The 'Street-War'

((The rest to be uploaded when the forum isent down...))

Danjinn
Danjinn’s features contorted into a grimace of pain as he procured the pistol ball wedged into his calf. Kalern was gone, only to be replaced by his equally idiotic sibling. It was galling to think that with the demise of one Mason another could so easily take the prior’s place. Nether be damned, they must breed like rats. Still, he reflected, one thing was certain; if Nero continued to throw his boys into one-sided firefights he would soon enough find himself quite alone. Chuckling, Danjinn let his mind wander back over the events of the day…

‘Save yer silver-tongued bullshit, Mason!’ Danjinn yelled from around the doorframe. The response had been somewhat less than verbal as the space he had occupied scant heartbeats before was filled with flying lead. Risking another glance around the corner into the common-room, his eyes travelled over the bloodied and prone bodies of three of Nero’s thugs and onto to the massive form of Connar Fairseas, hunkered down behind an overturned table. It still managed to astound him at times quite how large the thug truly was, or how much of a pounding he could take. It was no surprise that Nero wanted him so desperately. Finally, his gaze came to rest on Nero himself. Unsurprisingly the craven whoreson had bolted behind the transient cover provided by a mess of overturned furniture, buying himself whatever time he could with pathetic attempts at sedition. The man was truly deluded to think he could steal the loyalties of people Danjinn had known for over half his life with a few ‘stirring’ words of promised freedom. Still, he was hardly worried. Connar had more sense than to jump-ship and Porrick…well, he simply would not. Yes, Nero was truly grasping at straws with his futile attempts at insurrection; fortunately the same could not be said for Danjinn.

Idly, his thoughts flitted to another topic oft on his mind of late, the city-watch. It was a small miracle that Nero or Kalern had not fabricated some flimsy excuse or another to send them sniffing about the Cog. Though any search carried out would be unlikely to find anything more incriminating than deathweed and rum, Danjinn knew it would not take much to provide Lieutenant Smith and his ilk the excuse they craved to haul him off to the cells for questioning. Not for the first time he wished for the guards of old. Sly, greedy and only too eager to broker a deal, the former officers of the city-watch had been so much more accommodating.

Chuckling ruefully as he reached for a conveniently placed bottle of rum, Danjinn returned to his idle musings. Caiden Murphy… He grinned to himself, recalling their first, hostile meeting. True to his nature upon spying the young woman at the bar, Kalern had gone onto make several; somewhat lame attempts at ‘seduction’, only to have himself and Danjinn quickly pegged as common scum. Since then, a shaky friendship had grown up between them, often hindered by wildly contrasting opinions and lifestyles. At first she had seemed little more than a run-of-the-mill Theramorian, obnoxious and bigoted in equal measure, her scathing opinion of Oldtowners and Stormwind in general had made conversation difficult at first, but slowly the dynamics of their relationship had seemingly changed. And then she had seen that Light damned tattoo. Danjinn smiled humourlessly at the thought. Clearly it had set them back somewhat… He had a fairly good inkling of what was running through her mind every time they met. Danjinn could hardly blame her; if their roles were reversed he would have been more than a little suspicious himself. Certainly, he could not risk letting any enmity grow between them, he did not fancy being forced into hiding so early on in the game. As well it was always useful to have a highly placed friend in the guard as had been demonstrated time and time again.

Sighing heavily, Danjinn’s high spirits evaporated as they often did upon reflection. It’s lonely at the top as they say, he smiled bitterly.