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Damn-sels Of Distress [Closed]

Celeste Monroe

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#1
((16 Solace, 9:35; Late night, Market District; Linette Botten ))

The King was wed and – hopefully by now – relieved of his purported virginity. Minstrels in some of the seedier taverns of the Market District were immortalizing that particular event in any number of bawdy songs.

Entertaining enough for a bit, but the lure of drunken rich people had been a far stronger draw, so Celeste had abandoned the Musty Mug and the Plastered Bastard to head toward the Gnawed Noble and the other upscale taverns near the Palace District.

The pickings had been every bit as good as she had hoped for: the celebrants who were still out and about were deep in their cups. She could have robbed more than a few of them both blind and pantless, but she followed her standard custom of only lifting a bit from each pouch that she dipped into … except for one asshole that she watched swiping the tips off of tables as he left the tavern. It was almost too easy to slip up beside him and tip the Mickey Finn into the mug he carried, then slide an arm around his waist to help him to the ground when his knees started to buckle. She left him leaning against a wall, snoring peacefully, with the contents of his belt pouch replaced with a healthy deposit from a pile of horse shit that some noble steed had thoughtfully left behind.

Back in the tavern, she reversed the process, slipping coins into pockets and apron pouches until she had replaced what he had stolen from the servers several times over, still leaving a tidy sum for her.

Back out into the night, her purse nicely weighty (and tucked away in her vest to keep any unscrupulous souls from further transference of ownership), she judged it time to switch from petty larceny to grand hilarity. The pockets of her vest were stocked with the full range of pranking products, from itching and sneezing powder to fart potion, and some of these prigs, even drunk, could do with a bit of taking down.

Movement from the corner of her eye and sounds that did not match the setting caught her attention: coarse laughter and muffled cries coming from the direction of three well dressed youths dragging a petite form toward the shadows of an alley.

From all reports, King Alistair would not look kindly on such actions, particularly at his wedding celebration. As he was busy right now, Celeste would deal with it; he could write her a thank you note later. Slipping into the shadows – a feat made easier by the fact that most of the folk around her were already halfway to blind – she moved swiftly toward the mouth of the alley, fingers dipping into her pocket to close around one of Dax's smoke grenades.
 
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Linette Botten

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#2
Ding dong, the King’s virginity was dead…. or at least was soon to be. The King was going to get himself some high quality edam, Gwaren style. Quite a few minstrels were even singing a song of two about the King’s impending de-flowering.

A poncy little fucker Linette recognized as a bard-not-bard from Orlais was singing his own tribute to the King’s awakening when she made her way out of the Red Kettle and onto the bustling streets outside.

The King’s petals are in bloom
Ready for plucking in the new Queen’s bedroom
Rocking will they be
Those Frozen Seas
What type of cheese
Will he find between her knees?


Somehow she didn’t think the new Queen would appreciate such songs. Not Lin’s problem.

On the list of things that were not Lin’s problem, the call of a young woman, muffled but loud enough for Linette’s ears to pick up caught her attention. Past-Linette would have walked on and not given a damn. Not her problem. Not her concern.

Past-Linette was just that, though, in the past. Present Linette developed a sense of caring somewhere along the way. Maybe it was the valiant dander that wafted from Ferren’s head whenever he shook his hair (Now that mop was something worth bards singing about). Or maybe it was the Teyrn of Highever’s influence that softened her up. Whatever the reason, without thinking much, Linette found herself walking toward the alley where she heard the sounds emanate from.

There was some mischief alright needing to be managed. Linette spied three well-dressed men harassing a small woman dressed in a simple brown dress. Not hard to put together what was going on here.

Hands upon her hips, a foot tapping upon the ground, she cleared her throat to garner their attention away from their prey. “What’s up?” she asked before her gaze panned down to the shorter of the three men’s crotch, “Not much I see."
 

Celeste Monroe

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#3
Celeste paused, still hidden, as another woman strolled into the alley, taking in the scene with hands on hips and one foot tapping the dirty cobblestones. The trio were too focused on their prey to notice, but a clearing of her throat brought them around with guilty expressions that quickly turned predatory.

“What’s up?” the new arrival inquired, brown eyes panning down to the groin area of the closest. “Not much I see."

He flushed with anger, but they kept the elven girl boxed in by the three of them. “This is none of your concern,” one of the others, a blonde with a wispy beard growled at her. “Move along, or you'll get what she's going to get.”

Celeste let her fingers fall away from the smoke bomb for the moment. She could do direct and insulting, too. “I think we've already established that's not much of a threat,” she said as she emerged from the shadows, causing the short one to jump and give a yip of alarm. “It takes three of you to handle one frightened, unarmed girl … or is that to help each other find it so you can get it out of your pants?”
 

Linette Botten

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#4
The truth really could hurt given the hue of red Pinky McHollowPants was sporting. The pain was so real, he didn’t even respond to Linette and let his blond pal with weird beard retort, “This is none of your concern. Move along, or you'll get what she's going to get.”

If they expected Linette to shake in her kitten heel boots, the trio was going to be disappointed. Such witticisms merited only one true response - the roll of the eyes. Lin gave hers a hard roll even accompanying the gesture with a very I am so disappointed in you toss of the head.

This wasn’t the first time Linette found herself in an alley with three overly randy men. Probably wouldn’t be the last either. Some men had this way of seeing a small lady and thinking easy prey. Lin might be easy but she was no damn prey and she wasn’t about to let the elven gal be what was for dinner either.

Linette wasn’t alone in that feeling. The party just getting bigger and bigger, a blonde woman Linette did not recognize slipped from within shadow with a comment of her own for the triplets. “I think we've already established that's not much of a threat.” Was there a tiny dog in the alley? No, the high pitched yippy sound that echoed off the walls came from the smaller of the men. “It takes three of you to handle one frightened, unarmed girl … or is that to help each other find it so you can get it out of your pants?”

A corner of Linette’s mouth rose in amusement that was not matched by the not-so-fair gentlemen.

“No,” the tallest of the bunch replied, a crooked tooth smile that even a mother couldn’t love spreading across way too thin lips. “That’s why you are here.” His hand dropped, letting go of the elven woman briefly so that he could cup his junk; the type of junk that really needed to be tossed in some rubbish pile.

The small bit of freedom afforded to the elf allowed her to wiggle loose enough to drop her foot atop the shortest man’s foot. He let out a longer version of his previous yip and released his hold upon her entirely.

Linette saw that as an opportunity and picked up what looked to be a rotten tomato off the alley floor (let it be a rotten tomato and not something else) and chucked it toward the man pack. Not really the type of ripe fruit they thought they would enjoy on this evening. “No dessert before you eat your vegetables,” Lin quipped, making a mental note to fit that into her writing some time later.

The elf flailed a bit more against her captures and freed herself entirely upon Linette’s veggie assault. Lin supposed she couldn’t fault the girl for not stopping to say thanks and instead bolting out the other end of the alley to her freedom.
 

Celeste Monroe

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#5
The short brunette did not seem the least bit intimidated at the prospect of three to one, nor did she even flinch when Celeste stepped from the shadows, the smartass grin that greeted her smartass remark signaling a kindred smartass spirit.

Her audience, of course, was not amused. “No,” the beanpole with bad teeth leered at her. “That’s why you are here.” He loosed his grip on the girl to give his own groin what he no doubt considered a suggestive squeeze.

She gave a bark of scornful laughter. “If you have to check to be sure it's there, I'm not interested.”

The girl took advantage of the distraction, driving her heel hard down into Tiny's instep. He yelped and let go of her to grab his foot.

The brunette bent and scooped up something smelly and squishy from the floor of the alley and pitched it overhand toward the trio. “No dessert before you eat your vegetables,” she taunted as it splatted into the face of Beanpole. He swore and swiped at his face, and the girl twisted free and fled out the other end of the alley.

Perfect.

Celeste reached down and grabbed up something else smelly and squishy and let fly. “Oops … not a vegetable. Sorry!” She straightened up, grinning. “Looks like you boyos need new playmates.”

Wispy Beard snarled something that he likely hadn't learned from his wealthy mommy and daddy and lunged for her. Celeste moved to meet him, her spinning back kick catching him in the gut. He folded over with a wheeze; her dagger flashed in the dim light from the front of the alley as she deftly reversed her grip and rapped him in the head with the pommel. He dropped facedown into a whole lot of smelly and squishy.

She stepped away from him, weight balanced on the balls of her feet and dropping the dagger back into its sheath. She didn't need a blade to deal with these wankers. "Who wants to play next?" she invited cheerfully.
 

Linette Botten

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#6
“Oops … not a vegetable. Sorry!,” the blonde yelled as she chucked something definitely not vegetable at the men. “Looks like you boyos need new playmates.”

LameBeard did what LameBeards did and rattled off something lame before launching himself at Celeste. She was ready for him, her foot finding target in his stomach as she spun about to kick him in a rather impressive move. She followed the kick with a thump to the head, the pommel of her freshly unsheathed dagger smacking him in the noggin. The man crumpled into a pile of shit, both figuratively and literally.

Linette was fast and sneaky. She could weave and bob and dodge and hide in shadows like the most pro of pros. Hand to hand or even knife to knife combat was something she wasn’t all that adept at, though. A good defense was her only real offense. Watching Celeste move was just another reminder she needed to get on that even if that meant early mornings and sweating. Lin really didn’t like to sweat unless it was sexy sweat. That was the kind of workout she could really get behind, in front and on top of.

Not a bead of any kind dappled Celeste’s forehead as she bounced upon her feet and returned her dagger to its sheath. "Who wants to play next?”, she asked, all but daring the men to come at her.

That was a dare neither man was prepared to take on. Seeing their friend nose deep in the stink proved more than enough for them and both turned and ran out of the alley leaving their friend passed out and alone upon the alley floor.

Lin shook her head at the big, strong men as they fled before settling her eyes upon the unconscious man. There was only one thing left to do. Relieve the guy of his pants. Linette had a moral obligation to do such. Lin and Ferren rule, after all.

She walked over towards the man, dropping into a squat to roll him onto his back. Her nose wrinkled and she let out a ‘guh’ sound at the look of him, back alley mash potatoes smeared all over his face and stuck to his stringy beard. “Linette by the way,” she said in ways of introductions. "Gonna take his pants off,” Linette added, casting a brief glance over her shoulder to the other woman before looking back to the man.
 

Celeste Monroe

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#7
Finding the odds evened had a predictable effect on the remaining two: they ran, leaving their mate facedown in the muck. Her fellow defender of damsels in distress and smiter of assholes shook her head in disgust and sauntered over to the remaining asshole, crouching and rolling him over.

He brought a fair amount of what he'd been laying in with him, the ripe scent rolling up and out enough to draw a revolted sound from the brunette, though she didn't recoil. “Linette by the way,” she offered casually, glancing back before turning her attention back to the unconscious man. "Gonna take his pants off. ”

“Of course.” Some people might have found the announcement odd, but for Celeste, it was just one more indication of a kindred spirit, and she moved to assist, dragging his boots off and pitching them to the mouth of the alley, ensuring that they'd be gone in under a minute. The pants joined them moments later, though the layer of gunk on them might make them harder to place. Some smells just didn't come out of leather.

Reaching into a vest pocket, she withdrew gloves and a packet of rashvine nettle powder, donning the gloves before tearing open the packet and sprinkling the powder liberally over Wispy Beard's inner thighs and groin. “That should wake him up fairly soon.” Folding the empty packet up carefully, she held it in her right hand as she drew that glove off, turning it inside-out around the packet. Then she repeated the procedure with the left glove. “Celeste Monroe,” she introduced herself as she tucked the glove ball away to be burned later.
 

Linette Botten

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#8
“Of course.” There were people out there that could not appreciate a good pantings. Lin’s new partner in justice (and what else was justice other than pantings an asshole trying to assault a lady) was not one of them. The woman not only did not protest, but she got about helping Lin by shirking off the man’s muck covered boots and grime flecked pants.

Oh but the woman was not done there and if Linette was the kissing ladies type, she might have stopped right there and planted a large one on her lips. Celeste pulled a packet of powder out of her pocket and carefully dusted Lame-Beard’s area and sweaty and hairy forest around it with what Lin presumed was itchy snow.

“That should wake him up fairly soon,”
Celeste declared carefully placing the packet back from where she withdrew it. Her gloves got similar treatment. Wouldn’t do to let what residue lingered on the gloves touch her skin. That was just smart. “Celeste Monroe.”

So now they had each others names like proper young ladies.

As fun as it would be to linger around and watch asshat wake up from his shit-induced slumber, Linette was getting parched. Justice was thirsty business. “I don’t know about you,” Linette started, dropping her hands to wipe them against the flat of her thighs. “I could use a drink after all that.” She hooked her head toward the mouth of the alley from which she had appeared earlier. “Join me?”

Asking a total stranger out for a drink when there was zero chance of interlocking parts wasn’t really something Linette did often. But how often did she run into someone with a similar sense of right and wrong? Not often enough in her mind. World would be a lot safer if more people were made to eat shit now and again.
 

Celeste Monroe

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#9
Linette watched approvingly as Celeste gave Wispy Beard the gift that would keep on giving … and giving and giving. There was itching powder, and then there was rashvine nettle powder. Soap and water just spread the itch around, and most creams and ointments only took the edge off. The only thing that would neutralize the stuff was vinegar … and how many people were going to pour that on a burning crotch as a first resort? Or second or third, for that matter.

“I don’t know about you,” Linette remarked, rising from her crouch and wiping her hands on her pants. “I could use a drink after all that.” A thumb jabbed over her shoulder toward the sounds of revelry that had not abated in the slightest. “Join me?”

“Sounds good.” Celeste was not overly surprised to see that boots and pants had both been appropriated, but she hoped that whoever had grabbed the pants was not so hard up that they couldn't wash them first. “Know any good dives?” She had a couple of regular stops near the docks, but Linette sounded like a local, which meant she might have a line on a few that Celeste hadn't heard of.
 

Linette Botten

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#10
“Sounds good,” Celeste agreed.

The boots and pants did a disappearing act, shuffled off by celebrants to do whatever they wanted with the items. Hopefully not wear them, Lin thought. There was desperate and then there was desperate.

Now where to go. Celeste wasn’t one with suggestions but rather a question, “Know any good dives?”

Lin’s mouth spread into a slow smirk. Good and dive did not typically go together. A dive by nature was almost always very not not good. And those dives Linette was very familiar with? They were mostly certainly of the filthy nasty don’t kiss your mother with that mouth variety. Somehow she didn’t think that would bother this Celeste though. She hardly seemed a member of the tea cozy Gnawed Noble crowd.

“Musty Mug,”
Linette replied. If they were going to dive in, might as well go off the deep end without a preserver. Her head craned down the alley once more; a gesture meant to encourage Celeste to follow along. “It’s not too far away from here.”

The crowds seemed to have only grown during Lin’s short respite in the alley. More people spilled into the streets, carousing, cheering, cawing and some were even crawling. The free drinks offered at many a tavern certainly were taking their toll on many a citizen of Denerim. The next morning was going to be a pretty moldy one for some folks - all fuzzy and stinky.

The Musty Mug sat nestled at the end of a different alley. No free drinks were being poured here on this evening. This wasn’t the type of place the Queen probably even knew existed. Lin pointed to the tattered sign outside the tavern. “Here it is. Before we go in, don’t order the stew or the brandy. You don’t want to know what is in either of those."
 

Celeste Monroe

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#11
“Musty Mug,” Linette responded without hesitation when the word ‘dive’ was invoked, the smirk playing at her lips suggesting that the name was an apt one. “It’s not too far away from here.”

“Lead on.” She’d always had a fondness for the hole in the wall type of joints; in general, they were more entertaining. If she wanted good booze, she had plenty of that on her ship, but shenanigans and cheap hooch just belonged together

Celebrations were showing no sign of ebbing, and evidently the free drinks had not yet run dry, if the condition of most of the carousers was any indication. Most in this part of town were working class, but the occasional noble wove their way through the crowds, class distinctions blurred along with the rest of their vision. Celeste’s hand dipped into their pouches almost without thought as she passed, though more often than not, they’d already been picked clean.

The Musty Mug crouched at the end of an alley like a mugger laying in wait for the unwary. If there was anything on the dingy banner that flapped disspiritedly over the door, it was too dark to make it out. “Here it is,” Linette announced, pulling to a stop. “Before we go in, don’t order the stew or the brandy. You don’t want to know what is in either of those."

“Got it.” Inside was darker than outside, lacking the torches and lanterns that had been added along the streets for the celebrations. A handful of cheap tallow candles guttered weakly on a few tables, and a single lantern hung on the wall behind the bar, the glass panes as filthy as the tables. Not too many patrons inside, and the few that were there seemed unaware of the festive atmosphere on the other side of the rickety door, staring morosely into their own musty mugs.

“New bottle of whiskey and two glasses.” Celeste slapped coin onto the bar: enough to ensure that the sullen bloke on the other side gave her what she was asking for, not enough to give him the idea that poisoning her might net him a windfall. He grunted, gave Linette a dyspeptic sideeye, and delivered up one bottle with the wax seal still intact and two glasses that might have been clean when the joint first opened for business. She snagged the glasses with one hand, the bottle with the other and turned to her new drinking buddy, leaving it to her to pick a table.

“So, you normally go around rescuing damsels in distress, or was that in honor of your King finally getting wedded and bedded?”
 

Linette Botten

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#12
Celeste noted she understood and into the bowels of squall the pair went. The Musty Mug certainly did not disappoint. Nothing inside signified all the happy joyery outside. The place was as dark, dank and depressing as usual.

“New bottle of whiskey and two glasses.”
Celeste was apparently buying, the woman putting some coin on the bar in payment for their after pantings festivities. Ward responded in the way that Ward always responded, with a grunt and a crotch scratch. That was about as stellar customer service as he ever provided. The cherry on top of the funday was the manner in which he looked at Lin as if she was some gas he was just not able to fart away. She was persistent like that.

The bartender went about getting Celeste’s order, providing them with what appeared to be an unopened bottle of whiskey (there were ways to fake wax seals if someone was going to do that, Ward would) and two glasses Lin was fairly certain were not clean. The whiskey would have to do the cleaning work for her.

Bottle and glasses in hand, Celeste claimed a table. “So, you normally go around rescuing damsels in distress, or was that in honor of your King finally getting wedded and bedded?”

Lin dropped into a seat opposite Celeste and shook her head. “I’m not some Andy-do-right.” The moniker was one only Ferren would understand at this point but if the shoe fit… Her shoulders rolled in a faint shrug, “I don’t like seeing assholes pick on someone that cannot fight back. So maybe it was in honor of the King or I’m just getting soft in my old age.”

A corner of her mouth perked with her reach across the table for one of the glasses, “To the King not being soft tonight." Surely her new boss would find the humor in that. If he didn't, Donal surely would.
 

Celeste Monroe

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#13
If Linette was bothered at all by the dimly lit, joyless atmosphere and the sparkling personality of the bartender, she gave no sign, leading the way to a table and reaching for one of the not-quite-clean glasses without hesitation as she sat.

“I’m not some Andy-do-right,” she declared when asked about her altruistic tendencies. There was a story behind that reference, but Celeste was content to wait and see if it came out on its own. “I don’t like seeing assholes pick on someone that cannot fight back. So maybe it was in honor of the King or I’m just getting soft in my old age.”

“To the King not being soft tonight,” she offered with a smirk as Celeste broke the seal on the bottle and poured generous doses of whiskey for them both.

“And to assholes getting what’s coming to them,” Celeste added, lifting her own glass in salute before taking a drink. It tasted about like she’d expected, and could probably double as paint remover in a pinch, but it was fitting for both the setting and the evening’s shenanigans to date.

“Feel like looking for more assholes?” she asked as the cheap hooch burned its way down her throat. “I feel the need for a bit of mayhem for fun and profit.”
 

Linette Botten

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#14
“And to assholes getting what’s coming to them,” Celeste toasted in return before sampling her own serving of swill. “Feel like looking for more assholes? I feel the need for a bit of mayhem for fun and profit.”

Two of Linette’s favorite words right there: Mayhem and Profit.

She liked those words a lot more than the whiskey the pair had been served. The quality was about what she expected from the Musty Mug and she swallowed down the contents of her glass in a single pull. Mug swill was best taken in full doses rather than sipped daintily. Allowed the aftertaste last time to percolate.

“I guarantee you there is no shortage of assholes out tonight.” Denerim was going to Denerim and given the flow of free booze out there thanks to the generosity of the Queen, Denerim was really going to Denerim tonight.

Reaching for the bottle, Linette refilled her cup until it not quite runneth over. “Probably be some good pickings over at the Red Kettle or well anywhere else in the Market district. Lots of amateur drinkers out tonight ready to suck off the royal teet and an equal number of people ready to take advantage of the stupid.”

Not that Linette was one to take pity on people that got so drunk they made victims of themselves. She certainly had taken advantage of such folks in the past during her time on the streets.

“What did you have in mind?” she asked, head tilting curiously with the press of her elbows into the splintered table top.
 

Celeste Monroe

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#15
“I guarantee you there is no shortage of assholes out tonight,” Linette promised, downing the whiskey in a single go, like medicine. Which wasn’t a bad comparison; it wasn’t the taste she was after, it was the effect, so Celeste followed suit as her new drinking buddy went for a refill, feeling it starting to strip the lining from her stomach and seep into her blood.

“Probably be some good pickings over at the Red Kettle or well anywhere else in the Market district,” Linette went on, and Celeste nudged her own empty glass over for more. “Lots of amateur drinkers out tonight ready to suck off the royal teet and an equal number of people ready to take advantage of the stupid.”

“What did you have in mind?” she asked, leaning against the table, which creaked and wobbled ominously, but held for the moment.

“Depends.” Celeste tossed back her second drink. The rotgut was cheap, and watered down enough not to pack too much of a punch; stronger in a place like this, and she’d suspect it had been cut with wood alcohol. “For pure profit, rich and drunk is fine; we could make a game of it. But when it comes to mayhem, I prefer to fuck with the ones who really deserve it. Assholes, drunk or sober. Know any?”
 

Linette Botten

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#16
“Depends.” Celeste soldiered up and finished a second serving of their current booze of choice. “For pure profit, rich and drunk is fine; we could make a game of it. But when it comes to mayhem, I prefer to fuck with the ones who really deserve it. Assholes, drunk or sober. Know any?”

Rich and drunk. Assholes, drunk or sober. Did Linette know of any? Oh she knew of quite a few that checked all those particular boxes. Unfortunately for Linette but fortunately for the rich-holes, they were all mostly at the fancy pants event Linette excused herself from earlier in the night.

Lin had been pretty amused watching the rich and noble of Ferelden try bandying about to get one of those coveted wedding invitations. People were making up some of the lamest stories trying to get invites. There just wasn’t enough land in the bannorn to cover all those banns that seemed to be cropping up claiming noble blood.

Not everyone was able to get an invite, though. Those that couldn’t would be at the Gnawed Noble if Linette had to guess. The tavern was the nicest in the Market District and had, so she was told but never personally sampled because who wanted to drink rotten grapes, a great wine cellar.
“I am sure we can find someone to meet all those exacting standards at the Gnawed Noble,” she informed her new pal. “Lots of coin being shown off. My favorite type of dick contest,” Lin added, a wide smile taking hold of her mouth.

Not to be outdone by Celeste, Linette did a little soldiering of her own and drank down more of the whiskey. Mayhem was thirsty work and she wanted to make sure she had the proper nutrients before engaging in such important business. “Shall we?” she asked, already pushing herself away from the table.
 
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