gloves. As a liquid drips from the sharpened steel, Ohan lifts his hand and in essence punches backward not knowing where the blades would land, just hoping they would pierce the skin enough to let the toxin into the silver-haired mans body.
Krice apparently was not a mind-reader, because the appearance of those hidden blades seemed to surprise him - not to the point that he gasped, but to the point that he didn't immediately react until they were thrust his way. He released Ohan and evaded by stepping back twice. The liquid from one of those claws splashed against his sleeve, around the outside of the fold that encircled his elbow. He didn't seem worried about it, and remained where he was, just outside Ohan's reach - and therefore, Ohan was outside of his - as he lifted the crossbow to aim it his way. He stared down the sight of the weapon, his gaze fixated on Ohan. " Tell me about this issue you have with the Bakery's donations to the Church." Did he believe that story? Who knows.
Ohan lifts his hand to his face and removes his mask. No point in hiding it anymore. “I have issues with anybody who funds the church. Business, person or group. You may not have taken notice, but there is a war going on. You want to hurt the enemy, take away their funding.” His arm drops, mask in hand. “If you were funding the church I'd take your money to. To me, its not personal, it's business.”
Krice 's eyes shifted across the mask as Ohan removed it, drifting thereafter to the man's eyes directly. His answer earned him a casual, " The woman you held was an innocent, not involved in either side of the war."
Ohan kept the blades out of his gauntlets, an insurance if nothing else. “You're right. She isn't involved as far as I know, and aside from Mallard, I couldn't tell you if any one else was involved with the church. Though I kept to my word. She wasn't harmed other then perhaps a few sleepless nights. She was the only leverage keep you and that sword of yours at bay. You were the only unkown so I made sure to put a neutralizer between us.”
Krice listened to Ohan's answer and must have found logic in it, for he lowered the crossbow to his side shortly after. The stoic man offered the other a casual, " I don't care about Cenril's war - about your fight, or the stance of the Church. Harm no innocents and there'll be little reason for us to meet again." A beat. " Though, the poison's unnecessary."
Ohan bites his tongue for a moment before retorting. “Want to talk of hurting innocent people, you might want to look in on the church. Their clerics were seen leaving the tavern in west Cenril right before the building went up in flames. Though, I'm sure they aren't connected...” the last comment drenched in more sarcasm then poison on his blades.
Krice almost scoffed, but he wasn't the type. " Like I said, I'm not a Church-goer." He wasn't sympathetic toward the Church, or to any side involved in the war - only the innocent people who got caught up in the middle of it. A beat, and then he asked, " Where'd you get your information from?"
Ohan stepped up away from the wall only a step. “We have eyes and ears through all of Cenril. They pass on the information they receive and others act on it. Theres a whole network of us.”
Krice 's gaze darkened, though not with malice. His features remained hard and stoic, though something lurked there beneath his composed exterior. " Then you'll know that my words are not idle threats, but warnings to heed." He dipped his head in a nod and, crossbow in hand, moved down the short distance back to the main street, where he turned right in the direction of the bakery.
Ohan 's head shakes and he takes the road going north. “I know of you, and I know your words aren't idle. But know there are more then just me out here. We are everywhere. If one falls, two step in to replace them. Your words are considered, but ours as well. We will do what is needed to bring down the tyranny of the church. If you oppose us, you'll be grouped with them, and treated as such. I do hope our paths never cross. But if they do. There wont be a need for a chase.”
Krice slowed to a halt at the beginning of the main street and turned, just enough to look at Ohan over his left shoulder, past the hilt of his back-mounted sword. " We are not enemies." Yet. The tone of the warrior's words suggested that things could change, but as they stood now, he did not disrespect Ohan's words or the meaning behind them. The man turned once more, this time to proceed into the street.
Ohan took his own leave, taking the path up north. His mask replaced over his face as he began his walk.