DWC Day 3 Forest - Mortality
Fire.
All consuming, all ruining fire.
A simple job, destroy the competition of the client and leave a lasting impression. What should have been cake for the two veteran Sparrows and one unmarked Carrion, hoping to earn his place in the flock, turned into an abrupt reminder of their mortality. A miscalculation on the time needed to escape the building before charges blew and engulfed the building in flame, putting the team in jeopardy.
“Oi!” Dax shouted, coming to an abrupt stop as the explosion shook the building’s rickety foundation and caused beams to collapse, blocking the way out as the fire spread rapidly throughout the storehouse. “Fuckin’ Slim! Damn count was wrong, look at this mess!” Dax wasted no time getting to work moving the beams to get them out before the roof came down, although each beam weighed nearly twice as much as he, the hulking mass of muscle grunted and grimaced until he lifted the first beam and set it to the side to prevent more rapid damage.
The building groaned as smoke filled the burning walls. “Keep at it Dax!” Amytheisa coughed, raising her mask to hopefully breathe better in the burning fog.
The second fallen beam was removed and the building did not react well to the shift as the back half that took the brunt of the explosion began to fall and crash to the ground. Dax barreled through the opening shouting “GET OUT!!!” His voice boomed, the heavy as he beam still above his head, the Carrion Hugh following close behind.
As the smoke outside cleared the group, it became obvious that their threesome was missing a key player. “Shit, She be inside!” Dax choked, wheezing from the smoke and exertion, leaving Hugh with a split second decision.
It was easy as breathing, these were the people he was fighting to join; starting off hanging around for parties and then lending a hand at the bar until he was invited to earn a spot; this was where the real work began, the heavy lifting and shit jobs fell on the Carrion as well as some light hazing from the veteran flock, the ones that stood where he stood. A deep breath in and Hugh ran back into the flames to rescue his moody superior.
Minutes past, leaving Dax a mountain of worry as the building was caving in on itself and the opening for their escape along with it. “Shit…” Using his large mass Dax held open their path as fire licked his arms and hands. “SHIFT IT!” His voice boomed in competition with the thunderous crackle of the flames.
Bursting from the collapsing building with Amytheisa over his shoulder, Hugh paused only to make sure Dax had let go and was running behind him and the group made for their escape as the smoke would have signaled the surrounding area that trouble was afoot and they had best be clear of it quickly.
Hours later…
The Felfire Eye, a formally rundown tavern in the corner of the Mage District of Stormwind, neglected by time until new ownership returned it to life, now bustling with marked and unmarked members of the Conspiracy of Ravens and those that spent their time in the organization’s orbit. The crew from the misbegotten job had since returned and were patched up and all marked members of the flock returned to the bar to take a very important vote.
Behind a hidden bookshelf door, down a long low lit corridor a large circular room with what looked like a fighting pit in the middle; on the far side of this room was a heavy set of wooden double doors, an ornate raven with wings and talons extended carved into the face, within voices and laughter could be heard.
“Alright alright.” Valanthriell spoke through a pleased laugh, smacking her hand on the large table they gathered around to quiet the group. “Now then, we’ve some last minute business.” Valanthriell spoke with a serious tone. “It seems Job No. 367 hit a snafu with its pyro and it went off less than stellar and ended with some near death experiences. Dax, the floor is yours.”
With a grunt Dax stood slowly, his bruised hulking mass casting a shadow across the large table, his gruff voice sounding more rough than usual from the excessive smoke inhalation. “Tell ya the truth, it was Charlie Foxtrot if I ever saw one, and I fer one don’t plan on a repeat performance. No more of this mates, if the pyros gotta bounce out of a job fer some reason or another, we pause. I ain't blamin' Slim, he sent us with the good stuff, but unexpected differences will screw the pooch faster than it can bark. First order of business is ta make this fact, if a trigger or a pyro has ta bounce out, we pause and replace. Princess Pain over there nearly didn't make it outta there." Dax began to sit down and paused to gesture toward Amytheisa who sported a bandaged cheek, right arm, and a withering stare focused on the much larger man, not saying a word.
"Then we shall vote," Valanthriell spoke matter-of-factly. "All in favor of putting a new rule into place, if a trigger, pyro, or otherwise necessary cog is MIA a hold will occur until they are replaced. This also means placing others on backup should this situation arise. All in favor?"
The first hand to rise was that of Amytheisa, who in the past would draw out her answer, now was point blank open for the change causing hands to rapidly follow.
"Very well, all placed on backup will be expected to remain near the job location and ready to arrive at the drop of a hat. Stay alert. Dax, the floor is yours again."
Dax stood once more, proudly speaking with wide open arms. "Hugh MacArthur. He hasn't yet finished his two year with us as Carrion, but the balls on this lad!” His words were disrupted by a few cheers. “I'll tell ya! The shit was hittin' the fan an' that young man didn't take a second thought before he rushed back in and hauled our Isa outta that fire and ta safety.” The cheering grew thunderous the more Dax spoke, calming as he motioned for them all to settle. “He's a stand-up guy that takes all the shit, does all the jobs an' never bitches. I move to mark Hugh MacArthur as one of our own!” The crowd erupted in cheers and the pounding of fists on the table until Mitharios stood.
“Remind us all, Historian, how far from his two year is Hugh?” Mitharios was a lawless man, however stuck to his personal code like glue, and knew full well that the young man was nowhere near close.
A young Pandaren woman spoke out behind the crowd from her corner as she flipped through the pages of a certain book. “Let’s see here, he's served one year and four.”
“Tisk tisk, shame. At a year and six I would consider it.” Mitharios grinned. “Shame, unless you plan on sponsoring him Dax? Feel like staking your seat on him holding true?” Challenging the larger man’s resolve on the topic, but before Dax could even speak another voice spoke up.
“I will sponsor him.” Amytheisa stood as she spoke, glaring toward Mitharios as those gathered were struck silent by surprise.
“Isa? You, of all people? Interesting, I’ll have to test his merit if he’s enough for you to stand for a stranger.” Mitharios provoked, although Isa didn’t rise to the occasion.
“Her reasoning matters little, Mitharios. Your condition is met and therefore makes this vote unanimous. Hugh MacArthur will be marked tonight.” Valanthriell spoke over the exchange, her word final. “Dismissed.” With that the group dissipated, slowly moving up to rejoin the goings on in the bar above.
To be continued...
Mentioned: @snapshots-inthe-shadows
(Should make a page for the support characters, though Isa might get a permanent page in the future.)
@daily-writing-challenge
