RP:A spot of bother in Cenril

From HollowWiki

Background

This is part of the A Not So Jolly Hollow Holiday Vacation story arc.


The Wave Cleaver has docked and temporarily rests at berth in Cenril Harbour.

The group disembarks, and arrangements for new transport must be made.

Things go rapidly downhill.


Touchdown in Cenril

The Wave Cleaver, finally at berth in Cenril, is sitting as pretty as ever. The crew have offloaded the cargo, and Glaive and Cornelius have a quiet conversation. Glaive nods, a hard look on his face, and starts bellowing orders to the crew. Freelancing for a while suited him just fine. Cornelius waits on the wharf and asks "Well, do we do this the honest or dishonest way? Also, Andrei, I take it that it wasn't a mermaid you were so lustfully wrestling with below the water. Did you get what you needed?"

Andrei was walking without a limp or pain, only a small tightness at the wound, when they reached port. Due largely to a little of that goo that was in the prize. Just a couple of drops put on. The pregnant woman, who he still didn't know the name of, and Cornelius had been less than happy with his actions. As for the tooth, it now hung on a leather braided strip around Andrei's neck. Walking up to Cornelius when spoken to he answers, "Da. Just need oats and goat milk to mix with."

Mahri is apparently the last to disembark. Which is fine with her."That your breakfast?" she asks with a smirk. Really, it's just good to finally be in Cenril. If she'd been captaining her own ship, she probably wouldn't have been so bloody restless the whole while, driving nearly everyone crazy with her constant pacing to and fro. Tugging on her gloves, Mahri then gets to work rebraiding her hair. A few tendrils escape, snatched as they were by a bit of breeze from the ocean behind her. "We go about this honest first. Try and buy what we need." She was particularly interested in whatever had been worth Andrei risking his life to get.

Cornelius nods and calls over Cordy. The short, stocky youth listens to his Captain's request "Sure thing, Cap'n. I know a bloke with a wagon. Give him enough gold to keep him drunk a week, and the wagon is yours." Cornelius hands over a small pouch "Good work, Cordy. Get moving. We needed the wagon yesterday." Cordy dashed off, fast for his small stature, a short-stacked bundle of muscles and energy.

Cornelius glances around "Well Mahri M'dear, you're the boss. You lead, and we shall follow."

Andrei give Mahri a strange look before shaking his head, "Net." Then pulls out his last cigar he had been holding off smoking until they docked. One end is bit off then stuck between wind and salt chapped lips. Striking stones light the end after a few curses when a gust of wind blows the embers away. Finely a long pull is taken and a puff of blue grey smoke wafts up. The stones put back in the pouch, Andrei waits to follow after or any other instruction.

Mahri glances from Andrei to Cornelius and nods shortly. Down to business. "When the boy comes back with the wagon we load it up. Far as anyone knows we're travelers." On her shoulder is slung the pack the wolf is rarely without and this is dropped to the ground where she rummages through it. "I'm too recognizable so I'll need to cover myself." One or the other might eventually notice posters bearing a decent resemblance to herself on them soon enough. Satisfied her cloak is inside along with a few other needed items, the wolf doesn't remove them. "Travelers or merchants, circus performers. Take your pick."

Cornelius arches an elegant brow "Merchants, perhaps. An easier guise, wot"

Andrei wasn't sure what a circus performer was so voted for the merchant. It was a more plausible fit for their strange group and wagon of goods. At least to him. Then figuring there wouldn't be time to return to ship, he headed back on and came back a few minutes later with his own sack and now Frisket tagging along at heel. The latter, Andrei didn't seem to happy about but said nothing.

Mahri is alright with whatever, "Merchants it is." Glancing around, the lycan looks for the return of Cordy and the wagon. Hopefully the wagon included horses.

Half an hour later, a wagon pulled by a dodgy old nag arrives at the dock. Cordy and an old gent get off the driver's bench "Capn'n, this is Barnaby. Barnaby, this is Cap'n Cornelius Von Penzance of the Wave Cleaver. He's the one done sent you the gold." Barnaby walks over and looks at Cornelius, sparing a glance for the huge red-headed man near him as well. "I ken gee ye tha wag'n bu' na' tha hirse. Aul' Bess is fam'ly." He tugs his forelock, unhitches 'Aul' Bess' and starts to lead her away

Mahri concentrated on something on the ground, making sure the old man couldn't see her face. But..she nearly curses aloud when he takes the nag. She might not have lasted long but at least the mare could have pulled the wagon. "Well," she murmurs. "Need to go to the bank anyway. Maybe you two can haggle over the price of horses."

Cornelius grins "Permission granted to horse around then, aye Mahri dear?"

Cornelius turns to Cordy "Job well done, lad. Now get yourself aboard before Glaive decides to leave you behind." Cordy gives a hurried 'Aye Aye' and dashes towards the ship

Mahri snorts and shakes her head at Cornelius. "Yeah, yeah. Have at it. Whatever you spend lemme know and I'll pay ye back." It might have been ironic that she'd be drawing on an account held by a bank she was planning on robbing.

Andrei looks relaxed, though his eyes often scan for anything a miss around, as he works on the cigar. The man was ready to go when ready. Frisket though was pawing and pouncing on the string of Mahri's sack.

Cornelius smiles innocently. Dressed once more in his preferred finery, he straightens his cravat and nods to Andrei. "We'd better quit stallion, or she'll send us to the knackers. Time to go requisition some horses, wot?"

Mahri picks up her pawed at sack to rest the strap across her shoulder again. Apparently the feline didn't bother her all that much. Narrowing her eyes at the Captain, she clenches her jaw refusing to encourage the raining down of equine puns. Turning on her heel, Mahri makes her way to the bank. Sans disguise this time around.

Andrei simply could not understand the words that came out Cornelius's mouth sometimes, but the gist is gotten. The man nods and moves to follow the other man and belatedly Frisket joins them. Since Andrei wasn't a man of words he let the silence fall between them unless asked something. All the while his body language said relaxed, but his eyes screamed alert.

Into Cenril Proper

Cornelius strolls along the streets of Cenril, keeping up a running patter, covering topics ranging from tea-parties to topiaries, and largely being an insufferably cheerful bastard with nothing vaguely useful to say. Unless one happens to like knowing about thirty-odd different blends of tea. Then one might consider feeling slightly impressed. It is perhaps due to Andrei's presence that for the most part the pair are left well alone.

Andrei is getting to the point where he would prefer another round with Vrznak or run a sword through the chatty man beside him just to shut him up for a bit. Worse than a woman! But nooo he couldn't do either since the ship had gone by now and killing the person who was paying you was not very profitable. So the scowl on Andrei's face deepened more and more with every minute. Frisket on the other hand was having a gamely time of it all. What with sniffing all the new smells and inspecting all those shiny things on tables. The owners of said tables where not too thrilled at this, but when the lynx scuttled back to Andrei, the men thought better and walked of in grumbles. The burly man would scowl down at Frisket each time and give it a shove off his a booted foot. "How far?" Andrei interrupted one of Cornelius' lengthy descriptions about some kind of drink. Why couldn't he have gone with the woman? At least then he could have had something nice to look at and she struck him as the type not to chatter on.

Cornelius had been describing the joy of mixing a peach brandy into peach tea when the question arrived. Not allowing himself the luxury of a grin, he maintains a straight face as he airily says "Oh, not far now, old bean. Now where was I? Oh yes." At which point he launches into an exhaustive description of different ways to fold napkins for formal events, including the delicate rosette patterns so loved by the ladies.

Andrei growled deep in his throat, more felt in the chest of anyone close to him, than heard. Sizely hands itching to grab Cornelius about the throat and throttle him until he passed out. No, that probably wasn't good for business either. The man being sober actually made it worse, but he rarely drank in the middle of a job. While distracted with this internal debate, a rather cocky and brave lass took to bumping into him. Quick as a whip snap, Andrei grabs the loose locks of the lasses hair to bring her up short. The man didn't say anything to Cornelius, he just stood there with a hand held in front of the lass. There was a bit of defiance in those green eyes looking up at the huge man so said man gave her a shake. Not gentle, but enough to get his point across. A hand is raised timidly and tree coins fall into his hand. Two copper and a gold. Cold brown eyes look down at the lass he had just pushes her aside and to the ground. Lightly for him since the full strength version would have sent the lass across the street and likely break something in the fall. "I see you again, I take hand da?" The lass just stares wide eyed and gave a little nod. Then Andrei turns around and starts down the street. The man did not suffer theifs who tried to take from his pouch.

Cornelius grins then, and flicks the girl a coin "Nice try lass, but you'd do rather better to not get caught next time, wot. It's a risky old world" The girl blinks as a silver coin spins her way. She neatly snatches it out of the air, and dashes down an alleyway as quickly as her legs can take her. He chuckles at Andrei "So, the silent giant has a heart, wot? Admirable, old bean. Admirable." In Andrei's growing frustration at Cornelius' blather he has failed to notice that they have been going in a circle: right up until they make it back to the starting spot "Well, we're here old bean."

Andrei just sneered at Cornelius. The man wasn't wholly black hearted, but if the lass showed up again the mini giant man wouldn't hesitate to make true his threat. The lass was just a piece of gutter trash anyways, not like she was a warrior or assassin or such. Finely reaching their destination, Andrei takes a quick look around then sends Cornelius a nasty glare. "We this way before." Frisket is already heading back to a nearby horse stall to try its paws on that swishy swinging string on the rear of the prey beasts.

Cornelius smirks as he says "Why, now you mention it, so we were. My my. What have I been doing?" His smirk widens as the green-eyed lass, cocky once more, comes around the corner, two horses in tow. She calls out "Here y'are Mr Penzance. Horses like Cordy said. Don't take no offense, sir, but that's the last time I test ya employee's reflexes. 'Es a big strong ox, that one." She looks up at Andrei, pokes out her tongue, and dashes back off into the alleyways. Cornelius chuckles "Andrei, old bean, that was Isabella. A charming lass, and one of my contacts in Cenril. Now be a good man and grab those horses before they run off"

Meanwhile, at the Cenril Bank

Mahri stopped outside the bank and looked the building over. From the outside it looked ordinary. Not really different from the last time she'd staked it out. The guards didn't appear to have been increased. At least from the outside. Not wanting to be noticed for just standing there, the lycan hefts her pack again, like it may have simply gotten too heavy or something inside shifted around. Ducking her head Mahri ventures slightly past then detours into a shop not far away. Good thing it was abandoned so that when she changes clothes no one sees. Leaving her pack behind, the woman who emerges isn't the inelegant pirate but rather a woman of means and stature. The dress is tastefully understated and her leather gloves were replaced with delicate looking white silk. Dark hair swings in braid-enduced waves to just below her waist and is left loose. Hell, she even wears make up. Mostly to cover the scar on her face but it's still tastefully done. A few heads turn as her sandles tap lightly on the road and Mahri makes her way to the bank. Once inside the teller offers the wolf a warm smile, "Hello, miss. How may I help you?" Mahri returns the smile even while her eyes are inspecting the interrior. The guards were increased inside and the wall Gunnar had broken down is long since repaired. "I am thinking of opening an account," she replies in cultured tones. "I just want to be sure my money will be safe." The teller, obviously new and not aware of the ploy being used previously is more than eager to expound on the safety measures taken. "We have a very strong safe, miss. Our guards are stationed around the clock to be sure no one gets in and if they do, then they don't get out again.

Mahri listens to all this, nodding where appropriate, "Is any magic used to be doubly certain that no one can get into the safe?" To this the young girl frowns. "Oh no. I guess they found that for every charm there is a counter. I don't know what they use as a safeguard on that, they wouldn't tell me when I started but not even the manager can get into it when the bank is closed." Speaking of, the teller glances towards the nearest guard, "And it's almost that time now. Did you want to open an account miss..." she leaves the ending open, allowing for Mahri to supply a name. Which she doesn't. "No. Not right now. I have to think about it." As satisfied as she's going to ever be with the answers, Mahri thanks the young woman for her help and leaves. Back to the abandoned building where she gets out of the disguise and into more comfortable clothes. Leathers a shirt and her boots. Leather gloves replace the silk ones and her costume is left behind. It wouldn't do for anyone to find those on her person. Make up gets removed and her hair is twisted back into the braid then the lycan is on her way to find Cornelius and Muscles.


Combat in the Cenril Markets

Mahri strolls along just about then, having missed the fun. But..she doesn't appear nearly as irritated as before. In fact, she's whistling quite cheerfully. The pack she carries is a bit lighter and a lot less bulky and her clothes might seem a bit more wrinkled than before but, other than that, the lycan is in a pretty good mood. She followed her nose to find Cornelius and Andrei. She noted too the warm scent of horses and they in turn scented her. Her whistle might be heard but it's the soft nervous knicker of horses that might alert to her nearness. Horses were not overly fond of the lycan since to them she smelled like a four legged predator rather than the two-legged caretaker she looked like. Coming into view, one of the beasts tosses his head and rolls his eyes til the whites show and steps back with a great lot of hoof stomping. Ignoring it, and the poor sod who happens to be holding reigns or rope, Mahri saunters right up to Cornelius, "Ah. There you are. Good news. The job is going to be easy here. Now, how much did these animals sell for?"

Andrei stills and it was more a feeling than a sight that the man was swelling with power. Letting that normally held in check loose like a flash of light released when a lantern shutter is pulled aside. Andrei slipped into a fighters focus. The lass was making off now, but Andrei easily closed the distance between them thanks largely to his enchanted boots. Cutlass already drawn, the other hand closes about the lasses upper arm and pulled it out away from her body. Carrying the motion through, the lass is left to stumble back with a bloody gushing stump where her hand had once been. The sound of wet flesh landing on cobble stones a whisper in the sudden hush. Then Andrei gives his sword a blood cleaning slash at air before sheathing. "I keep my word." There was something strange in the mans eyes as they leveled on the Captain. Not emotion, it seemed almost like a trickle of breath from the power of a god.

Cornelius raises an eyebrow and draws his sabre.

Cornelius murmurs "That, old bean, shall cost you. You would cut down one of mine?"

Andrei just stands there as slowly that eeriness leaves his eyes, but the man does not back down nor makes to engage. The other man should have pick someone he had not known to execute the test. "Then you know I keep my word now da. Next time chose wiser." Then he show a micron of trust by turning his back to the drawn sword, though the tenseness remained in his shoulders gave warning that any attempt on attack would be meet.

Cornelius does not particularly care for the lass, now screaming with blood gushing from her brutalised stump of an arm. It was the principal of the thing. Cornelius had made it clear that she was an employee, and this fool had ruined her usefulness to him. "Not good enough, old bean. Nowhere near good enough. You knew she was mine, yet you ruined her. That calls for an accounting" His mind draws back into the dark, cold place of his training, his awareness of the space around him becomes emblazoned with lines and vectors as his mind calculates the distances and forms the two great Circles which lie at the heart of the mysterious Vailkrin sword arts. He draws a dagger, cruelly serrated. Already drawn is the Penzance Sabre, a family heirloom partially crafted with the teeth of a dragon which an ancient Penzance warrior had helped to slay. The weapon is still suffused with the magics designed to preserve it against damage: its leading edge, and several hand-spans along the back edge, are still as sharp as the day it was enchanted. His nonchalant pose becomes more predatory, upright, with sabre extended in a direct line towards his opponent. With slow, dancing steps, he makes his way to the outer circle of conflict, where blades cannot engage save by further movement. The patrons of this marketplace hastily make way for the two combatants

Mahri isn't often stunned into silence. But when she is, it is quite a sight to behold. There was a child, a girl. A scream of pain and the scent of blood. Pupils dialate and beneath her billowing shirt skin ripples and muscles contort. This can be seen if any choose to look, in the way her face turns gaunt and the first stages of a change can be seen. Gritting her teeth, the lycan closes her eyes and wills herself back to some sort of calm. Slowly, painfully Mahri's face returns to normal. During all that, no matter how long it seemed, she simply did nothing and let Cornelius handle the man at least three times her size. Because as soon as Mahri felt herself to be stable enough, it's the girl she goes to with rags dug out of her pack and a bit of that blackpowder used to set off canon shot. Oh, and she won't forget something to set it off with for quick cauterizing, a trick she'd learned at some point. Passing Cornelius, the lycan mutters, "Run 'im through." Of course, that was her anger talking and she'd probably regret it later if he did.

Andrei turns around slowly, sword coming free once more, to face his opponent. The man was all business once more as his buckler is taken in the other hand. Andrei knew this fight was going to be on grounds of their own since of morals and right and wrong. A brief flicker of brown eyes fall on Mahri to assess if she would also be joining the frey or stay out of it, then dart back to the man as he comes up short. No more words need be said by Andrei, the man had spoken his own mind already. Suddenly he charges Cornelius, his boots only kicking in half way the distance between in an attempt to throw off the other mans timing for his arrival. Mithril metal encased wood swings in a back hand at the sword before in an attempt to knock it aside and leave an open path for the following thrust of his curve blade mithril sword.

Mahri crouches next to the cowering girl and her whole demeanor changes. Gently she reaches out to sooth the terrified youth, smoothing hair out of an ashen face. Poor dear was in shock, which might work in her favor if the lycan worked quickly. Talking in low tones nonsensical stuff, Mahri gently manipulates the hand-severed limb away from a blood soaked body and the powder is sprinkled on the stump. It wouldn't take much..as she herself had found after a thumb'd been removed. It would hurt like hell of course, when Mahri set it off but it's hoped the girl would pass out instead. Keeping eye contact occasionally, Mahri talked through what she was doing even if the urchin wasn't listening. Now, for a spark. Lowering the arm near the ground, a flint and bit of steal were laid out. One is struck against the other a flash appears and sparks fly. Luck is with her and the powder goes off with a hiss and blue-white flare before dying. And, sure enough, the urchin loses consciousness. The rags she'd brought along are then wrapped securely around the stump to keep it clean if not dry.

Cornelius is surprised when the outer circle swiftly compresses to become the circle of death. So Andrei had his tricks too? But swiftness Cornelius was used to, having fought the Drow elderboy Kuzial to a standstill, and that one had been fast too. He retracts his sword out of the way as the bulky sailor charges in, letting the shield go its course as he sidesteps, guides the thrust of the sword past him with his dagger and sweeps his sabre in a short arc to cut along extended sword-arm and shoulder. If the sailor's momentum is as great as his speed, there should be little opportunity to evade. As the sabre cuts, he compasses his step around so as to keep facing his opponent as his charge moves by. "You took my gold, then severed the limb of one of mine. You make for a poor employee, Andrei"

Mahri puts away what she can of the supplies..that is she shoves them aside to be picked up later, and draws the urchin into her lap. The two are far enough away from the fight to be safe but Mahri had this insane soft spot for kids. Hence why Micah now lived with her and she was cradling this girl in her lap. Of course, denial will be the order of the day if anyone called her out on it.

Andrei just keep on going with that abnormal speed so that Cornelius' counter attack slashed through his vest, slicing skin some, to clink hard against the sheath at his lower back sending a small spray of sparks to fly into the air and fall to the ground. The man bends knees slightly and adjusts his footing so that the kinetic force was turned into a sliding turn about instead of smashing him into a buildings wall. Even as the other man talks, Andrei seizes the moment to rush him again. This time without the aid of his boots. There was fighting and talking, never both for Andrie and when Cornelius laid down his weapons only then would he be more of mind to listen. Frisket darts out of an ally way and uses the bulk of his Man to follow up behind. Now reaching striking distance once more, Andrei feints an attack at his opponents stomach and a second later the buckler is brought in a powerful side sweep to smash the man's sword arm. It was then the lynx used its Man's back as a leverage point to vault over him and fall, seemingly out of now where, in a raged furry that only a wild beast could harness right at the mans face who was trying to hurt his Man. They fought as one and had for many years.

Cornelius smiles "You underestimate me old bean." He steps in low, left leg leading in a traversing step as he engages the feinting cutlass with his sword, swiftly alternating the engagement to dagger as his right foot compasses behind his left. He is thus facing the sailor's sword-arm side, leaving nothing for the buckler to hit but the sailor's own sword. His sabre remains in guard, and so it is that as something furry flies out at him he pushes a cut directly across its path, the magically enhanced sharpness of the blade ready to do what it does best to whatever is about to impact upon it.

Mahri shushes Isabella when she whimpers. Mahri had been watching the fight intently but now, she bends her head to speak quietly with the girl in tones meant to reassure.

Andrei 's attack over reaches as where it had been expecting contact, meet nothing. The sword is dropped and before the clank of metal rings out from hitting the cobble stones under foot, a large hand is thrust out to grab at the man's dagger arm while Cornelius' attention was diverted else where. "Freeeeey!" was the deep bugled scream as the hand contracts fully, veins and muscle swelling with power all through that hand and arm, to try and snap bone. The buckle brought back into a guard position. Poor Frisket lets out a painful yowl as a sword bites a deep slash across its chest. The lynx falls to the ground and tries to regain its feet even as drops of blood fall like rain from the wound. Just as the echoes of Andrei's scream die out the rope at his side springs to life. It darts out, unraveling, towards where Cornelius was and as quick as any natural snake in striking, it makes to tie up and hinder the man's feet. Now Andrei thrusts the buckler out towards the other mans stomach to try and knock the wind from him.

Cornelius is honestly shocked, as he had not expected the sailor to possess the wit to drop his sword to prevent it from being entangled. As his vision is briefly obscured by catbits, Cornelius doesn't register the grab attempt until it is too late. Still, while slender, Cornelius is made of wiry muscle, and with the stern concentration that has kept him alive these many years he clenches those muscles and shuts out the pain. Bone may not be broken at this stage, but the bruise already forming from tortured capilliaries will last for days. As he glances down to where the opponent's sword has dropped, he notices the movement. Too late, perhaps, to stop it from hitting, but not too late too widen his stance enough to prevent the initial entanglement. As the shield comes in he accepts it into his stomach, letting his sabre-blade, now cat-free, descend as he retracts his stomach to cut in a neat diagonal fashion from shield-shoulder to opposite hip. At this range, even with the impact of that shield cracking his ribs, that sabre cut has nowhere to go but into the sailor who has nothing on him now but a lowered shield.

Ranok walks through the open market. He seems to be wandering through, looking at the wares. Most of them seem to displease him, as he has yet to give anything more then a cursory glance. Behind him trails a young boy, probably in his mid teens. The draconian looks around nervously, like he expects something, or some one, to swoo in and harm him. The sharp eyed would notice the scars around his neck and wrists. This child used to be a slave. He is still terribly thin for a boy his age, so his slavery is likely something that isn't far in the past, unless it is Ranok himself who is abusing the boy. As the boy has boundless energy and doesn't shy away from Ranok when the man points or gestures, it is unlikely that Ranok abusing the child is the case. As these things tend to go, a thick ring around where the fight is going is an undeniable draw to a man such as Ranok. The man keeps his weapon loose, in the event that he might need to step in to aid one of the combatants. When he shoves his way to a clear view, something his seven foot frame does rather easily, he recognizes Corn, at least. He keeps a hand on the boy's shoulder, in case he decides to try his luck to help. Or run away. Whichever, "Oh, ho, ho. Vat iz dis ve hef here?"

Andrei honestly did this next bit on pure instinct as even before his conscious mind can fully register the glint against blade as it descends, his subconscious was doing a bit of self preservation and firing off nerve signals that put the bulky man into motion. So it was that the bullish man shoved his body into Cornelius'. Still the blade sliced a bloody ribbon across his jaw. Far too close to the neck area if Andrei's mind had caught up fully yet with the sudden reposition of his own body. Then that trick with his enchanted rope had fired as his own booted feet simultaneously get entangled and trip him up. Still running off of instinct, his hand releases its grip and both move to grab the body in front for support. Being quite taller and more built with all that weight to bear down on his opponent.

Mahri and Isabella are near a booth, well away from the fray but seeing between legs isn't hard to do when people shuffle. Mahri catches glimpses of what's happening when she does look up from the child in her lap.

Cornelius smiles as his hand is freed. As he feels the pressure of someone over twice his bulk start to fall on him he curses, and with a flick of the wrist two small silver daggers are in his hands. He kind of hopes Mahri doesn't see them, as it would be hard explaining that these are his insurance should either Jolly-girl or Leo try to end his existence. He lets the sailor fall on top of him, and the falling movement gives him the second needed to rearrange his arms to press those daggers against both arteries so that the slightest movement will result in a slow, embarrassingly bloody death. He hears the sound of a miserable mew as his legs and the sailors legs pin down the critically injured lynx. With the sailor grasping his body, and his daggers at the sailors throat, Cornelius looks up into Andrei's bearded face with a cold, mirthless smile "Well old bean. Can you give me a jolly good reason not to give you a decent second smile down here? And no, the threat of blood on my waistcoat won't deter me, despite what Jean-pierre will say to me when I take it to him to be cleaned."

Ranok surveys the crowd. He spots Mahri and recognizes her from his time spent in Frostmaw against his will. And what seems to be a small child. And blood. That much is clear. He grabs Kess's shoulder and drags him through the crowd, making liberal use of his elbows and shoulders. His movement is somewhat akin to a slow moving bowling ball. Kess, as natural for any boy his age, wants to see the fight. Ranok manages to drag both himself and the boy to where Mahri is with the child, though he doesn't say anything yet.

Mahri looks up as a pair..no, two pairs..of legs come into view. She recognized Ranok but, like him, didn't say anything. Her reason being she remembered he didn't speak common and she didn't speak whatever it was that made up his native tongue. The boy though. He's different and the lycan offers him a slight smile and nod. Scars are noted and filed away in some mental system to be analyzed later. Andrei 's brain finely catches up with him when the sharp cold edge of a blade is put against his throat. Well hell, not how he would have like this to have turned out, but the man knew when he was beat. The red goatee covered face just lifts a little to show a bit more throat as a dark brown eyes take in the sunny sky. A contrast to what was happening beneath it. Andrei didn't know how the man's already compromised ribs hadn't given out more under the dead pound of his near 250lbs, let alone speak, but sometimes bastards where just that lucky. If the other man slit his throat at least he would sit at the high table with honors. The lynx isn't even thought of once since this battle began.

Cornelius coughs. "I'm pretty sure I didn't cut out your tongue, old bean."

Ranok quirks an eye at the blood. He isn't sure what happened to Isabelle, but that much blood probably means a lost limb. He wonders if Mahri has it under control. Probably not. A swiftly arrived choice to dispense with the secrecy for now and takes a single, large stride, nearly bringing him directly next to the pair, "Vat heppened to de child? Kess, get into my bag und find me zum bundages und zum medicine if hyu kan find it. Remain kalm, boy. It's chust a bit uf blood." The last bit was probably because Kess looked like he was about to be sick. He doesn't move until Ranok shouts at him, "Nao!"

Andrei said to Cornelius, "End it."

Mahri blinks. The man spoke and was mostly understood. Shifting Isabelle in her lap, the girl's lids flutter and a slight moan of pain comes from the child's lips.

Cornelius raises an eyebrow at the large sailor, stubbornly ignoring the pain in his ribs whenever he speaks, letting out an urbane drawl "What is this? Is your pride so great that you cannot handle being bested by me? Are you so thoroughly defeated that you accept death like a lamb in the slaughterhouse? You have met Glaive. I defeated him. I have cast aside the attempts of assassins from many races: Fermin, Drow, Jersher. There is no loss of pride in being bested by me. I am Cornelius Von Penzance. You lost the moment you drew blade in my presence. Accept that and speak. I give you one chance."

Ranok makes sure Kess is getting everything out of the bag. The boy is making a mess of things, with random bits and pieces getting strewn on the ground, but Ranok's imposing presence prevents any would be opportunists from snatching the objects up. He looks Mahri square in the eye, "Vat heppened to de child? Kess, get into my bag und find me zum bundages und zum medicine if hyu kan find it. Remain kalm, boy. It's chust a bit uf blood."

Ranok says to Mahri "Hy asked: vat heppened to de child? "

Andrei lets his eyes lower to look down his nose, simply because of the angle, at Cornelius. Then something catches his attention before anger then sadness flash in the brown depth. "You kill my battle brother." The sight of mangled legs covered in blood matted fur taking up all of his sight. Even though the beast was an unwanted burden most of the time, it had always joined battle with him since they meet. Eyes lowly slide back to meet the Captains with a stern face, though the smallest of frowns slightly turned the corners of his lips down. "Even da?" There was a dead hallow ring to his heavy accent. After all, Andrei had not killed the lass and yet the blood price paid on his end had demanded interest.

Mahri is a soon-to-be mother herself and maybe it's that which has her drawing the urchin closer when Ranok decides to place his imposing self in her direct line of sight. "Her bloody hand was cut off," she says as though it might as well be plain as day and just as obvious. Glancing towards the boy, Mahri frowns. "The boy," Mahri hesitates, "belongs to you?" Her arms tighten protectively around Isabelle.

Cornelius considers a moment. In the end, it is the grief he reads in the sailors eyes that convinces him the blood debt has been paid. "Very well then old bean. I consider the slate clean. If you make a formal apology to myself, Mahri, and Isabella, then we can re-negotiate the terms of your employment. Now, if you wouldn't mind awfully, could you bloody well get off me? Cheers." He lets the sailor rise, immediately rolling backwards the moment he is freed from the sailor's bulk, almost gasping from the pain. As the pressure is released from the lynx, it emits a most pathetic mewling noise. Cornelius looks at it and shrugs - the girl was not dead, so there was no need to finish the cat. "If your apologies are convincing, I shall even give leave for you to seek a healer to look after the cat." He gets to his feet, and looks at his waistcoat in despair "Another one? Dash it all! Jean-Pierre will flay me, he really will."

Ranok speaks coldly, "He does not belong to me. He only belongs to himself. But he iz vith me. Now...schmell uf burnt flesh? Hyu kauterized de vound? Do hyu VANT de child dead?" At this, Ranok takes another step, coming within arm's reach of Mahri. He looks angry, but his motions don't contain any violence. Eyes inspect Isabelle for the obvious signs of shock. Which she seems to have. He mutters a soft curse. He doesn't know how much blood she's lost, but it's probably enough to seriously threaten her life. He doesn't say, though, that the child is very much in danger of dying. No use worrying the boy. Oh, and he supposes it does no good to get Mahri in a tizzy, either.

Ranok grabs a blanket and thrusts it at Mahri if Isabelle doesn't already have one completely around the child, "She needs a healer. Now."

Mahri bares her teeth the moment Ranok gets closer. It's not that he moved it was the tone of voice and the anger evident on his face combined with moving that has her very nearly literally bristling. "Had to stop the bleedin'." That's not to say she's not quite relieved to know that the boy isn't one of the growing population of slaves. "Of course I don't want her dead."

Mahri snatches the blanket and wraps the girl in it. Of course she knew a healer was needed. She used to be capable doing that. "You happen to be one or somethin'?"

Andrei pushes against the road with his hand and shield until he is crouched down off to the side. For a moment those hands that had executed so much raw strength turn gentle and brushes over Friskets head. "Rest." Then every emotion leaked off him as the stone mask is brought up and fastened firmly back in place. A hand reaches out and his sword is taken back in hand, but not raised to strike. Instead it is laid out over the open palms of his hands and held up towards Cornelius first. Then he remembers that the other man would not know the meaning behind the action. "My offering apologies. Take the sword if you deny it and run me through." If Cornelius accepted, then Andrei would stand and repeat the process to the lass, but spoke to Mahri when there was a lull in conversation between her and another. "Decide for her when she can not now do so."

Cornelius takes a moment from inspecting his bloodied waistcoat and blinks at the sword. He recognises the gesture, from a judicial duel many years ago. He nods "Apology accepted." He calls out to one of the urchins standing nearby, gazing at the slender swordsman in something resembling awe "Oi, lad, there's silver in it for you and your friends if you go gather those horses of mine." With a huge grin the lad says "You betcha, sah!" he dashes to a group of his mates and they make a beeline for the horses currently munching on shrubberies at the other end of the market square

Ranok all but roars his next words, "Den vat de fook are hyu sittink dere gavkink for?! Dere hes to be zumone vo kan at least magically schtop bleedink in dis gott forsaken kity!" The girl would most likely be succumbing to weakness of the body now. Her frail frame wouldn't hold much blood to begin with. Any loss beyond a few scrapes becomes an issue, fast. Losing an entire hand would send her into shock, which could drop her into a coma from which she never wakes. She needs fluids of a salty nature to help restore her body's imbalance from the loss of blood, someone to check the wound to make sure it doesn't get infected or is still bleeding, and most of all, something to stabilize her. In the absence of transfusion, magical healing would do.

Mahri stares at Andrei. If Cornelius hadn't accept the gesture first, the wolf would have probably run the man through. Instead, she inclines her head with tight-lipped acceptance.

Ranok is rapidly losing his patience, and it shows. His left hand slowly curls into a fist and he might be staring to contemplate how to knock Mahri silly so he can grab the child and take her to where she can get help. Kess is cowering, probably due to his time as a slave and having an aversion to seeing anger in the people he views to be in charge. Or it might be that Ranok has never displayed this anger before in front of him.

Mahri grinds her teeth the moment Ranok started to bellow. It's with supreme effort and excersize of an iron will she grits out, "Then by all means take the girl and get her to a healer." The tightness of her voice would have had Micah nervous if he was here. He wasn't so her warning system to the outside world can't be used. Damn it.

Cornelius watches as Andrei collects the Lynx up, and walks off to find a Healer. No doubt they would find out soon enough if the sailor sought further employment.

Cornelius strolls over to Mahri and Ranok "I hate to interrupt, but as you can see, Mahri is pregnant, and I am injured. It would be a kindness if you could get Isabella to a healer for us"

Ranok now speaks in a tightly coiled, cold as ice voice, "Giff de gurl to me und Hy vill."

Mahri isn't stopping Ranok from taking the child. It was just a bit til she realizes the kind of grip she's taken. Loosening her hold, the lycan, from a sitting position no less, lifts Isabelle up for Ranok to take.

Ranok scoops up the girl into his massive arms. She would probably look tiny compared to the man. He wastes absolutely no time. A glance tells him all he needs to know, "Kessien! Get up, boy! Grab de bag. Leaff vat's on de ground. It hain't important. Hyu vill hef to karry it. Moff. Moff!" Ranok is already charging through the crowd. Any lack-wit that doesn't move out of the man's way gets bowled over or shoved out of his way with a shoulder. His massive legs eat up distance rapidly, and Kess struggles to keep up. The boy looks worried, though it would be understandable. When a man goes from white hot fury to absolute cold, it means that he's crossed into a place you don't wish to be around.

Ranok disappears into the crowd, swallowed up swiftly.

Cornelius waves at the rapidly disappearing man. "Now that he can speak our language, I suppose I should ask his name at some point." He rubs his hands on an unbloodies patch on his waistcoat. "Well, Mahri, that was a bit of a disaster, wot? I really need to be more careful whom I hire. Poor Isabella."

Mahri watches Ranok as well only withdrawing her attention when spoken to. Getting to her feet the wolf simply huffs a breath through her nose. "Aye. Next time an interview includes, 'Are you likely to remove the hand of a child'. Then we'll see about hirin'."

Cornelius is distracted as a group of children come along leading the two horses "Here mistah! Gotcha horses!" Cornelius smiles and hands each of them several silver coins "Thank you kindly, my good fellows. Be safe!" He turns to Mahri "On the bright side, we have wagon and horses."

Mahri eyes the horses and the horses eye Mahri. It's mutual dislike at first sight. "Yea. A real plus."

Cornelius groans and sags a bit as the adrenalin leaves his system. "Dash it all, that bastard hits hard. How many bloody ribs did he crack?"

Mahri drags her eyes away from the horses and to Cornelius. "Well, from what I could see, probably quite a few." While she's admonishing him, Mahri is not so subtly moving closer. You know, to get under a shoulder if the Captain decided to collaps then and there. "You should probably sit down, Cap'n."

Cornelius nods and slumps "Bloody overgrown bastards. Methinks we should hobble our way to the wagon, get it and the horses to an Inn, and then get moving tomorrow. And I must get a courier to Jean-pierre to collect a spare waistcoat, and have this one cleaned. By They Who Watch, what a busy life this is."

Mahri does't say much more after that. She's too busy trying to help Cornelius into a wagon tied to two horses already wary of the wolf. They both stamp and blow and shift in the rigging but with help she and Cornelius will be on their way to the nearest Inn. The Whaler or somewhere thereabouts.


Later, in the Cenril Inn's most expensive suite

Cornelius strolls into the room, albeit without much spring to his step "Really, what a day, old bean."

Mahri is there as a steadying presense though it appears Cornelius can certainly move under his own power. A quick glance of the room is automatic. There's one bed and no windows. Which leaves the door behind the only exit. As for the bed, Mahri'll direct Cornelius towards it, "Aye, it has been, Cap'n. Ye should probably get some rest while ye can."

Cornelius raises a hand "One moment M'dear. I must get out of this waistcoat, and have it sent to Jean-Pierre." Stifling a grimace, he removes the coat, looking with renewed dismay at all the blood that wretched sailor got on it. His undershirt is likewise marred. Fortunately, he has learned his lesson, and has a spare shirt on him: neatly folded, wrapped in paper, and stowed in his satchel

Mahri smirks and shakes her head. "I'll get someone to run it over if ye want." She's moving to the door, ready to open it and hollar for a bell-hop. Or someone. Anyone who could act as courier for this man's waistcoat.

Cornelius nods gratefully, and gives the address of Jean-Pierre's shopfront. He pulls a small obsidian box from his satchel, the Penzance Raven engraved in silver on the lid, which is revealed to contain writing implements, signet ring, and wax. "Just one moment, I'll need to give him some details." He pulls out quill and dashes off a brief letter in elegant script before enveloping it. He holds a candle to the wax block, letting a little bit fall on the envelope before picking up and applying the signet ring "There we go M'dear. Please ask the inn staff to take this letter with the soiled garments. Tell them to ignore his girlish wailing." This important task done, he removes the undershirt as well, revealing the onset of massive bruising on both his chest, as well as the left arm where the huge sailor had grappled him so fiercely. Examining the results in the mirror he twists his lips "Oh dear. Charming. I'll feel that for a week." He parcels up waistcoat in the less-soiled undershirt, and places the letter neatly on top before removing the spare shirt from his satchel.

Mahri stops and turns, a dark brow arching in question while he writes. It's rather difficult not to laugh but she manages by biting the inside of her cheek. Taking the neatly wrapped parcel and letter, Mahri finally opens the door and her yelled request is met hastily. Considering what they were paying for the room, the service had better be top knotch. Imparting the instructions, Mahri has to ask the boy twice if he understood them since he kept staring at Cornelius and the bruises. Finally getting confirmation and a repeat, Mahri closes the door and stops cold. He was just pulling the shirt over his head but it gives her time to see the damage herself. "Might have some salve somewhere if you want it."

Cornelius arches an elegant brow "You know, that sounds like a splendid idea. Salves have been my salvation in the past, wot". He shrugs off the shirt again. "Really, I keep on forgetting I'm not quite as young as I used to be. The old corpus doesn't quite bounce back from the abuse like it used to."

Mahri grabs the pack she'd dropped somewhere and finds the jar of numbing salve she kept for times like this. It seems she always managed to run into people who were prone to getting into fights. Glancing at her gloved hands there arises a new problem. How to apply it without taking her gloves off. Well, they were only gloves and she could get another pair.. unless, "Do you need help applying?" Turning towards Cornelius, Mahri holds up the jar and waves it in a 'here it is' manner.

Cornelius gazes at Mahri curiously, evaluating the microexpressions on her face and the hints given by body language. With a hint of a smile he murmurs "Apropos of nothing, Mahri M'dear, but you have become inordinately fond of gloves in recent times. In fact, I rarely see you without them on."

Mahri just shakes her head and meanders over to Cornelius while twisting the top off the jar. Menthol might be the first thing smelled as well as something a bit spicier. She'll settle on the edge of the bed and look at her hands before answering, "You wouldn't want me to take them off. If I accidentally touched you..well..everything I touch rots away." Shrugging like it didn't matter, Marhi asks again, "Do you want help putting this stuff on or no?"

Cornelius gently takes the jar from Mahri's hands "I'd hate to see your gloves ruined for mere bruises, M'dear. Must be quite the hassle at times." He carefully shuts away the part of consciousness which registers pain, and begins applying the salve to his left arm to begin with "I imagine there is quite the story to how that came to pass."

Mahri smirks and takes the jar back to dip the tips of her covered fingers inside. It might not be the most comfortable feeling but at least he wasn't doing it himself. Slathering the salve where she sees a bruise or where one might form, she talks. "Would it surprise you if I said it involved Jolie and that faceless thing she has? Oh, and a book she probably had no business having in the first place." Bowing her head to the task, Mahri reapplies where she thinks he'll need it most and wherever the salve touches it booth warms and cools before killing the pain.

Mahri adds, "And don't worry about the gloves. I have enough of them."

Cornelius shivers slightly as the salve begins to take effect. He ponders her words for a few seconds before drawling out his measured response "No, old bean, I cannot say it would surprise me at all. Jolly-girl always had a knack for both trouble and creepy magics, and the two were frequently combined." He winces despite himself when the area just above his solar plexus has salve applied to it. "This is much appreciated, by the way. The path of the stoic has a lot to recommend it, but I prefer not to have to walk it too often or for too long."

Mahri jerks her hand back when the Captain winces, which translates to a jerk away from her, and glances upwards. Anyone walking in on accident would find the two in a rather awkward..position.."She was bringing back her familiar and something started to go wrong." Resuming the task makes it easier to hide the grin of amusement while she continues the story. "Just before something exploded I grabbed her and when I woke up the grass where my hands were had turned to ash." Not once will she mention or acknowledge the appreciation. "And now I have to wear these. Took them off only once." In Gamorg and only because she was going to become Ogre Food if she hadn't. That was a story for another time to be sure. Moving on to a different part of Cornelius' body, a generous slathering of the salve is applied where marks can be seen.

Cornelius nods "A troublesome girl, Jolie". He looks lost in thought as the salve is applied and a sense of deja vu kicks in. His eyes wander vaguely over the vast catalogue of scars on his body. Each one is a memory locked in flesh, something to keep him anchored to the past and present. The most recent reassure him that he is out of the stone-dream, that he lives and moves again. There are not as many on his back, but his memory of those long ago started to fade, links to the past rusting away like scattered dreams.

Mahri chuckles, "Sometimes but when she's loyal nothing shakes her." Which is probably why Mahri hadn't a problem claiming the woman as family. She had noticed the scars. Some obviously old and others newer but no less well aged. Natural curiosity almost had her asking about them but Mahri bites her tongue to keep them at bay. At least she was able to keep the applying of medicinals purely a clinical experience. When it counted. "I think you might gotten yourself some cracked ribs." Her fingers skim over these next, not giving much more warning than the observation. "I used to be able to heal this kind of stuff in a snap."

Cornelius seems lost in a strange reverie, his normally blue eyes having taken on a shade of grey as he stares at one slim, narrow scar on his right hand. His lips are moving subtly, a silent word drifting into night air.

Mahri looks up when she doesn't get a reply, a frown of concern drawing her brows together and she leans away to try and see what she might have missed. Unable to skim her hands over Cornelius she can't tell for sure where else he might be injured but..that didn't seem to be the case.

Cornelius looks slightly catatonic, but beneath the surface an old, unwanted memory was playing out. The staircase, yes, the shimmering chandeliers, and her laughter. Her laughter and the screams. Cornelius' body starts to tremble, resonating with the strength of the waking nightmare. Each step up takes him closer to that voice, and his feet start to find the steps more slippery. A hanging arm, dark skinned, the butler, missing two fingers, the source of the uneasy footing. Her laughter again, the screams still assaulting his ears with their young timbre...

Mahri knows that vacant look on Cornelius' face. Sometimes she wore it herself when drawn so deep into a memory it was hard to find ones way out again. Setting the jar aside, it wasn't needed now, Mahri reaches a hand to rest it on Cornelius' forearm. Lightly. Just like her voice when she calls his name, "Cornelius? Captain? Come back."

At the sound of his name, half-shut eyes snap open, the word '...Anastasia...!' aspirated from his lips as he breathes out roughly. A ragged breath later and the grey seeps from his eyes, returning them to their habitual pale blue. Cornelius blinks a couple of times, mentally shakes himself, and runs his right hand through his hair. "My apologies, M'dear. What were you saying? I do rather believe I blanked out a bit there."

Mahri blinks at the name breathed out so quiet anyone with lesser hearing wouldn't have heard it. "I was saying," she replies as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, "that I think you have some cracked ribs. They'll need binding."

Cornelius chuckles and responds in his usual urbane fashion "Well, at least they weren't broken eh? That would have been rather problematic, wot"

Mahri answers with a smile glad she'd chosen not to mention the name or the spell, "Indeed. Give me just a moment and I'll take care of it for you." Pushing up to her feet, Mahri presses a hand tightly against the small of her back a moment, stretching the muscles there before returning to the pack and taking what she needs. A cloth pad and strips of linen would do and these are taken back. Rather than sit on the bed, Mahri kneels on the floor so she's eye-level with the aforementioned ribs. The pad is for comfort and she murmurs a request,"Hold this right there." When that's done, the strips are next, winding around Cornelius' torso until she can just tie off the end and secure the wrapping. "There."

Cornelius does as directed, making a mental note that the waistcoat Jean-Pierre will have delivered to him probably won't fit over the binding. The sacrifices one made. "Much obliged, M'dear"

Mahri leans back on her heels and tilts her head up towards Cornelius. "Yeah. Don't mention it. I mean it." Getting to her feet, the lycan grabs the top blanket from the bed and her pack to use as a pillow to make herself a bed somewhere on the floor. Hopefully Cornelius wouldn't be sitting on the blanket she snags at.

Cornelius chuckles at Mahri's preparations "You know, dear sprout, I'm hardly going to be in any condition to affect your sleep. There's plenty of space in this gargantuan bed for two to rest in comfort."

Mahri tugs sharply at the fabric, "Ain't me I'm worried about." The corners of her mouth twitches, "Sides, wouldn't want word gettin' back to Joles we shared a bed. She might get some ideas."

Cornelius raises an eyebrow "Oh come now. I'm expected to believe that you're going to suddenly develop a deep lust for my battered and bruised old frame? Please. But, if it's the floor you prefer to a nice feather mattress, then who am I to dissuade you?" He grins and settles himself into one side of the bed, staring at the painted ocean on the ceiling.

Mahri frowns at that and huffs. There was a challenge somewhere in there she was sure of it and damned if she couldn't resist it. "Stranger things have happened," she retorts even while she drops the pack, the blanket and herself on the bed unceremoniously. The pack was to be sure they each stayed on their side of the bed and didn't stray on accident.

Cornelius chuckles, reminded strongly of the old wooden 'courting boards' used during the early stages of arranged marriages in old Vailkrin. No matter how things changed, some echoes of the past filtered through.

Mahri tossed. She turned. She didn't sleep. At one point the wolf ends up staring at the ceiling and listening for the even breathing that would tell her Cornelius was sleeping.

Mahri was destined to be disappointed. While Cornelius lay perfectly still, like a reclined statue, he was quite clearly awake, eyes open and still staring at the ceiling as they had been at the start of the night.

Mahri mutters, "This is ridiculous."

Cornelius maintains his study of the ceiling, a few seconds after the words were spoken they filtered through his musings, causing him to turn his head slightly, flicking a glance in her direction.

Mahri, to show just what it was that was ridiculous, reaches for and grasps the pack to fling it against the nearest wall.

Cornelius murmurs idly "I imagine the neighbours can only imagine the worst now"

Mahri snickers and rolls to her side, "I'm thinkin' they might be thinkin' we're just very enthusiastic."

Cornelius murmurs dryly "And fast at our business from the single thump made."

Mahri must be more tired than she thought. The image that brings to mind has the wolf chortling aloud. "Give me something else to throw. Wouldn't want your reputation tarnished."

Cornelius responds with a smirk "I'm more inclined to keep my wallet intact than my reputation, old bean. You'll bring a wall down at this rate."

Mahri laughs softly and shakes her head. "Your choice, but if we get odd looks in the morning I'm pointing at you."

Cornelius decides against his usual shrug, seeing as it would pull on his ribs "Quite alright, M'dear. I get enough odd looks as it is."

Mahri hmm's at that and closes her eyes. After what seems like hours but may only be minutes, sleep is still elusive.

Cornelius continues to stare at the ceiling. It has become something of a ritual meditation. Ever since being pulled out of the stone-dream, sleep for Cornelius has been minimal at best, mostly impossible, and almost unrequired. His mind continues to adhere to the routines of contemplation he had survived on for three hundred years while encased in stone. Physical rest then became a simple matter of stillness.

Mahri eventually drifts in that place between wake and sleep. One hand is tucked under her cheek, not the one she'd used to apply salve with. That one was tucked comfortably between her knees. Her breathing slows and settles into a regular rhythm that anyone might mistake for true sleep. Even her eyes moved beneath the thinness of her lids. It was, all in all, a good impression of slumber. However, Mahri is quite aware of every sound that Inn's were apt to make. Boards creaking as the foundation settles. The shuffling of feet as employees went about their nightly business or a guest sneaks down for a late night snack. None of it was missed.

Cornelius continues his meditative stillness until the first hint of light on the horizon. That first light, and the warmth of the morning sun, were something to be enjoyed. Rolling carefully to the side and onto his feet, he avoids putting too much strain on his bruised and cracked ribs. Feeling stiff and decidedly unacrobatic he opened and stepped slowly through the double-windows onto the room's balcony

Mahri is instantly alert and her eyes fly open though the rate of breathing doesn't change. Dark brows draw together when she sees it was Cornelius moving that woke her. "Should you even be up?" she asks in a voice rough with what sleep she'd gotten. Which wasn't much at all.

Cornelius chuckles, voice as lively as ever "What, you expected me to play the invalid? Sorry to disappoint, old bean. I was hardly going to miss the sun's ascension"

Mahri is not a morning person. But, she's up now so might as well stay up, "Yes. I expected you to be the type to whine and complain all day." Rolling from one side to the other, the lycan swings her legs over the side of the bed and stops there. Arms raise, fingers laced, to stretch over her head and eventually the motion is used to stand. A sunrise wasn't something she often saw so after the loosening of her own muscles and a quick finger-comb o her hair, Mahri wanders over to the balcony and joins the Captain to watch the sun come up.

Cornelius drawls out "Well, I had been considering it, but there are too many things that need doing, dontcha know? Don't have the time to jolly well sit around all day and pity myself. Besides, I've had much worse injuries than this." He slowly stretches, breeches and bandages concealing most of his scarring, save the assortment to be seen on arms and shoulders. Slowly, bit by bit, the sun appears above the horizon, washing the dull blue-gray of the early morning away with its sea of pale bronze and gold.

Mahri watched the sun arrive while listening to Cornelius. Her usual smirk touches her lips before she turns away from the awe inspiring event. "Lets get to it then. Since we're in such a hurry and all." Snatching up the pack that rested against the wall, Mahri winces at the sight of a smal dent. Maybe management wouldn't notice

Cornelius rolls his eyes "Indeed. Let us make our way to the winter wonderland of Frostmaw. Come for the snowmen, stay because of the frostbite."

Mahri gives Cornelius one of ~those~ looks over her shoulder. The kind that says 'oh puhleeze you could have said no' before she pulls the door open and steps out. In the time it takes Cornelius to follow her out, she'll have settled the bill with the Innkeeper and had the horses and wagon drawn around. No one was giving her odd looks. In fact. The lobby would be empty but for the keep and lycan.

Cornelius makes his leisurely way down to the courtyard where the wagon is in time to see a young man carrying a parcel dash up to the door. He snaps his eyes onto Cornelius and pants out "...with...Jean...Pierre's...compliments...sir..." He reaches into his jacket and pulls out an invoice. Cornelius looks at it, sighs, and nods "Please inform him I'll pay him directly upon my return." The porter, having caught his breath now, responds "Very good sir!" before leaving with a little less haste now his duty had been discharged. Cornelius stows the parcel of clothing in his satchel and approaches Mahri and the wagon. "Righto then, let's be off"