Torrad Stonebreaker had always taken pride in his name.
It was one that was earned through feats of strength, rather than granted through blood. He cared not for his father’s heritage, weak and miserly merchant that he was, struggling for scraps in the streets of Pearl Lane.
Nay, Torrad was a strapping young man, and as soon as he could gain employment within the circle of Monetarists in Ul’dah, he leaped at the chance. He started as one of many bodyguards, but his size and strength soon gained him notice, and his willingness to do just about anything his employer wanted of him gained him ranks quickly. He was strong, hungry, and brutal when he needed to be. None had bested him one on one, and not one mission he was in charge of, he had failed at.
When he rose to the rank of foreman for Elam Grave, The Cove’s lead man in establishing their business interests in Kugane and Doma, Torrad was confident that soon his own ambitions would be realized. He just needed to succeed in all things that Grave asked of him.
Then the disaster struck at the fishing village outside of Isari, because of one bedeviled Confederate.
Torrad now watched the very same man ascend the stairs to the third floor of the Hostelry, approaching the table where Elam Grave was leisurely enjoying his dinner. Anchor Saltborn had asked for the meeting after a fortnight of silence since the slaying of Aritake Yumishi and the disappearance of the Xaela alchemist. A deep scowl drew his brows as Torrad recalled his own role in it all. After all his men had been killed, and with the crew of the Ironsong turning against him as well, he had managed to negotiate a truce, in hopes of preserving his own life. There was shame that twisted his insides, and anger that simmered along with it, that this gaunt-looking pirate could bring him to such defeat.
As Anchor sat down across from Grave, Torrad’s finger twitched over his sword that hung by his side. He would have given almost anything to strike down that cursed man where he sat. But he dared not disobey Grave, he now knew too well the price of betraying that man.
The greeting between the two men were careful, both speaking in calm neutral tones. Grave was intent on hearing what Anchor had to say, and the latter had come prepared to parlay. Anchor briefly echoed the false tale of the ambush that Torrad had recounted to Grave, but soon moved onto the purpose of this meeting. It was after all, Torrad believed, what sent the pirate into his rage filled killing spree.
"See, you's almost be makin' an error with us." Anchor leaned in, setting his arms over the table.
“An error? And what would that be?†Elam paused as he poured himself some sake, mild curiosity in his raised brow.
"During the madness of it all, your little piece of merchandise be gotten loose. Mayhap have had the time to be noticin’ it look an awful like familiar to a senseless wench that be workin’ here locally.†Anchor leaned back, his folded hands sliding off the table and draping between his knees. “Ya see, I don’t be carin’ much of the daft wench. But, she be a resource to tendin’ to my crew and me and my own for some time now. We know there be little thing of trust in a world such as this one. Paid for by blood and coin it is. But we had no trouble with her. She be daft. Easy to manipulate. Skilled. Ya don’t find a thing like that often.â€
Anchor cleared his throat, “Ya see, be stealin’ somethin’ of that sort, be stealin’ somethin’ from us. So… lucky you, it didn’t go through, aye?â€
Elam said nothing although his eyes narrowed just slightly. He gestured vaguely with his hand to continue.
"That said, and in your own words, you's be payin' us generously for the work and we has no intention of endin' dealin's. You seem you gots plenty of enemies... and I gots plenty of fight left in me." Anchor looked from Elam back toward Torrad, before turning back around. "However, the continued deals go hand in hand with a proposition, of sorts. Let that woman return to her work, baskin' in ignorance as she likes. In return, I gots a name of another that'll prove ya more useful."
Torrad bore his gaze into the back of Anchor’s head. All for a blasted girl. Fool. Bitterness welled up inside him, enough that he had to clench his hands into a fist to release some tension. But whatever insanity that had taken hold of the man on that dock in Yanxia, was not present this sun. Anchor went on, to offer another poison maker, to replace the Xaela. One that would be far more familiar and comfortable with all that Grave would ask of him.
And to Torrad’s surprise, Grave agreed. In exchange for the girl’s complete silence and one of her new formulas. Torrad’s scowl deepened. The woman was too naive, too inexperienced to pull off such a lie. To return to her old life in Kugane, to her burnt stall and home and pretend as if nothing happened? He wanted to snort loudly.
“You telling me you can convince her to just… forget about all that?†Grave echoed the same thoughts. “Go back to… what, her life as it were?†His eyes narrowed on Anchor. “You must have a lot of pull with this girl. Something I never managed to get. Despite her being so… easily manipulated, as you say.â€
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"No need bein' so hard on yourself, Grave. She be havin' a good taste now of what soil lays under the green painted over it all, thanks to ya. She knows more than ever on consequences." Anchor sounded confident, encouraged by Grave’s malleability. "Ya lay the options clear for a one, and they should be takin' the smart one. As it is.â€
“This agreement..." Grave’s lips curled downward, although his expression was one of appraisal. "Sounds fair enough." He set his utensils down, reaching for a second untouched bottle of sake and pouring two glasses. "As long as you can guarantee that the Xaela keeps her mouth shut. And as long as I have a capable drug-maker, my patrons will be happy."
Anchor sat up, letting out a slow exhale. "Aye. She be keepin' her mouth shut. You and your own don't be layin' a finger on 'er. You'll have your man for makin'. And a crew to be gettin' dirty outta your pocket." He nodded firmly.
Grave grinned lopsidedly, seemingly pleased. “The fate of the Xaela depends on her silence. But I’m sure you’ll see to that.†He set the second cup of sake in front of Anchor and lifted his own in the air. “Not exactly what I had planned, but at the end of the sun, we just need to keep our customers and employers happy, aye?†He tossed his head back and swallowed it in one gulp. “And I can always use a crew for dirty work.â€
"That I will," Anchor assured, although he did not knock his drink back until Grave did so first. "And a crew can always use coin." There was a hint of triumph in the pirates voice.
Grave watched him, that one sided smile broadening just a sliver as Anchor finished his drink. But that expression faded as soon as it came, his jaw set. “Since that matter is now taken care of…†He set the second bottle of sake back to the side, then reached for the first he had been nursing before. He poured out what little was left, and began to sip at it again.
“Let’s discuss that ambush.†His tone was suddenly business like. He set his cup down once it’s been emptied, lacing his fingers together as he leaned in. “I like to know my enemies. A word of an ambush like this… it gets around to the people that matter in my business. Can’t let that stand. My business partner getting ambushed and butchered on delivery.
“So I did a little looking. And the story that my foreman gave me… didn’t quite explain everything.†Grave flicked a glance to Torrad which almost made him twitch. Grave turned his attention back to Anchor, his expression hardening. “Why all of your men survived and all mine, except for one, died. And there were no bodies or evidence of this mysterious ambushers to be found after.â€
Anchor stiffened, and he too flicked a look back to Torrad for an instant. There was no ready answer coming forth, a pause of silence falling between them. The pirate finally snorted.
"Some might be sayin' it luck, aye? Not one to be lookin' a gifthorse in the mouth, as it were. Especially considerin' how I made out." Anchor set a single elbow on the table again, glancing back over to Torrad. "Look like to me I not the only one be gettin' a close call." He flicked a finger over the lobe of his ear pointedly at the foreman, the earring there swaying before settling again.
Anchor shrugged. "And aye... between the desperate lootin' the dead an' the not far off lands to raidin' tribes of Xaela or other, I be not too surprised there little to be found after." He cleared his throat. "Who uh... you runnin' things up west lately? Mayhap have angered the wrong crowds?â€
Torrad watched Grave, for now he recognized the man was just waiting, like a wolf, watching its prey.
“That was my first thought,†Grave said quietly, one finger tapping on the sake bottle he just drained. “It couldn’t have been Garleans looking for their stolen weapons, this time around. And there are plenty wealthy Doman lords looking to claim whatever territory as their own in the new Doma. But they all have their signatures. And no crime scene is clean, not when people die or make a hasty getaway. If all things were picked off, I might have believed it. But…†He shot another look at Torrad, this one slow and purposeful. “Bodies left behind, no one stepping up to fill that void… didn’t make for a believable story.â€
“So I asked my foreman again.†Grave turned back to Anchor, his voice lowering. “And then my foreman told me the truth.†He tsked. “Of course, I understand. Who wouldn’t put their own lives first?. But he’s learned the price of lying to me. He’ll never speak another lie again. Or speak for that matter.â€
Torrad said nothing. He couldn’t. There was an empty space where his tongue used to be.
A cold silence followed, wherein Anchor suddenly shot a hand toward his katana, but stopped as he had to regain his balance with his other hand on the table, as if he was falling out of his seat.
Torrad grinned inwardly. The poison in the sake was taking effect quicker than he thought. He could not see Anchor’s expression, but the man was now bent over the table, like an animal in panic. Then the Highlander felt a familiar static in the air, wavering, just like the quivering form of the pirate as he struggled remain upright. Torrad recognized it. It was the same energy that filled the air in Yanxia when Anchor’s eyes glowed yellow and unnatural energy poured forth from him.
"Best make your... next move carefully... or this whole floor... be reduced to splinters." Anchor’s warning was guttural, desperate.
Torrad took a step toward Anchor, one hand going for this sword. But a hand raised from Grave that halted his movements.
“I need not make any move,†Grave said calmly, his tone steady. “The next move is yours. I meant what I said about our deal. Your crew gets to keep their healer, I get a poison maker. That deal will still be honored, unless you intend to break it here and now.†One corner of his lips quirked upwards, although it wasn’t a smile. “Torrad told me about how you killed the Doman lord. We found his body, after the fact. His veins desiccated, his body withered like someone blew him up then deflated him. And mess where the head used to be.†He blew out a snort. “Impressive.â€
Torrad remained still where he stood, ready to strike down the pirate if needed. He almost wished that Anchor would do something foolish to warrant it. It was the Confederate’s fault that he could no longer speak.
“I’m not going to see you die today,†Grave continued, each moment allowing the poison to take stronger hold. “Or here. But after what you did, there is a price to be paid. If you want to release whatever it is you have and try and kill everyone, and probably yourself in the process, then by all means.†He gestured to the Confederate. “But rest assured. I am not intending to die today. Willing to take the chance that I wasn’t prepared for you to do something?
"This is your choice now, perhaps the last I'll ever offer. Keep the deal and take your chances when you wake. Or, act out like a beast on its last throes of life and see where it gets you." Grave leaned in, as if daring the man. "But after, my men will find your crew and the Xaela. Ironsong may have the Confederacy to hide behind, but her, I will have her hunted. And I will kill her."
Torrad watched as Anchor continued to try and stay upright. His head began to fall toward, but he positioned his hand over the table to steady himself. He drew in a long breath, perhaps trying to gather the strength to talk. When words finally did come, they came as air, his vocal chords too weak to work above a murmur. "The price then...?"
Torrad’s expression mirrored the amusement of Grave’s visage, the latter enjoying watching the man struggle. The pirate was lasting longer than either of them had expected. “You will have to find out when you wake,†he snorted. “But you will fight and you will suffer, until I say so. You will only die if you wish it, or if you fail.â€
Anchor's head bowed over, hands and arms sliding over loosely, knocking into a few dishes with a soft clatter. His form started shaking. Torrad could swear, he heard soft puffs of laughter escaping from the man.
"Bring it..." was all he breathed before the pirate lost consciousness.
It was one that was earned through feats of strength, rather than granted through blood. He cared not for his father’s heritage, weak and miserly merchant that he was, struggling for scraps in the streets of Pearl Lane.
Nay, Torrad was a strapping young man, and as soon as he could gain employment within the circle of Monetarists in Ul’dah, he leaped at the chance. He started as one of many bodyguards, but his size and strength soon gained him notice, and his willingness to do just about anything his employer wanted of him gained him ranks quickly. He was strong, hungry, and brutal when he needed to be. None had bested him one on one, and not one mission he was in charge of, he had failed at.
When he rose to the rank of foreman for Elam Grave, The Cove’s lead man in establishing their business interests in Kugane and Doma, Torrad was confident that soon his own ambitions would be realized. He just needed to succeed in all things that Grave asked of him.
Then the disaster struck at the fishing village outside of Isari, because of one bedeviled Confederate.
Torrad now watched the very same man ascend the stairs to the third floor of the Hostelry, approaching the table where Elam Grave was leisurely enjoying his dinner. Anchor Saltborn had asked for the meeting after a fortnight of silence since the slaying of Aritake Yumishi and the disappearance of the Xaela alchemist. A deep scowl drew his brows as Torrad recalled his own role in it all. After all his men had been killed, and with the crew of the Ironsong turning against him as well, he had managed to negotiate a truce, in hopes of preserving his own life. There was shame that twisted his insides, and anger that simmered along with it, that this gaunt-looking pirate could bring him to such defeat.
As Anchor sat down across from Grave, Torrad’s finger twitched over his sword that hung by his side. He would have given almost anything to strike down that cursed man where he sat. But he dared not disobey Grave, he now knew too well the price of betraying that man.
The greeting between the two men were careful, both speaking in calm neutral tones. Grave was intent on hearing what Anchor had to say, and the latter had come prepared to parlay. Anchor briefly echoed the false tale of the ambush that Torrad had recounted to Grave, but soon moved onto the purpose of this meeting. It was after all, Torrad believed, what sent the pirate into his rage filled killing spree.
"See, you's almost be makin' an error with us." Anchor leaned in, setting his arms over the table.
“An error? And what would that be?†Elam paused as he poured himself some sake, mild curiosity in his raised brow.
"During the madness of it all, your little piece of merchandise be gotten loose. Mayhap have had the time to be noticin’ it look an awful like familiar to a senseless wench that be workin’ here locally.†Anchor leaned back, his folded hands sliding off the table and draping between his knees. “Ya see, I don’t be carin’ much of the daft wench. But, she be a resource to tendin’ to my crew and me and my own for some time now. We know there be little thing of trust in a world such as this one. Paid for by blood and coin it is. But we had no trouble with her. She be daft. Easy to manipulate. Skilled. Ya don’t find a thing like that often.â€
Anchor cleared his throat, “Ya see, be stealin’ somethin’ of that sort, be stealin’ somethin’ from us. So… lucky you, it didn’t go through, aye?â€
Elam said nothing although his eyes narrowed just slightly. He gestured vaguely with his hand to continue.
"That said, and in your own words, you's be payin' us generously for the work and we has no intention of endin' dealin's. You seem you gots plenty of enemies... and I gots plenty of fight left in me." Anchor looked from Elam back toward Torrad, before turning back around. "However, the continued deals go hand in hand with a proposition, of sorts. Let that woman return to her work, baskin' in ignorance as she likes. In return, I gots a name of another that'll prove ya more useful."
Torrad bore his gaze into the back of Anchor’s head. All for a blasted girl. Fool. Bitterness welled up inside him, enough that he had to clench his hands into a fist to release some tension. But whatever insanity that had taken hold of the man on that dock in Yanxia, was not present this sun. Anchor went on, to offer another poison maker, to replace the Xaela. One that would be far more familiar and comfortable with all that Grave would ask of him.
And to Torrad’s surprise, Grave agreed. In exchange for the girl’s complete silence and one of her new formulas. Torrad’s scowl deepened. The woman was too naive, too inexperienced to pull off such a lie. To return to her old life in Kugane, to her burnt stall and home and pretend as if nothing happened? He wanted to snort loudly.
“You telling me you can convince her to just… forget about all that?†Grave echoed the same thoughts. “Go back to… what, her life as it were?†His eyes narrowed on Anchor. “You must have a lot of pull with this girl. Something I never managed to get. Despite her being so… easily manipulated, as you say.â€
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"No need bein' so hard on yourself, Grave. She be havin' a good taste now of what soil lays under the green painted over it all, thanks to ya. She knows more than ever on consequences." Anchor sounded confident, encouraged by Grave’s malleability. "Ya lay the options clear for a one, and they should be takin' the smart one. As it is.â€
“This agreement..." Grave’s lips curled downward, although his expression was one of appraisal. "Sounds fair enough." He set his utensils down, reaching for a second untouched bottle of sake and pouring two glasses. "As long as you can guarantee that the Xaela keeps her mouth shut. And as long as I have a capable drug-maker, my patrons will be happy."
Anchor sat up, letting out a slow exhale. "Aye. She be keepin' her mouth shut. You and your own don't be layin' a finger on 'er. You'll have your man for makin'. And a crew to be gettin' dirty outta your pocket." He nodded firmly.
Grave grinned lopsidedly, seemingly pleased. “The fate of the Xaela depends on her silence. But I’m sure you’ll see to that.†He set the second cup of sake in front of Anchor and lifted his own in the air. “Not exactly what I had planned, but at the end of the sun, we just need to keep our customers and employers happy, aye?†He tossed his head back and swallowed it in one gulp. “And I can always use a crew for dirty work.â€
"That I will," Anchor assured, although he did not knock his drink back until Grave did so first. "And a crew can always use coin." There was a hint of triumph in the pirates voice.
Grave watched him, that one sided smile broadening just a sliver as Anchor finished his drink. But that expression faded as soon as it came, his jaw set. “Since that matter is now taken care of…†He set the second bottle of sake back to the side, then reached for the first he had been nursing before. He poured out what little was left, and began to sip at it again.
“Let’s discuss that ambush.†His tone was suddenly business like. He set his cup down once it’s been emptied, lacing his fingers together as he leaned in. “I like to know my enemies. A word of an ambush like this… it gets around to the people that matter in my business. Can’t let that stand. My business partner getting ambushed and butchered on delivery.
“So I did a little looking. And the story that my foreman gave me… didn’t quite explain everything.†Grave flicked a glance to Torrad which almost made him twitch. Grave turned his attention back to Anchor, his expression hardening. “Why all of your men survived and all mine, except for one, died. And there were no bodies or evidence of this mysterious ambushers to be found after.â€
Anchor stiffened, and he too flicked a look back to Torrad for an instant. There was no ready answer coming forth, a pause of silence falling between them. The pirate finally snorted.
"Some might be sayin' it luck, aye? Not one to be lookin' a gifthorse in the mouth, as it were. Especially considerin' how I made out." Anchor set a single elbow on the table again, glancing back over to Torrad. "Look like to me I not the only one be gettin' a close call." He flicked a finger over the lobe of his ear pointedly at the foreman, the earring there swaying before settling again.
Anchor shrugged. "And aye... between the desperate lootin' the dead an' the not far off lands to raidin' tribes of Xaela or other, I be not too surprised there little to be found after." He cleared his throat. "Who uh... you runnin' things up west lately? Mayhap have angered the wrong crowds?â€
Torrad watched Grave, for now he recognized the man was just waiting, like a wolf, watching its prey.
“That was my first thought,†Grave said quietly, one finger tapping on the sake bottle he just drained. “It couldn’t have been Garleans looking for their stolen weapons, this time around. And there are plenty wealthy Doman lords looking to claim whatever territory as their own in the new Doma. But they all have their signatures. And no crime scene is clean, not when people die or make a hasty getaway. If all things were picked off, I might have believed it. But…†He shot another look at Torrad, this one slow and purposeful. “Bodies left behind, no one stepping up to fill that void… didn’t make for a believable story.â€
“So I asked my foreman again.†Grave turned back to Anchor, his voice lowering. “And then my foreman told me the truth.†He tsked. “Of course, I understand. Who wouldn’t put their own lives first?. But he’s learned the price of lying to me. He’ll never speak another lie again. Or speak for that matter.â€
Torrad said nothing. He couldn’t. There was an empty space where his tongue used to be.
A cold silence followed, wherein Anchor suddenly shot a hand toward his katana, but stopped as he had to regain his balance with his other hand on the table, as if he was falling out of his seat.
Torrad grinned inwardly. The poison in the sake was taking effect quicker than he thought. He could not see Anchor’s expression, but the man was now bent over the table, like an animal in panic. Then the Highlander felt a familiar static in the air, wavering, just like the quivering form of the pirate as he struggled remain upright. Torrad recognized it. It was the same energy that filled the air in Yanxia when Anchor’s eyes glowed yellow and unnatural energy poured forth from him.
"Best make your... next move carefully... or this whole floor... be reduced to splinters." Anchor’s warning was guttural, desperate.
Torrad took a step toward Anchor, one hand going for this sword. But a hand raised from Grave that halted his movements.
“I need not make any move,†Grave said calmly, his tone steady. “The next move is yours. I meant what I said about our deal. Your crew gets to keep their healer, I get a poison maker. That deal will still be honored, unless you intend to break it here and now.†One corner of his lips quirked upwards, although it wasn’t a smile. “Torrad told me about how you killed the Doman lord. We found his body, after the fact. His veins desiccated, his body withered like someone blew him up then deflated him. And mess where the head used to be.†He blew out a snort. “Impressive.â€
Torrad remained still where he stood, ready to strike down the pirate if needed. He almost wished that Anchor would do something foolish to warrant it. It was the Confederate’s fault that he could no longer speak.
“I’m not going to see you die today,†Grave continued, each moment allowing the poison to take stronger hold. “Or here. But after what you did, there is a price to be paid. If you want to release whatever it is you have and try and kill everyone, and probably yourself in the process, then by all means.†He gestured to the Confederate. “But rest assured. I am not intending to die today. Willing to take the chance that I wasn’t prepared for you to do something?
"This is your choice now, perhaps the last I'll ever offer. Keep the deal and take your chances when you wake. Or, act out like a beast on its last throes of life and see where it gets you." Grave leaned in, as if daring the man. "But after, my men will find your crew and the Xaela. Ironsong may have the Confederacy to hide behind, but her, I will have her hunted. And I will kill her."
Torrad watched as Anchor continued to try and stay upright. His head began to fall toward, but he positioned his hand over the table to steady himself. He drew in a long breath, perhaps trying to gather the strength to talk. When words finally did come, they came as air, his vocal chords too weak to work above a murmur. "The price then...?"
Torrad’s expression mirrored the amusement of Grave’s visage, the latter enjoying watching the man struggle. The pirate was lasting longer than either of them had expected. “You will have to find out when you wake,†he snorted. “But you will fight and you will suffer, until I say so. You will only die if you wish it, or if you fail.â€
Anchor's head bowed over, hands and arms sliding over loosely, knocking into a few dishes with a soft clatter. His form started shaking. Torrad could swear, he heard soft puffs of laughter escaping from the man.
"Bring it..." was all he breathed before the pirate lost consciousness.
-=Sentry's Wiki=-
(please note that this is still a major work in progress!)
