Thread: The Fate of the world is in our hands (Max and I)

Seeing the girls move as they did, the way they preformed, he had to say that he was impressed. Evelynn had the precision and expertise to not only fight in combat, but lead in combat as well. And of course he realized her officer's status back at the Guild. Evelynn must have been awfully high up with such skills, even for a Bio-solider. Then there was Lucia. While one may have seen and observed a lack of form and technique, Henri saw a wild, unpredictable nature that could throw an opponent off. In battle, that was valuable. He often read in his spare time, and more likely than not, the man buried his nose in a philosophy book. While he couldn't recall the philosopher, the Vagabond did recall that a warrior's spirit should be able to change on the fly. Lucia exhibited that same, wild card spirit. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't interested in seeing where this kind of combat would lead the Demon Hybrid. And for a moment, it felt like he was put on the sideline, even with the conflict they seemed to have when the orcs appeared to have a slight upper hand. Instead though, the women easily finished their prey. It appeared though that Evelynn sustained some kind of injury, hearing her pained grunt and taking note of her now rather tired arm that held her own sword. With their foes bested, Henri focused his attention back on the once client he was dealing business with. In the sudden turn around of events, the aristocrat was cowering and crawling backwards on the ground, his plump face dirty and covered in sweat as he held up his hands. P-Please, mercy! Spare me! You wouldn't harm another human, w-would you?! He groveled pitifully, though he cried out in fear as Henri seized him by the collar, staring into his eyes. Monsieur, I don't do business with demons. Not the appropriate target audience, if you catch my drift. A dagger was dragged along the man's neck slowly, threatening to pierce the rolls of flesh and end his sorry life as he sobbed. Out in the distance, there were gunshots. The Thieves' Guild men left with firearms, and based on how far the discharges sounded, it had to be them. Which only meant more trouble, and possibly, more orcs. Thus, the Vagabond pressed harder against the aristocrat's throat, his smile becoming a bit more devious. You have a lot of explaining to do, and not a lot of time, monsieur. I suggest you start now. He said with venomous distaste, itching for a good reason to slit the man's throat. It only took a split second after an orc roar in the distance for him to spill the beans. C-Chieftan Baronk! The war chief of the Maw Orc Raiders! He cried, sniveling pathetically as he gladly said everything that he knew. He was going to k-kill me! S-Said I was useful when he learned I was coming to Metro. He wanted s-something, I didn't have it, but heard about it. The revolver, i-it's important. Told me to spend all my Shells on it if I had to, but the damned priest w-wouldn't let it g-go. So I hired you. He pointed to Henri, holding up his hands in defense shortly afterwards, begging and speaking on. Please, I swear! I don't know what it's for or what it is! I swear! He shouted over and over again. The aristocrat even looked to Evelynn and Lucia, groveling to them as well. Don't let him kill me! Please don- Henri then struck him against the temple, strong enough to knock him out and leave a rather dark, red bruise after meeting the blunt end of the pummel of one of his daggers. From there, he stood and brushed himself off, sighing with a shrug of his shoulders. That's a good night for him. Madame Evelynn, Madame Lucia, excellent work. Bon travail! With a rather pleased smile, he nodded to them both, rather a congratulatory bow of the head to grant them their dues. However, they were far from out of the heat. At most, they were just making their way out of the center of the frying pan. Clearly, we're not done here. I haven't forgotten your stipulations, but it would appear that the game has changed a bit, no? Henri wore that grin again, chuckling lightly as he spun his daggers on his index finger. At closer inspection, they appeared to be knuckle knives with finger holes and grips to make sure he didn't lose them. Both grips were black with the wrappings somewhat worn, showing a great deal a use. One even had the wrappings slightly undone at the pummel. But the most curious were the blades, their shimmer and shine underneath any light almost radiant. It wasn't any ordinary metal, but instead silver. And while orcs weren't truly weakened by the precious metal, anything going through one's stomach unwillingly and from the outside still hurt like a bitch. Henri looked around them, especially up high as the gunshots ceased, but the orc roars continued. For once, his grin faded as he bit his bottom lip angrily. Boys... He muttered lightly, fingers squeezing hard against the knives. The thirst for revenge was strong, but if he wanted to wake up the next morning, they would have to leave. Now. We're outnumbered now. We need to leave, come! He knelt down against the aristocrat's body, the plump man appearing to have a potion pouch on him. They were small vials, but seeing that Evelynn was a bit hurt, it would help somewhat. And lucky for her, there was one left. Evelynn, drink, quickly. Henri's voice sounded a bit more rushed, and thus he didn't even realize he was speaking French. Probably to Lucia's dismay, but now wasn't the time to speak logistics. Surviving was a tad bit more important. There's a sewer entrance to the Guild, and I believe a manhole cover should be nearby. I've been here a few times when I wanted to ditch the patrols. The Vagabond explained himself as he began the dash through the streets. Fate would have it that even though the criminals here in the Western Market followed their own law and code, everyone hated demons. But these orcs were more trouble than one would suspect. They had a bit more time bought for them, but they had to vanish quickly still. Henri ducked and weaved through the streets and alleys, taking at most a few minutes before they came to a manhole cover. He lifted it and immediately reeled at the smell. Ugh, hope you can hold your breath. He muttered before waving them in. It was the most gentlemanly thing to do, after all. Even in times of danger! He'd soon join them below, covering their exit as he landed in a puddle with an audible splash, making a pack of racks scatter about and flee from the three. He immediately lit a match, looking between the two. Well, can either of you see in the dark? The man hummed curiously, trying to peer through the darkness. They just needed to find the Thieves' Guild symbol, something he etched along the walls to help himself and other members find their way back. It was a hooded man, grinning while holding up a single Shell. That would guide them in the right direction.