>>6110826>>6110924>>6110958Scarlett follows Edwards instructions and prepares the doors and stairs and other entrances to be a mean surprise to any intruder. Snapjaw traps and a few bits of string, a little pressure in the wrong place.
Edward can't do much else, other than shout verbal instructions and get the wounded spearman back in the fight. Hard to set up an obstacle or block the doors when the largest table and all the furniture in the room are set up to prepare for a feast.
The Woman sees the hustle and bustle of hectic activity and slides off of her chair. Crosses to an alcove in the corner with intent and roots around, searching. With a yell of triumph she spins around, showing off a bottle of dusky looking liquid slooshing inside a container. Hah! Score! She pops the cork and takes a chug, then winces and wipes her lips.
" Hey, it wasn't on the table so I take it that's fine, ritualistically speaking. Man I hate being under siege. Reminds me of Wellmoth. It's all the waiting, you know? You start hearing every little creak of the old place as the sure sign of sappers. I don't think they'd try sappers but the Windsworn are a peculiar lot, they might at that. "
She throws a glance at the hatch in the floor that leads to the storage basement, cool and out of the sun. Pops it open and squints down into the darkness. Any hope of an exit is dashed - four empty barrels and the scent of flour. The village must have dipped enormously into their pantries to produce all this bread for the strange not-guest feast. The Woman shuts the hatch with a sigh.
"
" Alright, so much for that. "
" The Scraghounds *will* find help " Zivka interjects, trying to force certanity into her voice. Martik nods. They're good, clever things.
" *And* when the rest of the company arrives, we’ll have our bloody dues! "
" If " the Woman takes another swig, winces, shrugs. Offers the cactus juice to anyone else interested.
" If! " Zivka snaps back
" Yeah, *if*. I'm all for hoping for heroic rescues but my last lot turned out to be a sun-bedraggled group of mercenaries and waste-walkers, you're not exactly knights in shining armour, no slight, plate would be boiling around here. How's about we rescue ourselves, rather than sit around waiting for someone else? "
Edward risk another peek out the door. No arrow this time. One of the six guards outside, other side of the street, behind a few barrels for protection against musket fire, give him a cheery wave. Edward brings his gun out. The guard jabs a thumb at the nearby rooftop where four more archers are perched, weapons ready. You really want to do this? Come on. Take your one shot and then you know we'll simply rush the building before you reload. The silence look communicates a lot. Edward frowns. He's Illiosi! He could get off TWO shots before the building was stormed.
Scarlett pulls him back inside.
