Turn 91

Ibn Fadil finishes drawing his sword and ducks out of the immediate line of attack, Nyala's reaction a mere half-moment slower than his as he assesses the situation. There are five attackers, nondescriptly dressed and wearing rudimentary masks; no obvious room to retreat here.He draws and throws a knife at the threesome, not really aiming but hoping to slow them down a bit, telling Nyala "Follow!" in Elvish, then charges the lead man of the smaller group -- while giving voice to an alarming Zakharan war cry.
    There is a shuffling sound and a brief cry of consternation from the party toward which the knife was thrown, but ibn Fadil's main attention is focused on the group in front of him--though he does wonder who shouted the warning, there is no time to look for the source of the voice. Presumably not one of these two rather large humans blocking his way, apparently unintimidated. They carry heavy staves at the ready, and long knives in their belts. A quiet sound behind him indicates Nyala has drawn her rapier.
    The war cry does echo through the otherwise quiet streets. "Oh gods," Val mutters under his breath, recognizing the half-elf's yell. He quickly makes his way towards where he heard the sound, hoping he won't come upon an angry crowd trying to torch the Distraction. Or possibly something worse...
    As the fight continues, ibn Fadil inflicts a cut on the arm of one of the men, but they stand firm in the way, and in fact the other man delivers a solid and quite painful thump with his staff, sending the half-elf badly enough off balance for his next thrust to miss.
    After a couple moments of dodging about he has badly wounded both of them; he has the advantage of being able to see considerably better than they can, and the two men are retreating. Judging from the yelps and curses behind him, Nyala is doing well on that side of the business--though a number of the curses are hers.
    "Give it up already!" he says to the men - irritably, as if this is no more than an inconvenience.He also gives them a little room to run off, should they choose to do so.
    This they do, limping but with some alacrity.
    "I do not *believe* this," an aggrieved voice complains from higher up. Ibn Fadil now recognizes the voice as that of his young stalker, who had given the warning, and who is leaning out from an open third-floor window, watching events. "You let them *go*?"
    More running footsteps turn out to be those of Valarin and several guardsmen. Nyala prudently sheaths her weapon and redrapes her cloak to conceal its line somewhat.

* * *

Later that night:

    "We need to look for someone with a collection of edged weapons made from a variety of metals," he informs the slightly groggy company. He adds, "I suspect a smith, black, white or orange, or perhaps an antique collector of some kind. The killing may also have some kind of ritual signifigance."
    Emmett leans back in his chair, pushing it almost to the tipping point. "He may be right about that. Yestin and I got a blood-curdling little tale from one of the locals about seeing some sort of animal slaughter in the woods that has all the wheels and spokes of a ritual activity. He described the figures as being inhuman, but we already know this city has a storehouse full of animal masks and costumes."
    "This place may look like it's functioning on the outside, but there are rats in the gears, and no mistake." He lets the chair drop back forward. "The question is, what do we do about it? Who do we tell - our drinking buddy said no one here wanted to listen to him, and it's not like we have any authority."
    "Is there a way I could talk to the person who mentioned the sacrifice?"
    There doesn't seem to be any reason not to, and the lad in question is quickly rousted from the barracks. Bleary-eyed barely begins to describe the young man, and it's clear that he's still suffering the immediate effects of his binge -- never mind how he'll feel in the morning.
    Emmett produces the waterskin he had prepared for this purpose, offering it to the young man "This'll help. Trust me."
    As Tomek is gingerly downing a few swallows, Emmett whispers to Alais 'Go easy on him - he's had a rough time of it and you can be a little...intense."
    "Look, Master Alais, the wizard, is looking into the recent deaths. Why don't you tell him what you told us, to give him a better picture of what we're dealing with?"
    Somewhat astonished by all these attentive listeners, Tomek retells his story. He doesn't seem to be embellishing it beyond what he had previously said; whether or not he saw what he says he did, he certainly *thinks* he did. But he is also certain that the beings he saw were much smaller than a man.
    

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