Howl sat at a table in the Quicksand, slumped over in the chair so that his legs hung loosely and wide underneath, his arms wrapped around themselves, his fingers drumming on his elbow. That was the only outward signal of nerves. His expression, while not worried or anxious, was somber; but most would likely think him just overly serious of late, with unknown worries resting on his mind.
Well, he had one now. A secret he'd been keeping from Warren, one that he had to out and in a hurry. Hence why he was at the Quicksand, where a relatively private conversation could be had over drinks and under the cover of innumerable nearby voices.
It only took a moment to summon the memory.
----
Ser Longneck had chosen the wrong damn alley to come down.
Not by chance, of course. An enigmatically-worded invitation to meet, as if from a nervous source, picked out this alley, this time - in a disguised hand of course, on a sheet of butcher's paper that gave no hint as to its buyer. Snow had been surprisingly adept at crossing her t's and dotting her i's when it came to conspiracy. Howl supposed it was a hidden talent of hers. She was seated on a low roof nearby, hidden in the shadows; he was concealed in a doorway.
When the gleaming, white-tabarded symbol of righteousness came around the corner, all unawares of the ambush that lay ahead, it was almost laughably simple. Snow, when she so chose, could be incredibly vicious - and she certainly had chosen so that night, leaping down from her place of concealment with lance stabbing and with the speed of a true dragoon. Ser Longneck had barely time to yelp and get his shield up, only it seemed the paragon of virtue and light hadn't been taking such good care of his belongings of late, for his shield cracked down the middle at the impact of Snow's spear, going skittering off his arm and crashing into the wall with the sound of a collapsing bellows. He went for his sword, trying to scrabble it out of its scabbard, but Snow had already driven the butt of her lance into his stomach and her mailed fist into his face, bringing him to his knees. A simple touch of her spear to his neck caused him to freeze.
She smirked down at him as Howl quietly moved to block Longneck's exit, trapping him between the two Miqo'te. She'd gone with a traditional full-face mask and a turban wrapped around her distinctive hair; Howl wore a bandit's turban and mask combination that gave him a bit more room to see. "Looks like Ul'dah's finest have a long way to go before they can hope to match a couple of ragtag street trash," Snow smirked.
"Here to kill me then?" Longneck spat; to his credit, he had none of his haughtiness removed just by being on his knees and with a lance at his throat. Typical Elezen, Howl reflected. "Go ahead and do it, if you have the courage."
"Hardly," Snow sneered. She even backed away, putting her lance down casually; but as Ser Longneck got warily to his feet, he seemed to know it could come back up at any instant. Without his shield, he likely couldn't defeat her in these close quarters. "But you are going to learn a little lesson."
"From you?"
"No, from him."Â She nodded to Howl.
Ser Longneck turned. "If you think I'm to be intimidated by a couple of street thu-"
The sound of Howl's fist breaking his jaw interrupted whatever he was saying. Howl wasn't a violent person by nature. In fact, he rarely fought someone in anger; he dind't like it. He'd killed someone that way, and no matter what the facts had been as they later came out, he had never forgotten that moment. But he remembered what Warren's face had looked like when he'd first been freed from his prison; he remembered how Sultansworn tended to treat him and his friends; he remembered how everyone damn person he fought lately talked innumerable amounts of shit, from Iron Sea to Koporo on down. Howl wasn't a street tough in a barfight. He was an adventurer who used his hands to kill fiends, and his single right hook against Ser Longneck's flapping jaw in the breeze was enough to send him reeling. The follow-up blow, a running knee to the chin, would likely have downed a wivre. The Grindstone had taught Howl well where to hit armored foes, and the answer was almost always in the head.
Concussed and staggering, Ser Longneck fell.
Howl flexed his right hand absently. He was no amateur to have broken his hand on the punch, but he could feel it. It felt good.
Snow produced a knife and began slicing straps, yanking off Longneck's armor piece by piece and tossing it down the alley negligently, along with his belt pouch, all of his gil (in a hail of coins) and various papers and personal effects, all kicked or thrown away as if they were nothing more than garbage. She added a few irritated kicks at Longneck's body when it got in the way.
Howl didn't hit the man anymore, simply standing over him with his balled fists ready. Longneck was dazed and senseless, his eyes seeing nothing. Snow moved to stand next to Howl.
"Think that's equivalent?"
"It's enough," Howl agreed. The man didn't seem as bruised and battered as Warren had been, but he wasn't sure he could casually break a few more bones and leave him there. One was enough for him. Though perhaps his nose...
The two melted off their separate ways into the city, not looking back at the sprawled Sultansworn as the tentative, sneaky army of street urchins and pickpockets began to move in on the valuables strewn so carelessly all around.
----
It had been easy - perhaps too easy, in truth. Howl didn't tend to have a taste for vengeance, but it had felt good getting comeuppance on the guy for what he'd done to Warren. But he felt guilty for not telling him. Warren would likely not be mad at the crime, such as it was, committed on his behalf, but he would be mad at the concealment, and would probably see it as a threat he'd have to protect them from. Howl could understand that, even if he didn't necessarily agree. He thought himself perfectly capable of protecting Warren in turn, but it made Warren feel good to be the protector of the bunch.
The true sign that Howl was a bundle of nerves was that his ale sat in front of him untouched and allowed to get warm.
Well, he had one now. A secret he'd been keeping from Warren, one that he had to out and in a hurry. Hence why he was at the Quicksand, where a relatively private conversation could be had over drinks and under the cover of innumerable nearby voices.
It only took a moment to summon the memory.
----
Ser Longneck had chosen the wrong damn alley to come down.
Not by chance, of course. An enigmatically-worded invitation to meet, as if from a nervous source, picked out this alley, this time - in a disguised hand of course, on a sheet of butcher's paper that gave no hint as to its buyer. Snow had been surprisingly adept at crossing her t's and dotting her i's when it came to conspiracy. Howl supposed it was a hidden talent of hers. She was seated on a low roof nearby, hidden in the shadows; he was concealed in a doorway.
When the gleaming, white-tabarded symbol of righteousness came around the corner, all unawares of the ambush that lay ahead, it was almost laughably simple. Snow, when she so chose, could be incredibly vicious - and she certainly had chosen so that night, leaping down from her place of concealment with lance stabbing and with the speed of a true dragoon. Ser Longneck had barely time to yelp and get his shield up, only it seemed the paragon of virtue and light hadn't been taking such good care of his belongings of late, for his shield cracked down the middle at the impact of Snow's spear, going skittering off his arm and crashing into the wall with the sound of a collapsing bellows. He went for his sword, trying to scrabble it out of its scabbard, but Snow had already driven the butt of her lance into his stomach and her mailed fist into his face, bringing him to his knees. A simple touch of her spear to his neck caused him to freeze.
She smirked down at him as Howl quietly moved to block Longneck's exit, trapping him between the two Miqo'te. She'd gone with a traditional full-face mask and a turban wrapped around her distinctive hair; Howl wore a bandit's turban and mask combination that gave him a bit more room to see. "Looks like Ul'dah's finest have a long way to go before they can hope to match a couple of ragtag street trash," Snow smirked.
"Here to kill me then?" Longneck spat; to his credit, he had none of his haughtiness removed just by being on his knees and with a lance at his throat. Typical Elezen, Howl reflected. "Go ahead and do it, if you have the courage."
"Hardly," Snow sneered. She even backed away, putting her lance down casually; but as Ser Longneck got warily to his feet, he seemed to know it could come back up at any instant. Without his shield, he likely couldn't defeat her in these close quarters. "But you are going to learn a little lesson."
"From you?"
"No, from him."Â She nodded to Howl.
Ser Longneck turned. "If you think I'm to be intimidated by a couple of street thu-"
The sound of Howl's fist breaking his jaw interrupted whatever he was saying. Howl wasn't a violent person by nature. In fact, he rarely fought someone in anger; he dind't like it. He'd killed someone that way, and no matter what the facts had been as they later came out, he had never forgotten that moment. But he remembered what Warren's face had looked like when he'd first been freed from his prison; he remembered how Sultansworn tended to treat him and his friends; he remembered how everyone damn person he fought lately talked innumerable amounts of shit, from Iron Sea to Koporo on down. Howl wasn't a street tough in a barfight. He was an adventurer who used his hands to kill fiends, and his single right hook against Ser Longneck's flapping jaw in the breeze was enough to send him reeling. The follow-up blow, a running knee to the chin, would likely have downed a wivre. The Grindstone had taught Howl well where to hit armored foes, and the answer was almost always in the head.
Concussed and staggering, Ser Longneck fell.
Howl flexed his right hand absently. He was no amateur to have broken his hand on the punch, but he could feel it. It felt good.
Snow produced a knife and began slicing straps, yanking off Longneck's armor piece by piece and tossing it down the alley negligently, along with his belt pouch, all of his gil (in a hail of coins) and various papers and personal effects, all kicked or thrown away as if they were nothing more than garbage. She added a few irritated kicks at Longneck's body when it got in the way.
Howl didn't hit the man anymore, simply standing over him with his balled fists ready. Longneck was dazed and senseless, his eyes seeing nothing. Snow moved to stand next to Howl.
"Think that's equivalent?"
"It's enough," Howl agreed. The man didn't seem as bruised and battered as Warren had been, but he wasn't sure he could casually break a few more bones and leave him there. One was enough for him. Though perhaps his nose...
The two melted off their separate ways into the city, not looking back at the sprawled Sultansworn as the tentative, sneaky army of street urchins and pickpockets began to move in on the valuables strewn so carelessly all around.
----
It had been easy - perhaps too easy, in truth. Howl didn't tend to have a taste for vengeance, but it had felt good getting comeuppance on the guy for what he'd done to Warren. But he felt guilty for not telling him. Warren would likely not be mad at the crime, such as it was, committed on his behalf, but he would be mad at the concealment, and would probably see it as a threat he'd have to protect them from. Howl could understand that, even if he didn't necessarily agree. He thought himself perfectly capable of protecting Warren in turn, but it made Warren feel good to be the protector of the bunch.
The true sign that Howl was a bundle of nerves was that his ale sat in front of him untouched and allowed to get warm.
People have forgotten this truth. But you mustn't forget it. You become responsible forever for what you have tamed.
Howl's Wiki
Howl's Wiki
