Demkaih hadn't found it to hard to aquire black clothing, and walked down the street, keeping to the darkness in a pair of loose black pants and loose tunic styled shirt. His daggers were at his sides, but he had wrapped the sheaths in black fabric so they were a bit less obvious.

Approaching the Book and Bell, he looked around for the girl who called herself Deb, crossing over to wait on the other side of the road. He stood quietly in the shadows, patiently waiting.

Demkaih felt a hand slide through his, squeezing gently.

"Hey handsome." Deb smiled, lips painted red and her eyes rimmed with kohl. "You and I should go for a walk."

She tugged at Dem's hand, pulling ahead. Today she was dressed far less conservatively than she had been last time. She was wearing a skirt with a slit up the side and her shirt was less like an item of clothing and more like a few pieces of fabric tied together. She led Dem through the maze of the Dives, turning and checking back every moment or so. Eventually she stopped to knock on a heavy looking door.

"It's Serenity, let me in." She whispered, waiting for the door to open.

Inside was an elderly looking witch.

"Well, the Resistance has changed since I was a gel." The lady said. "I do wish you would put some clothes on, Deb. Your mother would die."

She turned her bright green eyes on Dem. "And who might you be?"

Demkaih quelled the urge to pull his hand away, not wanting to attract attention. Instead he allowed himself to be led by the scantily clad woman. It did not attract him in the slightest. The women from mugroba wore much less than this on the hottest days, to him, it was far more attractive when a woman was covered.



The dark man looked at Deb for a moment, unsure of what to say. Looking back at the old woman, he inclined his head.

"I am a friend."

The witch glared at him from beneath her halo of white hair. It was tied back with a red bandana but still managed to poke out all over the place.

"I asked who you are, not what. Names, son, I want names." She stood up, revealing herself to be quite short, just over five foot. "I need to know what to call you."

She shuffled about for a moment, putting some random odds and ends into a bag.

"Your mission has changed, I need to be escorted to another safe house. I think this one has been compromised." She poked about until she found a charm necklace and put it on.

Demkaih wasn't sure whether he was supposed to give his real name or not. Deb hadn't at first. Finally he answered.

"Demkaih Alkrim."



The dark man looked at Deb and frowned. Obviously she knew where they would head to. He was just here for the muscle.

The elderly woman nodded at Demkaih. "You can call me Granny."

Deb appeared next to Granny, now wearing some pants. She had rubbed some of the kohl off, or at least around, leaving her face slightly darker than it had been. The lipstick stayed.

"I'll go scout ahead, then loop back and tell you both what I've seen." She slipped out the door, quieter than Dem had actually ever seen her be.

Granny trumped past Demkaih, letting out the lamp in the room and walking out the door. She folded one arm behind her back and used the other to indicate he should follow.

"We need to get you an alias, young man." She said croakily. "I thought they'd given you one already. Bad business using true names out here."

She cackled a little to herself, as though the idea of a true name amused her. Deb appeared in front of them, a scarf around her face. She almost seemed like a puppy when she was in front of the older woman. Vibrating with the need for her attention.

"There's no one around." She whispered.

A voice came from behind. "Ahem."

An angry looking wick appeared, a long scar passing through his left eye. His field was buzzing. Granny glared at Deb as the man approached them, sword at the ready.

"Shit." Deb said. She thought it was an apt response.

Demkaih fell in step behind the woman. Alias? No one had told him he needed one of those. What on Vita would he use? He would think on it.



But that wasn't correct, the dark man could sense someone coming, a field no less. He stopped.



Without hesitation, the mugrobi man stepped out in front of the two women and drew his daggers, crouching in a fighting stance, bouncing slightly. His blue eyes sparkled and his face was unreadable. He didn't say a word.

Deb made as though she was going to step forward but was stopped by a firm hand. Granny shook her head, eyes focused on Demkaih. Deb frowned and eased back, leaning against a nearby brick wall with great petulance.

The man advanced upon Demkaih, sword waving slightly as he tried to disorient the other man.

"Get out of the way, mug. That old bitch owes me an eye." He said, his remaining one shining in the moonlight.

The alley was dark aside from the light coming in from a few nearby windows and the pale moonlight from above. Having one eye seemed to have slightly hampered the man's depth perception, as he was walking in a manner that suggested more than a swordsman's usual care. His grip was practiced to Dem's calculating gaze, however and it was clear that he would be unwise to underestimate the scarred wick.

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" Granny said quietly, her field drawn in close and somewhat menacingly.

The one-eyed man charged, bringing his sword down towards Demkaih's shoulder. Unintercepted his blow would be strong enough to cleave bone.

Demkaih bounced on his toes, silently. The first rule of encounters, do not talk to your opponent, talking leads to mistakes.



The dark man brought his arm up, aiming to block the blow with his left dagger, whilst spinning around and slashing at the mans back with his right.

The sword blow was too powerful to be halted by a dagger but it was enough to deflect the blade. Demkaih's left arm buckled as the blade hit flesh, not biting deeply but still slicing through his skin and making him bleed. His spin saved him, moving him out of the path of the sword while it continued it's descent.

The scarred wick's eyes widened as metal hit paving stones, raising sparks. Dem's dagger slashed across his chest, slicing his shirt open and bearing bright, white bone in the moment before the blood ebbed.

"You son of a tumble!" The man shrieked, attracting a few faces to the windows above them. Deb pulled Granny into the shadows.

He pulled the sword up once more, grimacing, holding it in a strange grip, parallel to the ground. He shifted forward, grimacing but still light on his feet, attempting to stab Demkaih in the gut. He was fast but already giving into anger. His flank was going to be left completely open if he missed.

The dark man swore silently and returned to his bouncing stance, pleased his own blade had met the mans soft flesh. That wound would have to be covered later.



This man was not a warrior, he was a thug. Hulali, give me the strength to defend myself and my charges,
he prayed silently. Watching the man shift the hold on his sword and charge, aiming to stab the mugrobi man in the torso, Demkaih saw the anger in his eyes and the possibility of an opening. Taking two bouncing steps he aimed to barrel roll over the man, swinging out with his dagger at the man's flank.

((I see Dem doing capoeira, seems like a mugrobi thing.))

Dem flew through the air, spinning completely over the top of his assailant. His dagger sliced downward, across the wick's back, severing muscle and causing him to trip. He slid down onto his knees, crying out between clenched teeth. He swore colourfully in tek that made even Deb gasp, before his forward motion sent him crashing into the wall before him.

He slumped, hissing, before starting to scramble upright again. Dem could see that it certainly wasn't a sure thing, the man was bleeding profusely. The back of his shirt was stained black with it. Granny stared at Dem from the shadows, waiting for his next move. He could take the man out, eliminating a witness or they could run.

Demkaih shook his head at the man. Only a fool would continue with such serious injuries. Watching the man carefully, he made his way to Granny and Deb.

"Come, let us get away from here. He is of no further concern to you now." He held the daggers ready and kept his eyes on the man the whole time. It was not honorable to kill a man unless absolutely required.

Granny gave Demkaih a calculating look, her stare was measured and powerful, without being judgemental. She let her eyes drop and nodded, as though saying "not bad." She raised her hand into the air and muttered in monite, sounding as though she were talking to an old and dear friend.

The wick slumped over, asleep. His back wound mended with a sickly hissing sound. If Dem had looked close enough he would have seen the vaguely horrible sight of skin mending together. Granny poked Demkaih's wounded arm with a long finger.

"That'll have to wait son." She said quietly, before walking off down the alley they had previously been traversing.

Deb slipped away again, ducking forwards and backwards through the shadows, trying desperately to impress the older woman. Granny walked sedately, though slowly and didn't bother to engage in conversation. Soon they arrived near a old, weathered looking door. The smell of fish was faint but noticable. They must have been near the warf.

"Not bad, son." Granny said, shifting into monite again and healing Dem's arm as though it had never been scratched. "You'll go far, haven't seen anyone fight like that in a while. You may want to tone it down in future, doesn't pay to be distinctive. Be careful where you practice, is all."

She pulled a key from her belt and opened the door to the safehouse. Deb appeared by her side like a ghost or a very sprightly beagle. One of the two. As Granny disappeared inside, Deb turned to look at Demkaih for a moment.

"Um, thanks." She said before ducking inside and closing the door.

Demkaih was left alone. He didn't know where he was.

Demkaih watched the woman's nod of approval, and then slid his daggers away as she healed the man. He cocked his head slightly, healed him? Was this man really a threat, or had he been a member? Suddenly the mugrobi man felt sick. Did he just attack an innocent?



He quickly fell instep behind the two women as they walked, trying to keep the path they took in his mind, but it was hard. Deb was so fast and took so many odd turns that he soon lost all direction. The only thing he could place was the faint smell of water and damp. They must have been at the Vienda dock.



He nodded once to the woman, understanding what she said, but also not sure how to go about toning down an ingrained fighting style. The practice would have to be held in the small confines of his upstairs quarters, unless the resistance had some where to train.



Looking at the closed door, Demkaih looked around, then sighed. Hulali, help guide me, he prayed mentally. He hated Anaxas. Turning, he followed a road and his sense of smell and hearing, till he found the edge of the river. Looking at the set up of the dock, he could tell that the boats traveled to his right, which meant that Vienda was left...ish. Setting his jaw, he began to follow the river downstream till he found the city gates.

"Hulali provides for his followers." He said to himself wearily, then entered the gates and began stalking towards the Painted Ladies, not daring anyone to approach him.