Favors

Razen stands an alleyway in the warehouse district stretching and pulling on his armor. He looks freshly scrubbed, and so does his armor for all it's laying on the ground at the moment. The half-ourch pauses in his dressing regimine to look up at the sun and frown at it before going back to what putting his armor on. Slowly. One piece at a time.

"Autumn'll be on her way soon, I'd wager." Kerbasi mops at his brow as he squints skyward. He stands near an old cart, and near leans on it as he sweats. Overhead, the sun beats down, no friend to a man on an all-day work schedule. And well, that would fit the priest. He's come to a halt not too far from the half-oruch.

A hooded and black cloaked tall warrior walks in, his banded mail clanking and causing loud echoes in the empty warehouses, he is conspicuously missing a weapon however. That's the reason he is here today, to recover something he gave to a partner to keep safe while he dealt with the authorities over the... unpleasantness when the Duke arrived.

"It does not /feel/ as though it will be fall soon." Razen heaves a sigh and stops putting armor on. He laughs though and shakes his head. "It is too hot for armor today." His words are conversational and as of yet it seems that he has not noticed the black-cloaked warrior striding toward him.

"Well, da--heh. Evenin," the priest says and changes what he'd been going to say midway through. He offers Darius a smile, and it's a peaceful as kittens. Priests practice that sort of thing, you know. "May I be of service to either of y'?" he asks. And, puffs a bit. He rubs at his forehead again with the cloth. He really /is/ sweating. The cart near him--well. It smells heavily of incense. Perhaps now, given the heat of the weather, suspiciously so. Whatever it is, its contents are covered by old cloth.

Darius stops and looks at the priest and says simply in a low bass rumble of a voice, "No." He then glances over at Razen and says, "I believe you have something of mine?"

The half orc sniffs the air once, glancing toward the cart with interest and grinning at the priest. "Evening. Wha- Oh hello!" His words are cut off by what to him is the sudden arrival of the warrior. He simply doesn't notice him until the priest greets him. Like the priest Razen is clearly affected by the heat. "I do... here." He pulls the weapon free of where he has it and offers it to the warrior. His green eyes meanwhile flicker toward the cart curiously.

"Heh. Well, just let me know if y'need anythin'. Service to th' Lady, of course," the priest replies, with a kind of cheerfulness. Kerbasi tucks the cloth away, and turns towards the cart. He hums as he rearranges the cloth, resettles it to cover to the inner ends of the cart. As he does, an under-order catches the wind. Not that much wind, there in the middle of the buildings. But, enough. The smell of sea-water rot dusts itself into the air. It /is/ the warehouse district, however. There's water all-around. Could just be that.

Razen turns his attention to the man who smells of incense, eyes lingering over the cart and the robes, and then finally the man himself. He blinks once and then tilts his head to the side. "What's in the cart?" It's easy to tell he's been waiting to ask the question, eagerly in fact.

"Th'--" the priest adjusts his glasses, as though he'd started. "--heh, just one of th' Passed. You're welcome t'say hello, if you like. Just pull up th' upper corner, there," Kerbasi adds. And, continues tucking the cloth in place. Tuck tuck, tuck tuck. As he does, there's that whiff again. The streets around them have the usual sorts of traffic. Not too many, not too few, and most everyone focused on their work. Or drunk.

"The Passed?" He's looks completely confused, confused and curious. He starts to ask something but quickly changes his mind. Gingerly, and with care he reaches out and tugs up the upper corner of the carefully tucked cloth with the tips of his fingers. Razen glances from side to side nervous suddenly and then peeks down at what is hidden inside.

A successful bar fight is--what, one you walk out of? This man didn't. Someone'd broken his jaw, cracked his lip in whatever dispute it was. The man's in his mid twenties, going towards thirty--a man who'd survived the Docks a while, then, were one to go by that and the weatherbeat of his skin. Alexandria's on a peninsula, with one of the foremost, largest ports in the world. There's wind. There's trade, and not a little depends on it. "Picked him up about an hour ago," Kerbasi says, and glances that way. The priest smiles, and there's a warmth to it. Like kittens. "Though I'm afraid th' weather hasn't been kind. Here--" he says, and seems to fish around on his pocket. Produces a small vial, and holds it out towards the half-oruch. "--just some oils. Would y'do th' honor of sprinklin' them 'round his hair, there?"

One might expect for the half-orc to pale, or otherwise flinch at the sight of a corpse - or perhaps not - as Razen does not. He does seem saddened though, staring down at the dead man as if regretting his choice to disturb the man's rest. Almost immediately he is pulled from whatever thoughts skip across his mind by the priest's words and gently accepts the vial. A few springled drops fall from the vial onto the corpse's head, made in soft circles just as the priest says and then Razen offers the vial back again. He murmurs a few very quiet words in his native tongue for the man once he's done.

-End-