#shadowman keeps losing his hat

[enki2]

What's that giant eye looking out of the house though?

[ceemtaylor]

Advent Calendar 12/4

I’m back with another one! If you guys want to be added to / removed from the tag list, let me know :)

4. Card: An origin story in the Wicked Waters universe (aka how Val met Gabriel)

Valory pulled the brim of his hat low, shadowing his face further. His chair creaked beneath his weight but he had no desire to swap for a better one — not when he’d claimed a prized corner seat in the sort of seedy, lower-level tavern where one had to guard one’s back with alacrity. He squinted down at his cards. 

He could just make out the inked patterns, worn bald and stained with drink. Beside him, a dockworker threw down his own cards with disgust, forfeiting the pool in the center of the table. Valory’s hand wasn’t that much better, though he wouldn’t say so yet. Cards were a way to pass the time before his target arrived, yet he couldn’t afford to lose much more coin to the kid sat across the table. 

He’d already bled half his small-coins purse into the pot. Much more, and he’d draw curious eyes who’d wonder just how much he carried. Working in disguise had its merits — arriving at the walls of the first level in full raiment would hardly get him the information he sought — but it hampered him in equally-frustrating ways. The young Empath across the table grinned, teeth white against his Midlander skin, and spread a winning hand in front of him. He scooped up the pot amongst a chorus of groans and invectives.

Valory let out a few choice words of his own, but only because he’d have to find some other way to keep himself engaged while waiting for his target to arrive. Empty hands and empty laps were invitations in a tavern like this one, and though the Empath had fleeced him in countless hands of Ante, it was a far sight better than what some of the other patrons were after. “Another round?” the Empath offered, rolling the cuffs of an infantry-issued shirt. “We can have a game of Threes, maybe — and a smaller wager.” The Empath’s dark eyes flicked his way and Valory swore he gave the slightest wink. Valory’s eyes fell to the hammered circlet of the Empath’s talisman. A signature prickled at  his scalp. If it belonged to the kid across the table, he was hardly a passing-common minor talent. Though he’d advertised himself as a lad to better his odds at Ante, the cut of his collar told no lies. The ‘lad’ was older than he seemed. He’d stripped down to a petty officer’s undershirt to pass unrecognized, but Valory could sniff out an army man blindfolded. Add that to his knack for Ante, and Valory suspected this was no minor Empath. A bang at the front of the tavern yanked his attention across the floor. Five men poured through the door, masks tied around their faces, weapons brandished. The floor erupted into chaos, patrons startling to their feet to fight or flee. Here was the target he’d tracked for days, yet this wasn’t how he’d hoped to find them: at the receiving end of an attack with the screams of the tavern’s patrons echoing around him. Valory sprang into motion, grabbing the Empath by the collar and yanking him beneath the table to buy them a moment’s time. Huddled on the grimy floor with the Empath half in his lap, he could track the progress of the masked men by the scuffles that broke out across the tavern floor — the pleading sobs of serving women, the gurgle of a man with his throat slit, the smash of breaking bottles. Beside him, the Empath pushed up to a squat, eyes sharp and dark. “What’s your name, kid?” Valory asked. The Empath shot him a look. “Gabriel bar Anders, my Lord. I’m a corporal with the Fifth Company.” Valory resisted the urge to let out a whistle. That was some talent the kid had, to squirrel deep enough beneath a surface guard to figure out his title. “You’ll want to stay out of this, then, or Commander Bastian will have your hide.” “When did I say that, my L—” he broke off halfway through the honorific at Valory’s warning glare. “Those are the men you’re looking for, aren’t they? They’re part of the Shadowmen gang. If you ask me, they’ve been hassling this neighborhood for too long.” Valory looked him over. Gabriel was wiry, strength honed from years of military training. His weaponry was simple but he wore it well, a blade at his hip and a knife or three on his person. He had a sweet, boyish air about his face that Valory didn’t buy for a moment, and the longer they sat together, the more willing Valory was to attribute the strength of signature he’d felt while losing at cards to him. This was a dangerous man, hiding beneath the cloak of innocence his talent provided. “Well?” he asked, rolling into a ready crouch, hand on his hilt, “are you going to cover me?” Gabriel flashed him another all-white smile. “The one in front of you is left-handed and starting to tire,” he offered, tensed as if ready to pounce. Valory didn’t need more encouragement than that. He sprang from their hiding spot beneath the table, slamming through the Shadowman’s half-hearted guard and leaving him on the tavern floor in a gasping heap. Upon seeing their comrade fall, two more raced through the tavern towards him. One had a wicked, serrated blade, already stained with blood. The other carried a pair of knives and moved as though he knew how to use them. When Valory kicked past an empty chair to meet them, Gabriel came around to flank his side, hitting the knife-wielder with the force of a hurricane. The kid could handle himself in a fight, that was certain. As Valory elbowed patrons aside to get to the bar where the ringleaders put up their last stand, he chanced a glance over his shoulder at Gabriel. The kid tailed him, eyes narrowed, his Empathy as fearsome a weapon as his army-issued blade. Bastian’s Fifth Company was a fine regiment, but this kind of talent was wasted in the army. Gabriel jumped atop the bar, tankards shattering around him. He anticipated his opponent’s next move with preternatural ability, blocking a blow and slipping beneath another to skewer one of the ringleaders up against a cask of beer. Valory’s lips pulled back in a feral grin as he charged forward to meet the Shadowmen’s final stand. It could be useful to have an Empath around.