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The crack of the back of a hand hitting skin echoed through the warehouse, silencing the whispered and hushed conversations just in time for the hyur to hit the floor with a thud. The man, Gunnar by name, stared at the female Roegadyn who stood over him, anger on her face, and many winced as they stared at the couple. Keltbryda more than lived up to her name, as she was cold, calculating, and had no qualms about sending someone to the Traders if they displeased her. Wyssklyng shook his head as he leaned against a crate, folding his arms across his chest as he waited to see what this little display was about.
"You fool! You absolute idiot! Did Nymeia forget to give you brains when she spun your life?" hissed Ketlbryda, pointing a finger in Gunnar's face, and Wyssklyng could almost swear there was a tremble to it. She must truly be furious to be shaking with it. "I should have your tongue cut out for even daring to suggest such a thing!"
"But I thought…" Gunnar yelped as she hauled him off the ground and into the air, shaking him like a rag doll until his teeth chattered from the force.
"No, you did not think, or you would know in an instant how horrible it would be for us to even think about kidnapping Waters' husbands!" she hissed, her dark eyes glittering with fury, but Wyssklyng could see something beneath that fury.
Fear.
Not that he blamed her because the Expert was a force of nature, not unlike the primals themselves. The ones who were fortunate enough to escape his attention knew how to keep their heads down and their business quiet. It may not be as profitable as those who took risks, but it kept them out of the gaol or worse, the Traders' hands. There were whispers that a flesh trader met his demise because the Expert found him trading in something he should not have, but the flesh peddler had gotten greedy.
They were smugglers, yes, but they focused on goods from over the ocean, such as silks and spices from Thavnair and tea and herbs from Othard. Lord Lolorito Nanarito currently had a stranglehold on such shipments with his East Alden Trading Company and thus could influence the price of such goods, making their smuggling profitable for the risks they took. They sold their things on the black market, barely undercutting Lolorito's prices on the herbs and tea while jacking the price of the silk and spices up just a bit to make a profit. Of course, this did not include taking foolish risks in attracting the attention of one Thancred Waters.
The man was a myth as much as he was a mortal, a ghost who could appear and disappear at will. Just when one thought they had Waters cornered, he wasn't there, but the bodies left behind were all too real to announce his presence. That was if he was merciful enough just to kill someone. If he were feeling cruel, his prey would suffer greatly before begging to be turned over to the authorities.
"I heard Waters is just a whore from the streets," remarked Z'laialra, a pale haired miqo'te who had come for those same streets, and she laced her fingers behind her head as she leaned back, careless and casual as if she didn't have a care, but the nervous twitch of her tail betrayed her true feelings. "Pay him enough gil and he's yours for several hours. One of the ladies I used to drink with said he moaned rather prettily too."
Another hyur named Theodgar shook his head, folding his arms across his chest. "Heard one of the Flames who had gone to Coerthas with the Sultana talking about how Waters had taken on one of those monstrous cyclopses that infest the land with only a pair of daggers and a grin," he said, grudging respect in his voice. "Something even their knights would hesitate to go against without a full squad behind them armed to the teeth."
Gunnar huffed from where he had been dropped on the floor by Keltbryda, glaring up at her, which meant he was either very brave or extremely idiotic, and Wyssklyng was not willing to give him the benefit of brains. "He's just a man!" Gunnar protested, slowly climbing to his feet and brushing his pants off. "Grab the fussy noble or the prissy magic user, and he'll do anything that we want to keep them safe."
"You really don't have any brains, do you?" sighed Wyssklyng, shaking his head in disgust as he stared at the man. This one must have been hired to be cannon fodder because he was not nearly intelligent enough to be anything but muscle. "Lemmie explain the flaws in your idea in small words so you can understand, okay?"
"Please do, because he's not listening to me at all," drawled Keltbryda, annoyance and that touch of fear in her voice as she glared at Gunnar, who was glaring back in defiance.
Wysskling nodded and remained silent for a few moments as he organized his thoughts. He had not expected to be the center of attention in such a way, and he knew he had to be careful or he'd reveal more than he wanted to. "Let's start with the husbands or lovers or whatever they are to Waters," he began, glancing around as everyone seemed to settle in for what was story time. "The fussy noble you're so willing to clap into chains and drag off? Heard he's the leader of that fussy country that's been fighting dragons for the last thousand years. Frankly, anyone who's willing to go against a ten tonzes armored and fire-breathing killing beast with only a stick and a bit of chainmail to protect his arse is far too crazy for me to even consider taking him hostage. Even if he did not have an entire army at his command."
A few heads were starting to nod around them, because a fussy noble who would whimper and cry at the first sight of a dagger was easy prey. One who went toe to toe with an angry dragon willingly? It would be too much work and effort to grab him in the first place, let alone keep him contained in any manner that did not result in most of them dying in the attempt.
"Now, the prissy magic user," continued Wyssklyng, staring at Gunnar as if he were the only one the Roegadyn was talking to. "Heard rumor he was part of the group that went to stop the Final Days. Y'know, the events that were tearing this world apart? He walked onto a ship, not knowing if it was gonna be a one-way trip, and didn't hesitate when he did." Wyssklyng looked around at the rest of the gang scattered around the warehouse, his pale eyes dancing from person to person. "How many here would be willing to do the same?"
From the way eyes danced between each other before skittering away again in that nervous way that meant no one wanted to speak up. Wyssklyng nodded in understanding because he was not going to claim he would do such a thing either. He might do many brave or foolish things, but voluntarily agreeing to a trip that might be a one-way trip to the Traders was not on the list.
"Then there are those that Waters calls allies," continued Wyssklyng, waving a general hand as if gesturing towards those specific individuals. "Some of us were on those caravans that went out to the Burning Wall to help get that damn metal, and we listened to the Immortal Flames talking about those who were gonna step on that ship. The Scions, I think they were called." He gave Gunnar a withering look. "Y'know the folk the Warrior of Light hangs out with?"
"They said the Sorceress is as beautiful, cold, and biting as Shiva Herself," someone said in the back of the group. People turned to find a young hyur there, barely old enough to be called an adult, and he shrank in on himself as he glanced around, nervous. "Heard she was born in the Halls of Ice before getting bored and went to Thalik's realm to learn personally from him."
Another miqo'te, another female who had recently joined, nodded as well. "They got a Prophet, too. Supposed to be able to read the stars and tell the future. No one's seen that one, all covered in robes and goggles. Few whisper that the Prophet is an elezen while others think it is Nymeia Herself walking around to help Her weavings."
Wyssklyng nodded. "Then there's the most dangerous of the group. The Warrior himself," he said, shaking his head with a huffed laugh that held no humor. "I'd rather slap the Navigator on the ass and declare her my new wife than go against him. I'd have a longer life expectancy than going against someone who has gone up against primals, Garleans, and the Twelve only know what, and walked away without a care in the world."
"And finally, there's Waters himself," drawled Keltbryda, her arms folded across her chest, but he noticed that she was gripping her arms as if speaking the man's name would summon him from the shadows. "Sure, you might think you have him by the short and curlies by holding onto his lovers, but you'd only be trying to tame a primal. You'd see him before you, kneeling and bowing his head while you hold his lovers as a threat over his head, and you'd toss off a couple of orders. Maybe to take out a rival or to bring you some pretty locked away in a Monatarist's vault, and then you'd send him on his way, smug that he would obey you."
Her laugh was cold and cutting, sharp as a freshly sharpened dagger, as she towered over Gunnar. "You turn your back, and suddenly you're talking to the Traders, trying to figure out where you went wrong." She shook her head as she turned around to face the rest of the warehouse. "I do not want to hear about any plans to kidnap, maim, or even threaten with hangnails any of the lovers of Thancred Waters. Should you be foolish enough to attempt anything that idiotic, you'll find Ifrit sweet and cuddly in comparison to what I will do to you, let alone Waters himself."
A nervous look appeared on Gunner's face as he nodded, but there was a glint of something stubborn in his eyes that brought the faintest frown to Wyssklyng's face. He didn't trust that look or the fact that Gunnar would let the idea drop completely. That would only bring ruin down on Wyssklyng's head, and he enjoyed breathing far too much to trust Gunnar's intentions. A casual glance around showed more than a few others seemed to have a similar stubborn look on their faces, and he turned away, heading towards his blankets as he thought about his future options.
Maybe the Flames would appreciate an easy catch. Sure, he would be burning his bridges with this group, but better to be hated by some crooks than come face to face with a primal in the shape of a pale-haired hyur.