faderift | What's My Scene

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What's My Scene

WHO: Jamie and anyone who wants to bother him
WHAT: Experiments and Bagpipes and Fights, oh my!
WHEN: Roundabout nowish
WHERE: Kirkwall, The Wounded Coast
NOTES: Possible violence, probable questions, faint chance of bagpipes, definite Hoodoo Guru lyrics

Poking At Your Experiments
Being part of the group working with the rifts meant that Jamie wound up closing a fair few of them, but there was more to the project than simply that. The veil being as thin as it was in Kirkwall meant it was a good place to try out all sorts of things in an effort to see how the veil or the marks would react. While Jamie wasn't really the scientific sort, he was still a rifter and able to take part in whatever experiments other people came up with - even if that part involved him standing around and handing over various containers and tubes or whatever bits and pieces people were asking for.

That didn't mean that he had to sit there and do it quietly, though, and more often than not when he'd gotten drawn into playing assistant he wound up peering at whatever it was the other person was doing and occasionally reaching out a curious finger to see if he could get away at poking at some of the more gadget-like objects. Even if he couldn't get away with that, though, it wasn't about to stop him from asking questions...like he was doing now.

"So what's that do, then?"

The Wild Piper Of The Wounded Coast
The Inquisition quarters by the docks weren't really the best place for piping. They were crowded on the best of days, and even if Jamie'd been able to stay by himself in his shared room the walls were too far too thin for any proper playing to be done. The fact that he'd had to take in a new roommate once the Doctor'd disappeared simply meant that aside from the odd bit of maintenance, his pipes tended not to see the light of day.

Away from the city was a different story, however. He was already of the mind that further away he was able to get away from the city, the better it was, which is why he'd volunteered to go with this particular group tasked with gathering herbs along the Wounded Coast. The fact that it meant that he'd also be able to get to bring his pipes was an added bonus - but so far he hadn't had a chance to play anything. Instead, he was currently stuck with the task of hauling the plants that they'd found back to the main part of camp, and as he sets the latest box down, it was with just a touch of impatience. This part of things he'd be more than glad to be done with. Assuming, of course, that he'd get the chance to actually be done and not get roped into doing something else, but the only way to find that out was to ask.

"Here, are we done for now? Or is there anything else you wanted before I head off for a bit?"

Song Of The City At Night
Many places in Kirkwall were dangerous, especially once the sun set. While the criminals weren't necessarily as brazen as they once had been, the unwary could all-too-easily find themselves a target of one - or more - of the unsavory elements that called the city home. Even those who paid attention to their surroundings could find themselves surrounded in turn, something that Jamie had found out the hard way when a small group of thugs stepped out to block his path. Still, he wasn't daunted. No McCrimmon had backed down from a fight yet, and he wasn't about to start now. He had his reflexes, he had his dirk...and chances were if he was loud enough, he'd get somebody's attention. Whether or not it was somebody who'd be willing to help him remained to be seen, but he went ahead and raised his voice anyway, just to see what'd happen.

"Think you can take me down, do you? Aye, well, I wager you're in for a surprise."

Wildcard
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Someone heard him alright. Though he hadn't really been planning on helping anyone out today, he figured might as well. After he finished pissing on this wall here after a night of drinking who knew what. Who knew what because even Oghren couldn't be sure. He'd just sort of been swallowing without looking or asking really. Pretty much a normal night of drinking really.

So once he was done shaking it out to make sure he wasn't going to look like he pissed himself, he tucked back in then hauled up his axe to go towards the sound of the voice. What he found was what looked like a kid surrounded by some thugs. Or smugglers. Or who knew what in these parts.

"Seems like you're having some fun over here. I could always use a good fight when odds are stacked against me." Seriously, Berserkers loved this sort of thing.

For all of Jamie's bravado and Oghren's willingness to fight, the head thug (or smuggler, take your pick) was unimpressed, letting out an almost derisive snort as his eyes flicked from the Warden to the rifter and then back again.

"A surprise? From a dog-lord in a skirt and a- what did that beast we took care of the other week call those dwarves again?" he called back to his men briefly before answering his own question, the mocking sneer on his face plain to see. "Oh, right. Short Mouth. I think not."

One sure way to get Jamie to bristle was to call his kilt a skirt - and his mouth tightened into a thin line at the comment, his hand dropping to hover near his waist. A couple of men obligingly laughed at their bosses words, and the leader smirked and stepped forward, drawing his blade. His men followed suit, their weapons plain enough to see even in the relative gloom of the street they were on.

"All I see are a couple of gulls carrying around things they don't need. Things that'll fetch us a nice bit of coin, once we've relieved you of them."

Oghren pulled his axe off his back, a grin coming to his drunk face as he moved closer. "Short mouth, huh? Probably the last thing you want to be calling me."

He wasted no more time before he actually rushed the group with a roar. He was small and drunk but he was pretty fast and he could hit hard. There were benefits to being a berserker, after all. One of them being that all anger was fuel for power as he went to get as close to as many as he could before swinging that axe around.

Apparently Oghren had a goal to make them regret their words and he had no problem with possibly taking a limb or two to do it.

The leader's smirk quickly vanished as he realized what'd happened. This wasn't the plan. The plan was that they'd intimidate the pair of them into giving up a bit of coin and their weapons. Maybe what they were wearing as well, with a bit of luck - it was always amusing when they could send their marks off into the streets with only the smallclothes on their backs. It was clear the dwarf hadn't been kidding, though, and the leader muttered a curse under his breath before yelling for his men to take Oghren down.

That was probably a mistake, as it meant there were even more targets for Oghren's axe...but it did give the leader the opening he'd hoped for, and as the other men closed in, he slipped back towards the edges of the fight, his eyes fixed on the berserker and his movements. He didn't have any intentions on being on the wrong side of that axe, not if he could help it.

Jamie, on the other hand, had started to circle the fight. The thugs that had been headed his way had found themselves suddenly having to try and avoid getting their limbs cut off. They'd decided to react accordingly - well, except for the first one who'd gotten hit and staggered back to lean against the wall, his sword arm hanging uselessly at his side. He was mostly just bleeding a lot.

For now, Jamie ignored him, forgoing the option of drawing his dirk in favor of bringing up his hands up, cupping one over the other as he cracked his knuckles and waited. As one of the men managed to avoid a blow that'd been directed at him, he wound up staggering back, away from the larger melee into a position that left him open, and more than a bit vulnerable - and Jamie saw his chance. He sprang into action, leaping at the other man, fist already cocked and aiming at the other man's head in an attempt to land a good, solid punch. The move came along with a yell - maybe not something as primal as Oghren's roar, but it was still a cry that was meant to strike fear into the heart of the enemy, even if the enemy was from another world and not likely to understand what was being yelled.

"Creag an tuire!!"

A glance to the side told him that the kid could fight too. That was something he'd file away for later. Right now he was busy slashing viciously at anyone near him, the anger in him just making his movements stronger. Angering a berserker was never a good idea, that was for sure. They'd thought the booze would slow him down but he'd spent years fighting drunk now. He knew how to manage it.

Another roar and he was spinning again to take down as many as possible with one sweep of his axe. He noticed the leader had disappeared but he figured he'd deal with this lot first. Or see if the kid could spot him. Sure he was putting his faith in someone he barely knew but so far it seemed that the kid could hold his own.

That was good enough for him.

More than likely that particular thought had crossed the minds of more than one of the thugs. Clearly the dwarf was drunk, which should've made him easy pickings. It was an obvious mistake to make, but whether any of them were going to live to admit to having made that mistake in the first place was another story, something that Jamie couldn't help but notice, even caught up as he was in his own fight. Despite their attempts to try and take Oghren down, the men didn't stand a chance...except, perhaps, for the one Jamie was fighting.

By the time the injured thug saw Jamie coming, it was too late. The punch connected, sending him reeling before a second punch caused the man to collapse like a sack of onions, leaving him unconscious, but alive. There wasn't any time to be satisfied with the result, however. The leader, being a good deal brighter than the rest of his men, continued to try and slip away from the edges of the fight - and as Jamie bent down to relieve the thug of his sword, he caught sight of that movement out of the corner of his eye.

"Oh no you don't," he muttered, grabbing the sword with one hand and a chunk of debris with the other. The debris might not do a lot of damage - but it was small enough to be thrown, and that was what he needed right now. Without hesitation, he brought his arm back and let it fly. It sailed through the air, flying through the air and hitting the leader in the back of the head with a satisfying crack, causing him to stagger - and Jamie to take off at a run, heading towards him even as he raised his voice loud enough for Oghren to hear. Jamie might have been taller - but Oghren was closer, and that could make all the difference.

"He's over here!"

He was looking around for the leader when he heard the kid call out. Spinning around, he saw the man staggering. Without hesitation, he twisted his axe and slammed the flat side of it right into the man's body to send him slamming into a wall. He was small but every part of him was powerful and angry muscle.

Taking a deep breath, he looked around at things.

"Anyone still standing that wants a piece of my axe?" He was already hefting it in a menacing way to suggest that if they tried he was going to kick more criminal backside from here to Kingdom Come.

"I've still got some anger left in me for some good limb chopping."

The men that were left - the ones that were still somewhat mobile, anyway - answered the question in the only way they could. They broke, and ran. Or as close as they could get to running, at any rate, but even though some of them could only hobble, it was clear they wanted nothing more to do with Oghren or his axe.

As for the ones that couldn't run...well, except for the one that Jamie had taken down, it was fairly clear that they weren't going to be able to do anything at all. And, seeing what was left of his fellows, the man Jamie had taken down decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and as the Warden started to look his way, he decided to play dead. For his part, Jamie didn't notice, instead finishing his run over, coming to a stop once he reached Oghren. The sword he'd taken hung in the air a moment longer, but then he let it drop to his side, figuring that there wasn't any point to keeping it up when there wasn't anyone left to fight.

"Think you might be out of luck there," he commented, dryly. "Unless you think it's worth it going to hunt them down, that is, but if you ask me I think they've learned their lesson."

"Eh. They can go lick their sodding wounds."

He put his axe back onto his back then gave the boy a look up and down. He wasn't about to judge the skirt thing because mages seemed to fight just fine in those. Besides, he figured it had to be good for some easy access business. Couldn't ever fault a young one for that.

"So how's that thing breathe? You get good air up there?" He wasn't making fun of him at all, he was genuinely curious.

Normally that sort of comment would've stood a good chance of getting him to pull one of his faces, a reaction based on the assumption that whoever was making the comment was trying to poke a bit of fun. There was something about Oghren's tone, however, that got Jamie to pause, at least briefly - and instead of his mouth tugging off to one side, a more thoughtful expression crossed his face as he wound up taking the question seriously.

"Aye, most times, you do, with a couple of exceptions. A kilt's handier than most people think it is, although I can't say as I've much luck in convincing them of that. Then again, I can't say as many people've actually asked me that and been serious, either."

"Can't see why you wouldn't manage to convince them. Gets you air and freedom to move. And if you flip it you have easy access for the ladies." He gave a filthy little laugh there before continuing. "Figured out mages have that sort of advantage too. Quick flip and you're good to go."

He demonstrated with his hands then gave him a grin. Oghren was unapologetically filthy. "So what you doing out here on your own? They sure thought they were getting an easy target. Pheh. We showed them though."

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What's My Scene

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