"Something I can do for you, Imperial?"
"...Huh? Oh, no friend, I'm just leaving."
There was the sound of a purposeful footstep, and the voice was closer, more hostile.
"You realise this is... private property, right?"
Gattuso lazily opened an eye, slightly clogged up from the sleep that had been left as reaction to the light breeze during his nap. The scraggled fur and dirty thread filling his eyeline told him all he needed to know. Bandits.
"Ah well, no harm done, eh? Maybe a Septim or two will sooth your mood."
"You keep talking, Imperial."
Gattuso sat up slowly, noting the faint shadow of another person falling over his shoulder and onto the grass below, slowly edging closer to his horse. Without turning his head, he took a half-step towards his pack, reaching to his tight hamstring as he did so after adjusting his hood slightly.
"How about, say, twenty Septims for your... trespass."
As Gattuso's hand clasped around what he'd been searching for, he span around and in one fluid motion set his feet, nocked the arrow he'd drawn from his pack and released it, bound for the neck of the bandit which had been shuffling towards the horse. The Nord, by the look of his dirty blonde hair, fell to the ground clasping just above his shoulder, with the other bandit frozen in a state of panic.
"You should have run me through while I was sleeping, you could be halfway back to your hideout with a horse and pack full of stuff by now. Piss off, before I drain you slower and more painfully that your friend over there."
He jabbed a feigned step toward the bandit, who turned and sprinted into the undergrowth as fast as his little Breton legs could carry him, looking back to his dead accomplice a couple of times as he did so.
Gattuso clicked his fingers, frustrated at having missed his post-nap stretching and whistled quietly to his horse, who was wide-eyed and unsettled. She calmed down as she watched her master pick up his pack and swing up onto her saddle, as he did so often on their travels.
An hour or so later, partway into the scattered copses and forests of the Rift, the entrance of the cave came into view. The ground dipped slightly and curved into the larger entrance, enveloped by overhanging shrubbery and concealed by a hollowed out log. Removing the log and pushing through the shrubs, Gattuso led Fjori into the cave entrance which had picked up the calm scent of the chilly early evening. She hated entering the dark space at first, but she had grown used to it with maturity, and learned that she was well tended by Gattuso and the others in there.
It felt like a long time since the Imperial had used the largest entrance to the "office." Usually he'd slink down the narrow cave passage most often used by the others, or enter through the way he and Jax had shared exclusively since recent events. It had only been a couple of weeks in reality, but so much seemed to have changed recently. He walked through the stable area and into the space most commonly used as the so-called "entrace hall." He retraced the steps Jax had taken hours before, and saw a few of the same faces. He exchanged friendly but formal glances with some, and more familiar greetings with others, but soon reached the place he called home. It was early evening, and Gattuso decided to take half an hour to himself before approaching Jax about the recruitment operations of late. He fingered through his rickety bookcase and flicked open the tome as he sat on his bed.
A man must take in some culture among all this business.
"...Huh? Oh, no friend, I'm just leaving."
There was the sound of a purposeful footstep, and the voice was closer, more hostile.
"You realise this is... private property, right?"
Gattuso lazily opened an eye, slightly clogged up from the sleep that had been left as reaction to the light breeze during his nap. The scraggled fur and dirty thread filling his eyeline told him all he needed to know. Bandits.
"Ah well, no harm done, eh? Maybe a Septim or two will sooth your mood."
"You keep talking, Imperial."
Gattuso sat up slowly, noting the faint shadow of another person falling over his shoulder and onto the grass below, slowly edging closer to his horse. Without turning his head, he took a half-step towards his pack, reaching to his tight hamstring as he did so after adjusting his hood slightly.
"How about, say, twenty Septims for your... trespass."
As Gattuso's hand clasped around what he'd been searching for, he span around and in one fluid motion set his feet, nocked the arrow he'd drawn from his pack and released it, bound for the neck of the bandit which had been shuffling towards the horse. The Nord, by the look of his dirty blonde hair, fell to the ground clasping just above his shoulder, with the other bandit frozen in a state of panic.
"You should have run me through while I was sleeping, you could be halfway back to your hideout with a horse and pack full of stuff by now. Piss off, before I drain you slower and more painfully that your friend over there."
He jabbed a feigned step toward the bandit, who turned and sprinted into the undergrowth as fast as his little Breton legs could carry him, looking back to his dead accomplice a couple of times as he did so.
Gattuso clicked his fingers, frustrated at having missed his post-nap stretching and whistled quietly to his horse, who was wide-eyed and unsettled. She calmed down as she watched her master pick up his pack and swing up onto her saddle, as he did so often on their travels.
An hour or so later, partway into the scattered copses and forests of the Rift, the entrance of the cave came into view. The ground dipped slightly and curved into the larger entrance, enveloped by overhanging shrubbery and concealed by a hollowed out log. Removing the log and pushing through the shrubs, Gattuso led Fjori into the cave entrance which had picked up the calm scent of the chilly early evening. She hated entering the dark space at first, but she had grown used to it with maturity, and learned that she was well tended by Gattuso and the others in there.
It felt like a long time since the Imperial had used the largest entrance to the "office." Usually he'd slink down the narrow cave passage most often used by the others, or enter through the way he and Jax had shared exclusively since recent events. It had only been a couple of weeks in reality, but so much seemed to have changed recently. He walked through the stable area and into the space most commonly used as the so-called "entrace hall." He retraced the steps Jax had taken hours before, and saw a few of the same faces. He exchanged friendly but formal glances with some, and more familiar greetings with others, but soon reached the place he called home. It was early evening, and Gattuso decided to take half an hour to himself before approaching Jax about the recruitment operations of late. He fingered through his rickety bookcase and flicked open the tome as he sat on his bed.
A man must take in some culture among all this business.