Game Thread

As Swarley approaches he moves to stand about the same distance away as Bog, but directly to the scientist's right, so he can't look at both of us at the same time. Swarley is all but ignoring the other hooded ones; they have proven to be nothing more than pawns to the obvious leader who is currently speaking. He grabs his gourd from off his belt, takes a long pull and folds his arms, letting the gourd dangle off his wrist. Even though Swarley is a good couple of feet shorter than this gentleman, he gets the distinct impression that Swarley is still somehow looking down on him with a deadly serious glare.

"Who may or may not come t' claim these brave fallen soldiers is none of your concern, and quite frankly none of mine either. If they lay right here t' bake and decay in the sun, well then they've earned that right in my book. What *does* concern us 'deathdealers' here'r strangers from Timore rifling through our hard-won battlefield. Word is there be much uncertainty regarding your city and its allegiances. Perhaps you be enemy spies working for Nullius? And perhaps you truly are simply looting dead bodies for... experiments... Neither scenario paints ya in a pretty light in my book."

Swarley turns to the rest of his squad with a questioning look, raising one eyebrow.

"What say the rest of ya, fellas? My vote'd be t' haul the lot o' these trespassers in and hand 'em over to the city guard t' deal with. 'Course, if they told us everything they know 'bout the happenings in Timore right now, mebbe we just ferget we ever saw 'em and let them be on their way?"

"Spies? No, I fear you're much worse, leech. These people are under the protection of those walls. Leave or you'll find how far their long arm reaches." Corvoso fingers his blood stained blade with obvious intent.

Overhearing the conversation as she draws nearer, Rose makes her way over to the wagon to look at its contents.

Swarley takes a step forward, now definitively inside this guy's personal space and gives an exasperated sigh. He stretches his neck up to get as close as he can to face-to-face, arms still crossed. He emphasizes his words with clear malice now.

"Information *is* useful, inn'it? However I don't believe you actually *gave* us any jes now, so that *won't* be all. The time for pleasantries has come to an end. Let me repeat myself n' be very clear; tell us what we want t' know and ye may leave *without* yer spoils of war, r'else we be taking you inside the city walls as prisoners of Iustus n' turning you over t' the city guard."

"Still don't wanna talk, eh? Lemme be direct; who is this new ruler in Timore? How didje come t' know there was gonna be a battle and bodies t' loot here at Iustus? What's Timore's role in all this silliness?"

Swarley attention is drawn over to where Rose is being prevented from looking into the cart by the silent ones, then he slowly turns back to their leader.

"Yer friends don't talk much, do they? Whatcha got hidin' in that cart? I thought ya said t'was just bodies ye be haulin'?"

He catches Rose's eye and gives a nod of his head over to the cart.

"Terrible things happen in a battlefield," Corvoso threatens. "Do you think anyone would remark on your bodies after the crows have dined on your eyes and tongues? Best cooperate, then we can all be about our grisly business."

The shadows sliding mercurially over his face under his hood speed up slightly, with obvious menace.

Standing up on his tiptoes, Bog peered into the cart. "Hey, I thought you were just after the dead ones. That one's still alive!" He looked crossly at the leader, "You said you had no stomach for murder, but these is no cadavers! I think Swarley here is right, the Captain of the Guard will want a word with you."

Looking to the others to watch over the wagon, Bog set off running toward Iustus to fetch the city guard and their captain.

Seeing the robed figures loosening the twitching cadavers, Rose commands, "Stop that! Leave them be, and stand peaceably while we wait for the captain."

Glancing over to the cart and the abominations being released, Swarley turns back to the leader and gives a glare with no words. As he turns his back a slow grin spreads across his face. "Finally, some action!" And he begins to limber up; cracking his thick knuckles, bending his neck from side to side, and limbering up his thighs with some quick squats.

Swarley puts his hands to his face and shouts out to Bog, "OI! DIRTY GNOME! Ye may want to assist us afore ye grab the cap'n! Just a thought!"

With his back still towards the figure, "So, ya made yer choice have ya? Good, tis been awhile since my last scrap." Swarley turns his head halfway back and catches the leader with the side of his eye, "Didn't catch yer name, fella? Swarley's mine, jes in case ye be wondering who gave ya the sound poundin' yer 'bout t' recieve."

Bog faintly heard Swarley's call over his panting breath, but thought it best to get the authorities involved. He continued his mad dash across the battlefield toward the keep.

As Rose sees the men continue to release the bodies, she sets her shield and draws her sword, an angry expression on her face. Her skin appears to become lighter in hue.