A narrow side street, caught somewhere betwen rain on one side, and mud on the other. It was no mere precipitation, but rain with a vengeance. This was the kind of rain that drew entire cities to a standstill. This was the kind of rain that decided the fate of wars, one way of another. In fact, this was the kind of rain for which the term "rain check" had been invented. It was rain that resisted activity of all kinds with a force commonly attributed to divinity.

"If you ask me, you've got to be a damn fool to try to pull anything in this kind of weather. How are you supposed to even see two feet in front of you?" A number of dark figures stood under an eave, sheltering themselves against the downpour.

"Silence." Why they refused to take full shelter inside was anybody's guess.

"I mean, they've got to practically kill themselves, in this kind of stuff! Stupidest stupid buggers in the history of stupid..." The woman shivered and drew her coat up tighter around herself.

"I said stop your tongue or I'll stop it for you, Maste!" He leaned forward slightly, squeezing his eyes shut as the rain plastered his already-thin hair to his scalp.

"Captain, if you succeed in that, I'm sure there'll be no end to those waiting in line to give you a medal." Despite the temperature, her voice managed to find a small reserve of warmth for that statement.

A pause.

"Lake! Brogen Lake!"

"Yes sir, Soble sir!" The younger voice took a running tumble on the sheer obstruction of sybilants in the sentence.

"I think it's about time they're showing up. Make sure the others are still concious."

"Right away, Soble sir!" He took off running, feet padding squishily against the unpaved street. Just befre he rounded the corner, a charm twisted around his neck and trailed over the right shoulder. A silver bird, glinting in what little lamplight there was.

-------------------------------------------------------------

"'Allo Marie. Amy. Shan'." Brogen Lake then addressed the pile of metal lying against the wall. "Tarn." Lake's diminuitive stature, boyish face, and higher-pitched voice concealed his true age and veterancy: as old a hand as it was possible to be at tweny-five. He was going on his ninth year of service.

The pile gave an angry snort. "Yes. Lake?" Tarnalin Beative replied.

"Mister Soble sir says we're to be prepared. It could be any time now, he says."

"Very well. Now shove off." As Lake set off to alert the next post of Lemon Seeds, Tarn drew himself up steadily, rubbing some of the mud off of his chainmail and looking closely at the women. "Well, you heard the boy. Weapons out, get going. And you better be ready to run."

The same torrential rain could be felt over much of the country. In the small town of Cant, for example, that rain had driven someone to seek shelter within the small inn. He had planned to make it even further that day; with the rainfall increasing even as he tried to contemplate it, there was no way he'd make it now.

Inside was warm an bright, with much of the town gathered to wait out the storm. Cozy, in fact, would probably be the best word that could be used to describe it. Men swilled beer in the center of the main room while women gossiped in corners. Subtle hints here and there betrayed a life of poverty; too many patches on the clothing, too small a hearth to build a fire capable of heating the entire room on its own. But these were people who could make do, who had always made do and probably always could. They were in no danger of extinction, these people. The fire, for example, was more than made up for by the way the bodies had been packed into the room to share their heat.

The traveler took it all in. This was a far cry from the lands he remembered, the first with their varied peoples, most of them calm and graceful, lighting their dwellings with all manner of enchanted spheres; the more recent with their lifeless tracts of desert finally ending in the severe mountains that guarded these new lands. These people were... lively, and imprecise. Humans, untouched by magic, fey, or anything else besides the land they lived off of.

One of them spotted Tyro's presence. "Hello there! Sorry about the weather, but I'm afraid there's not much I can do about it! Care to take off your coat and join us until it lets up?"

Amelia sighed as she looked up towards the weary gray sky, a maelstrom of rain pelting her face, as she wondered what exactly she was doing. Here she was on a dark rainy day, a day she would normally spend at home, in the middle of some dark alleyway without even a bit of cover from the rain. She would forever remember this day as as one of the lowest points in her service to the Lemon Seeds.

Amelia started adjusting her equipment, retying her shin guards and adjusting the various straps holding her equipment in place. As she did so the ex-thief slightly angled her face towards her various ‘comrades’.

“So what exactly is happening? I was drifting in an out during the briefing.” Amelia said in the general direction of the others; Amelia not really talking to anyone in particular but just looking for a feasible answer.

It wasn’t as if she hated any of them or even disliked anyone in particular but Amelia usually did feel rather stiff about the members in her group. They were comrades, yes, but in the end they were all just a group of specialized swords, fighting for a tyrannical King and going about killing the various individuals that opposed him. In the end she mostly thought of them as killers. She knew they all however had their own reason to join this group but Amelia wasn’t exactly one to go asking their reasons to join, lest they ask about hers. Although they were a specialized group there really was nothing really tying them to each other.

Amelia’s thoughts quickly swept over to an image of a burly giant of a man shouting orders in her head. ‘Well. I guess there’s him.’ She thought as she adjusted the soaked collar of her cloak a little higher. Hopefully the rain wouldn’t cause any problems for their mission, whatever it was. She fingered the guard of her sword, carefully tucked underneath her cloak, as she looked towards the others. Whatever they were about to do, Amelia was sure glad it was raining.

"I'm not wearing one." Tyro said as he passed by the voice and padded inside. Bare feet left similar shaped puddles as he wondered inside, dripping. An involuntary shiver of all his limbs sprayed more droplets. over everyone watching the tall, young man. He rattled his little finger in his ear to try and dislodge some water.
"Is it always like this?" He seemed to have managed to move the liquid. "I mean it looks like everything could flood at any minute!" He brushes his flat and heavy fringe out of the way of his eyes.
"Unless we're nowhere near a river. I haven't a clue." The silence he got was rather unsettling from everyone assembled inside the small lodge made of stone, mortar and wood. Only the crackle of the fire in its grate with the thunder of the rain ventured in to fill the void of silence. They were all watching him.
"What?" He said. The small crowd looked to a man that was fighting forwards. He was an aged blacksmith according to his clothing.
"This is Tyro. My customers that have been coming here have been talking only of him. He fits the description."
"I ain't convinced." Came the voice of an older woman near the back, trying to see but not actually getting up. They all watched him expectantly. It took a couple of seconds for Tyro to realise what they wanted. They all wanted to see what he could do. Everyone he's met so far has.
"Oh! Right, umm..." He clicks, creating a spark that grows instantly into a flame that sits in his hand. Eyes-widen and chatter breaks out as a man with an incredible bulk and beard pounds towards him. His bear-like hand goes for Tyro's hand, the one with the flame. He corrects his mistake in time and shakes his free hand vigorously.
"Mr Tyro," This deep bellow the man spoke in said, "I am Hugo Marx, mayor and peace-keeper of Cant. We wish to make sure your stay is a happy one and if there is anything we can do to help, just name it!" Tyro pulled his hand and arm back, trying to shake feeling back into it.
"Thank you." Tyro said, looking up to the grinning giant of a man. "All I'd like is a cake."

"Then why don't you listen you little..." Tarn drifted off into an incomprehensible low mutter. His sword was about halfway out of the sheathe before he grunted, twitched slightly, and returned it.

"Then you probably missed the part where Soble hardly knows what he's doing himself. All we're working off of is a few untrustworthy rumors that Miss Maste has supposedly 'acquired' from 'legitimate' sources. Something about a man named Condor, indications that the ruffians of the city have been arming themselves, and a murky hint as to about this time right now. So of course that puts us out here. In this..." Tarn grunted again.

Down the street a window opened, and a load of filth met a whole runny pile of filth increasing the general filthiness of the street by a minute amount. Seconds later, a rectangle of light began to fight the darkness, not quite losing entirely but retreating back behind the doorframe like a wounded animal, licking its wounds. A single person began a hurried journey, his path clearly taking him past the shadowed loation of the four Lemon Seeds.

Mistake...

"A cake," Hugo repeated. "A cake for the hairy one! We'll see what we can do, but meanwhile, sit, speak. Tell me why you're here."

Shrill laughter burst from beside him. "Listen to you, talking to him like he's a mutt!" A woman stood up. She wasn't entirely young, but she still possessed quite a large fraction of the beauty she had had... five years ago? ten? It was hard to tell. She gathered her skirts about her and sat down next to the other two.

"Get away, you old fool," she told Hugo. "Go get your cake, or whatever it is. Now look, son." She turned and levelled a more serious look at Tyro. "I don't know exactly why you decided to come here, but whatever it was, I can tell you that it was probably completely misguided. There's nothing in these lands for someone such as you."

Marie whistled tunelessly from her perch atop the church spire. She loved the rain, loved how it made her clothes wet and left dew in her hair. Night and rain were the only times Marie ever felt comfortable, as they obscured details and kept anonymity. With a sigh, she donned her mask and pulled the hood up on her cloak. I suppose I should meet up with the others. she grumbled.

Grunting lightly, Marie dropped from her ledge and took off at a light run across the rooftops. She had missed briefing and the start of patrol, but Trackers rarely patrolled with the others. She was coming up on her one month inspection, however, and she needed the patrol hours to avoid reprimand. So she dashed and leaped here and there, scanning the crowd for signs of Lemon Seeds. Marie stumbled upon them by mistake, sliding down a drainpipe into a dark alleyway and almost landing on top of the group below her. She managed to stop and just hang on the pipe, watching and waiting. They undoubtably had detected her presence, but most Lemon Seeds knew to ignore her and allow her to tag along on her rare patrol days...like today.

"A cake," Hugo repeated. "A cake for the hairy one! We'll see what we can do, but meanwhile, sit, speak. Tell me why you're here."
"Well, I-" Shrill laughter burst from beside Hugo.
"Listen to you, talking to him like he's a mutt!" A woman stood up. She wasn't entirely young, but she still possessed quite a large fraction of the beauty she had had... five years ago? ten? It was hard to tell. She gathered her skirts about her and sat down next to the other two.
"Get away, you old fool," she told Hugo. "Go get your cake, or whatever it is. Now look, son." She turned and levelled a more serious look at Tyro. "I don't know exactly why you decided to come here, but whatever it was, I can tell you that it was probably completely misguided. There's nothing in these lands for someone such as you."
Tyro shoves his hands in his pockets. These old trousers itched a little even though they were still damp. Quite an achievement.
"Ah! Well, I'm not here for myself." He said, a small grin appearing on his features. "I'm here to help Asmerin." Yep. That sounded right.
"You?" The damming scan from head to foot was cutting. "Excuse the phrase but 'you and what army?'"
"I'm here to help whatever army you can create." Tyro said. Nothing in his voice seemed like he was joking.
"I don't see how you would profit by it. I'm not even sure how much help you could lend an army to oppose the Lemon. Your trick with the fire is impressive but able to withstand a thousand man charge."
"That's what the cake is for." Tyro said, a certain resolute annoyance was emphasising his words more than he wanted. "I'd prefer something with lemon's in it."

The woman laughed again. The sound was harsh and grating against Tyro's ears. "You must be talking about the old man, yes? The beardless one, with the purple cloak? I'm afraid your gossip is a little late, son. By a few months. That trick would've worked before, but not anymore. Life goes on, things change, flowers bloom, trees die, the days grow longer, and some time between all that, the sheep start... well, never mind what the sheep do. What the sheep do is the shepherd's business, am I right, son?"

She rocked backwards in her chair with mirth. "To be serious though, son. You aren't going anywhere tonight. We have rooms, we have food, even non-citrus-related food, and you need a rest. Maybe in the morning... you ask about Whisney, hmm?" The woman gave him a short pat on the back, got up, and left out the door.

Amelia flinched slightly as she watched Tarn draw his blade then immediately re sheathe it. She didn’t know what to take of Tarn. All she knew were various rumors of his militia like personality and that he was a few coins short of a pouch. Not to say he was crazy, but definitely a little unstable in Amelia’s eyes.

"Then you probably missed the part where Soble hardly knows what he's doing himself. All we're working off of is a few untrustworthy rumors that Miss Maste has supposedly 'acquired' from 'legitimate' sources. Something about a man named Condor, indications that the ruffians of the city have been arming themselves, and a murky hint as to about this time right now. So of course that puts us out here. In this..." Tarn grunted again.

‘Shit hole?’ Amelia mentally finished for him as she watched the hurried figure run past them and down the streets. The streets were always filled with grime and filth; but on that note so were the streets in any other town. Whether wanted or not, the filth was something normal in this country; Amelia had been exposed to the same conditions in her home town. Half the time Amelia wondered if all the other countries were like this or was it just Asmerin.

“Either way, we may not have much, but that might be a sign.” Amelia continued to speak but in hushed tones. She had eyed the individual and decided not to race immediately after him; doing so would seem even more suspicious then the individual had.

She looked towards Tarn expectantly, awaiting to see his orders on the matter.

"Might be a sign, might not. At any rate, we've got this city covered tight as a sieve," Tarn noted. "Ha ha." That was exactly what it sounded like. Not a laugh, but the words "ha ha" spoken aloud.

"Ennis, go find out what's happening." There was a thud just next to him. "And Edgefield can go with you, since she seems so keen to get the drop on people. If he's connected at all to this, kill the man. If not... let him be. And that's an order from Soble himself."

Tarn pulled out a rag and began wiping the water off of his left sleeve, a wholly fruitless maneuver, it seemed.

"Ennis, go find out what's happening." There was a thud just next to him. "And Edgefield can go with you, since she seems so keen to get the drop on people. If he's connected at all to this, kill the man. If not... let him be. And that's an order from Soble himself."

"And you said he didn't know what he was doing." Amelia muttered under her breath, hopefully low enough to remain silent.

Amelia darted her eyes briefly towards Maria. 'Mariah? Marie?' she thought. Whatever her name was. Amelia still wasn't all too familiar with the rest of the troupe. Either way, Amelia noted the way her temporary partner was hung upon the drainpipe like a monkey. She was amused but of course all that showed on Amelia's face were her dark expressionless eyes. Thank god.

Amelia gave the girl a curt nod and could have sworn she saw the elder woman do the same. It was the kind of nod they shared that seemed to say 'Don't slow me down.' to the other.

Without any more than that Amelia darted off after the man, keeping low to the ground, leaping silently from shadow to shadow.

Hauclir loved this kind of rain. It reminded him of the spray that would leap across the deck, and of the furious storms which they oft outran. For a few moments he stood there, eyes closed, remembering what it felt like to stand in the crow's nest, with the tumble and roll of the deck beneath him as they sailed towards their prey. He could picture the convoys of fat merchant vessels they would sweep down upon, remember the feeling of triumph as they hauled the loot aboard and then-
And then he heard voices below him, snapping him from his reverie. They were familiar voices, those of the rest of the Lemon Seeds. Or at least the ones he knew, anyway. It must be time for a patrol already, which meant another opportunity for some pay. For a fleeting moment he let a smile cross his lips as he thought about the plans for the ship he had drawn up. Just one more year trapped on land, and then I'll be back where I belong, he thought to himself. He looked down to check there was nobody below him, and then swung over the side of the roof, using the hand and foot holds provided by the roughly made structure to climb down to ground level. He gave a curt nod in greeting before heading to the back of the group, wincing as his bare feet stepped through the muck on the floor. Better than wearing shoes he reminded himself.
"So...what are we doing this time?" he whispered haltingly to the nearest person, hopefully quiet enough that none of the command staff would hear. He had felt the lick of the lash enough times in his life without another taste from these landlubbers. Nevertheless his speech was awkward, he had never really talked to any of the other Seeds before, so this hushed question probably qualified as an outburst.

For some reason, this man seemed to be a target. He did move awfully suspiciously, but he could just be a bit off the rocker. However...An order direct from Soble. That was a pretty heavy piece of information there. Marie had only seen Mr. Soble a few times, but she'd always kept to a distance.

"Fill me in? I missed Briefing," she requested the other woman. Her question was loud enough to be heard over their footfalls and the ambient noise, but not loud enough to be overheard by anyone else. Such is the way of Trackers, who must remain stealthy even in groups. Marie eyed their progress carefully.

Not mindless buffoons then...An even pace. We can still see things what need to be seen, 'n get ta where we need gettin' She listened carefully as her running mate whispered the details, flavored often with personal opinions.

The prey moved with purpose, but not evenly or with great precision. He would often stop and look at something, which meant they had to stop and hide, or spin about quickly, which caused them to scramble into the nearest cover. Marie made a face behind her mask as she noted how dirty her clothes were getting.

Damned suspects. This one is gonna cost me a fortune in laundry. However, she perked up when the man walked into a small house. She patted her partner on the shoulder lightly and sidled up to the window. The man was talking with a few other people, but they were making lots of ambient noise and generally whispering. It was hard for Marie to pick out words. She turned to Amelia, hoping the other woman had better hearing for that sort of thing.

quad post DAMMIT

FIVE GODDAMNED POST??? Seriously????

double post

triple post

Amelia sidled up to the window alongside her masked partner. She wasn’t sure but it looked as if Marie wasn’t able to hear them too clearly. Amelia leaned up closer and tried to listen in on the apparent conversation; however there was a lot of ambient noise in the background. She tried to listen in but found it next to impossible to clearly hear their words among the background noise not much less the rain. Reaching into her knife pouch Amelia produced one of her favorite weapons: the stiletto. As she poked it lightly underneath the window she slowly and carefully began to jimmy it slightly open. In this kind of weather it wasn’t uncommon for the window to shake and rattle lightly so the people inside didn’t seem to take notice of what was occurring.

Amelia cursed however when the latch lock from inside of the window caused her to reach the maximum limit for opening the window. It seemed, however, to be just enough for the Investigator to lean in closer to hear the chatter inside. It was definitely clearer than her first try but still rather chopped up.

“Ready…weapons…Redwood Alley…few days…guards...riot.” Were various words she was able to pick up from the low hushed tones of their prey. From what she was able to pick up she determined that a few cut throats were planning on causing a riot a few days from now.

Amelia turned to her partner and whispered. “I think these are the guys. Kill first then ask questions later?” Amelia prepared herself, ready for the confirmation to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

With a grin that Amelia couldn't see, Marie reached into her cloak and withdrew a rather nasty device.

"Gas bomb. I'll put it in th' house, 'n they'll be dead fore they notice." Using her flint stones, she attempted to get a spark going, but the rain and splashing into puddles had soaked the fuse, making it useless till she dried it. She sighed lightly and returned it, then unwrapped her chain from around her torso. Using sweeping arm gestures, she wove it into a pair of heavy gauntlets with a cable between them.

"I s'pose this is th' more excitin' way, ya? Follow me." Marie used both of her fists like a hammer and smashed the window in, jumping clear over the jagged leftovers. She had expected resistance, but not from seven well armed and burly farmhands. "Erm...Amelia? A bit o' help would be spot on, ya know." However, the thugs were already advancing. Her only hope was to get right in the middle and use group tactics...her speciality. She jumped feet first at the tallest of the group, wrapping her legs around his neck and spinning around 180 degrees. The others stared stupidly at her for a moment, allowing Amelia to enter the house undetected.

"No quarter is given, and no mercy to be found! Cast in the name of gold, ye greedy, and prepare to dine a banquet in hell!" shouted Marie, who followed up with an eerie echoing cackle. The men flinched and looked at each other wildy for a moment, and then she was on them. One strike on a goon before moving; this be the golden rule of group fights. Marie loved psychological warfare. If you can convince your opponent that either he is already beat, or that you are invincible, you bring these things to pass. Something she learned in training.

However, there were still six of them, and she wasn't superhuman. She began to tire from swinging her club-like fists, relying more on dodging and footwork than damage.

If it was possible to produce a large enough sweat drop that would be visible to the naked eye Amelia would have done that the moment she witnessed Marie whirl haphazardly into the house. Amelia was definitely one of stealth and from racing through the streets with her she assumed Marie would have been the same.

‘To each their own I suppose.’ thought Amelia as an imaginary sweat drop rolled down her forehead.

Amelia deftly hopped over the broken window pane and slipped into the house unnoticed. Amelia’s hand immediately went to her saber as a reflex but decided against that in this group. The combat quarters were rather small and Marie’s actions took over a good portion of the room. If neither Amelia nor Marie was careful friendly fire was sure to occur.

Whirling out two stilettos, one in each hand, she began to one by one sneak up behind one of the men as they were intently focused on Marie’s actions. It was obvious by this one’s hesitation that he was trying, and failing, to find an opening. Taking her chance deftly stabbed her two daggers into the man’s neck, aiming carefully for his jugular and nerves, and killed him instantly.

Even when the others took notice they were quickly distracted by Marie’s relentless assault. It had taken a while but from the combination of Amelia’s behind-the-back attacks and Marie destroying the rest with her fists only one man had remained.

“That took forever.” Amelia said as she wiped some sweat from her brow.

Looking down at the remaining, alive, man Amelia felt almost a twinge of guilt. It passed as quickly as it came and Amelia asked if Marie had anything to bind the man with. Maybe the commander can get some information from him.

-Doubled- Dang site maintenance.

"Don't you... gah... stop, I..." the man sputtered as he shuffled backwards on the ground. When Marie approached to tie him with a length of rope lying in a cupboard, his eyes suddenly acquired a blaze of fervor and he kicked hard at her shin. He then leapt to his feet and barreled past her, jumping clear through the window before either Seed could react. A small bolt, as one from a pistol crossbow, shot back through, narrowly missing Amelia.

"A talon from the Condor!" And then the sound of his footsteps began lessening in intensity.

--------------------------------

"Where in the hell are those two?" Tarn asked wearily. "Well if they've gotten themselve in trouble, it's their own damn..." Grunt.

Marie looked at the window in utter shock. That had never happened to her before.

"Erm...Should we chase 'im?" She scratched her hair in confusion, then pulled her hood back up over her head. Sniffling a bit, she looked around the room. Six dead, one escaped. Not good for her record.

More importantly, she picked up the bolt from the crossbow and examined it. It seemed like a normal bolt, nothing unusual about it. She wrapped the chain around her waist again and sat crosslegged on a nearby table. After throwing a quick glance at her partner, she removed her mask and set it gently next to her. She sniffed the wood, flexing it a bit before breaking it completely in half.

"Lead core...maple wood...iron tip and feathers. Hmm." She drew a small flask from her belt and took a hit off it before pouring a bit on one half of the bolt. It sizzled a bit and then fingerprints appeared, as if scorched there. Marie looked at it from several angles before licking it.

"Hmm...Nothing special here. Just maple." She sighed and tucked the bolt and flask away in her cloak and donned her mask and hood.

"C'mon. We should report th' findings ta th' boss." She kicked open the door in frustration and stalked into a nearby alleyway, heading back to the group.