Baxley led Aldes Amrich through a series of back alleys and unlit corridors.
"Say, you're not leading me back here to kill me, right? I mean, you could've done that two or three turns ago." The remark went unresponded to. The brute didn't have much to say.
Seen this junction twice now. Leading circles, trying to throw off the trail.
The thought sparked a surge of achievement and encouragement in Warren. There'd be no reason to obfuscate a path that led to a trap.
"So what's he like, huh? Your boss? My new partner? If he's floated to the top of this heap he must be one of the worst cut throats, eh?" Warren let his mouth keep running as he reassessed his course of action. A simple meeting, just to feel the place out. A face to go with whatever fake name he would receive during the exchange.
That's how I'd do it. Disposable meeting space. Alias and alibi. Can't stick lies to phantoms.
The stifling alleyways opened up reveal a small row of poorly lit doorways. A slum was a slum, even if the one standing before them happened to have a particularly Limsan design to it. Poorly maintained streets and chipped doors. No noise except for the pair of highlanders' footfalls. Except for the ever-suffocating scent of the sea the street could have doubled for any back lane in Ul'dah.
"Hm. I thought he could do better." Warren-as-Aldes made sure to press how unimpressed he was to Baxley, his voice recoiling verbally as a monetarist would withdraw his hand from a refugee.
"Oi, will ya shut it?"
The brute stopped and half-turned to look at Warren. There was a look of aggression there; The quiet demeanor had cracked under the combination of Warren's presence and his annoyances. From what the paladin could figure of the man based on his reactions, he was out of his comfort zone. In the nights Warren had watched he had been his own operative.
Either so far down the chain they don't care what he does or so high up it he's used to other people doing escort duty.
The brute brought his charge to one of the doorway and knocked twice, quickly. A small slot slid across and a pair of eyes looked out. They flickered over Baxley, familiarity evident and almost expected. They lingered on the new face, though, and Warren raised a hand in a half-wave and a patronizing smile.
"R'lax. He's wit' me. Boss wants to see 'em." Baxley spoke with resignation, the bored and put-upon tone of someone stuck babysitting. The voiceless eyes retreated behind their hidden barrier and the door cracked open, stale yellow light spilling into the night as if escaping.
Baxley stepped back into the front and then between Warren and the waiting man behind the door - A giant Roegadyn with scars marking his face. It wasn't in the dramatic way heroes sometimes wore them; Warren counted four jagged gashes marring the left side of the roe's head, one of which ran across the path of his eye. The eye itself was still intact and attempting to bore a hole through the paladin's skull. Warren supposed magical healing made that possible.
The pair of highlanders had just started to step inside of the building when the roe's hand shot out and grabbed Baxley's wrist. "Hol' yer' cogs a twist, a'ight? Welk yer' soggy britches a spell and gimmut a peep; The man's got a birdshite for ye'."
There was a moment - too long of one - where the highlander and the Roe looked at one another. Warren caught it but was more occupied with looking unoccupied, glancing down the hallway.
"Git'. Wait inside, I'll jus' be a secon'." Baxley glowered at Warren and shooed him inside. Warren, for his part, acted uninterested. He walked past flaking paint and exposed boards into a small sitting area, another big door looming as the only interesting spectacle besides some beaten furniture that looked like it would break if sat in. A thin sheen of dust lay on the ancient table in the center, testament to the facade of the dwelling.
The door creaked open and Warren got a glimpse into the belly of the beast.
"Say, you're not leading me back here to kill me, right? I mean, you could've done that two or three turns ago." The remark went unresponded to. The brute didn't have much to say.
Seen this junction twice now. Leading circles, trying to throw off the trail.
The thought sparked a surge of achievement and encouragement in Warren. There'd be no reason to obfuscate a path that led to a trap.
"So what's he like, huh? Your boss? My new partner? If he's floated to the top of this heap he must be one of the worst cut throats, eh?" Warren let his mouth keep running as he reassessed his course of action. A simple meeting, just to feel the place out. A face to go with whatever fake name he would receive during the exchange.
That's how I'd do it. Disposable meeting space. Alias and alibi. Can't stick lies to phantoms.
The stifling alleyways opened up reveal a small row of poorly lit doorways. A slum was a slum, even if the one standing before them happened to have a particularly Limsan design to it. Poorly maintained streets and chipped doors. No noise except for the pair of highlanders' footfalls. Except for the ever-suffocating scent of the sea the street could have doubled for any back lane in Ul'dah.
"Hm. I thought he could do better." Warren-as-Aldes made sure to press how unimpressed he was to Baxley, his voice recoiling verbally as a monetarist would withdraw his hand from a refugee.
"Oi, will ya shut it?"
The brute stopped and half-turned to look at Warren. There was a look of aggression there; The quiet demeanor had cracked under the combination of Warren's presence and his annoyances. From what the paladin could figure of the man based on his reactions, he was out of his comfort zone. In the nights Warren had watched he had been his own operative.
Either so far down the chain they don't care what he does or so high up it he's used to other people doing escort duty.
The brute brought his charge to one of the doorway and knocked twice, quickly. A small slot slid across and a pair of eyes looked out. They flickered over Baxley, familiarity evident and almost expected. They lingered on the new face, though, and Warren raised a hand in a half-wave and a patronizing smile.
"R'lax. He's wit' me. Boss wants to see 'em." Baxley spoke with resignation, the bored and put-upon tone of someone stuck babysitting. The voiceless eyes retreated behind their hidden barrier and the door cracked open, stale yellow light spilling into the night as if escaping.
Baxley stepped back into the front and then between Warren and the waiting man behind the door - A giant Roegadyn with scars marking his face. It wasn't in the dramatic way heroes sometimes wore them; Warren counted four jagged gashes marring the left side of the roe's head, one of which ran across the path of his eye. The eye itself was still intact and attempting to bore a hole through the paladin's skull. Warren supposed magical healing made that possible.
The pair of highlanders had just started to step inside of the building when the roe's hand shot out and grabbed Baxley's wrist. "Hol' yer' cogs a twist, a'ight? Welk yer' soggy britches a spell and gimmut a peep; The man's got a birdshite for ye'."
There was a moment - too long of one - where the highlander and the Roe looked at one another. Warren caught it but was more occupied with looking unoccupied, glancing down the hallway.
"Git'. Wait inside, I'll jus' be a secon'." Baxley glowered at Warren and shooed him inside. Warren, for his part, acted uninterested. He walked past flaking paint and exposed boards into a small sitting area, another big door looming as the only interesting spectacle besides some beaten furniture that looked like it would break if sat in. A thin sheen of dust lay on the ancient table in the center, testament to the facade of the dwelling.
The door creaked open and Warren got a glimpse into the belly of the beast.
![[Image: yEROfKO.png]](http://i.imgur.com/yEROfKO.png)
