[center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/C1f34665/3f7df3ff2c6db5cc6eaa326d6344058a.jpg[/img] [H3]Nora[/H3] [/center] [hr] The room was small and painted with darkness. Beneath the torchlights, dust swirled through the air, musky and damp. Uncomfortable, it reminded Nora of a tomb and in the dim light the casks of alcohol that surrounded her looked like a forest of bulging caskets. Perched on a barrel of whiskey, Nora watched the sweating merchant that flustered in front of her disdainfully. He was grotesquely fat and smelled so strongly of Lironian perfume that she wondered if perhaps he had not spent the hours before their meeting with the whores. She could hear the desperation in his voice. His begging. His endless pleading. "I tire of your excuses, Merchant Aman," Nora interrupted. She had listened politely at first. She had listened to the merchant and his many excuses for several minutes, but his sing song voice had become intolerable. And Lord Vargas had been clear. It was time to collect on the debt. The two thugs that she had brought with her were bored. There would have to be violence. "You signed a contract with Lord Vargas, Merchant Aman," Nora lectured disinterestedly, her sharp eyes full of disgust as she studied the pathetic form of the merchant and his sad, fearful face. "The terms of this contract were clear. [i]Very[/i] clear. You had three months, Merchant Aman. And three long months have passed. Now where is the money that you owe Lord Vargas?" "Miss Nora!" Aman squealed. "As I was telling your associates here I had every intention of repaying Lord Vargas in time, but-" "Good, then we are in agreement. You will repay your loan today." "I- I can't! Please, allow me to provide a portion of the debt!" the merchant beseeched. He fell to his knees and his great jowls jiggled with fear as he pawed at Nora's feet. "How much are you prepared to deliver to us then? Today." "500 gold!" the merchant shouted desperately. "Please! I have a family. I have several nieces reaching a marriageable age-" "You have a debt, Merchant Aman," Nora said with a cruel smile. "You owe Lord Vargas 1200 gold. And you offer him a handful of coins instead?" Nora shook her head and pushed the man away from her with her foot as she leapt to her feet. "No, I am thinking Lord Vargas will want me to remind you that there are costs to being late." "What-" Nora's open hand struck the side of the merchant's face, sending the fat merchant tumbling onto the ground as if he had been struck by lightening. The bandit raised her hand to deliver another thundering slap to the merchant's face when a loud, embarrassed cough interrupted her. "Nora," Percival said, his voice rising lightly as if he was trying to apologize to her. "Lord Vargas asked me to find you, he wanted me to bring you to him. There's some sort of meeting. " Nora frowned, delivering a swift kick to the mewling merchant. Merchant Aman let out a low scream of terror and covered his face. "I see, did he say why?" Nora asked. "There's some sort of meeting. Y'vanna is there and that woman from the Red Sails that's been hanging around Lord Vargas...Miss Belgard, I believe. Two others as well, Neh’miah and some sailor I've never seen before." "Trouble, doubtlessly trouble if Y'vanna is there," Nora hissed. "No matter, her kind is not unfamiliar in this place. You may leave us, Percival, I will be there shortly." The bartender jolted as if to move, but hesitated and turned to look at the big man standing next to him, "Ummm...I also need to...that is...I mean...This is Skarsat...He...he says he has an appointment with Lord Vargas." "And you believed him?" Nora said with a raised eyebrow. She brushed a stray hair beneath the hood of her robe again, before delivering another heavy kick to the prostrate merchant as he rolled around on the ground in front of her. "He made a [i]most[/i] convincing argument," Percival replied with a visible flinch. Nora shrugged, she did not place much faith in Percival and the stranger seemed to be the capable sort. He was big. Giant even. She could cut him in half and he would still be two modestly sized men. He was exactly the type of thug that Lord Vargas or one of his underbosses would hire to break the right amount of bones and extort an acceptable amount of coin. She did not take chances though. She was no drunken fool. The bandit rested her right hand demonstratively on the pommel of her sword as her gaze carefully measured the towering man, "What's your business with Lord Vargas, stranger?" [hr] Skarsat had watched the scenery in front of him with a fair degree of amusement. Even if he had not been the one he was, just watching Nora deal with the sheer amount of almost pathetic pitifulness was entertaining to a certain degree. It was not like Skarsat was completely oblivious to the concept of mercy, but with those traders it was always the same thing: They wanted something they couldn't afford, so they made deals with people they should have known better and avoided in the first place. Then they couldn't keep up to their part of the deal and the real trouble began. The final act always were the thugs like him -- and obviously her -- trying to crush the sand that had been in the gears from day one, even if that meant applying so much force that the gears themselves were torn apart. A little bit of a more welcoming greeting towards himself would have been in order, though... Skarsat crossed his arms in front of his breast and leaned against the wall a little more markedly. [color=darkgreen]"I could ask you the same thing, but I don't because I know I'm not the local authority and I could already partially witness what happens when people overstep their competence here."[/color] At that point his eyes darted down towards Percival. [color=darkgreen]"However it could also be considered overstepping my own competence if I tell any stranger about my personal business. Wouldn't you agree?"[/color] "I am Nora Harah Fifrawi," Nora said slowly in the language spoken by the nomads that traveled across the easternmost Lands of the Tork. Her words were slow, clumsy even, but there was a politeness to her speech that had not been present earlier. "I keep this place for Lord Vargas. I keep this place safe. I am the blade of this house. It would be easier for us both if you told me what your business is with Lord Vargas." What a surprise! She spoke the tongue, even though she handled it so poorly it was almost excruciating. There was a slight, but still appreciative nod coming from Skarsat as he listened to her words. Relaxing his stance a little, Skarsat replied in the words native to this eastern part of the world for he was afraid she wouldn't be able to keep up with him using the tongue: [color=darkgreen]"I don't know myself exactly what all this is about. All I can say is that I have an appointment and that it's actually overdue. Seems he's busy."[/color] That was the truth. Whether Nora would believe in him telling the truth was a different matter though... [hr] "Lord Vargas is a busy man," Nora agreed with a shrug. Lies did not come as easily to her as matters of the sword, but she sensed no dishonesty in the big man. For the moment at least, he was not a danger, and he was not a threat. A man of his stature might prove useful even, she reasoned, depending on how far into the the bottle Y'Vanna had crawled. Delivering a final enthusiastic kick to the back of merchant, Nora bent low and with a swift, well-practiced movement of her knife relieved him of the heavy coin purse that was tied to his belt. She waved two fingers at the weeping merchant as she slipped the coin purse into the sleeve of her robe with a satisfied cluck of her tongue. The two thugs moved from there positions leaning against the wall and grabbed hold of his quivering shoulders, dragging Merchant Aman screaming to his feet. The textile trader recoiled as Nora approached, but she merely tapped him gently on the cheek. "Tharlas. Gilan," Nora said, addressing the two blocks of violence that stood next to her with a generous smile. "Please see Merchant Aman to his shop and help him recover the rest of the coin he owes Lord Vargas. With interest, if you would be so kind." Tharlas and Gilan nodded, shoving the sputtering merchant in front of them and out of the room with all the gentleness of a pair of stone masons. Brushing off the tip of her boots, Nora turned towards the bartender. "Let us not delay any further, take us to Lord Vargas, Percival," Nora said, flashing a warning smile at the bartender who sprang out of the room with the utmost haste. She gestured for Skarsat to follow the barkeeper and trailed after the big man at a safe distance, her hand still resting comfortably on the hilt of her curved blade. [hr] "Lord Vargas," Percival interrupted, trepidation so clear in his voice that Nora almost flinched. The man was a coward. He was weak. He was full of water. She saw the way he looked at the women in the tavern. She knew how they moved him and how they ensnared him with well-practiced flirtations. He was a crack in the security of the tavern. A threat to the sword she had forged. She would have to tell Lord Vargas. She couldn't allow the fracture to grow any larger. "I have brought Nora...and...Skarsat, as you requested."