After the guild meeting, Barza Keith, the Lone Shadowdark retrieved an extra share of rations: a bowl of fish broth, some grog, and some sea biscuits.
"I'm about to go see Mister Levi. Wanna come with, Pale?"
The 9-year-old half-elf was focused on oiling down his Lifedrinker spear, "Nah, I'm good."
Lone hesitated. Pale didn't usually reject his invitations to hang out (unless he and Dragan were going drinking or whoring.)
"Uh. Is there something wrong, man? Are you hurt? Err... do you miss your girlfr--"
"Nah. I just--" Pale stopped, "Do I miss my what?"
"No, nothing," Lone caught himself trying to tease the boy... but he realized he really didn't want to hear the answer.
It was entirely possible that Pale had made Taree his girlfriend. 99.99% of the time, Lone would cheer his friend on, supporting him, no matter what. However... Lone never had a girlfriend in his life! Pale looked up to him and respected him like an older brother! He didn't want Pale to find out that he was a lonely loser.
Pale looked up from his weapon, looking concerned, "Are... you okay, Lone?"
"Y-yeah," Lone averted his gaze to wipe the corners of his eyes, "I just figured... Mister Levi could use some encouragement. Boss said he was suffering a magical backlash and is really sick."
Pale focused his attention back on his spear, "No, thanks."
Lone felt awkward. Pale had gotten along with everyone in Invictus... Besides him, Dragan, and Maximus, and the Kimura siblings-- he also got along with Sorina, Horse, and Jeremy. He even got along with Korr-- and she kidnapped him for an evil Baron, once.
"Do you have something against Mister Levi?" Lone asked.
Pale looked up at the tent ceiling in thought, "Nah, not really. I just... don't really have a good feeling about him? It's weird."
Lone grimaced. He couldn't argue against a gut feeling.
A series of footsteps approached their tent, not bothering to hide their presence.
Boss Tycon's head peeked in through the entrance, "You two, come with us."
...
Tarquin Wroe, master of seduction, approached the guard with a calm swagger.
"Ne'er have I seen such a lady. Unbridled sass and shapely nose. Even her manner of speaking has its own charm."
"But you..." Wroe flashed a lady killer smile, "--are far more than a gaze-catching woman."
"Oh-- oh, wow! It's happening." The hatchet-wielding Marine fanned herself with her hand, "Oh, Noblest Nobleman. Mine Gash Grows Moist at Thy Verited Sight."
Wroe swept back his sky blue hair as the starlight lit up his pale face, "Wouldst you honor me with your name?"
...After some exploration, Tycon and Barza located the large tent that was guarded with no one resting inside. With some information gathered by Pale and Wroe, they had confirmed that the tent held the spoils looted from the Saltspray Keep.
Tycon sent Wroe to deal with the guard, a woman named Loretta that had nearly died during the assault. Though Tycon could not, at all, understand why women enjoyed Wroe's company, Loretta was well-distracted.
Wroe continued with his babbling, "I have noticed something off, Loretta... How does someone so simple as you, a very capable Sea Wolf, fail to see the value and worth of yourself-- that would rival even a goddess if you only realized."
"Oh, my gods. YASSSSS. Take me! Take me now, angel-man!!" Loretta's nasal squeals of excitement were grating to the ears, at best.
Dereliction of duty. Tycon made a mental note that the woman was not to be trusted to guard sites of importance. He even considered hinting as much to Captain Lang, if it suited his needs to.
With Loretta distracted... Tycon, Lone, and Pale snuck into the tent.
"5 minutes. Only grab what you can carry," Tycon gave his two companions a gentle reminder.
"Got it, Boss." "Yes, sir."
The large, ten-horse-sized tent was filled with weapons and armor, sacks of metal trinkets, and the superstitious charms that sailors valued. Lone moved with Pale, utilizing the faint red eye-glow from his Wolf-Hammers to see. Tycon, of course, could see perfectly well in the darkness.
Tycon immediately picked up a creepy-looking box the size of two fists. It took all of 20 seconds. Wroe would like it. He then began to search for a cutlass similar in weight to his old short sword.
Pale picked up a helm with two horns-- each horn the size of his head.
pαпdα-ňᴏνê|·сóМ [Horned Helm. Second-Circle Magical Helmet. User may charge into battle with a devastating effect.]
Tycon frowned. It looked ridiculous. As good as its effect was, the helmet was so large that it would block his vision... "Put it back."
Pale picked up a pair of gloves that were stained with blood...
[Heartsnatcher Gloves. Second-Circle Magical Paired Gloves. User may tear out the still-beating heart of a weakened target.]
They continued to drip, devoid of any obvious source. Tycon shooed Pale away, "Unhygienic-- and possibly cursed. Put it back."
Pale found a strangely small pair of sharkskin leather boots.
[Wavestrider Boots. Second-Circle Magical Paired Boots. User may briefly walk across liquid as if it were solid land.]
Tycon had no idea how the boy found footwear that would fit him... but it was a good find.
Tycon activated his storage ring. Within, he placed Pale's boots, the cursed box he found for Wroe, and a cutlass he liked. Even if a Sea Wolf searched them, they wouldn't be able to find any stolen loot. (And Lang Hai would not be so shameless as to request to search his storage ring.) Tycon had also limited Invictus' haul-- a mere four items missing from a tent full of loot was a negligible loss.
As Tycon was about to leave, he found 4 strangely shaped boxes, each the length of his arm and as thick as his chest. Magical symbols covered the boxes and they were surprisingly light.
« System... Analysis. »
[Box of Holding, Lesser: Opens into a nondimensional space of 2 cubic yalms and up to 50 ponze. The box is sealed by a passphrase.]
« System, inquiry: What are the boxes contents? »
[System response: The box contains 50 ponze of Dragon's Breath.]
Tycon checked the other boxes-- the contents were all the same. Interesting... He signaled Lone and Pale to gather, "We're taking these boxes."
"But Boss... how are we gonna sneak these out?" Lone asked.
It was a good question, admittedly.
"Just pick them up and follow me. The Sea Wolves will assume we're doing legitimate work, as long as you don't act suspicious."
"I don't... think this is such a great idea," Lone whined.
Tycon smiled and pat Lone on the shoulder, "Your opinion has been heard. As guild leader, I will ignore it. Pick up a box."
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