faderift | closed.

WHO: ellis + nell
WHAT: hitting things
WHEN: late solace, whenever nell is free
WHERE: free marches
NOTES: a fetch quest.

"I think we're going to have to go down there and get them," Ellis says, straightening up and slapping the dirt from his knees with a sigh. "They've got the advantage as long as they're holed up in that farmhouse and they know it."

If it had been a different combo of agents sent to oust that pack of bandits from the farm, it might have been easier. But they're not to set the structure on fire and Ellis is good for one particular type of combat. No one's so much as put their face to the window in an hour, and Ellis doesn't want to deal with them in the dark.

In hindsight, they should have been looking for scouts. But the letter hadn't given Ellis the impression they were dealing with an organized set of bandits. It's inconvenient.

"Unless you think you can get them to come out?"

In which case Ellis likely still has to go down the hill, but potentially under better conditions.

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"Well," Nell considers, chewing on the corner of her lip as she eyes the farmhouse. It's not a particularly hopeful well, the sort that's squinting out the best of bad options rather than struck with inspiration or even confidence.

"I could try setting a fire near the house and see if it'll scare them out, but this time of year we're risking the whole field going up along with it. And if they're smart they'll know it's a bluff that I didn't just go for the roof. I know they said no fire, but how do you think they'd feel about a hole in the wall?"

She pauses for a beat and her head tilts with the weight of a new idea. "They probably haven't seen us, do you think?"

"Maybe not."

Maybe not both of them. Ellis swings his mace in a loose arc, eyeing the field. Nell is right. They can't bother with fire, not when it's so easy for their bluff to be dismissed.

"What are you thinking?"

For all her arguable leadership experience--a whole rebel cell for a whole year or two even--making plans is not, strictly speaking, Nell's strong suit.

"I was thinking maybe we just play farmer and walk right in the door like we own the place," she says, "But they've probably barricaded it, haven't they." She scratches nails up her jaw and back. "I'm back to blowing a hole in a wall. It's easier fixed than fire."

Almost a plan.

The mace swings higher, Ellis' wrist twisting in a lazy loop before the arc drops back around.

"That doesn't mean you can't knock," he says slowly. "Can you play at being a distressed farm girl? Say your horse threw a shoe and your cart is stranded?"

"Didn't you hear?" says Nell, dry as the thatching on the farmhouse roof, "I'm a spy now. I do accents and everything."

Which is a sure if perhaps not the most reassuring sort. She hands him her staff, rolls up her sleeves, unbuttons a few buttons, and loosens the knot her hair's tied in a bit, sanding the harder edges off to inch battle mage nearer to harmless girl with cart.

"I'll get the door open and knock down whoever I can, you sprint in after? In case they're watching from the windows when I come up."

Ellis makes a face, mock-impressed, that breaks into a small smile as he accepts the staff. He can't help but mark the weapon the way he does Wysteria and Tony's chemicals: something likely to explode if he doesn't hold it very still.

"Do you think you can draw them out?" he asks. "If you can bring them into the road it won't matter if you hit them with fire."

Theoretically speaking. Ellis hasn't asked after her aim, simply trusts if she's going to start using big magic she'll avoid killing him with it.

"I don't favor enclosed spaces," is the explanation tacked on, even though what he really means is he doesn't favor enclosed spaces when he's fighting with mages.

"Good thinking," says Nell with an immediate nod, "That's a better idea. Much safer for the house." And for Ellis. Her magic is much less big without the staff--a simple design, wood and dawnstone with a long leather wrapping and a blade on one end--but her aim is also less good, so perhaps the risk evens out.

"Alright. Ready?" she asks, giving him a bare second in which to stop her before she's trotting off, looping around to approach via the nearby dirt lane before knocking on the door, once and then with increasing insistence. "Hello?" she calls, in a very broad Starkhaven accent (which she will explain later is the only one she can do and swear is exactly what an old friend sounded like), "Hello, I need help with a broken cart, is anyone here?"

Well, they're doing this. If Ellis had any last minute instruction or advice, the moment has passed. Nell's on her way and Ellis isn't going to shout after her.

In her wake, Ellis slides silently from their position to the copse of trees. From this vantage, he can see the door swinging open, hear the murmur of chatter. Whatever his thoughts about the accent, it seems she's at least garnered a few takers. From his bush, he can hear increasingly flirtatious chatter and then—

"How much farther is the cart?"

And from the bush, Ellis peers out, trying to get a good look at either Nell or mark how many of the bandits were walking out with her.

There are three of them with Nell, two walking right alongside her--the loudest voices of the bunch--and another trailing some ways behind, putting a half-hearted jog into his step for a couple paces in an effort to close the gap before changing his mind. Behind them another man lingers in the doorway of the farmhouse, frowning after his compatriots, plainly of the opinion that they're stupid to go but still stuck on the question of whether they're so stupid that they shouldn't be allowed to go without him.

"Oh, it's a bit of a ways up here," Nell says, a little louder than is really necessary, the accent perhaps even more pronounced now than it was before, "Once we get past these trees up here we should be able to see it. The wheel's come clean off, I don't know how. But I'm sure the three of ye should be able to lift it no trouble. Lucky I found me some strapping lads, eh?"

And they are in fact quite strapping. The one trailing behind is on the wiry side of average, but the two with Nell will give even Ellis a run for his money: the smaller of them is tall, broad-shouldered and solid like a corn-fed farmhand in an Orlesian comedy, while the larger has the better part of a foot on Nell and looks like he's sacrificed his neck to the Old Gods for the power to lift a wagon and a horse in each hand.

On the bright side, in a few more paces they'll be even with the copse where Ellis is hidden and at least the accent can be over.

Peering through the foliage, Ellis comes to much the same conclusion: they are not going to go down all that easily, unless Nell has something big up her sleeve. And she might, though Ellis wishes he knew one way or the other. His experience in partnering with mages is minimal, but with the Wardens he'd always had a better idea of what they could do and how to keep himself out of the way of it. But it's too late now, and next time he'll remember to ask.

The accent could be better. They have the whole journey home to work on it, assuming this plan doesn't blow up in their faces.

It still might. That doesn't keep Ellis from launching himself out of the bushes and bringing his mace down on the powerlifter alongside Nell.

Unfortunately for Ellis, fortunately for the bandit, the blow misses his head and the mace cracks off his shoulder. (Are they murdering the bandits? In lieu of discussion, Ellis has clearly opted for: yes.) He winds up for a second strike, but before he can do anything Nell's other companion grabs the mace firmly enough that Ellis needs to turn to try and tug it away instead of finishing off powerlifter.

So, that's a problem.

closed.

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tfw you're making a plan that's absolutely going to destroy the house

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