#themythrilblade

[florihilda]

Leve: Order Disorder

Leve Prompt for @themythrilblade​

Featuring: @autochthonousone as Barengar

The ride to Ala Gannha is uneventful, and the two arrive as the sun sets. The village is quiet, and people seem to be slowly filing back from the fields and the quarries-- there is no sign yet of the rumoured riots, but, as with anything in this unstable, precarious land, things could change at a moment's notice. Flora, perhaps unwisely dressed in her Resistance uniform, looks to Barengar with a nervousness in her eyes as they reach the gate.

Though it was not particularly overt, Barengar was no more at ease with his journey through the region. The warrior's gaze occasionally glancing over in Flora's direction as they traveled in relative silence. The uniform that she had chosen to wear for this particular job was ... not what he would have chosen though, at worst, his thoughts were displayed with a thin-lipped look of consideration. As they arrived Barengar could sense the nervousness within Flora and simply dipped his head toward the young woman and held up a hand in a calming gesture. "Ain't anythin' t'be concernin' y'rself o'er jus' yet, Valerian." He pauses a moment, "Where's 're contact 'ere?"

"There's supposed to be another of us somewhere-- she's from my cell. She's-- there's a place where they pour arak for folk coming up from the quarry, and she said she'd meet us there. But...  I very nearly feel like a bird flying into a coeurl's maw," she continues, albeit quieter. "Mayhap we can find where they serve arak-- and from there, ah, mayhap we'll find her."

The warrior quirked his brow slightly before furrowing it and turning his gaze toward the center of the village. "Ther's s'pposed t'be 'nother 'ere?" He pauses a moment and looks back toward Flora, "An' y'r thinkin' she's run in t'trouble wit' th' s'pposed rioters?"

"I don't know-- I think it's possible. Especially because there's just one of her. I don't know." She shakes her head. "I am getting a bad feeling about this eve."

Barengar didn't like it, that much was very clear upon his face as he was making no efforts to conceal that fact. "Th'n we ain't got anythin' better t'do th'n press forward, Valerian. If'n y'r thinkin' this friend o' y'rs knows s'methin' we oughta then s'best we start ther'."

Flora nods her head, and bids her bird start walking over the threshold. As they reach the inside of the settlement, all seems quiet, though it seems like there are a fair few people laying outside the tents-- they do not look dead, nor asleep, and instead writhe with pain. Moans escape some of their lips, and all seem terribly pock-marked from head to toe.

 Barengar's eyes widen at the sight before them, "Wha' in th' seven 'ells ..." He grumbled quietly before moving a bit closer to some of the ailing villagers, looking for someone that isn't in the same condition as them. He glanced back toward Flora, "Ther' any mention o' this in th' job description?" He asked between clenched teeth.

Flora shakes her head 'no' as she follows along, her eyes trained on the people lying sick on the ground. An elderly woman opens the tent flap, a large basket of poultices in her arms, and looks between Barengar and Flora-- at the sight of the latter, though, in her Resistance uniform, she narrows her eyes and spits upon the ground. "What business you got here? We don't need no more trouble than what we got," the old woman croaks.

The Armsbreaker side glances toward Flora as the older woman spat at the ground. It was long before Barengar then turned a heavily discontent expression upon the ornery elder, "Ain't got time f'r y'r flarin' temper." He grunted before gesturing about toward the ailing villagers, "Wha's goin' on 'ere? Word was there were riots out 'ere." He pauses a moment and gives the woman a flat look, "This ain't lookin' like riots."

"We done forced you Resistance bints out and everything's been peaceful since," The old woman replies, with a snort. "And now you're back. With five bags of flour, aye? Just like what that aid from you folk was?" Flora perks right up. "Yes-- that was what was stolen from the Resistance caravan," she blurts. The old woman points to the sick people lying on the ground. "Your five bags o' flour ain't helpin' anyone here. I don't trust no Resistance. You ain't my liberators. Only folk I trust is those boys what's making ends meet for us. They're the only reason I got any medicine for this outbreak what's happened."

Barengar snorts slightly, "I ain't wit' the Resistance. I'm 'ere on m'own accord." He grumbled before giving the woman a pointed glare, "So I ain't keen on listenin' t'rantin'. Jus' tell me wha' 'appened 'ere an' I'll lettin' y'get back t'yer business."

"It ain't your business no how, Resistance or no," shouts the old woman. "Ala Ghanna's got its own saviours now, and it sure as hells ain't you lot. It's Red Chapuli and his boys. Busting their arses so we can all get back on our feet again."

 Barengar took in a slow breath, shaking his head slightly before glancing over toward the ill for a moment and then back toward the elder, "Then m'inclinced t'let 'em keep doin' wha' they're doin'. I ain't got any interest in stoppin' 'em fr'm 'elpin' ya." He grunted, "Bu' we're 'ere 'bout th' robbery o' the caravan." The warrior rolled his right shoulder back several times, "Lookin' f'r leads."

 The old woman nods her head. "That's our Red Chapuli-- and he'll do it again, the second he sees anyone coming over that horizon with goods to take. He's ruthless, he'll kill anyone for Ala Ghanna-- and that's just what a hero of this age ought to be."

 Barengar didn't even bother hiding the scowl of disgust upon his face, "Theft an' muder bein' 'eroic traits f'r ya then?" It wasn't really a question so much as it was an accusation.

"I don't see nothin' else doing any good for Ala Gannhans," The old lady announces, in a roar. "'Specially not your Resistance, with your five bags of swivin' flour." A young, pleading voice comes from inside the tent. "Grandma, you'll wake them up.... Come on in, don't mind them." And with that, the old woman spits on the ground once more, and turns on her heel once more, disappearing into her tent without another word. A few feverish faces look up from the ground, but their glazed-over eyes seem to make little sense of anything they've seen or heard.

 "I suppose," Flora speaks up, quietly, "If I were only sent five bags of flour in the midst of an epidemic, I would feel insulted, as well, but..."

Barengar narrowed his eyes, snorting at the gesture of disrespect. He wasn't about to waste his time on someone that clearly wasn't worth it. Someone as morally bankrupt as that had already died as far as Barengar was concerned. He turns his attention back toward Flora, drawing in a slow breath, "Soundin' like we've got our answer s'far as 'oo was takin' th' supplies."

"The... Red Chapuli? Do you suppose he is a hellsguard, with a name like this?" Her head tilts to the side. "That, too-- I would say that that is a lead."

Barengar lifted a single shoulder, bobbing his head to the side, "Supposin' tha' ain't a bad guess, bu' jus' as easily could be an alias o' sorts. I ain't carin' much either way. If'n th' pluck thinks 'e c'n jus' kill and steal 'is way through 'is problems then 'e 'as got 'nother thing comin'."

Flora nods her head several times, murmuring, "Our Gyr Abania oughtn't be this way. No one should ever feel like they need to do anything like that to survive." A few dreary-looking souls with pickaxes on their back shuffle northward.

 Barengar had just managed to tuck away the irritation that had welled up from the conversation with the elder when he happened to have his attention drawn toward the assembly of villagers on there way north. He lifted his chin slightly and looked out over the group before glancing over toward Flora, "They ain't lookin' in th' best o' shape."

Flora looks dazed, perhaps distracted by her own thoughts. "A-ah? Who?" It seems like she hasn't even noticed the men. "Oh, ah-- mayhap we ought to follow them? Do you think so?"

Barengar Armsbreaker bobbed his head to the side, "Figurin' it's worth lookin' inta." He grumbled, "Y'mentioned somethin' 'bout a quarry, aye?"

"I-- ah-- I don't know. Maybe I did, or something," she replies, still looking upset and distracted.

The warrior gives a firm grunt before making his way in the direction that the group had wandered off toward. He glanced around the village as he went, grumbling to himself. "Bleedin' desperate plucks." He motions for Flora to follow alongside, "Y'can't use circumstance as a means o' excusin' bein' bereft o' moral fiber, Valerian. Time migh' be 'ard, sure, bu' there ain' excusin' bankruptin' y'r morality."

"Ain't anyone and there ain't anythin' tha' c'n answer f'r s'meone elses' actions."

 "It's-- it says, much, I think, that these folk have been led to think that all of this nonsense is acceptable-- to loot and steal, from fellow countrymen? Especially us. We were only trying to help. How were we to know..." A hellsguard woman stands under the awning, beside crates of arak. she refills the miners' flasks, and just as they turn to leave, she spots the two, looking up with a strange gleam in her eye. "Welcome, welcome," the suspicious-looking hellsguard replies, with a knowing sort of grin, polishing an arak glass clean on her apron. Flora whispers, galloping up to Barengar's side, "Uncle-- that is her-- that is the woman from my cell."

 Barengar narrows his eyes slightly at the woman's greeting, carefully dismounting from Hans and making his way toward the Hellsguard. He gave a slight nod of understanding upon Flora's clarification before lifting his chin and giving the suspicious woman a stern gaze, "So. Y'r in the Resistance?"

Flora dismounts too, looking a lot more comfortable now that she's found the other one. The hellsguard cautiously looks this way, then that, as if it were a secret, and replies, "Aye. And you're our reinforcements from The Mythril Blade? Glad you made it here in one piece. I was worried no one else was coming."

 Barengar lifted his brow slightly, glancing over his shoulder at the departing group of presumed miners before looking back to the Hellsguard, "I'm supposin' they ain't knowin' who y'r with then?"

"Only way I've stayed safe-- I'm reconnaissance, you know." Her eyes dart from side to side. "Well, anyroad. I've gathered together a list of what the Resistance needs to be sending these folk so they can get their epidemic sorted-- so, take this, and once all is said and done, get it to Ala Ghiri, eh?" She hands Flora an arak bottle with a piece of parchment folded up inside, hardly visible thanks to its label. "But that'll do a whole lot of nothing if Red Chapuli's still on the loose. They'll just loot us and keep saying we're doing nothing for 'em. Luckily, I know just where he and his boys are, tonight. They're all sitting around by the edge of the water, tonight. There's only four of 'em, in truth."

"Between the two of you, I've got no doubt you can take 'em."

Barengar exhaled slowly, his eyes closing for a moment before opening once again and dipping his head toward the Hellsguard. He looked relieved more than anything. "Tha's jus' wha' we're lookin' to know." He glanced over at Flora before rolling his right shoulder back, "Anythin' we should be knowin' 'fore we 'ead o'er there?"

"Yes, is there-- do you have descriptions of them, Thistle?" Flora starts. The hellsguard, apparently named Thistle, nods back. "Roegadyn, midlander, two highlanders. You'll know 'em for the red turbans they got on. No missin' em. Now-- I'll sneak off and let the folks up top know you got here alright when I can. Anything else I can do?"

Barengar seemed content with that information, glancing over toward Flora and allowing her a moment to ask anything that she might need.

"I can't think of anything else-- thank you." Flora replies, starting to make her way off in that direction.

"Well, Rhalgr's strength to y'both," Thistle replies.

 Barengar simply grunts before before turning to follow alongside Flora.

"Two against four," Flora murmurs, sounding unsure.

"If'n they're bein' untrained th'n we're like t'be fine; supposin' we're smart."

A young midlander boy looks to be standing guard-- and in the dim moonlight, the turban he is wearing looks to be red. There are others, still, closer to the water-- seated, likely drinking and discussing something.

Barengar swept his gaze over the group of supposed-bandits, eyes narrowing at the apparent youth of the midlander before looking over at Flora, "Tha' one's lookin' mighty young, Valerian." He grumbled quietly.

"So-- ah, do we try and lure him off?" She squints into the darkness.

Barengar shook his head and grunted, "No. Ain't any real way o' doin' tha' wit'out 'avin' call by my way o' figurin' which'd 'ave us wit' the lot of 'em regardless."

"Jus' ain't keen on woundin' 'im anythin' serious if'n I'm able o' 'elpin' it."

 "That's-- you're right. He probably doesn't even know what he's caught up in." She looks down at her feet. "I'm in agreement. The rest of them-- they must know full well what they've done.."

Barengar bobbed in his head toward Flora in agreement before reaching back for his weapon; holding it in a single hand as he made his approach toward the gathering. He didn't present the weapon in an aggressive way but he wouldn't let himself be caught off guard if this group of bandits decided to be jumpy. The moment he was close enough to be heard he announced himself with a stiff grunt.

Flora follows, her halberd held loosely in hand-- eying Barengar far more than the boy. Speaking of whom-- at the sound of someone approaching, he jumps nearly a fulm into the air in fright, staring with wide-eyed terror at the two armed strangers agead of him. He doesn't emit so much as a yelp, though, fortunately.

Barengar gives the boy a steady and firm gaze; measuring. "I ain't 'ere to make trouble an' I'd like t'keep it tha' way." He grunted, his unrelenting gaze bearing down on the boy without reprieve,"I'm lookin' t'speak wit' s'me pluck called 'Red Chapuli.'"

The boy looks to the axe, and then the halberd, then cracks under the pressure. "That's-- that's-- I didn't mean to, honest! I didn't think it would get to be like this! I don't want to get in trouble!" So saying, he turns and flees, his loud, stumbling footsteps alerting the other three, who rise up from where they were sitting. "Told you it was a bad idea to trust the new kid with anything, a one-eyed highlander woman grumbles, hoisting a greatsword up from the ground. A highlander man snarls and reaches for his sword and shield, and the tallest of all the figures is a Hellsguard of lava-red complexion-- who can't be anyone but Red Chapuli. The man groans with annoyance. "Thought we done chased any interlopers out of our town."

 Barengar snorts derisively, "Called th' wrong 'mount o' attention t'yerself, pluck." The warrior swept his gaze over the trio of rather /rough/ ruffians. "M'ere t'see t'makin' sure y'retire fr'm raidin' caravans bound out this way."

"And me as well, yes, hello," Flora chirps, from behind Barengar. She honestly looks more likely to sell them some cookies. Red Chapuli chortles, picking up his axe. "Well, let's see what you lot have got, then. 'Cause the only way we'll be retirin' is if we're all dead and buried. Ain't that right?" A few grunts in the affirmative come from the highlanders at his sides as they charge forth-- the fellow with the sword and shield charges toward Flora, the one-eyed swordswoman goes straight for Barengar and Red Chapuli stands back for a moment, trying to figure out the lay of the land, so to speak.

Barengar, for all his intent of not being caught off guard, was caught off guard. The sudden and extreme escalation of hostilities was far from expected. The large greatsword came down upon the small bit of plate that covered his shoulder and caused the piece of metal to be torn free from his haubergeon. A stiff grunt escaped Barengar as he rode the impact back a single step and readied his weapon proper. They've at least simplified the situation, he had to hand that to them.

The man with the shield charges right into Flora, hoping to just plow her over, but she just stumbles to the side-- swinging blindly, but accomplishing nothing, as the shield is right in the path of her blow.

The one-eyed highlander lady cackles with glee as her hit lands, happy to have the momentum in this situation. As she takes a moment to stand back and gloat, Red Chapuli takes this chance to strafe around behind her and take a position at Barengar's flank-- his spear thrusts forward, seemingly out of nowhere. For such a large fellow, he's certainly stealthy. Meanwhile, the highlander swordsman B peeks out from behind his shield to swing his sword at Flora.

Barengar, narrowing his gaze at the woman as she so openly laughs at her exploit before he catches the subtle movement at his flank. Barengar wheeled about just in time to catch Red's thrust behind the blade of his greataxe. With the Hellsguard's weapon caught within his, Barengar pressed the advance. Through sheer force of will Barengar overpowered the larger Hellsguard, forcing the man's weapon back before slamming his fist clean into Red's face. Taking advantage of the moment to recreate some space and reaffirm his footing, Barengar takes a few steps to the side so that he has a better watch of Flora's flank. He also takes the spare moment to don his helmet.

Flora is too busy hunting for ways to get behind that shield to really see anything coming-- and the gauntlet of her uniform is slashed wide open. A look of shock appears on Flora's face, as if she doesn't even know where that came from.

Red Chapuli sort of sways before he topples over, a torrent of even redder blood gushing from his nose. This seems to make the highlander swordswoman realize that there really are stakes in this, and she hoists her weapon far above her head, aming to bring it down upon Barengar. Or, with her relative lack of depth perception, anywhere near him would do. Flora's foe keeps pushing her backwards-- he starts trying to bash into her, once more, and knock her to her feet.

Upon seeing that Red Chapuli isn't about to make any aggressive move in the immediate, Barengar turns his focus on to the swordswoman. The woman's swing was so obvously telegraphed that Barengar seemed to wonder how serious these bandit truly could be. Did they just get lucky with the caravan? All the same he need to put a stop to them. He stepped out of the path of her swing and promptly introduced her to the broadside of his axe. The momentum behind the heavy, flat surface colliding with the swordswoman's face dead-on. 

Flora locks eyes with the man just before his face disappears behind his shield-- and she feels at that moment like she understands what he's about to do-- the same thing as before. She stays still for just a moment before strafing just two fulms to the right-- and when he charges right past her, her halberd's blade comes swinging through the air, striking the man broad across the back of his torso.

The two highlander foes both collapse in a heap, dead-- but Red Chapuli recovers from his reverie, dizzy and still swaying from side to side, "Now I don't know what's goin'on but," he mumbles, in slurred speech, "but I don't like it." He summons up all the strength in his body to charge into Barengar, the point of his spear aimed at his stomach. Still, even if he missed Barengar entirely, he might still collide with Flora.

Barengar, seeing the situation, knew that simply evading the attack wasn't an option. So he charged right into Red Chapuli in turn. There was one slight adjustment however. Barengar brought his axe down prematurely, at least if he were meaning to strike Red proper. Instead, the warrior's axe came hurtling down upon the haft of Red's spear. Splinters filled the air as the wood gave way to the biting metal. Not wasting even a moment Barengar rolled off to the side and allowed Red to stumble toward Flora with what remained of his charge and with only the lower half of his weapon left.

Flora, still just recovering from her last round of blows, hardly realizes what's happening until she hears the big, clunking foorsteps of a Roegadyn with a half-eaten spear hurtling toward her. With an undignified yelp, she swings her blade wildly, hoping to slice into the man and bring the battle to an end.

So saying, her blade sinks right into the fellow, and he collapses to the ground. "Ah," is all Flora says, for a few moments. "Is it over?"

Barengar breathed a sigh of relief in seeing that Flora managed to finish off the Hellsguard. It wasn't the tidiest of knots, but it certainly did the job. He allowed the heavy head of his greataxe to drop to the ground with a resounding 'thud' before dipping his head toward Flora, "Yeah, Valerian. S'over."

Flora, in turn, breathes a sigh of relief. "Thank you for your help, Uncle. I could not have done any of this, without you. Let's-- Let's go and report to Thistle, and get out of this place."

There was a quiet grunt from the man, he didn't look overly convinced of Flora assertion but, regardless, he was glad to be able to help ensure her well-being. "Aye. She's like t'want t'know wha' 'appened." He grumbled before returning his weapon to its place upon his back, "An' will 'opefully do s'methin' 'bout th' bodies." He pauses to look down at the fallen bandits. "Ain't right t'leave 'im 'ere."

"They've-- certainly got families that will see to it." She says, her eyes wandering downward. "I wish there had been another way. But-- I think there would have been no convincing them that the Resistance really wants to help. We-- we just aren't mind-readers. We can't know about evrything going on at every corner of the realm at once." Her head cants to the side. "It's just-- It is horrifying to me that our country could devolve into such chaos on a mere whim. Is the order here in the motherland really so fragile as this?"

Barengar bobbed his head to the side before his hand rose up to remove the helmet from his head. His features proved thoughtful as they were revealed, a slow breath escaping his lungs before he pressed his lips into a thin line. A low grunt resonated within his chest. "Jus' a reality o' a land after revolution. Some folk ain't givin' a bleedin' lick 'bout the rest o' the country. Jus' carin' 'bout was goin' on f'r them." Barengar lifted a single shoulder; head shaking. "It'll c'ntinue 'till those tha' did the revoltin' get ther' act t'gether." There was a slight pause as Barengar glanced over at the bandits once more, "Bu' tha' ain't excusin' a bleedin' ounce o' wha' they chose t'do. We all 'ave to own up t' our actions, Valerian. They ain't no exception 'cause they 'ad a tough break. Ain't no one made 'em steal and kill 'cept themselves.""That's-- you're right. You are definitely right, Uncle. If anything-- even though I feel bad, it's-- it's good we did what we did. It's good for the motherland. Ala Gannha will be getting the medicine and supplies it needs, now that these folk aren't standing in the way. And maybe everything will work out."

 "Ain't any real way of knowin' in the moment. All tha' y'can do is wha' y'believe y'oughta, Valerian. Doin' anythin' less is bein' dishonest wit' y'rself." He replied lowly before glancing off in the direction of Thistle. A slow breath filled his lungs before he looked back to Flora, "Figurin' we oughta be off, aye?"

 Flora takes a long, silent moment to listen and absorb that-- then nods her head just once, her eyelids heavy. "Yes. Let's go, Uncle."