When the Ship Comes In
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_The sun is just setting when the good ship Prid of the Icelace XXXVI (Captain Wilhelmina Dal commanding) slips fairly gently into port and begins to disgorge passengers, most in a considerable hurry to get to dry land.
Despite the hour, the docks are teeming with the usual gang of stevedores, sailors, guildsmen, and longshoremen, with a fair sprinkling of travelers and whores and loafers. The urchins have recently adjudged a new Judiciall Nypper, and he is sauntering along the waterfront with Rath Ashald's butler's moneypurse. Audible Scoggins is telling the air about the bears in the walls to the amusement of bystanders. On a roof, the Rat-Master General of Peltarch, in her rusty field armor, is leading her small army in an attack on a particularly stubborn nest of vermin.
The elf in the white suit ambles down the gangplank, waves a goodbye to Captain Dal, motions for his black-robed human companion to join him. They confer quietly. A map is extracted.
The Judiciall Nypper stops and eyes them speculatively, sensing money.
The black-robed man throws up his hands in disgust. The elf grins disturbingly.
And then ten longshoremen pull knives and wands and descend on the two.
Screams and shouts. There's a swiftly-cut-off gurgle as a sailor fails to get out of the way of the 'longshoremen' quickly enough; crimson stains the wharf from a slit throat.
The elf and his friend exchange a brief, put-upon glance, then blur into motion. There is a sharp, violent flash and four of the 'longshoremen fall to the ground. Two others discharge wands, and fireballs erupt.
The Judiciall Nypper yelps and rolls, frantically trying to put out his hair. Audible Scoggins decides to shut up and run. On the roof, the Rat-Master General is calling for the Guard and yelling that the damn rats have a mage.
The white-suited elf seems to ignore the flames; he's diving forward. "Take them ALIVE!" his friend snaps.
"Right! No worries!" The elf punches his attackers. As he hits then, energy crackles off his gloves. Bones shatter. Some of them are important bones.
Then the two are standing in the middle of a number of slightly charred corpses.
"What happened to alive?"
"I didn't hit them that hard! They looked tougher than that."
"I can't take you anywhere!"
Whistles are blowing, running armored footsteps. The Rat-Master General is yelling instructions from her roof. A crowd is starting to gather, although not too close. The Judiciall Nypper sits on a crate and puts a bit of tar on his burns, so shaken he doesn't even notice when someone steals Rath Ashald's butler's purse from him.
The elf and the black-robed man exchange glances and nod. Then they hustle.
By the time the guards get there, they're nowhere to be seen._
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((PM sent. Sorry for the delay))
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Aramuil, upon hearing of this simply shakes his head and sighs.
