Kaitlyn Athris's Story

Kat returned to where her companion was sitting, squirming rather uncomfortably through the growing mass of soldiers occupying the Rabbit's Foot. Something about having too many suits around her for her liking, but perhaps that was a sense of the old instincts kicking in. Regardless, she didn't feel quite comfortable.

"Here you go." The thief slid one of the mugs she had been carrying towards her friend. "Found our man yet?"

Victoria caught the mug before it could slide past her and spill its contents on the floorboards. She examined it with a critical eye and wondered if it had been better to have done exactly that. Pale, thin ale just didn't hold a candle to a glass of fine red wine. Still, it was either this swill or going thirsty.

"Yes, I've spoken with the representative of the Order," the noblewoman replied. "It shouldn't be long before we are to take that oath of theirs and we are given the Seals." The prospect of being handed such potential power in exchange for pledging to stop the Deadmen was such an enticing one for Victoria. And there was no mention of having to give their powers back afterwards.

"Sooner rather than later, I hope..." Kat leaned back into her stool, taking a swig from her mug as she mused on the idea of serving under another banner. Admittedly, the decision to join up with the Order was more Victoria's than it was hers. And given that the thief didn't exactly advocate for noble causes made it all the more amusing when she had off-handedly decided to join her partner in a quest for glory. It all felt a little surreal if you'd ask her.

Still, having powers was nice. 'Probably.'

Veronica smiled at her accomplice. "If you're so worried about that, why don't we head down there now? You look like you could do with a change of scenery anyway."

"Don't mind if I do." There was no denying that, really. She gulped down the last remaining drops of ale before kicking herself of the wooden stool, only turning to Victoria for a brief moment to flash her an uncertain smile. "Let's go find our man."

As the captain they had been looking for was still in the same room as them, it didn't take long for Victoria to spot him by process of elimination. He was huddled all the way in a dark corner of the tavern. The perfect change of scenery for Kat, one that even Victoria was accustomed to. The noblewoman made her way through the crowd towards the captain's table, her companion not too far away.

Captain Davis Richards sipped the warm piss water from his mug.

He preferred the strong spirits of the north and the stuff they sold here was bordering on blasphemy. They didn't even have the decency to serve southern mead, Davis had heard the south was famous for its sweet honey mead, to the mostly southern originating soldiers. And this was obviously not the type of place to serve wine, Davis was never fond of it anyway, whether northern or southern wines.

No, the tavern owner was stuck in his old, subpar ways. He was one of the few that stuck around the city once the March began, refusing to leave his old tavern. Most of the other original inhabitants fled to northern cities before they shut their gates to refugees. The original Dyrlyn City Guard soldiers likely appreciated the same old drink they've been drinking since they had hair on their chest. It was warm, tasted like piss, and worse of all it was weak.

Even as he drank and fumed about the alcohol, Captain Davis Richards was a careful man. He choose the table he did for several reasons, namely for the view it gave him. He could easily watch the door of the tavern, him and it on opposite sides of the bar, affording him a clear view through the tightly packed crowd of soldiers.

He had seen the two women enter together and had wondered what they would be doing at a place like Rabbit's Foot Tavern. They didn't look like your typical prostitutes and in fact were probably armed. Curious. He watched as they made their way towards him, he had no doubt that his table was their destination.

The one who pushed her way through the crowd of men looked like she lead a much different life that the woman who followed on her heels. The second woman held herself as though she was born of a higher station in a city that probably didn't exist anymore. It wasn't long before they were both standing in front of him.

Before either of the women could speak Davis yelled right in their faces, “The hell you want? Can't a man drink without a woman spoiling it?” He made sure to adopt a drunken slur to his words to appear more drunk than he was.

The welcome was... expectedly mundane as far as welcomes go, just felt like having another meeting with your drunken contact. Place smelled the same, too, so the familiarity wasn't exactly lacking for either woman. Especially Kat. In spite of all that, however, if this was indeed the man they had been looking for, all pretense of wanting to offer her services as a loyal dog once more had jumped out the window; the drunken greeting from the old sod met with a rather exaggerated eyeroll.

"Lovely," Kat began, flashing the captain an unimpressed look at best. "Another gritty, veteran asshole who's too old for this shite. Haven't seen that before." Her glare lingered for a moment, trying to get a sense of the man (although she had already made her judgement) before turning to her partner with a grimace. "You sure this is the guy? Seen beggars more credible than him."

Her companion shared that doubtful look for a moment. "He's wearing a captain's uniform, and he matches the description I was given. I would assume that this is our man." Unless the real guy had fled and they'd just stuck a similar-looking drunkard in a spare uniform in the hopes that nobody would notice the difference. Similar or worse things had happened in the face of the March.

"We happen to be looking for the Order. My associate and I have business to attend to with them," Veronica replied to the man's immediate, uncouth questioning. "And whether we spoil your drink will depend on how you choose to answer."

"Yeah? Is that so? Why the hell you looking for the likes of them?" He kept the affected slur but the irritation was real. Captain Davis Richards was in no mood to talk about The Order.

The pair of them was a peculiar sight. The wild looking one was falling for his act but she seemed the type to question everything and always be ready for the worst. The calm one used her head and trusted logic and observation. Two very different women. It was obvious they were more than simple acquaintances, or prostitutes for that matter. The wild one had too much fire and the calm one too much pride.

"No wait, let me guess." He started before they could respond, “You want to join, right? You want to Bear a Sigil?”

He's seen many like them before. Those with delusions of grandeur. Those who seek the Power of a Sigil. Since the March began, Captain Richards has seen a massive increase in such people. The Order is recruiting on a level never before seen. Everyday a group of southern refugees become Bearers and everyday another group heads back south to fight the very thing they were running from. Some return. Most don't.

“You want power? Or you want to fight? Would you lay down your life for The Order, right now?” In his irritation he slipped out of his affected slur. He didn't care. He wouldn't take more refugees to their deaths, not again. He did more than his share of that.

“What would a couple of broads like you do with that Power?” Of course, it didn't matter what their answer was. He had already made his decision.

For someone who was supposedly drunk, the captain sure was quick at guessing their motives behind joining the Order. Or Victoria's, at least. The noblewoman smirked as he momentarily slipped out of his drunken slur, having riled himself up from his own array of assorted assumptions and queries. The two women were wise to the ways of deceit.

"Perhaps some of us do want power," she remarked. "Perhaps some of us are destined to have power. Either way, if we want it then sitting around and twiddling our thumbs won't do us many favours."

"What she said." Kat added somewhat redundantly. Standing around muttering about philosophies sounded well and all until you did start thinking about it, and then the plan to sell your soul to the highest bidder seemed like less of a good idea as the conversation wavered into more of an one-sided argument. Either way, the captain lost on both ends.

And after a short debate with her own conscience, the thief let out an irritable sigh. "Look, just tell me where to sign up and I'll worry about the why. Deal?"