I'm not going down -- Colubra base | open to all

[Kamila Mei Sykes]

Kamila Mei Sykes sat on a crate in the basement of an abandoned building. She'd only been in the place a week, but it was starting to feel like home. The last building she'd resided in -- an empty home at the city's edges that was hardly more than a couple of walls and a roof -- had collapsed in a recent blizzard. The snow had grown too heavy for it and the building was too cold for Syke's tastes, anyway. Not that this place was much better, temperature wise. It was still freezing, with no heat. Kamila didn't dare light a fire, since the smoke would make it tough to breathe and see and the smell would never fade away. It's not like she had the wood for it, anyway.

Kamila drew a knife out of her right boot. This one was a tad older than the others. Its blade was chipped, and Syke's reflection was dull compared to the knife she had at her waist. But she'd loved this knife. She'd had it for a couple years now. It had served her well, and kept her from the gallows a sundry of times. Still, things wear out, and it was going to soon be time for this knife to go. Kamila slipped it back into her boot. But just not quite yet. Besides, it'd be hard to find someone else carrying a good knife. That's the only way Kamila would be able to attain another -- by stealing one.

Rising to her feet, Kamila paced. She needed another companion. Or maybe a group. The last time she'd had a gang, they'd all gotten themselves arrested and expected her to bail them out. Syke's scoffed at the memory. Well, she needed at least one other person she could partly trust. Never fully. A streetlord can't depend on someone like that. Depending gets you killed. Caring gets you killed. Or arrested. Which basically means hanged.

Kamila pulled her coat tighter around her. The wind howled outside, and she wondered, for a fleeting moment, if anyone else would try and get in. She'd certainly tried to make the entrance invisible but not hard to get through, in case she needed a quick escape. Would that be enough to keep beggar children out of here? Or would they just happen to stumble into her home, looking for food? That would be a disaster. Kamila made a mental note to get some traps set up. Either than or some sentries.

With that, Kamila's train of thought returned to that of once again being a real streetlord -- with a gang and everything. It wouldn't hurt to try. Colubra she decided. That's what we'll be called. Latin for snake, I think. I remember that, reading it somewhere. I don't remember where, though. Kamila sat down once again, and leaned back against the cold of the brick wall. As soon as this blizzard died down, she promised herself, she'd go out and try and find a teammate or two.

Kamila was half-asleep when she heard a sound. It was a tiny noise, but enough to send Syke's senses on full alert. Quickly, she drew a blade from somewhere on her person. She knew what that sound was. She heard it nearly every time she entered this building. It was the sound of a wooden plank scraping against the brick at the entrance. The door was boarded up, but if one was good enough, one could slip between the boards. One, however, was loose. And if a person wasn't careful not to touch it, it would rub against the brick next to the door frame.

Someone was here.

[Mül Greyskull]

The scraping of wood against stone grew louder and slower as Mül pushed and twisted but it was no good. The thickset dwarf was stuck, the gaps between the boards simply not wide enough for one of his build and attire. He glared at his pack where he'd pulled it from his shoulders and shoved it through ahead of him, too far away to allow him to simply retrieve it and back out. A heavy sigh displaced a flurry of snow from his mustache and beard; he'd known this was a bad idea but the wind was picking up again and the nearest inn was several miles off yet and he was on foot.

Ah. Yes. He was walking. Mül leveraged his walking stick against the board in front of him, his back (and the concealed hammers strapped upon it) against the one behind him, and pried. With a squeaking groan, he managed to warp the board enough to finally slide through. With a satisfied grunt, the surly dwarf scooped up his bag, eyed the moist fabric, and cast his gaze around for a dryer spot in the disrepaired old building. He spotted the stairs and, thinking the basement would likely have less leakage, crossed over to them and began to stomp downwards.

About halfway down, he sensed that he was not the only one to take shelter from the elements here tonight. His pace did not change, however Mül gripped his walking stick a little tighter and leaned on it a little less heavily as he neared the bottom of the stairwell, prepared to use it to parry an attack should the basement's current resident be inhospitable. It was likely enough, given the nature of the place, that whoever it was might be the type to interpret intrusion as attack, after all. And he would rather not be cut down before having the chance to clarify his intentions. He'd lived too long, as aching bones that could once march for days through weather twice as bad as this in full plate armor reminded him, to leave the world now in so needless a fashion.

[Kamila Mei Sykes]

Kamila attempted to brace herself for anything. Prepared for a dragon or some other creature of legend as she crept towards the stairs, she was surprise to make out the figure of a dwarf, or perhaps a very small and round-looking human, instead. Appearances aside, Kamila was still prepared for an attacker. Being a streetlord had taught her that: don't let your guard down, ever.

After much peering and blinking into the dark stairwell, Kamila made out that the figure had with him or her a walking stick of some sorts. A weapon, at least, if he or she knew how to use it. Sykes took a few steps back. She knew this wasn't the best idea, seeing as her face could clearly be seen in the light of the lantern that was sitting on a barrel a several feet away, but, on the other hand, she knew the other would be able to see the glint of a blade in her hand and hoped that would be enough to give pause.

It was a rare thing for Kamila, not to attack first, but she hid that thought away to ponder "why?" another time. It was one of those spur-of-the-moment decisions and she couldn't go back now.

[Mül Greyskull]

The attack did not come, though the figure who stood a few paces in front of the staircase did have a drawn dagger. It was held more cautiously than threateningly however, which matched the rest of what Mül perceived as he baldly looked the young human over from head to toe. She was thin and wiry, perhaps a bit undernourished with a lean, corded, physique that suggested much of her life had been spent tensed in the same fight-or-flight stance she was adopting even now. Her features were blank, too studiously so not to be a conscious affectation, and her gaze flinty and challenging; in it Mül saw the hardened fighting spirit of one who had seen the harsher reality of the world far younger than most. Her mismatched and mostly-warn attire, the glints and protrusions that identified numerous barely-concealed weapons, and her dusty features and hastily-tied-back hair told the rest of what bit of her story he could glean in a glance and the old dwarf came to the conclusion that the girl was here not as a passerby like he but as a resident of the city who none-the-less had no home to call her own. Perhaps, possibly likely, she never had.

"Ye can put that away, lass." Mül growled, pointing with one mitted finger at the knife. That was all he offered by way of assurance of her safety though. More coddling words would likely only arouse her suspicion anyway at best and offended her no-doubt fierce sense of independence and self-sufficience at worst. Lapsing back into silence, the dwarf entered the room proper and, a few strides in, knelt to begin pawing through his bag. He continued to watch the human out of the corner of his eye though, even as he blocked his activities from her view by his broad back.

Mül placed one palm on the stone floor and a small pit quite suddenly dented itself into the ground beneath his thick fingers. Then he filled it with a pile of glowing embers from a leather pouch. Next out of the bag came a crumbled ball of metal which, at a tap of the dwarf's knuckles, sprang outwards into a pot. Only after setting it atop the coals did Mül pace round to sit on the far side of his makeshift-stove from his companion, leaving her room to settle near its warmth herself should she so choose. Still not looking at the girl in more than a peripheral fashion, his focus on the task at hand, he went about brushing the snow piled about his shoulders and arms into the bowl until it was quite full.

After pulling a long and roughly-carved pipe from the folds of his layered clothing, packing it with a pinch of herb, and lighting it with a coal; only then did the dwarf sit back and, after taking a long pull, look directly at her through the plume of smoke he released from his red nostrils and tween his chapped lips.

"Name's Mül."

[Kamila Mei Sykes]

Kamila eyed the newcomer -- Mül -- warily. She watched as performed some sort of magic and created some odd contraption that produced heat. As he sat back and lit a pipe, Kamila realized he had no fear of her attacking him, and, as long as he didn't try anything, Kamila wasn't going to, anyway. Crinkling her nose a little as the smell of smoke reached her nostrils, Kamila slowly bent down and slid her knife into her boot. She knew she'd have no chance of winning this fight without the advantage of surprise or fear, so she didn't bother beginning the scuffle at all.

Despite his intrusion, Kamila was glad for the dwarf's company because he brought heat with him. For this, Sykes was thankful. She sat crossed-legged opposite the dwarf. "Kamila," she said softly in reply to Mül's greeting. "Are you a wizard?"

She almost added, are you important?, but, after looking Mül over once more, Kamila decided that, one, that question was better saved for later and, two, it was unlikely he was, judging by the fact he was rooming with her in an abandoned basement.