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 Daffy Part 2

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Phlegm

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Number of posts : 757
Registration date : 2007-04-26

PostSubject: Daffy Part 2   Mon 5 Feb - 13:29:03

We now entered the main building, to be precise the wine cellar. All was quiet and we headed up into a hallway. The Smiths headed upstairs from where came the sound of coughing. Me and the girls stayed below. John was thoughtfully wearing his best hob nails and Iíve heard elephants mating make less noise than he did. A voice called out Ďwhoís there?í Surely this must be the butcher himself?

There was no time to lose. Smith swung his battering ram at the door which splintered with unexpected alacrity and the two would be assassins burst into the bedroom beyond. They spotted their wily quarry diving into the roomís dumb waiter but Alan successfully grabbed a trailing leg and yanked him out, only to be shot for his trouble, fortunately saved by his armour.

John however dived in and swung his trusty blade, decapitating the unfortunate invalid with a single deadly stroke. This resulted in a thorough shower of arterial fluid for both men who now resembled a pair of grisly maniacs escaping a terrible accident in a tomato puree factory.

Downstairs, we were covering the two doors that opened into the hall way anticipating the arrival of unhappy red sashes annoyed at being disturbed by the noise of their beloved leaderís horrible murder. Sure enough both doors burst open and shots were exchanged though as far as we could see with no effect. A mad hammer wielding lunatic then ran at Marsala and brought her down, just missing what could easily have been a coup de grace blow before Daf at last did something useful unloading her gun.

The bullets she emptied from her weapon found their way into Marsalaís would be slayer who sank to his knees with a surprised look on his face suffering from unexpected weight gain roughly equivalent to six .38 calibre chunks of lead. I fired again at the unseen opponent at the other end of the hallway, aiming at the muzzle flash and I think I hit him but this became academic a second or two later.

Meanwhile outside, Oberon was a little nervous. Having not exactly covered himself in glory with his inability to count, he could hear commotion from the butchers and see the flashes of gunfire inside. He also heard distant explosions across town. He ran to the nearby Bluecoat checkpoint on the bridge and alerted them to a disturbance elsewhere, identifying himself to them when asked as Glen. The Bluecoats appeared to take the news very calmly and give all the indications that they would evaluate and mull over this information for some time before choosing a very carefully considered, proportionate, appropriate response.

Back in the Butchers, two dripping red devils, one brandishing a severed head thundered down the stairs and an object skittered down the hallway and into the room that I believed contained at least one wounded red sash. Having identified the object as it flew past, I bestowed on Daf an expression of horrified disbelief before throwing myself down in the direction of the wine cellar door.
The grenade, for such it was, detonated thunderously in the room beyond and we all piled back to the sewers where we belong although I noticed John pausing to grab an armful of wine bottles. There was no use trying to hurry him as we were all still stone deaf. We returned to base to regroup, clean up and begin the recriminations.

In the morning we returned to the scene of the carnage: Bluecoats had cordoned off the now burned out building though the stone shell remained solid enough. A couple of Bluecoat bodies were being taken out when we arrived, apparently their deaths are unexplained. The butcher is reported dead though how they know with no head to examine is anyoneís guess.

We moseyed over to the Lostís HQ at the Lochport Arms to discover that the army have been in action overnight. The pub had been burned to the ground, those members of the Lost not incinerated are missing or are enjoying the stateís hospitality for a brief period prior to their assisted departure for the spirit world. Apparently amongst the prisoners on death row are the leadership of the lost.

Amongst incidental news picked up from John Smithís tame information broker, the Lostís fate was linked to the recent arrest of a sea captain accused of peddling seditious literature. Elynn is not very happy with us. She seems to feel we are somehow responsible for all this disruption to her docks, part of which was burned down in the Bluecoatsí attack on the Lostís ransom party.

We have acquired a fair bit of coin and a nice warehouse that the Lost no longer need but have also gained a lot of expenses. A few of our lackeys are going to go to Gaol, probably for a very long time, but hey no one important or irreplaceable and thatís just the way of things, at least no ones going to hang. Oh except the surviving leaders of the Lost. May be time for me to lay the old accent on a little less tick, or thick as they say around here, is what Oim tinkiní. Sorry Iím thinking.

Still, on the plus side there are now two large gang territories vacant and we are spending time taking up the slack, after all, there is smuggling to be done, shopkeepers and businesses to be protected especially with all these fires going off, the areaís leisure industry likewise just isnít secure for honest citizens to use without proper gang supervision of the local gambling dens and brothels and we feel itís our civic duty to step into what could otherwise be a dangerous power vacuum.

3.2.18
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