therookery | [Crystal]

Entry tags:

[Crystal]

FORM: Crystal
SENDER: Adasse
RECIPIENT: The Gallows
NOTES: Dealing with TRUTH BOMB, and current events. R for Language.

Y'know ... if we're all Independent but Not, and by the by there's no way in Andraste's Tits I am going off to join an Exalted March, I don't care who it's for ... then yeah we're going to be short for coin.

[Exhaled breath, and meet an Adasse ramble.] Been thinking about getting back into the crime game, honestly. Can't rob Kirkwallers - bad for business and image. Can't rob Orlesians or Free Marchers because, y'know, allies. Fereldans but honestly I'm Fereldan and I know we usually have jack-nothing. Maybe go off and rob bandits? They're usually good for it. OOOOh OOOH wait, slavers. Yeah, I know there's plenty of slavers still about. I can rob them and it won't cause any fuss, right? Right. Yeah. Then put the coin back into ... whatever we are now. Er. Yeah. That thing.

ANYWAYS, I'll take requests. Anyone want me to steal from anyone specific? I won't rob Corphy-face. That's bloody suicidal. Although ... I probably could...

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You may wish to submit a dossier of your achievements to our Scoutmaster. [ amused: ] In exchange for amnesty.

[ also, noted for the future ]

Oh our Scoutmaster knows! ... well our old one does so she probably left some scrolls on me or something for the new bloke.

Need anything stolen? I'm open to suggestions and employment.

Yeah, you sound like a tit.

Fereldans've got mud, haven't they. Steal the mud. Make a mud house for yourself and go off and live in it.

I want to repeatedly hit you in the throat so you can't talk anymore.

Big words. I'd like to see you try.

Name the time and the place and I'll do my best to throat-punch you repeatedly.

Oh, aye, then what's wrong with right now? Unless you're busy.

Not too busy to thrash a smarmy smartarse. Courtyard suit you?

S' funny, that's what I was going to say about you.

Courtyard it is. See you there, needledick.

[Adasse, for his part, is a thief. A thief and a sneak, trained by Kit and by Beleth to keep low and stay hidden. He's trained the other scouts with the same skill-set, so he's not just standing out there like a complete tool, waiting to get side-swiped by some large bloke.

No, he's sensibly hid up on the roof, waiting to see who shows up, so he knows how to attack without getting himself killed.]

[Matthias, conversely, prefers his fights honest. He'll fight anyone, suffers only moments of apprehension before he summons pride and courage enough to overtake it and spur him toward a fight.

Which means that he isn't hiding, or trying to obscure himself in any way, when he walks into the courtyard. He's not large, more tallish than properly tall, in a rangy scrawny way which suggests he might grow abruptly at some point, but no time soon.

He's wearing Inquisition-issue leather armor, good sturdy boots, and his staff is strapped to his back. Looking around for his opponent, he starts undoing the buckle, to slip the staff free. With no intention of using it in this fight, he leans it up against a wall and starts fussing with the straps of his armor, full of intention.]

[... Oh you had to be fucking kidding him. This kid? This kid was going to go rounds with him? Adasse quietly snorted to himself. Well, he was a mage. He probably didn't need to put in the physical work that Adasse did. Especially after his injury during the battle.

Either way, this was going to be a cleaner fight than he thought, so he hopped down off the roof and rolled. Coming around to his feet, he glowered menacingly at the younger man before him. Hood back, showcasing his pointed ears and standing at his full height, which was taller than most elves, he was all rangy muscle.

He glowered for another moment longer, before he pulled out his daggers and twirled them out of their sheaths, to put aside.]

Fair fight?

[The scuff of boots on stone gets Matthias' attention. He looks around, immediately on his guard, which on him is a stiffness in his spine, a sharpness in his eyes, one hand reaching for the staff that he'd just leaned against the wall, the other held in front of him--palm cupped, fingers curled, his arm crooked at the elbow and held in front of him, either in a gesture that means peace or a gesture that implies an impending spell.

He drops it quick, when his opponent doesn't rush him. The daggers get a tension back in him, but when nothing comes of them, either, Matthias pulls away from his staff again and leans down to tighten the straps on his boots.]

'Course. I only fight fair.

[--Which is like seventy percent true. Just because he prefers a face-to-face confrontation doesn't mean he's above kicking someone in the bits or sticking fingers in eyeballs or any of it. He straightens again, totally confident, and shakes his arms out briskly before he sinks his weight back onto his right foot, hands bunched into fists.]

C'mon then.

[Adasse snorted softly, as he kept a loose stance, hands open as he started to circle the younger man.]

So you're obnoxious but honorable? Congratulations for being more complicated than your basic bastard.

[Adasse played one hundred percent dirty.]

You here to compliment me, or fight me? 'Cause I came to fight--

[And you know what, instead of waiting--as Adasse's circle brings him close, Matthias lunges, strikes out with a right jab, chaotic and loose and aimed for Adasse's jaw.

Might as well get started.]

Nah, I came here -

[Adasse nearly takes the jab to the face and manages to get away with a glancing blow. He grunts and then twists. Going to grab Matthias's arm and then flip him to the ground.

The time for joking was through.]

[It's not hard to grab Matthias by the arm--he's too enthusiastic with his follow through, it puts him in close to Adasse, easily grabbable--and it's not hard to flip him onto his back, either. At the end of the day, there's just not that much to him.

The wind is knocked out of him by the impact, an abrupt surprised exhalation. And there's pain, too, radiating from the back of his skull--but instinct moves him before he's caught up to himself--seeing stars, half-blind, he scrabbles to try to hook his arm around at least one of Adasse's ankle, to try to topple him, too, to the ground--at least they'll be even, then--]

[Adasse curses when the other man locks his arm around his ankle, pulling him forward and towards the ground. He put his hands out to catch himself, using the leverage to turn and knee the other man in his body.]

[If he wanted an advantage, Adasse was going to make sure it didn't last.]

[The knee catches Matthias in the chest, sharp and driving--remarkably so, for something thrown at him in the moment. His eyes water, but he tries to get his arms around the leg instead, grappling blindly, trying to get in a good twist.]

[Adassse felt the twist on his leg and knew he was going to fall on his ass. He curses as he falls down to the dirt, then brings up his free leg to kick the damned skinny bastard where-ever his leg can reach.]

[The kick hits wild--since he was grappling at Adasse's knee, and then he's not, and then he's kicked--and he backs up, scooting away in the dirt, his breath coming ragged. With the advantage of distance, he tries to scramble to rights, to try to stand so he can put his hands up, ready to square up again to fight.

But also, because he can't resist a (slightly out of breath) pot shot--]

You like dirt that much, huh? On the ground?

[Adasse rolled over to come back to his feet, dark eyes narrowing as he looks at Matthias. Then without a moment's hesitation he flung a clod of dirt right in Matthia's face.]

Almost as much as I like it in your eyes.

[It's a good move.

It might have worked better if the dirt was thinner, less cloddy, and more prone to scattering. Instead the clod hits Matthias right in the face--good aim, that man--and it does disperse, but not before it hits hard and solid. Hard-packed enough, too, that it's a little like having a rock lobbed at him.]

Bloody-- ow! [He stumbles back, totally wrong-footed.] Ow, what the shit--

[The more solid clump of dirt is right there, ready to be trodden on. Or, tripped over, which is what Matthias does. Bad luck, this man. He's put himself back on the ground with that move, and, blindly, eyes watering in pain, he fumbles to find the clump of dirt (or what's left of it) so he can chuck it back at Adasse.]

Fuck off, cheat!

Oh-ho, big words from someone who decided that my poverty level was something you could mock, you prissy, small-cocked shem arsehole.

[Adasse swatted the clod of dirt away from him, wincing as it smacked against his palm, scrapping open his skin.]

And if I was real cheat, you mealy-mouthed prick, I'd kick you in the ribs till you were spitting out blood from your snobbish human mouth! So sit down, shut up, and know you've been bested.

By. A. Thief.

I'm poor as well, you stupid bastard!

[He rubs his face against the crook of his elbow, brushing off the dirt and dashing his watering eyes lest it be interpreted as tears or somesuch shit. Leaves him free to glare at Adasse.]

Thief, all right, whatever, but you're an idiot besides. Do I look like some posh todger? I talked shit about you being Fereldan, not poor. Clean out you sodding ears.

...I'm not Fereldan. I was only six years old when I lived there last and frankly all I remember about that place was that the darkspawn ate my family.

[Adasse ground out, then made a face at himself because - Why would he bring that up? Anyways.]

However if you're bloody prejudiced against me because I was born in Fereldan, than you are even more of a prick than I thought you were. Who cares where I was born? It matters what I do now, you twat.

You said you're Fereldan! You said it first! How'm I meant to know whether you lived there as a baby or as a man!

And it's--whatsit, like--ribbing! Saying that sort of thing, about Fereldans, and mud--people do it all the time! [So THERE but he's not DONE] Anyway what is it you do now? Throwing thief around like it's some big impressive title, like we all ought to be so impressed that you stole an apple from a bleeding market stall, once--congratulations! So've a load of other people! Maker's balls--

[He presses his face against his upper arm again, wiping at it. Ow ow ow bloody ow.]

[Adasse really, really had to hold himself back from launching himself at the blinded Matthias.]

Just because people doesn't mean it's right to say! What is wrong with you, were you raised by Venatori? That's not ribbing, that is down-right prejudice! Beyond that, better a thief than a petty bully -- and not only could steal your apple, I could steal the next five purses and on a good day, a nice piece of jewelry -- On My Way Home. I've cracked locks from here to Tevinter, mate, stolen documents and all kind of coin beside. That I've turned over to the Inquisition.

[He wiped his mouth.] I'm not just a thief, I am a damned good one!

Rob your new Divine.

... Does she honestly have anything worth stealing? Outside of the funny hat.

The hat would be a great target. I do not think anyone has stolen the hat before.

Huh, that's a point. It would also put me in the annals as the greatest thief of all time. Where is it, in the White Tower thingie? Or is she off wearing it now while she's off doing her Divine March?

I do not know enough about the Southern Divine's customs and rituals to say. Perhaps if you spoke to a cleric and expressed interest, and also faithfulness, they would say?

I'll have to see if there are any left. I imagine most of them decided to fuck off and go Marching.

Like the hypocritical creatures they are.

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[Crystal]

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I love everything about this truthful pissing contest.

saaaaame :]

teenage macho bbbbbbssss...

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