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[GiglameshDespair]

Roux had come to a stop not far away from the entrance to the pub. It seemed the cool air of the city was doing wonders in clearing her head, at least a little.
"Alright. Yer guys wanna find summin' to fight? I'm really feelin' like one. Wonder iffn there's another pub or summin' for that."

[Gaterhyme]

Liam gave a noncommittal grunt, not looking particularly enthusiastic.

"No idea."

"You figure Sharne would appreciate you busting heads here? This isn't exactly the same sort of place we've been in the last few months." Or years. Or most of the past, come to think of it, though he couldn't speak for Roux.

[CrimsonEon]

: "Well, figured I'd say it. Rebellion's down to us and we're being forced further away from our targets. Or, well, I guess that's all relative to the fact we now have Sharne on our backs. More of a plus for you, though."
Kaldach shrugged at Esther's last question.
: "As strange as it sounds with the recent additions-" The mercenary paused to shake his shoulder, waving the obsidian sword behind it, "-, things aren't all that much different. Get stronger. Kick Mordo into the ground. Just have to get used to my old fighting style again. Naturally, our friend disagrees with that last part."

[Twinwolf]

"I've been wondering about that, actually. What's with you and that sword? I know there's something to it but I can't really tell what without a better look. And why'd you use such a dangerous thing anyway?" she dramatically looked to the left and right and fake-whispered. "I won't tell Sharne anything you'd rather that she doesn't hear."

[CrimsonEon]

: "Not much to tell that I haven't said already. Don't much know about what they're made of or where they're from. All I know is there aren't that many of them, they don't like most people using them, and something about me makes them alright with me swinging them around."
Kaldach's mouth slanted further.
: "Though I'll admit, over all the times I've used them, they seem... eager to spill blood, and it seeps over into how I fight. It wasn't a problem when I was a solo mercenary, but now that I'm fighting alongside allies that I'm not going to attack, the sword's not keen on that."

[Aliemma]

  "There probably is another pub arou-" Farra immediately stopped herself, though it was probably too late to not give Roux ideas.

  "Do you want the rest of them to have to look all over town for us if we end up on the floor? And Liam is right, and I can confirm that we don't take that kindly to fights... In my town, anyways."

  "Granted, a drunk foreign merchant is a drunk,
foreign merchant, so if you do end up in a fight, that's what we're up against.

[Lucus Casius]

He was silent for what seemed almost minutes, seemed to him almost hours, as he watched the fog and the visions in his mind.  Fate... He wasn't certain about Fate.  He wasn't certain of the glimpses he found swirling in the fog.  Past and present.  Fire and death.  His family, imprisoned, scattered, or dying.  His friends and comrades, the same, as he fled the threat of the rope, too weak to save them.  The future, comrades falling, allies rejecting, the boot of Mordo trampling on the heart of Izzarra forever...

Even if he didn't believe in Fate, the visions unnerved him.  And a great skill would be needed to save his country.  If he did not accept...

The fate swirled dark, and despite the words of his friends, he winced to see the truth in it.  As he was, even if they gained the aid of this one merchant lord, they lacked the strength to save his home.  If he could make one sacrifice to give them a better chance...

  "...What I do, I do for the good of my people."

He opened his eyes.

  "If Rhea cares one whit for our people, let her help me now, and hope that I am right to trust your visions.  I accept your bargain, if it means I may better safeguard our freedom."

[Blade Master Model 42]

As soon as Martyn opened his eyes, Serasha let go of his head and dropped to one knee, clutching her chest and coughing. Once she'd fully recovered, she stood back up, wincing painfully. "Glad you see it my way dearie. Come now, into the back with you."

[Lucus Casius]

Martyn rose, stumbling briefly from a sudden surge of fatigue, though he still managed to give the old woman a brief nod.  And to give both Sam and Bert a glance, and an apologetic shake of the head, before following her towards the back.

[Blade Master Model 42]

Serasha led Martyn past the curtain into another, smaller, room. It was lined with low shelves, had a clean stone table with nothing on top of it, and a small fireplace set into the far wall, where two pots were simmering over a low flame. The shelves held up numerous jars, pots, and glasses. Serasha grabbed an empty jar, and set it on the table. "Set your hand upon the table. Palm up, and extend only the finger. You may wish to look away." The old woman grabbed another jar, this one filled with a dark red powder. She unstoppered it and poured a small measure of the powder inside onto the table. After a moment, she poured out just a little more, then sealed it again.

[Lucus Casius]

Martyn rested his hand upon the table, palm up.  He didn't bother asking if it would hurt.  He only closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he awaited the cut.

[Blade Master Model 42]

Though Martyn could not see, he did hear the sound of a knife being pulled from a sheath. He could feel the old woman's grip tightening on his wrist, and then the blade resting ever so lightly against the extended digit. And then, with a sound not unlike a carrot being broken in half, a flash of pain as Serasha sliced cleanly through Martyn's finger. The old witch picked up the amputated finger and dropped it into the empty jar. Afterward, she grabbed Martyn's severely bleeding hand and shoved the bloody stump into the pile of powder she'd placed on the table. It burned harshly for a moment, but soon settled to a dull throb as the bloodflow ceased. Satisfied that Martyn was no longer losing more than a necessary amount of blood, the old woman grabbed the jar with the finger, and brought it over to the simmering pots, where she tipped a drop of blood from the severed finger into one. A dark mist began to rise from the mixture. "It'll be just a minute before it's ready. You can sit down, if you like."

[Lucus Casius]

Martyn gave only a little hiss of pain as the knife sliced through his finger, a little gasp as the stump was shoved into the burning powder.  He kept his eyes tightly shut until his wrist was released, and until he could clutch it himself.  Upon which, he gave the witch a weak nod and let himself slump to the ground, catching a few breaths of air as the pain faded away.

[Swordstar]

Sharne made her way into the shop, spotting Sam and Bert but no Martyn.

"Heeey, wasn't Martyn with you Sam? Thought... He and I were sposed to come 'ere. Liam mentioned that or something..."

[Blade Master Model 42]

A short while later, after the mixture stopped putting out the mist, the old crone grabbed another empty bottle from a shelf, and filled it from the pot. She held it out to Martyn. "Drink up, while it's hot. If you don't it was all for nothing." She shook it back and forth a little, but not enough to spill the liquid inside. It was itself a dark grey, tinged with... green, perhaps. It was hard to tell. "I don't have all day, the other one is here to get help."