A rare rain had settled over Ul'dah and Warren Castille was entirely sure it was on account of him. It had only been a few hours since he'd left Howl's side and had spoken to Sei over pearl, but time didn't have much of a meaning in Ul'dah's back alley bars. He knew the Quicksand was off-limits to him now, especially now, and he knew that she wouldn't be visiting him tonight, and maybe not tomorrow.
"Poison, she said. Infiltration. They haven't been evacuated and the whole thing smells funny. But I can't force her away from him, and... I don't want him in the Duskbreak. So I have to let her go for now."
He's spoken to Howl before he left, pressed his hand to the crystal once more in parting and set off to be back to civilization by dark. The numerous torches and alchemical lighting would have never let you know, but the sound of rain and roar of thunder and crack of lightning cast a peculiar sense of awareness that made the artificial light seem more disingenuous.
Warren's head was down in his cups; A bar he didn't know the name of, but it wa dark and he was unarmored so he expected to blend in. If anybody recognized him they didn't say and that was how he liked it. He lined another empty shot glass in front of him and sighed then replayed the events of the week.
He was without bearing again. He hadn't felt that lost since Sei had left him the first time, and without a rudder he was adrift in the stream of the world once more. He wanted to talk with Howl; Howl always seemed to know how to phrase things or look at them. Howl was a healer with his words and Warren needed that now almost more than anything. The only thing close he couldn't have, either, on account of her being saddled down with a sick man who couldn't even remember her.
He felt guilty casting suspicion his way, but it was an excellent alibi. Memory loss would garner sympathy, hurting her would cause those who might question it to try and comfort her. Suddenly, poison. Why not? Everyone was a possible suspect, and he was unable to lift a finger to investigate. None of them would trust him, either, and the strangest part was that everyone seemed now to know there was a spy, yet they were still cozied up in their homes waiting for an explosion to kill them all. There was precisely one person in the Beds he trusted, and she couldn't leave to be with him. He cut the thought off before he could ask the question if she ever would.
More accurately, the clearing throat to his side cut the thought off.
"Ser Castille." His name on lips he didn't recognize. Warren turned his head in the direction of the words and felt his eyes eventually follow, the whiskey already going to his head.
Damn. Should have eaten.
He took in the image of a polished and attentive Sultansworn; Elezen, and wearing the tabard of the Elite. If Warren had been paying attention to his surroundings he would have noticed the bar cleared out in a hurry when Ser Longneck arrived. Flanking him on either side were two more of Her Resplendence's guard, though they weren't the same rank as the speaker. Flunkies, Warren had to bet.
"...'I know you?" Warren asked after a moment. He suspected what was coming.
"Likely not. You're not the type to pay attention to anyone but yourself, but I know who you are. We all know who you are, the sort of man you are." Ser Longneck's tone was equal parts cordial and seething. There was a reckless fire in his eyes that Warren recognized.
"...I'd hope so. You guys hear about me stopping that assassination attempt some moons back? Look, I don't do autographs."
Warren chuckled to himself and raised his glass in a toast. Ser Longneck didn't seem jovial all of a sudden.
"I was hoping we could discuss something with you. Outside." The elezen's eyes narrowed, and his tone was implying it wasn't an option. His guards moved to either side of Warren and he sighed, setting the glass down and rising with his hands in the air.
"I suppose I've had this coming to me."
"Oh, you have no idea." A look of sadistic glee on Longneck's face.
Warren had only just made it out of the doorway when he felt the blunt force of gauntlet meet his kidney. He staggered forward and met the wall of the far side of the alleyway; Their particular arena only gave them a few fulms in which to maneuver. Back-alley bars seldom cared about their entrances being accessible, after all.
He felt hands on his shoulders right away and he was spun to face his attacker, Ser Longneck feeling bold and empowered in his ceremonial armor. Warren took hold of that glorious tabard, the mark of illustrious service, and leaned forward to smash his forehead into the mouth of the long-eared knight. It never worked in the Grindstone, but foppish elves steer clear of the real fights.
To Ser Longneck's credit, he wasn't swayed. Warren took the worse of the exchange and paid for it as the elezen's knuckles cracked across his jaw in a vicious backhand, the weight of the armor doing the bulk of the work. He could feel his teeth shake and knew his lip was split, the fire of raw nerves familiar enough to him.
It rained down on him both figuratively and literally. A blow to the stomach doubled him over and an elbow to the back drove him to his knees. The knight's greave drove into him and sent him sprawling backwards against the wall and the paladin settled over top of him, raining alternating lefts and rights down. Warren got his arms up to block a few of them, but the beating was intended to be savage.
The highlander was left sputtering on the ground and the elezen gestured to his men. They roughly picked Warren up and he slumped against the wall, then the knight was back in front of him, pressing a forearm against his neck.
"I hope you've learned a lesson from all of this, Ser." The elezen sneered, smiling cruelly and wanting to hear submission from his quarry.
"You know she's not going to sleep with you over this." Warren smiled through cracked lips and mustered up his final act of resistance. Before the words fully registered to his oafishly long ears, the highlander drew back and spit his own blood into the elezen's finely shaven face.
"Poison, she said. Infiltration. They haven't been evacuated and the whole thing smells funny. But I can't force her away from him, and... I don't want him in the Duskbreak. So I have to let her go for now."
He's spoken to Howl before he left, pressed his hand to the crystal once more in parting and set off to be back to civilization by dark. The numerous torches and alchemical lighting would have never let you know, but the sound of rain and roar of thunder and crack of lightning cast a peculiar sense of awareness that made the artificial light seem more disingenuous.
Warren's head was down in his cups; A bar he didn't know the name of, but it wa dark and he was unarmored so he expected to blend in. If anybody recognized him they didn't say and that was how he liked it. He lined another empty shot glass in front of him and sighed then replayed the events of the week.
He was without bearing again. He hadn't felt that lost since Sei had left him the first time, and without a rudder he was adrift in the stream of the world once more. He wanted to talk with Howl; Howl always seemed to know how to phrase things or look at them. Howl was a healer with his words and Warren needed that now almost more than anything. The only thing close he couldn't have, either, on account of her being saddled down with a sick man who couldn't even remember her.
He felt guilty casting suspicion his way, but it was an excellent alibi. Memory loss would garner sympathy, hurting her would cause those who might question it to try and comfort her. Suddenly, poison. Why not? Everyone was a possible suspect, and he was unable to lift a finger to investigate. None of them would trust him, either, and the strangest part was that everyone seemed now to know there was a spy, yet they were still cozied up in their homes waiting for an explosion to kill them all. There was precisely one person in the Beds he trusted, and she couldn't leave to be with him. He cut the thought off before he could ask the question if she ever would.
More accurately, the clearing throat to his side cut the thought off.
"Ser Castille." His name on lips he didn't recognize. Warren turned his head in the direction of the words and felt his eyes eventually follow, the whiskey already going to his head.
Damn. Should have eaten.
He took in the image of a polished and attentive Sultansworn; Elezen, and wearing the tabard of the Elite. If Warren had been paying attention to his surroundings he would have noticed the bar cleared out in a hurry when Ser Longneck arrived. Flanking him on either side were two more of Her Resplendence's guard, though they weren't the same rank as the speaker. Flunkies, Warren had to bet.
"...'I know you?" Warren asked after a moment. He suspected what was coming.
"Likely not. You're not the type to pay attention to anyone but yourself, but I know who you are. We all know who you are, the sort of man you are." Ser Longneck's tone was equal parts cordial and seething. There was a reckless fire in his eyes that Warren recognized.
"...I'd hope so. You guys hear about me stopping that assassination attempt some moons back? Look, I don't do autographs."
Warren chuckled to himself and raised his glass in a toast. Ser Longneck didn't seem jovial all of a sudden.
"I was hoping we could discuss something with you. Outside." The elezen's eyes narrowed, and his tone was implying it wasn't an option. His guards moved to either side of Warren and he sighed, setting the glass down and rising with his hands in the air.
"I suppose I've had this coming to me."
"Oh, you have no idea." A look of sadistic glee on Longneck's face.
Warren had only just made it out of the doorway when he felt the blunt force of gauntlet meet his kidney. He staggered forward and met the wall of the far side of the alleyway; Their particular arena only gave them a few fulms in which to maneuver. Back-alley bars seldom cared about their entrances being accessible, after all.
He felt hands on his shoulders right away and he was spun to face his attacker, Ser Longneck feeling bold and empowered in his ceremonial armor. Warren took hold of that glorious tabard, the mark of illustrious service, and leaned forward to smash his forehead into the mouth of the long-eared knight. It never worked in the Grindstone, but foppish elves steer clear of the real fights.
To Ser Longneck's credit, he wasn't swayed. Warren took the worse of the exchange and paid for it as the elezen's knuckles cracked across his jaw in a vicious backhand, the weight of the armor doing the bulk of the work. He could feel his teeth shake and knew his lip was split, the fire of raw nerves familiar enough to him.
It rained down on him both figuratively and literally. A blow to the stomach doubled him over and an elbow to the back drove him to his knees. The knight's greave drove into him and sent him sprawling backwards against the wall and the paladin settled over top of him, raining alternating lefts and rights down. Warren got his arms up to block a few of them, but the beating was intended to be savage.
The highlander was left sputtering on the ground and the elezen gestured to his men. They roughly picked Warren up and he slumped against the wall, then the knight was back in front of him, pressing a forearm against his neck.
"I hope you've learned a lesson from all of this, Ser." The elezen sneered, smiling cruelly and wanting to hear submission from his quarry.
"You know she's not going to sleep with you over this." Warren smiled through cracked lips and mustered up his final act of resistance. Before the words fully registered to his oafishly long ears, the highlander drew back and spit his own blood into the elezen's finely shaven face.