You find yourself in a well built, fairly large loft. The wood planks comprising the floor are almost completely covered in hay. There are several piles of hay as well as a few bales to provide makeshift seating. Extra tools and equipment have also managed to find their way here. As you move a soft crunch, as well as the occasional squeak of wood greets your ears. There is a small window open to the road to the south.
As the loft extends back there are openings for the hay to be thrown down. A small gray kitten perches atop one of the bales grooming herself. With the smell of fresh hay and a rather cozy arrangement it is one of the more pleasant areas of the stable to be.
Lanisen is sitting next to the window, just to one side, keeping an eye on the road while trying to scrub his knife clean of the grime and blood from last night. He is quiet and withdrawn.
Loc sits on a haybale working on an arrow.
Jana is patching up the tunic they stole off the artist. She finishes after a few stitches and looks it over thoughtfully.
Zan yawns as he flips his newfound dagger up in the air and catches it over and over and over again. “Hey, pretty boy. Did I tell ya bout the sword? Darn pretty sword that was, too.”
Loc examines his newly made arrow and frowns a bit. He snaps the stick, tossing it aside, pulls out another one and begins to whittle with it.
Myrd is off by himself in a corner. He is, predictably, whittling something with a sharp knife. He tosses it with a flick of his wrist and it lands in the wall just behind Zan. “Nope. Don’t reckon you did.”
Jana tosses the stolen and recently repaired shirt to Zan, aiming it so it’ll land on his head. “See if that fits while your sharing tall tales.”
Zan exclaims, “That knight. He had him a fine pretty sword. It- hey!” The shirt hits him square in the face. “What? Don’ like lookin at my muscles? Jealous?” He pulls his injured arm out of the makeshift sling and pulls on the shirt, with a slight grimace and grunt in pain. He then continues his story. “It had this fancy hilt and musta been worth more’n our lives. An you know how much they’s goin for these days.”
Myrd snorts. “Then where is it, Muscles? Darlin’ over there won’t be impressed with just hearing about a fancy sword.” He gives both nicknames in a slightly demeaning tone.
Jana looks smug until her new nickname pops up again.
Loc smirks slightly, working quietly on his arrow.
Zan glares at Myrd, grimacing. “You told me to rough im up a bit, not to rob im blind. ‘nyway, he’s good with that thing. It’d take two or three o’ us to get it ‘way from ‘im.”
Lanisen glances away from the window. “That how you got all cut up?”
Myrd looks as if he’s considering this for a moment.
Loc says, “That could be arranged, could it not?” He looks to Myrd.
Jana aws, “Did Fancyboy beat the big guy up?”
Myrd growls at her, “Think you could’ve done better, Darlin’? Next time, he’s all yours.”
Jana says, “I got my ways.”
Zan snarls at Jana, but stops when Myrd backs him. “Thanks, boss,” he says, grinning. “Anyway, Fancyboy ain’t pretty no more. Got ‘im good in the face here an’ here.” He makes two lines across his face with his thumb. “An’ left ‘im a little partin gift o’ my dagger in his gut.”
Myrd snorts again. “We aren’t lucky enough for that to fix him. Just as long as he doesn’t know where we’ve been staying.”
Loc glances at Zan, continuing his arrow.
Lanisen asks, “How long do you think it’ll take for him to follow us here?”
Myrd rubs at his chin. “Depends on how well he heals after the little present Zan left him. Still, we move before he thinks to catch us here. I’ve been seen, though. Can’t very well go to court looking like the man who lured those two dupes outside, now can I?”
Zan jerks his head towards Jana. “Can’t she do somethin again?”
Myrd shrugs. “I don’t know. Darlin’? Think you can make me look decent?”
Jana hms in a disgruntled fashion. “Shoulda worn a cloak like the rest of us. Facial disguise don’t come easy, y’know. I can do it, but I can’t keep doing it every coupla days, not that good.”
Loc clambers up the ladder.
Myrd snorts. “Do what you can, then, woman. And be quick about it too.”
Jana tosses him a bottle of oil. “First you take that wax off. Might need a knife.
Oh, and it’ll hurt.” She smirks.
Myrd glares at her. “Think I care about a little pain?”
Jana shrugs carelessly. “Didn’t like it going on, don’t imagine you’ll like it coming off.”
Zan leans towards Lanisen and mutters some joke to him, chuckling at his own humor.
Zan mumbles “If he didn’ like pain, he’da never be able ta look at her face!”, to Lanisen.
Zan mumbles “If … … like … he’da never … … … look … … face!”, to Lanisen.
Myrd narrows his eyes at this, clearly not liking that she’s brought it up. He grabs the oil, none too gently either.
Loc slinks off to a bale sullenly and has a seat.
Lanisen leans away slightly, grinning nervously and glancing across the loft to see if Zan was overheard.
Jana crosses her arms in wait. She eyes Loc. “What’s got your britches in a bundle?”
Myrd takes a large squirt of oil on his hand and uses a rough square of cloth to rub the wax off of his face. He grits his teeth, unwilling to admit that she was right, and when he emerges several minutes later his face is bright red.
Lanisen watches Myrd scrub the gunk off his face, his nose wrinkled slightly. “‘S it really hurt that bad?”
Myrd growls out, “Not as much as your face is going to if you can’t keep your mouth closed, boy.”
Zan snorts with laughter. “You had that one comin to ya, kid.”
Lanisen makes a big show of closing his mouth, complete with an audible clack of teeth. He still smirks impudently.
Jana snickers quietly.
Loc grunts in Jana’s direction. He tosses down his satchel and pulls out a dagger, whittling a stick.
Myrd gets up, crosses the room, and gives a sharp rap to the side of Lanisen’s head.
>>> Myrd swings his fist at Lanisen, grazing him. Lanisen doesn’t appear to be too hurt by the blow.
Jana rolls her eyes, and starts pulling out bottles and containers.
Lanisen ducks his head away from the blow, muttering an ‘Ow’. He blinks a couple of times and winks surreptitiously to the others.
Zan eyes Lanisen. “Did you just wink at me?” He whacks Lanisen upside the head. “Don’t you ever do that again.”
>>> Zan smacks Lanisen with his fist! Lanisen doesn’t appear to be too hurt by the blow.
Loc glances at Lanisen, lip twitching. He turns his gaze back to his work.
Jana smirks. “I ain’t putting make up on you to cover up all them bruises, so you better learn when to shut up.”
Lanisen yelps in outrage and pain. He tumbles to the side, out of range, and draws up his knees. “Not at /you/.”
Myrd crosses his arms. “Enough of that. We need to move as soon as I’m finished.” He jerks a thumb at Lanisen. “The boy can make it up to you by packing up your satchel.” He narrows his eyes at Zan. “And you’d best be using your time to consider how to make sure we’re not followed this time.”
Zan glowers. “Hey, I ain’t no trackin expert. That’s him.” He jerks his thumb towards Lanisen. “An’ my satchel don’ need no packin.”
Lanisen says under his breath, “Good, ’cause your stuff smells.”
Jana says, “You smell.”
Myrd ignores them both, slouching down on the floor of the loft again. “Do what you have to, woman, before they get more restless.”
Jana nods, and picks up her brushes and paints. “Loc, I need wax again. Get it started.”
Loc nods, “Yes ma’am.” He tosses his stick aside and heads over, digging through a satchel to find the ingredients.
Myrd grumbles something under his breath.
Lanisen sits up, propping himself against the wall to watch.
Jana begins turning Myrd’s face a lighter, creamier shade.
Jana says, as if she’s said it many, many times before, “Stop moving.”
Loc prepares the mixtured carefully.
Myrd glares at her, but he does sit still. He says, as if he’s said it many times before. “Better be worth it.”
Loc hands the mixture to Jana.
Jana gets some of the wax from Loc and starts giving Myrd higher cheekbones and a larger nose.
Lanisen asks curiously, “Where’d you learn to do that?”
Jana says, “Any woman worth her salt knows make-up. Figured out the wax thing on my own. Kept me from getting my throat cut, time or two.”
Loc leans against a support beam, watching her work.
Jana finishes with the wax, and starts painting over it with color. Myrd’s taken on a younger, more high-born look.
Myrd keeps his face still while she works.
Lanisen asks, probably foolishly, “Will you give me a new face sometime?”
Myrd snorts at this.
Loc snickers quietly, “One of us can give you a pretty new face just as easily Lanny.”
Jana switches brushes to start highlighting and shadowing. “Better hope you don’t need o-” She makes a disgusted face and wipes her hand on her dress as Myrd’s mucus freckles her hand.
Myrd doesn’t apologize.
Jana spits on her finger and wipes it on his face. This doesn’t appear to add any helpful effects to the make-up, not that Myrd would know.
Myrd eyes her anyway.
Jana finally pulls her brush away. “Done.”
Myrd turns towards Zan. “Will it do?”
Zan stands up, stretching and nearly hitting Lanisen in the face as he does so. “Finally!” At Myrd’s question he nods. “Yeah, yeah, it’s great. Now kin we tail it outta here?”
Lanisen jerks his head back away from Zan’s arm.
Myrd smirks. “Antsy, aren’t you? Yeah. We can leave.”
Zan says, “You know I dun like bein close to so many… people.”
Jana shoves her things away and rises. “So let’s go, then.”
Zan exclaims, “You heard the lady. Let’s get goin!”
Myrd barks out a laugh. “Starting to take orders from her now?”
Lanisen hops up, keeping a cautious distance between himself and Zan, shoulders his pack, and waits.
Zan says, “Both of us’d have ta be dead first.”
Jana swings herself over the edge, and onto the ladder. “You men talk too much.”
(Travelling back to Andale)