RP:Robbing a bank with a duckling and a half decomposed dead shark
A group of Mahri's friends are robbing the bank in Cenril to raise money to buy Rawnie the gypsy's freedom from Vuryal.
Quoy messing with round
Quoy spend the better part of the day gathering as many small, round, coin like items he could find. He'd fill a large cloth sack with them to go along with the other bag of fake coins he'd come up with while scouting the bank earlier this past week, a few empty bags also placed inside the decoy satchels before he'd tied them up nice and tight, and headed towards the bank. The goblins on the outside had been warned by Jjenai to watch for the red haired male after he'd promised to hand over a hefty sum for them to guard. They even went so far as to open the doors for him while he toted his 'coins' inside to place them upon the feline's desk. Jjenai'd grin wide as he made good on his promise, and once again she'd offer her hand in greeting, "Good to see you again misterr Lattaluck, we've been expecting you'rre arrrival." The former rogue would nod softly before sliding his hand within the woman's own, "Indeed, I knew once ye showed me around that this was tha bank fer me. I cin think o' no other place I'd trust with me funds." From her pocket she'd pull a key, before heading over to the gate blocking off the large vault, "The ownerr was quite pleased that you'd picked us. We do take prride in ourr new securrity system." Lifting the bags off the felines desk, Quoy'd follow her to the vault, though he'd recieve a look from the guards- whom had come to take the bags into the vault themselves. "Oh misterr Lattaluck, you don't need to do anything else. We herre at Cenrril bank will take carre of everrything." Such was not exactly what the ranger had expected, thus it took him a few moments before replying to the woman, his form turning away from the guards as he'd shake his head near violently, "No, no... I told ye I gots trust issues. Iffin it'd be alright wit yer boss... I'd like to place them mahself." The two guards growled at the offer, turning towards Jjenai to show their disapproval, but not before Quoy could get to her first, "Come on now dah'lin... what harm could I do against all yer guards, huh?" Winking at the end of his words, the feline would blush slightly- remembering the males first visit- and nod her head, waving off the guards. "I trrust him fella's... he isn't going to rob us... it's one to twelve." It was then she'd turn towards the vault, whisper to the mage outside the large door, and right after the glowing aura of the safe was gone. With a slow turn of the vaults handle, the metal door is swung open, and Quoy takes easy steps forward- positioning himself right in the way, should they try to close it in a hurry.
Nasurate the duckling's facemask
Rowen is delighted it is almost a year since last she robbed a bank, Both she and nigel are wearing masks to disguise themselves, of course, the mask will disguise Nigel completely as there are so many other decomposing sharks wearing bridesmaids dresses around, Nigel the duckling is on top of Rowen's watermelon covered head. Rowen searched for ages to find a mask to fit him, to no avail, instaed she has used warpaint to paint a black mask around the ducklings eyes,, he actually looks very cute. Rowen also has a chicken sticking out of her backpack. It is the ambassador from the chickens of the sea. Rowen hopes that if they do get caught she can clain diplomatic immunity and get them all let off.
Mahri has been at the bank for at least half an hour by now, being the difficult customer who just isn't satisfied with how her funds were being handled. "I told ye, I deserve more than one percent interest. I've been bankin' here for some time now!" With exagerated irritation, she sighs and rolls her eyes. The action is meant to catch when Quoy is in position. And..there he was. Breaking away from the teller who gawks at the lycan in disbelief, she stalks towards the male. The dagger at her thigh is palmed and drawn just as she pushes the feline out of the way. Jjenai's startled cry alerts the guards to something not quite right, but it's entirely too late. By then, Mahri's got the blade's tip, silver for some odd reason, pressed into Quoy's back and one hand on his shoulder. "Alright, ye gob-smacked idiots.." she pauses long enough to reach into her bulging satchel and pulls out several empty sacks, tossing one to Rowen, another to Damain and one more is handed to Quoy, "..fill these bags with as much gold as they'll carry, and not a coin less. Or the wolf 'ere gets to know what silver poison is like." To emphasize her threat, she pushes the blade harder against his back, though not through the shirt he wore. "Rowen, Damain. Into the vault" Being as there are now two people blocking the door, one of them an 'innocent', there isn't much that can be done aside from compliance. Right?
Damain had been sitting off to the side, looking for all intents and purposes like a woman waiting for a tellar to clear. She had changed her appearance, about her neck was an amulet, charged with a few cosmetic spells, making her hair appear black and longer than it was, her eyes a dark chocholate and her skin a light tan. She wore a red dress, something far from her norm, and was not holdingher signature weapons, the ones that identified her more than her name did. She stood and caught a bag as she slid a hand to her thigh, pulling out a long fighting knife that had been upon her thigh. The mage twitched and she was there, her blade pressed to the mages throat as she wiggled a finger in front of the mage's eyes. Though after Mari spoke she turned to glare at her Alpha, almost ready to growl ar her for saying their names out loud, all this and she'd said their names out loud. She continued to glare at Mahri and the mage started raising his hand, she pressed the blade to her throat hard enough to draw a small line of blood to make her point that he sholdn't move.
Gunnar leads the soldiers away from the crime scene
Gunnar Stormbeard has been standing outside, across the street as to not draw attention to himself and the others as the inside team has begun their work. The northern warrior's job in this mission was simple, muscle, and if the giant had anything else in this world, he had alota that! But as the Quoy and Rowen, followed quickly by Mahri and he rather clever ploy, set out to pull this caper, the Standard-Bearer's attention is ripped away by a sight that sends a shiver down the giant's spine. The local guard, numbering roughly about eighty or so, are marching up the street in a tight formation. Had they been tipped off? Or was this just terrible timing on the team's part? Who knew, but Gunnar couldn't wait for this small squad to stumble upon his mates and ruin the plan that the Alpha had worked so damn hard on. Rawnie was counting on them to pull this job off, and Gunnar would be damned if he was gonna let these bums prevent the lass' escape. His right hand goes to wrap about the leather-bound shaft of his warhammer, a prayer to Aramoth escaping his parched lips as he emerges into the bustling street, towering over all present, and and shouts at the top of his lungs in an attempt to alert his comrades to the threat that lurks outside. " Alright you miserable pests! Outa my way!" The giant's thunderous voice booms out with a commanding authority that causes many a passing person to scuttle out of the frost giant's way, or perhaps, to give the small platoon of Cenrillian Warrior's a clear path to the northern warrior. The platoon sergeant stops dead in his tracks at the sight of the giant, quickly regain g his composure before shouting to his troops. " I wan't a perimeter! Close the ranks! Don't allow him any openings!" The troops close the ranks as ordered, and bring their shields together to form a protective barrier. Gunnar eyes the platoon of soldiers, and with a smirk forming upon his battle-worn features, Gunnar does something he has never before done. Run. He hauls ass back towards the west, the giant's massive frame disappearing behind the next row of buildings within moments. The platoon of soldiers takes off in search of the giant, just as Gunnar had planned on them doing.
Quoy 'd paid no mind to Mahri and her ranting- or so it would seem- and it wasn't until the feline went flying that he'd allow an expression of shock appear upon that normaly passive face of his. As the 'innocent' he is, he'd turn to hollar at his new Alpha before a dangerous pressure is felt at his back. Eyes widening, he'd growl at the female now 'threatening' him with the poison that blade held for him. His hands caught the bag handed to him, and he would indeed fill the bag to the brim- he'd fill his pockets too if he could do so without being seen. He'd mumble something about good for nothing banks unable to keep their clients funds safe before taking a step- if allowed- forward as the blade is forced harder upon his spine. "Easy now Lass... No need ta be making meh bleed..."
Mahri curls her lip up in a snear at Quoy when he'd turn to growl at her. "Get movin'." she orders instead. A nod to Damain and she's pushing her hostage into the vault. It hadn't even crossed her mind during this desperate plot, not to mention names. Something she won't apologize for now, if at all. With one mage immobile and unable to complete the barrier spell, it's easy enough for the group to hold out their bags and wait for the gold to be poured into them. Four bags in all, she prayed it would be enough. A quick glance towards the door shows that a few of the interior guards have moved to block the door, and judging by the comotion outside, the Giant had his own hands full. She could only hope he'd make it back in time to give them an exit.
Don't forget a bag for the shark.
Rowen picks up the simple bag that Mahri throws to her. Nasurate immediately leaps into the from her head, into it. "That's not for you Nassy!" She gently lifts out him and places him on the bank counter, smudging his 'mask'a little as she does so and leaving a little corn for him to peck at "You carry on like this, sweetie, you will end up being just as much trouble as you were when you were an elf." Noticing that her best friend Nigel has not been thrown a loot bag, she calls to Mahri "Don't forget a bag for the shark, yah stupid old wolf!" Rowen is actually very fond of Mahri and is planning to ask her if Nigel may join the Vailkrin pack, maybe Nasurate too, once he is a little older and has shed his yellow down. She then hurries into the vault to begin filling her bag with gold coins, and any valuable watermelons that may be stored there too."
Damain is the last to go as she was a bit preoccupied with th mage. She takes a step back, turning her blad so that the tp is pressed up under his chin. As she walks backward the mage has to follow or the pressure of the knife would increase and part his skin. She holds out the bag and lets someone fill it to the brink. When all is said and done she quickly removes the knife from the man's throat and then cracks his forhead with the butt of the thing. After replacing the knife she hefts up her bag and looks to the guards blocking the door, a grin taking her lips as she turned her hand over and let a ball of fam apear upon it, "MOVE!"
Only a frostgiant could make such an entry
Gunnar 's warhammer appears through the southern wall, hurtling on a course set by its master's tremendous strength. The mighty weapon disposes of three guards, who find themselves knocked out cold upon the bank's stone floor. The frost giant himself quickly follws the devestation his fabled weapon has caused, the heavily armoured form of this nothern warrior crumbling the weakened wall with ease. But for his effort, Gunnar finds himself impaled by one of the quicker thinking guard's spear, a roar of pain erupting from the giant as his left foot finds the man's chest, and send him hurtling into the two guards nearest to the door leading out. Gunnar quickly motions to the troupe, nodding to the stattered remains of the wall. " Quick, outside, we ain't got long lads."
Quoy could only nod- feet carrying him forwards as the daggers tip is forced closer- hands fumbling to open the bag handed to him. Again he'd mumble, before finally getting, and holding the bag open before him as he'd wait for it to be filled. It didn't take long for it to overflow with the golden coins- the bank couldn't have a murder, they'd never get another cliet again. He could only hope this would work, it had to, for Rawnie, for the twins. Quoy couldn't, no, wouldn't think of the alternative. This would work. He'd concentrate hard on keeping that concerned, innocent look upon his face, the look only being replaced by one of anger as he was jabbed with the knife. Another growl is offered towards Mahri as he speaks out to her in what he hopes to be a lie, "Ye'll never get away wit' dis..." And just to make it believable, he'd add, "Ye hussy," at the end. The ranger would try his hardest not to wince, half expecting to be hit because of such an insult- though he wasn't exactly sure just how far Mahri planned to take this, or just how sore he was going to be in the morning.
Mahri's quite sure there is no way they are getting out of the bank without someone remembering the group. Oh well, the end justified the means in her mind. Pulling the dagger away from Quoy's back, the pommel comes down towards a spot behind his ear. The force she used would have been enough to knock out a plain human but might be considered nothing more than a tap for the male lycan, "Ye ain't one t'be callin' names, are ye?" With a glance over her shoulder, a grin spreads across her lips when the giant bursts through the wall, "Good timin'." With a wink tossed Damain's way, the alpha hauls back on the fist full of shirt-collar. "C'mon ye. Yer carryin' that bag for me." As she walks backwards towards the gapping hole, silver eyes glare at anyone who would dare to stop them, "Come closer, an' he's dead," she warns.
Can't let the little duckling end up as a jailbird!
Rowen begins to hurry from the bank, with her bag of loot in her left hand and Nigel tucked under her right arm, her hook through his ribs to keep him secure. Then a sudden terrible thought strikes her. She has forgotten Nasurate. She can't let the little duckling end up as a jailbird! She turns, runs back to the counter, uses Nigel's tail to gently sweep the duckling thief atop her bag of loot, and begins running from the Bank once more. Yelling at the top of her lungs. "Shall we meet at the hideout in The Sage Forest then?"
Damain doesn't say another word. She steps up to the hole in the wall and stands there, waiting for the others to slip out, all the time rolling the fire over her hand just to make sure they gt the point that the male lcan wouldn't be the only one dead if they made a move towards them. Once she was sure the rest were out she would take a step back and whip her hand towards theceailing, sending several fireballs careening into it, bringing down a portion right over whre they had just exited from, making sure none of the guards wold follow them in this direction once they were out of sight.
Gunnar stands guard an ensures the fact that no guards follow suit, making sure to inform Mahri of the guards that are searching the eastern sections of Cenril for him. " Lass, there be a small army of guards lookin' for me down by the ocean, your best shot is not to be goin' that way." With that said, Gunnar heaves a mighty chunk of the bank's wall towards the last mage standing, clipping the man and disrupting the spell he was trying to unleash upon all those gathered. With everyone sucessfully out of the bank, Gunnar calls back his warhammer, and takes his leave of the scene after removing the spear that is logded within his lower torso, and sending it on a crash course with the charging knight that attempts to detain Lady Rowen as she makes her way back from retrieving Nasurate from the rubble.
Quoy had been pretty sure he was going to get hit a little harder than he had- though he couldn't make it look like such a hit was nothing- besides, he didn't wanna look like he was beat so easily by a girl, he did have pride. When he's struck behind the ear, he'd stumble forward as if she'd about knocked him to the floor. The ranger wouldn't reply to the question, he'd only hold tight to the sack of coins he'd hope was enough to free his love from her prison- since someone wouldn't tell him where she was being held. He'd given up his complaining though, and soon believed this was the only way to save Rawnie. At the next threat, he'd gulp and look at the still fallen Jjenai, a silent plea to the feline to get her to call the guards to stand down, even if they wouldn't listen to her. He'd move towards the hole to exit with Mahri and the others, following her lead until they were out of sight of the guards, before he'd break off from her grip- still following the Alpha to where ever she would have them go to count the loot they'd come up with.
As soon as her little group of theives has cleared the building and it's a sure thing that they won't be followed, Mahri runs hell-bent, towards Vailkrin and the Corpse. At least there they were used to odd happenings and wouldn't think twice about jingling bags being taken down into the cellar.
Rowen reminisces to Mahri about happier times
~Cellar of the Hanging Corpse~
Rowen has quite fond memories of the Cellar of the Hanging Corpse Tavern. This is where Tenebrae and Leoxander locked her in a cage with no food or water for 24 hours, then cut the little finger off her right hand, and all because she had tortured some weak Avian named Arysel how was she to know she was Tenebrae's friend? Rowen points to the smaller of the two cages, in the rather, dank, cellar and proudly tells Nigel, Nasurate and Mahri. "That one was my cage!" Damain was resting on a barrel, her legs crossed and looking rather peeved. But she didn't say a word, just sat there, in her disguise, waiting for someplace to toss this sack of money so she could go off and fume without turning her frustrations on the people around her.
Gunnar stumbles in late, the giant lacking the speed of those within the room, and only hindered more by the bleeding wound he harbors upon his lower torso. Pale from the loss of blood, Gunnar manages to plop down on the floor and say. " I...hope...this gets Rawnie outa that bastards clutches..." He is short of breath, and growing weaker by the second.
Quoy entered the cellar rubbing the side of his head- sure, the tap wasn't meant to cause real damage, but it had been unexpected, thus he'd pout about it, just a little. In his other hand was a rather large back of gold- he'd been sure to leave the fake ones at the bank, and though it would probably give him away as a not so innocent, well, he couldn't have carried three bags back. He'd drop the sacks upon the floor, careful to keep the coind within the cloth before finding a place against a clear wall.
Rowen said to Gunnar, "Stop bleeding all over the floor, you are making a mess!"
Mahri isn't far behind and she opens the door to the cellar that Rowen had indicated. "Ye probably deserved it, ye urchin from hell." A flush has settled over her cheeks, the adrenaline from a job mostly well done, staining them a healthy red. "Put the bags in here. Steadman will get the key and we'll count it out tomorrow." Eying the giant, the druid curses under her breath and, after tossing one of the four bags into the cell, marches over to him, "Well, ain't ye a bit beat up?" Kneeling next to the big man, the druidic wolf does what she does, placing cupped hands over the wound and sending healing energies into the wound, at least slowing the bleeding and beginning the process of healing. "Ye all did a fine job. A fine job indeed." Exhaustion tenses her features, now pale and slightly clamy looking. Her payment for healing the giant even as much as she had. "Now, I suggest we get some rest..or whatever it is ye want t'do." Herself, she's about to simply pass out, probably right next to Gunnar if not on him. In a platonic way of course.