Locke Taurin
Quickly they had dashed down an alleyway, winding through a myriad of shadowed paths. Beggars and strays were passed by as they ventured on. Till at last he had felt safe enough, having placed enough distance between them and the Rusty Timepiece. The empty lot they now occupied use to be a fountain in the city’s youth, but now the only remnants was a dry stone basin. On all sides stood old wooden homes, buildings that were aged from their time spent on the land, but it was easy to understand that the abodes had once been in use by settlers. Now they were afforded by the working class, and though their roofing and walls had been updated, they were not the brick laden homes of the wealthy or established.
Locke was breathing hard, more in part because of the nervousness that struck him. To be honest he wasn’t sure what had transpired within the tavern, but perhaps it was luck that it did. After all it painted the idea that the young woman was endangered and secondly, that her presence wasn’t as anonymous as she might have guessed.
“That was possibly the worst rendition of ‘playing along’ I’ve ever heard,” he huffed between breaths. Taking his chance to actually see Mariette now that he could spend some time reviewing her features, and he found himself quickly excited as his eyes looked over her attire. His first guest was just about on the mark, whoever this was; they had to belong to a family with some power. Not to mention if their little encounter at the Rusty Timepiece revealed anything, it was that Mariette was out of place and better still, naïve in her innocence.
“The city can be dangerous you know. You’re lucky I showed up when I did. What were you doing in a place like that anyway?”
It was working slowly but surely, his plan that is. Introductions would be next, but he wanted her to talk first. Having his victim play their cards upfront never proved to be a poor choice. Get an understanding of why she is there, manipulate his persona, and adapt. He was already anticipating the large pouch of Akeli he could get from this foolish child.
“Oy! Dats ‘em”
Immediately Locke’s eyes widened. He spun upon his heels to find himself face to face with two rather large and burly thugs. The smell alone was enough to weaken his resolve, but Locke wasn’t one to flee unless he understood he was being chased. Instead he took a prompt step back, acting as a barrier between them and Mariette, offering as broad a grin as he could muster. He knew these lumps of ugly as the same louts he had offered drinks to earlier.
“Burt, Ren, what a pleasant surprised,” he managed with enthusiasm despite his internal screaming of frustration. He could only guess at their need to find him again. Quietly he was hoping more work was in his future and that his good fortune hadn’t run dry just yet.
“Da boss like a word witcha Locke.”
“Tell the old man Davonshi- did you say Locke?”
Their guttural chortles brought a sense of unease into the smaller man’s gut. They must have picked up on this immediately, as they unveiled their wicked grins and revealed the cudgels they had in their possession. Their eyes far keener than Locke would have guessed, as one of them immediately took notice of the well-dressed woman behind the street urchin, whatever their thoughts he could only hope they would leave Mariette out of the affair.
“Ren, Burt, let’s take a moment and talk like gentlemen. How’s your mother? I’ll bet she’s still hanging about bell towers and cathedrals no doubt, the old gargoyle.”
It was with that shooting remark the fight broke out. A swing of an arm, and Locke leaped back from a blow poised for his head; his fingers worked fast loosening the snap that held his dagger in its sheath. As one neared him, the other seemed intent on dogging Mariette, much to the disdain of the thief, Ren was lumbering toward the outsider with whatever malicious intent. Locke lifted his dagger, but knew how this engagement would end. He was not a warrior, and there was nowhere to flee to that he could spot immediately. He would have to wait, bide his time, and if he’s lucky get out of this situation. The tip of his weapon stayed pointed at Burt’s chest, threatening him even as he backed away slowly giving the hooligan the ground with each step.