Daern watched with a detached interest as Balthazar took in the flailing, disturbed wreck that was Xithyl. The poor bastard had even flung his prized possession aside--a fact that drove home to Daern how not-alright his on-and-off ally was. Having seen how much the man valued his gun, Daern saw in it's discarding a sign that the volatile soldier might be too much of a liability to attach himself to. And yet Daern was the one who had languished in a jail cell! The injustice of it all...

Daern had to admit he was impressed by the stony-faced manner with which Balthazar took the complete collapse of the person who was supposed to be the grounded one of the two prisoners. As one prone to hiding his true emotions behind a mask, Daern had to admire an actor such as the captain. Daern drew his attention back to the conversation, because apparently the man was addressing him. Humans and their single-track minds.

"Start proving with good behavior.” the soldier said, a bored expression on his face. Daern sighed; it was no fun if he couldn't provoke a reaction.

"Yassuh." He said, slumping his shoulders in a passable but not entirely believable interpretation of humility. He perked up, however, when the captain began explaining the situation. "Criminal conscripts...sounds promising. I'll take the deal." Daern didn't miss Balthazar's re-assessment of Xithyl; it was definitely a boon, placing them both on the same level. Looking over at the aforementioned crazy-man, Daern saw that he had regained at least some of his sanity and was checking on his prized weapon.

"So nice of you to..." he began, trailing off when he saw the glare he received. He finished lamely, "Sharing that tobacco?"

From his new cell Ryu watched the interaction between Captain Balthazar, Xithyl, and Daern from a distance. He cared little about what happened to Daern from this point in time, however the other man had done nothing to warrant Ryu's irritation so he wondered just why he seemed so out of sorts. Perhaps once he was allowed to venture out of the cell he was in he would attempt to learn more about what was going on with the different people aside from Daern of course.

Yet Ryu could not help but wonder what had happened with Kadan, he had not seen the wolf in some time and wondered just what had happened with him. Ryu could not think that Kadan would have been mistreated though, it had appeared that Captain Balthazar saw something in the young wolf that pleased him to a degree.

Hardly the most meaningful show of respect, but it would do from a criminal conscript. Balthazar had dealt with them before, and found the solution to convicts with an attitude to be either shooting, flogging, or disregarding them. Taking offence to them generally overestimated their importance. Officers had better things to care about than some uppity criminal.

On that note, if the deal was accepted, he was more or less done. Except for one somewhat dazed and bewildered soldier in the corner who wanted to know what he had missed. “There is little to repeat other than the usual chastising Daern over his manners. You are offered a position in Verlorene Haufe, that means you will be serving with conscripted convicts. If you are prone to flashbacks it may be risky to assign you alongside my men.” Balthazar stated matter-of-factly.

Then he titled his head thoughtfully, there might be a solution to this after all. “Verlorene Haufe could do with line officers. That may be ahead of you when we see what you can do.” Balthazar scratched his beard idly.

What else puzzled him was that strange roll of paper filled with what looked like grass roots. It looked unsightly, and he was curious what was the purpose of it, until it was lit and produced an ugly-smelling smoke that the sharpshooter inhaled. Realisation dawned, and Balthazar curled his nose up with disgust. While Xithyl was cowering in terror from things only he could see, Balthazar did not regard this with contempt, but if this was the decadence it looked like, then that would be regarded with contempt.

To action then. “Testing you out.” Balthazar began abruptly, showing him to the cell containing Ryu. “You!” he greeted the prisoner, not sure if he was using a false name. “Do you want out of that cell? Did you hear about Verlorene Haufe? Do you want to join?” A look back to Xithyl, then Ryu, then Xithyl again. “You should get to know each other.”

Xithyl eyed the captain wearily as the other man looked at his cigarette with unmasked disgust and sighed. A non-smoker, clearly. Ah well. The nicotine was already helping relax him, and in a few moments he was pretty well recovered from his little moment - physically, anyway. The mental aspects he shoved to one side and marked "Deal With Later". That label was coming in for so much use recently he wondered if he'd ever have time to actually do so.

A criminal conscript... well, it was better than nothing. Back home they'd had a similar concept - it made good sense, really. If they succeeded, all was good - if not, well, they weren't exactly valuable men and it would be no great loss. Verlorene Haufe sounded a little like Forlorn Hope, those men who were always first over the walls in a siege and promotions were awarded based on who survived. Someone had to be first, always. It was usually him, Xithyl remarked inwardly, with another sigh.

Balthazar had indicated another cell which Xithyl had not previously noticed, nor indeed it's rather odd-looking occupant, and he regarded it with some interest as he finished the cigarette and threw it to the ground before it burnt his fingers. It was idly extinguished with the left foot and a rather percussive implementation of gravity and pressure. Balthazar had said they should "get to know each other" - as the only man here being offered a criminal conscript's duty who was not in a cell, Xithyl felt somewhat separated from the other two, though this was a distinction he was fairly happy with. He wondered at why this new person was in a cell and quickly realised he didn't overmuch care.

Daern made an elaborate bow.

"If my manners have offended, sir, I apologize." He grinned. He could play the obsequious employee for a little while, at least. And while it may not have been intended as such, Daern looked forward to service with criminals; he could get used to time with his type. Sure, many of his fellow mercenaries would probably be brainless brutes or petty thieves or other unappetizing folk...But there would be at least one murderer, Daern was sure, and any criminal contacts in a new city were good. In fact Daern mused, following the idea to its logical conclusion, I could whip up a sort of criminal network. He placed the idea gently at the back of his head for storage and further deliberation.

The news that flashback-prone, easily-bothered Xithyl could be his commanding officer in the Velorean Hoof, or however it was pronounced, made Daern pretty pleased--he already knew the soldier's buttons and how to press them for optimal effect. As soon as Balthazar addressed Chum, Daern's pleasure grew. He would have two people to torment, one of whom he had apparently given reason for a vendetta. He waved cheekily to Ryu, who was locked in another cell. It would be awfully fun to see Xi and the dog-man interact.

As Xithyl was the only one of the three convict-conscripts with free movement, Daern would need him to pass invaluable messages to Chum.

"Psst! Ask him how he likes his new cell!"

"I am capable of fighting well enough to serve in whatever group you are going to put me in, if you let me out of this cage you do not have to worry about my departure" Ryu replied as he looked in Captain Balthazar's general direction. Being in this cell was irritating for Ryu as he wished to be free though it was ultimately up to Captain Balthazar if he was allowed to roam freely or not. Yet even more than his own freedom Ryu wished to check on Kadan to make sure the pup had been well taken care of in his absence.

The man that Captain Balthazar said that he should get to know was given a once over by Ryu. Nothing appeared to be wrong with the man in outward appearance but flaws could run deep in a persons body to render themselves invisible to visual inspection. Regardless, Ryu would be content to fight alongside this man unless a flaw revealed itself and endangered his own life at which point Ryu would think more of his own survival than someone who could not fight.

That was enough for now. Balthazar had made his points and his offer to the prisoners and to the volunteer, and had little interest in lingering to watch the events unfold. He had a way of observing how they unfolded without staying, and felt they would progress more naturally.

“Officials should be here within the hour to take the needed details. My men will let you out afterwards. How soon afterwards depends on how well you have behaved.”

A convenient excuse to leave Daern in the cell if needed.

With that, Balthazar turned on his heel and strode out of the door, letting the prisoners and the volunteer become their own problem for now.

" My men will let you out afterwards."

So he was a prisoner here too, it seemed, for the next hour or so at least. It seemed the cages were merely window dressing for the room itself, their real cell. Or perhaps they were just there to keep them all separated from each other in some way. He didn't know, and he didn't care - he had an hour to kill in the company of one man he didn't know and one he was rapidly growing to resent the very sight of.

A thrilling prospect indeed. Deciding against trying his luck with the very burly and very armed guard on the door, he unhitched the rifle from his back. Leaning on the wall, he let himself slide down until he was sat on the floor with his knees bunched up to his chest, and began fiddling with the weapon, pointedly ignoring the two others he was meant to be getting acquainted with.

His head hurt less this close to the floor. Which was a good thing, since he was developing a splitting ache in both temples, no doubt related to the flashback. At least, if it wasn't, then there was some greater evil at work inside his head.

He toyed with the rifle some more, almost absent-mindedly. It was clean, he'd made sure of that in the hospital, and the captain had not seen fit to return his ammunition to him just yet. Which was probably for the best, all told. The way things were going, it would quite likely prove a temptation all too great to resist. Besides, the general idea of being a prisoner was that they had the weapons, and you didn't. That guard had a weapon and so did he, though Xithyl bore in his mind no doubts about which it would be better to be hit with, especially while wearing armour.

He made a point of grimacing every so often, playing up the headache even though it was a familiar and tolerable sensation. Quite what he was after, even he didn't know, but something in his head told him appearing weaker than he currently was would be better for him than the inverse, and he went for it.

It had not been a good day.

Sure, Daern enjoyed the repartee, the back and forth with guards and prisoners alike. And certainly, he had gotten himself a job. But it had not been a good day.

First of all, he was now out of his cell for only the first time all day. That was grating. Daern was used to his freedom; one of his few pleasures was to wander, cocksure in his perceived invincibility. Caging didn't agree with him. He shut out the unpleasant reminder that, really, all this hassle was his own fault and shook his head sadly. Hassle was right. There was a reason he killed businessmen and wasn't one. Bureaucracy sucked. There were five million, two hundred thousand and two contracts to sign, initial, oh yes, and read. There were handshakes, Daern remembered vaguely, and oaths. He hated oaths. Phony words in his mouth made him want to spew.

Then there was blood drawing. What they hoped to accomplish was beyond him, but it was a twinge in the back of his mind. These were not, as he was so frequently reminded when he might like to forget, your typical street mercs who held up whorehouses and screwed around. They were soldiers of fortune with expertise and chains of command and all that shit. They were PROFESSIONALS.

Which meant, Daern supposed, that it would be all the more satisfying to "dine and dash", as it were. He glanced over to where Chum and Xithyl stood, subject to the same indignities as he.

"Having fun, boyos?"

What Ryu focused on most of all throughout the process of being enlisted into whatever it was that he had been assigned to was that he was now free of his cell. While it turned out that Daern was also freed of his cell this only made things much easier if Ryu decided to end the mans life, yet for the time being he would be more useful to things alive and as a meat shield. It seemed that when everything was said and done that Ryu was allowed to have Kadan with him as well, and petted the young wolf on the head as Daern neared the group once more and asked if they were 'having fun' which Ryu met with silence and a glare.

Ryu wondered for a moment when he would be given back his weapons however, he disliked having them out of his possession for this long and had no idea if the guards he had left them with were treating them well. As Ryu decided that he did not desire to spend time in close proximity to Daern, he ventured to another area of the room with Kadan following at his side. When Ryu reached his desired location he slid down against the wall to sit on the floor, Kadan laying down beside him hoping for more attention from his master.

This day was getting worse, and so was his headache.

Xithyl had managed to snatch maybe half an hour of sleep while supposedly becoming acquainted with the other two louts in their somewhat ramshackle outfit. In truth, the process of getting to know them didn't interest him that much - if they were to fight together in some way, he'd likely be keeping as much of an eye on both of them as the enemy, regardless of how well he "knew" them. He judged soldiers mainly on how they fought, not what they said.

And of course, there were the wonders and delights of actually signing up for the damn company in the first place. It had been some time since he'd been through it and many miles, but it was at least some comfort to him that the process was oddly familiar, even if he didn't actually remember outright having done it before.

Still, he supposed he must have done. And bearing that in mind, he knew that the day would propose nothing beyond a minor irritation or two, really. It was actually semi-relaxing, a comforting sensation of actually doing something washed over him and it felt good to be back in the military again. He signed his name where he was told, swore what oaths he was told to swear, given something remotely resembling bread to eat, which he did, and it tasted worse than it looked, but it was still vaguely food at least. Soldiering was becoming more and more familiar, and that was good, but there was a nagging sensation in the back of his head, that there was something not quite right about the whole process.

It eventually merged into a semi-conscious thought;

"This isn't fucking soldiering". He grimaced, annoyed slightly. Forms and oaths and the like were important, necessary things, even the god damned lists he could see were vital to the whole army effort, to make sure he got paid, got the kit he was supposed to, the training and medical requirements and the like. Lists, scribble, sign here, scribble, done, done and fucking done. The blood drawing, cleverly, Xithyl assumed the good Captain had ordered done while he was going through surgery, because they already had some. He was grateful for that, but there was more taken, and stuff was done to it, what stuff he didn't know.

And that was that. Daern looked over at him, grinning his irritating little face off in that obnoxious manner of his. He kept his expression blank and stared straight ahead with practised ease, feeling the drill sergeant's eyes on him, and said nothing. It was the best way; "Remain silent, or say something better than silence".

Okay.

The troops didn't seem too happy with their situation. Daern wasn't`quite sure when Whiny McChummy and Pass-out O'Uselessface had become "the troops", but he was too far into the thought process to stop calling them now. The troops were restless and as the only sane one among them it was his job to keep them under control, if not happy. He leaned against the wall in between his two fellow prisoner-soldier-thingies and cracked his neck to one side, then the other, sighing in obvious belief.

"Long day, huh?" He gave a wry smile to Ryu, who;s seemingly permanent expression of distaste convinced him that there was to be no cooperation on that front. He shrugged. Why should he care what a momma's-boy thought of him? He planned to kill the dog-loving freak anyways. Daern hated dogs.

Well, he thought to himself, in his new role as leader of the troops, military strategy dictates that a two-front war is just STUPID. So I might as well have one ally here. And it isn't going to be the mutt. Thus resigned, he slid comically along the wall until he stood right beside Xithyl. The soldier seemed preoccupied and peeved. Daern decided, with his infinite social wisdom, that the best thing to do was bull on through.

"Psst." Subtle, he wasn't. "Pssssssssssssst. Psst. Pst. Xy? Hey." He was relatively sure he had the soldier's attention now. And his animosity. "I don't trust the other guy. He looks shifty and smells funny. Let's work around him, hmm? You and me, without him, we can go places. We have a very complimentary skillset."

This was not the most amusing time for Ryu as he sat beside Kadan who had rolled over onto his side as he looked at his master. As Ryu watched the other two men he ran his hand through Kadan's fur, earning a pleased groan from the young wolf who began kicking one of his hind legs. He began to wonder just how long he had been with his faithful companion, it had been since he was a young child and had fled from his true clan when it was decimated. He had found the young wolf pup stuck in a snare, seemingly abandoned when he cut it free and carried it with him until he stumbled upon the Azai Clan village.

He had worked hard from that point on to not only provide shelter and food for himself, but for Kadan as well. In addition he trained the young wolf how to defend itself in addition to being able to help him hunt for animals in the wild.

It was often Kadan who managed to track prey before Ryu had picked up the trail of its movements, allowing him to increase his chances of harvesting meat and other materials for his Clan when they needed them. Yet now Ryu knew that the bond they shared would be best as he thought on what he would be expected to do in this 'unit' until he had fulfilled his contract with the Captain and could return to his Clan once more.

Xithyl looked over at Daern and, not for the first time, fought off the urge to spread what passed for the man's brains all over the wall with the butt of his rifle. He'd just cleaned it, after all. That and the slight inclination that somehow, Daern had signed the same contracts he had, as indeed had the "funny-smelling" one, and this made him - perish the thought - one of his men.

Well, not quite. But it was close enough. A party of three... no, wait, four. There was a wolf here. He was slightly surprised to see such an animal here, not least as a pet. A vague memory surfaced in his mind, of the old Order, a reminder that pets were not allowed in that army. And a pet it seemed to be, perfectly tame, allowing a man to stroke it with seeming pleasure. How... interesting.

There was, all of a sudden, a rather comical noise from the side of him. He looked over to see that it was Daern making it, as he slid down the wall in an altogether ridiculous fashion towards him. He rolled his eyes, wondering yet again what the fool was up to. Subtlety was evidently not the other man's strong point as he tried rather obviously to get his attention with a stage whisper. Xithyl, for his part, kept his eyes front, waiting for something interesting to do.

"We have a very complimentary skillset."

Oh really. Complimentary? He wondered what on Erde Daern meant by that. He'd yet to see anything in the fool that was remotely complimentary. Confrontational, counter-productive, conflicting... these were all words he would consider better suited for the guy. And yet...

Whether he agreed or not with what was being said, it was true that there was an opportunity present. Whatever plan the mad-not-quite-man had in that addled head of his could potentially benefit him, though he doubted it would if allowed to run to completion. He settled on going along, for the moment. At very least, it was something interesting to do. He gave Daern no response, as he had all morning.

Damn fool. Damn dangerous fool, he reminded himself. There was still much about him he didn't know, not least the whole shifter routine. Still, he had bullets. Range was his friend, should the idiot decide to take advantage of a moment of distraction and turn on him. Best to keep it at range and fill it full of holes.

He mused briefly about the possibility of filling things with holes. Blowing chunks out of things would seem to be the opposite of "filling". He also contemplated shooting Daern, and all the joy and pleasure that would bring. Satisfaction... ah, yes. But not now. Besides, though he had powder, he still had no shot for the moment. Evidently his new employer was only prepared to trust him so far. He assumed at some point he would be required to prove his usefulness, though, and that would involve shooting something. He looked forward to it. It had been too long since he'd shot anything.

With a bit of luck, he might even be able to persuade the good captain into using Daern as a target.

Daern sighed listlessly. This was no fun at ALL. If the two other prisoners wouldn't respond, what could he do? He certainly hoped they would be more talkative on assignment, or the little fun he had hoped to eek out of this chore would slither away. Xithyl seemed reluctant to make an alliance--why that was, Daern was unsure--and Ryu was right out. That left...well, nobody. Hence Daern's listlessness. He was boired out of his mind. Rather, more out of his mind.

In this state, he could have kissed the feet of the disgusted-looking officious fellow who stepped into the room a few moments later. The man had all the markings of a career leader: he had few scars, a nice uniform, and an air of being in the habit of being obeyed, and promptly at that. Daern puffed up; this was the sort he loved to play with. Clean as his feet might be, however, Daern wasn't going to kiss them, not with the way the man glared at him. He did, however, glide over to the officers, enjoying immensely the man's jerking retreat.

"Hello, good sir. Have you a mission for us poor, misguided criminals?" Daern grinned a shark-grin at the man, who bared his teeth in return, cleared his throat, and pulled out a piece of parchement.

"As criminal conscripts, you have been assigned a mission by your commanding officer. An employee of the hospital we have been assigned to protect has been kidnapped. Your duty is to retrieve her."

Her. Hospital. The words clicked together with a horrific clang in Daern's head.

"You don't mean..."

The officer grinned; he knew what Daern feared, having dealt with her before.

"Yes. The hospital receptionist. Rescue her."

"And if we encounter hostile opposition, are we to eliminate them or simply subdue them to complete the operation?" Ryu questioned as he pushed himself to his feet, Kadan rising as well only to stretch out with a yawn. Hopefully they would be able to get things under way soon so he did not have to spend extra time confined in a small area with the man who Ryu would kill for free if the option was ever opened for him. Then again the other man, the one that had not spoken was an unknown factor to his intentions, and before he would be able to carry them out he would need to learn about how he functioned so this job was an acceptable way of learning.

"If we are allowed to carry out lethal force I will require my belongings to be returned to me before the operation begins" Ryu announced, knowing that he had enough blades on him to take down any small time criminal that they came across in this job on his person already. Things were just easier when he had his main weapon on his person before things started than being forced to reveal that he had weapons hidden on his person.

It took several seconds for the sentence to parse in Xithyl's mind.

Receptionist. Kidnapped. The two words floated around vaguely, looking sheepishly at each other as if not even they could comprehend by what villany, magic, or stupidity they might come to share the same sentence. So unexpected was the link, it threw the world inside his head into disarray, disjointed thoughts and memories of the hideous woman who they had encountered back in that dingy place where the sick went to die.

Kidnapped. A simple word. He understood its meaning perfectly. Receptionist. Another simple word. He knew the meaning, knew to whom the title was being applied, and all was happy with the understanding of these two words. Where they met was another matter.

Some external force had slammed the two words together in such an unholy union that their collision threw sparks of chaos and ripples of confusion through the rest of his mind, and while his conscious rode the shockwaves and prevailed, a portion of his subconscious was engulfed by the mystery, twisting and rolling in the mayhem until, finally, after a few seconds of this, there remained only one thought.

It was a simple premise, so he spoke it aloud. "More importantly..." His voice was cracked - he hadn't used it in a while, having spent the day doing his best to be quiet. He licked his lips, cleared his throat, tried again. "More importantly, who would want to kidnap her?"

And who could stand to actually touch the beast, his subconscious crowed, finally resurfacing from the surprise. He caught the smirk which the thought provoked with well-drilled ease and sent it packing, keeping his face the measured, blank expression of the line soldier, and his voice tone a perfect deadpan.

The officer who had spoken considered him, briefly. The man looked a mess, like there was a war going on inside his head, and outwardly too, like he'd been dragged through a battlefield backwards, and hadn't slept in days. The only thing about him which seemed to be in good order was the weapon which he wore slung over his shoulders, though he didn't recognise the configuration. It looked like a musket of some sort, only different, longer, and with more parts. He assumed it was to give the thing more power, and ignored it. Nevertheless, he regarded the conscript with contempt as he did most of his subordinates, and didn't even try to conceal the sneer in his voice as he answered.
"We don't know that. And you don't need to know it anyway. Your job is to find her, and to return her safely here so we can... protect her." He shuddered a little inwardly at the prospect. A slight grin spread across his face as the next thought occurred to him. "As for where to look, you could always just... follow the stench."

He guffawed at his own joke and stared at them, waiting for them to say more. The dialogue which followed was mundane by nature, though the question of kit was briefly covered - they would report to the quartermaster, who among other things had Xithyl's ammunition and Ryu's weapons in his stores, and would release only what the Captain had considered necessary to entrust his newest recruits with on their "rescue" mission.

Xithyl liked the mistrust. Evidently this Balthazar was, as he had estimated of him, no fool. Even the plate armour which the Captain wore would be penetrated by a rifle bullet at close enough range, and whether the other man knew it or not, he seemed savvy enough to avoid the contingency in which he might be facing the muzzle of Xithyl's rifle altogether. Which was, perhaps, a little paranoid, but he approved of the concept nonetheless.

He dimly heard the officer address him and began paying attention again as the man explained that he would have to prove that he could still shoot effectively after the medical operations on his shoulder. He'd been both relishing and dreading that part. The rifle was everything he had left, now, and he enjoyed firing it as an artist loves to touch brush to canvas. The chance to discharge it was well received, and yet... there was some trepidation within him at the order. He had no idea how badly the injury to his shoulder had affected his capacity to accurately hit a target, and that was really the only advantage he had over a line infantry unit - he was a sniper, in essence, and without the accuracy edge, not a very good one.

Still, they would all find out soon enough. The officer seemed to be of the opinion that time was not their ally in this matter, and was somewhat eager for them to press on, and so it was that he sighed a little, and turned to take the path toward the quartermaster's stores.

As soon as the officious-looking fellow finished speaking and turned away, no longer aware of the mongrel unit since it was no longer worthy of his attention, Daern made faces at his back. They were good faces, too. Daern was proud of his face-making. He would make maidens scream and little children laugh. Of course, there being neither maidens no small children present, the only response to his brilliant face-making was a sullen silence. Xithyl had already turned up the path towards the quartermaster, where apparently he was going to try to shoot something. That sounded slightly less boring than whatever Daern was planning to do--sit around and poke fun at random soldiers, most like--so he decided to follow the wounded man.

"Hey, Xithyl," he stage-whispered, "Can I have the gun if you can't shoot it? No use to you then, is it? I could get you twice market rate..." Having seen the way the man caressed the barrel of the weapon the way any sane man--though who was Daern to judge sanity?--caressed a woman, Daern already knew the answer would be a resounding no, but he felt like asking anyways. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, and all that rot. Another thought occured to him. "Ooh, can I take a turn shooting? Mayhaps I've got an undiscovered talent! I could do both our jobs!" He grinned innocently at Xithyl as he pulled alongside the man on the stone pathway. He assumed Ryu would follow them, as the son-of-a-bitch had nowhere else to go, and wanted his weapons back apparently, and that meant quartermaster.

Daern wanted his bag back, now that he thought of it, and his knives. And his garrote. And all his other lovely materials. He hoped--for their sake, that is--that the soldiers hadn't divvied up his belongings as mercenaries were wont to do. Because then he would be forced to divvy THEM up. Only fair, in his opinion.

After a few more moments of uninterrupted walking--the only eventful occurence being the stares that their ragtag ensemble recieved from the soldiers and workers moving to and from the buildings around them--the three (well, Daern assumed they were three. In a fit of pique, he had yet to acknowledge Ryu, giving the man the same silent treatment he had recieved. See how he liked it!) arrived at the quartermaster's stores. Daern was unimpressed. He took the lead, opening the door and stepping right in, making his presence known.

"Hullo in there. Verlorene Haufe or whatever here to see you!"

The walk to the quartermaster was slightly more tolerable than his time spent in the jail cell but that was quite possibly because the man he had shared his cell with had decided not to speak with him. It was almost peaceful for Ryu even when he knew that he would have to spend further time around the man who caused the desire to kill rise quickly within his mind. In the end such things would have to be tolerated if he was going to fulfill the contract that he was hired for and if he was going to be able to work along side these two men in order to rescue whoever had been kidnapped from the hospital. As they arrived at the quartermaster Ryu was quick to separate himself from Daern and Xithyl in order to retrieve his belongings.

"My ninjato is all that I have secured in this place, give it to me" Ryu requested, taking the blade when it was returned to him and checking it for any damage. Ryu was pleased that the blade was in the same condition that it had been in when he had turned it over to Captain Balthazar before being placed in the cell with Daern. Granted Ryu was no front line fighter, but with his sword in hand he would be able to cut down any opponent that he encountered during the course of the operation which is all he intended on doing. Let one of the other men charge into a fight and distract people while the others were able to slip around unnoticed to gain entry into a building without opposition.

Of course if the man to throw himself into combat was Daern, Ryu would be amused if not a little pleased to see the man injured or even silenced for life. At least then he would not be able to scream or call for help when Ryu decided it was time to exact his revenge on the man for insulting his family as well as his honor.

Though it strained him to do so, Xithyl remained silent on the brief trek to the quartermaster's office, and ignored Daern's teasings. The other man was clearly bored, and Xithyl could see no better way to retalliate than by refusing to entertain him, though bashing him in the face with the butt of the rifle did yet again spring to mind.

Reasoning that he'd only have to clean it afterwards, he refrained, and presently they reached their destination - at which point Daern, clearly with thoughts of neither self-preservation or subtlety, charged straight in and proclaimed who he was to all and sundry. Xithyl sighed and followed, resignedly. Today was going to be a long day.

Pointing out his bag to the quartermaster, he was somewhat surprised to see that it looked in the same condition it had when he'd last seen it, back in the hospital. He was even more surprised when, upon receiving it back and opening it up, he found everything still there, save the few semi-precious stones he'd told Balthazar to take out. The powder horn, a somewhat fragile item if treated badly, was still intact, and the cartridge case bore the same pattern of scratches it had done when he'd last looked at it. Evidently, the captain's men knew how to respect other men's property, a rare trait in these parts of Erde.

Satisfied, he closed his pack back up and lifted it by a strap, checking the weight - not too heavy, even on the weaker arm. Good. He didn't bother putting it on properly, reasoning he'd only have to take it back off in a few minutes, and looked to Ryu, who was being given some sort of sword-type thing. Comparing it to his own sword, he was impressed with the quality and apparent condition of the blade, keen-looking and clearly well-maintained. Though he placed little value in such things, he appreciated Ryu could probably kill quite effectively with a weapon like that.

He looked to Daern, who was being handed back his bag, and waited to see if the lunatic's possessions were all in order, that they might head out and get going.

Among the hostile glares from those inside the building he had just entered--and from the two who followed him in--Daern identified his target. In the back corner, a young soldier was looking, with an intensity that many would envy, directly at his own feet. Daern grinned and stepped towards the young man, whose eyes stayed firmly focused on the ground. Drawing up next to the young man, he tapped him on the shoulder, causing him to jump in shock. Daern chuckled at the lad's reaction.

"Be a good lad and fetch my bag, will you?" He gestured at the brown sack that sat next to one os the shelves guarded by the quartermaster. The boy looked for guidance from those around him, one of whom, whose uniform identified him as one of the quartermaster's assistants, stepped forward. He was a bulky man, his arms strengthened by lifting and transporting supplies. Daern turned the full force of his gaze to the man, who turned red, but continued to advance. Coming face-to-face with Daern, he searched for words.

"You. You, uh, need to ask the quartermaster for that back." He pointed at Daern's bag. "It's not yours till he gives it to you." Daern reached out for the man, who flinched back a step, and patted him on the shoulder.

"Thanks for the advice, friend." He then turned on his heel and walked confidently over to the quartermaster, who was now hiding a smile. "I hear you have my bag, sir?" The quartermaster nodded, adopting a serious expression. "Well," Daern continued, "The captain wanted it returned to me." Wordlessly, the quartermaster handed him the bag. Daern offered the man a half-bow. "My thanks."

Turning back to his tea, Daern noticed that Ryu had been armed with blades--he would have to watch that--and the Xithyl had retrieved his things as well. Daern waved for them to follow, then headed out the door. As soon as he was outside, he leaned the bag against the wall, knelt down, and began to search it. The majority of his things were there. He smiled and snatched several knives, placing them on his person, then whirled, stood, and slid the bag on his shoulder.

"Ready."

"I'm amazed they returned your weapons" Ryu remarked as he tightened the straps that held the sheath of his ninjato against his back, his eyes focused on Daern as he spoke. While his ninjato was against his back and out of the way, it did not allow for a quick draw in a fight, and because of that Ryu made sure to have a number of hidden blades on his person for quick defense. When he did have the chance to draw the ninjato he used it for quick and lethal strikes that did not allow his foe to call out for help.

As Ryu looked at Xithyl he felt that he could trust the man a bit more than he did Daern, but since Ryu did not trust Daern at all it was not a hard thing to achieve. At least Ryu had no intention of killing Xithyl if he managed to get the chance, and he could not foresee the man trying to kill him either which would work out well enough.

"If we are all ready then let us waste no further time" Ryu mentioned he adjusted his clothing while making sure that he could still easily get at his hidden weapons without worry. If they were dealing with people that wanted to kidnap people from a hospital then they would have to deal with people with weapons and no problems with using them, and Ryu had no intention of getting wounded or killed.

It was time, then. He sighed, and, seeing that there was little else to do here, walked out of the quartermaster's place. The day was not old, and though the sun was not yet at its most prominent, it was already making its presence felt, glaring into his eyes at a low angle, draping lazily over the land and causing most of what he could see to take on a yellower, more gold-like hue than it normally would possess.

Feeling the warmth of it, he took in a breath of fresh air, revelling in it, though he winced slightly as the action caused the flesh in his shoulder to move in an awkward manner which the person who had stitched him up had evidently not considered he might wish to move in. He wondered again if he could still shoot.

It was time to find out. Away to his right, there was a range of sorts, barrels with crude target symbols arranged some hundred paces beyond a roughly marked line in the erde which clearly marked where one was expected to shoot from. It was not far from him, and he set off towards it without bothering to see if the others were following him - this was not a matter that they needed be involved in, after all, and it was merely a delay. The sooner it was over with, the better, in his opinion, and so as he approached the firing position he had already unslung the rifle from its position on his back, carrying it in one hand and his pack in the other.

It had been a while since she'd been fired. While he was certain she would still spark, and that she was clear of foulling since he hadn't discharged the weapon since he'd cleaned it in the hospital, he nevertheless inspected it carefully, scrutinising the mechanism, the barrel, ensuring all was good to fire. The young man attending the range, who Xithyl could only assume had been told already that he would be doing some shooting before he left the area, eyed him curiously. The weapon wasn't so strange to his eyes, it was clearly a musket, but there was something odd - no, two things odd about it, not least the reverence with which its owner treated it.

Xithyl gave him a friendly glance, which the guard caught after a brief moment but did not return, and took out his powder horn from his pack once more. While the cartridges saved time, the powder in them was not so well refined, and it would cause the rifle to become more dirty more quickly. He had time on his side, so there was no reason not to take it.

The whole process was done in a matter of half a minute, Xithyl guiding the charge to the base of the pan and the bullet to its resting place just before it with practised ease, ramming it home before slipping the ramrod out and replacing it in its home beneath the barrel. Priming the pan with a little powder, he left the weapon for a brief moment to sling the powder horn over his shoulder and out of the way, before taking up the rifle once more and examining his target.

A hundred paces wasn't much, but it looked more from here. The centre of the barrel, which he was naturally inclined to aim at, was little more than a dot in his sight, but he aimed for it anyway, dropping gently to one knee and bringing the rifle swiftly and carefully to a firing position, braced against the right shoulder, with his eye sighting down the barrel, judging the range, estimating the wind, figuring every which way the round might twist and bend in the air between it and its target and compensating for them.

It felt good, natural, and easy, not at all stiff and awkward like he'd feared it might with the injury, and he happily looked over to the young guard, motioning that he wanted permission to fire. It took the other man a second or so to get the point, but eventually he nodded shortly, and Xithyl took that as a gesture that he was clear to do so. He pulled back the hammer, feeling it gently click past the various springs and notches until it rested in the cocked position, and the weapon sat ready to fire.

One more check of his aim was necessary since he'd moved the rifle since he first got his eye in, but he lined back up much more swiftly this time, having already figured most of the more complex portions of the process. The familiar surge of adrenaline poured into him, even though it was only a barrel he was aiming for, and he let his finger find the familiar trigger, pulling gently but quickly through the latent portion of the trigger until he felt the mechanism resist him slightly.

It was time. He took another breath and held it, steadying himself carefully, before pulling smoothly through the trigger. The rest happened in an instant.

The mechanism released, the spring causing the hammer to surge forwards to strike flint, sparking onto the powder, there was a deafening sound, a cloud of acrid grey smoke, a crunch of wood a few half-seconds later, and the butt of the rifle slammed back against his shoulder. He'd been expecting it, of course, and the shoulder was well-braced, but still the recoil caused him to move slightly, and the muzzle of the rifle swung slightly up and right, smoke still pouring gently from the barrel, bullet safely discharged.

It was some seconds before the smoke dispersed sufficiently for him to see where the round had gone; just off the direct centre point he'd aimed for, but still within the innermost circle. He smiled broadly, having felt no more than a mild twinge from his shoulder throughout the whole process, and stood up.

One less thing to worry about. He could shoot.

Daern flashed Ryu a quick grin as his finished adjusting his left sleeve to shift the handle of the knife he had just placed there so that it wasn't chafing his wrist. The little man could quip as he liked, but Daern was in a grand new mood having just re-acquired his materials and re-armed himself. He felt like a new man. Spider. Thing. Whatever. Thus cheered, he jogged ahead to escort his gunman companion to the nearby range where, hopefully, it would be discovered that the firing of his weapon caused him inestimable pain. Removing the gun from the equation would make Daern's upcoming decision that much easier. He already knew that when the moment was right, Ryu would end with a slit throat and a nice bed of dirt, but if Xithyl was still useful--or a threat, he amended silently--then the choice of what to do with him became more complex. Far simpler for all involved if Xithyl couldn't shoot and became therefore a liability and easy prey.

As they arrived on the range, Daern's skin began to crawl; he was no big fan of gunpowder and the weapons it supported. Given that blunt force was the one thing that threatened him in his stronger form, guns were not his favorite inventions. To say the least.

He watched with feigned detachment and real interest as Xithyl loaded and prepped the rifle; the more he knew about it's workings, hopefully the less of a threat it would be. As Xithyl set up at a hundred-yard distance from his target, Daern felt himself tense with anticipation; he shot Ryu a glance, then re-focused on Xithyl, who appeared to be ready to shoot. The gunman was staring down the barrel at his target. Daern saw Xithyl's hand clench as he pulled the trigger, then whipped his head to the side to observe the impact on the target. To his dismay, the bullet struck almost perfectly, and Xithyl, upon inspection, seemed no worse for the wear. Which meant that Daern was indeed going to have a dilemma later; to kill the gunman somehow, or use him as an ally. Both would be tough.

That was all in the future, however. First, they would have to work together to save the hospital receptionist. And so, in the interest of team spirit, Daern wandered over to Xithyl and patted the man on the back.

"Congratulations!" he forced through gritted teeth.

Ryu watched Xithyl make his way to the range and prepare his weapon, one that Ryu found to be more of a hassle than it was worth. A bow as just as capable at killing from a distance, but when he discovered that Xithyl was fully able to fire the weapon accurately with no ill effects Ryu decided that he would tolerate the weapon being involved in his work. Knowing what it and its user could do would make things much easier later on when they encountered hostile things that needed to be killed. After all Ryu knew that he could not trust Daern to be helpful, and Ryu had no intention of helping Daern if the man got into trouble.

"If you are finished we should go" Ryu mentioned as he walked up to Xithyl, making a point to speak to him rather than Daern at this point. The hope was that Xithyl could be trusted to watch his back around Daern when Ryu needed it. Instinct screamed not to trust the man but Ryu knew that his personal feelings also clouded his judgment so he did not trust his instinct as much as he had in the past.

Xithyl wasn't exactly overjoyed at Daern's congratulations, but played like he was thrilled anyway. His capacity to shoot was undamaged, and he was ecstatic about it, but that was that now, it was something to shelve and move on, and he was already doing that in his mind, packing to leave, as Ryu suggested they move on. He nodded to the man, not having said two words to one another before this point - and he saw no real reason to change that now. Daern, on the other hand, he couldn't get to shut up. He wondered idly how difficult it would be to persuade Ryu to cut the man's voice out, but stopped when he realised that Ryu's tools were better suited for cutting the life out of a man entirely.

He stood, ready to leave, hoisting the rifle to rest uncocked in his hands, in a natural quick-ready position. Having taken the time to load another round into it, it made sense not to leave the weapon to bounce around on his back, and indeed it would serve him better in his hands or about his front if he needed to get to it in a hurry. So, ready to go they were, and it seemed that the hospital would be the most logical destination to start with. He said as much, as his two companions seemed to share an enjoyment for pointing out the bleeding obvious, and started walking, the habits of commanding others causing him to assume that his companions would follow in step.

Daern felt a slight twinge of hurt feelings at Ryu's obvious dismissal of his existence. How dare he ignore the crux of this team? Without Daern, the mission would be doomed; it wasn't like they had any secret weapons, perhaps powered by explosive materials, with which to kill from afar and. . . oh, wait. Well then. He would just have to demonstate his extreme usefulness. He wasn't quite sure why he CARED what Ryu thought of him, seeing as he planned to kill the man and make it look like it was part of the mission or, barring that, eliminate him at the mission's conclusion. Xithyl, on the other hand, he wanted afraid of him. So there was that.

Any road, Ryu's suggestion, so rudely uttered, was in fact a good idea. They had wasted far too much tme with petty things like materials and shooting. It was time to hit the proverbial trail, sniff scents, detect inconsistencies. . . Daern was forced to admit to himself that he had no idea how to track someone with a team. On his own, well, he would just go spider and follow their trail, then slaughter anyone nearby. But they (Balthazar, that is, the only one who mattered) wanted the woman alive. So that wouldn't work. He would never ask either of the others, so he figured starting at the hospital was as good an idea as any. A moment later, that thought was echoed by Xithyl.

"Then let's move, boys."

Daern led the triumphant charge out the gates and through the city to (grandma's house) the hospital, by which he meant that he walked at a steady pace to the hospital, assuming the team would follow. At the entrance he stopped and leaned against a wall, waiting for the squad to be prepared.

As he let the two other men lead the group Ryu took the rear of the group, observing them as best he could. He needed to learn how they functioned and how best to deal with them if either of them became threats, not that he expected anyone but Daern to be hostile toward him. In the end Ryu knew that he did not know either of them, and that Xithyl was just as dangerous as anyone could be. The weapon that Xithyl had brought up painful memories that Ryu forced back into the deep recesses of his mind so that they could be dealt with at a later date when he wouldn't be vulnerable.

At least the trip would be slightly pleasant since he had Kadan with him, and the young wolf would be useful for tracking and hunting if the need arose. Kadan was also useful in a fight when he was pushed into a corner, and not even Ryu wanted to get on the beasts bad side if such a situation came up. It was a standing fear that Kadan would become feral some day and thus become a threat to the village and need to be put down, but until that day came Ryu would enjoy his companion.

The road to the hospital was a lot shorter than he remembered it. As they left the camp, he noted that Balthazar's men let him pass without a second glance, and Ryu as well, their attentions significantly diverted towards Daern. That he had made a nuisance of himself during their brief spell as guests, he knew, but the full extent of the good captain's plans were still a mystery to him. He wondered on it idly as he walked in determined silence, his preferred way of travelling distance.

People in the town also seemed to have heard something about their group in the time since they'd last graced the streets. What was most noticable was the expedience with which their path was cleared, along with the furtive glances and the whispered comments about the hospital, splitting a desk apart with his bare hands, and the wolf that was accompanying them. Seemed docile enough still, the lattermost, so he was inclined simply to ignore it.

Not once did he bother to verify if his "party" were following. It didn't seem important, and besides that, he'd much have preferred to be on his own, or with some of Balthazar's other men at this point, so he was happy looking straight ahead where they weren't and allowing himself the happy illusion of solitude, which in a crowded street is some accomplishment.

Daern's nose twitched. Something stunk. Stunk even relative to the stench of the slums, the inescapable odor of misery, vomit, and feces that pervaded even the cleanest corner of this part of the city. It stunk worse than the decaying bodies Daern could smell on the wind that were fairly-poorly hidden behind the hospital. It even stunk worse than the acrid combination of gunpowder and dog that his teammates sent wafting his way, announcing their presence even before Daern opened his eyes to acknowledge their existence.

Wait.

That was it. Dog. Only worse. Ten times. Fifteen times. The stink of dog. Daern wrinkled his nose and peered around peevishly, refusing to make eye contact with the two trailers. A motion caught his eye as he passed his glare over Ryu. . . There! Streaking along behind the repellent creature was a more repellent creature. Large, dark, and furry. A wolf, then. Apparently domesticated. Which was a shame, because the only time Daern could stomach creatures like that was when they were killing. Then they were his kin. As a pet, however, it was nothing but an insect-ridden, bad-breath-ed beastie. Daern ground his teeth. Working with idiots (Ryu) and threats (Xithyl) was one thing--well, it was two things, but shush--but with mangy mutts? There Daern drew the line. Which meant that it gave him immeasurable satisfaction to point haughtily to the sign next to the hospital entrance which, in barely-legible, slanted, chicken-scratch, read "No Pets".

Daern shrugged in mock sadness. "Looks like you need to wait outside, mutt." He paused, then continued with a sharp grin. "The wolf, too." Turning to Xithyl, he raised one eyebrow. "Shall we enter? Deja vu, eh?" With that, he spun and entered the hospital door, dramatically spreading his arms wide and grinning at the room to make his presence known.

Or he would have, had the door opened. But it didn't. Daern snarled. He pushed the door again. And again. And then he pulled. It swung open. Hiding a blush, Daern stormed in to the hospital and up to the desk--which had apparently been replaced with its twin after it was broken in Xithyl and his last visit--and pointed at the stand-in receptionist, a homely young man with clammy skin spattered with pimples. They sure knew how to pick them.

"Tell me everything you know!"