Hatman Returns

Creban is striding home one night, from a farm he was visiting. He shivers a little in the wintery cold but does not mind, marching along. For once, he did not have his blade with him, instead simply a staff as he walks, a food packet over one shoulder.

Unfortunate for Creban that he is alone on the road tonight.. or -not- alone, as it were. There\'s a man that steps out of the treeline from the north, looking to be adjusting his trousers, as if he were taking a momentary reprieve to tend to business. He\'s wearing a heavy winter cloak, and has a wide-brimmed cloth hat on his head.

This man with the hat, this Hat.. Man.. Steps onto the road, his boots crunching loudly. He calls out in a cheerful manner, \"Lovely night, ain\'t it?\"

Creban

Creban stops short, his eyes suddenly narrowing. His stance was not that of the usual bree farmer - nervous and wary, but instead straight backed as he turend to stare at the hatted man, his own dark brown robes swishing about him in the cold. Hands hidden underneath, he suddenly wished he didnt choose to leave his blade at home for once. He stares at the man a long moment, before offering a bit of cold smile \"... You could say that. The cold makes the stars glitter ever more.\" he notes, his voice clipped.

Hatman tilts his head back, looking up, up at the stars. \"Aye!\" He clamps one hand to hold the hat in place before it falls off his head to the dirty slush of the road. \"Tell me, Glitter, yah from \'round here?\" He asks, lowering his gaze to the Breeman. \"Are you.. from Bree? Or Combe? .. Or.. Ooooor.. Ar-chet.\" He emphasizes the last syllable far more than necessary and lets go of his hat to wave his hand vaguely towards the north. \"You know.. That way!\"

Creban continues staring at Hatman, his gaze never blinking or looking away. A stonefaced mask, one that read a man easily. His hand moved near his hip... though there was no blade there as he replies \"I live in Bree, and where I am from, only the Sea knows for sure. To ask such things of a strange bids me to ask the same of you, stranger in the night.\"

It\'s while Hatman is waving emphatically to the north and moving around and making quite a bit of noise that another creeps along quietly from the south side of the road. There\'s a thick pine that this shadow peels away from and the accomplice of Hatman steals quietly along, planning to sneak up behind Crebin while he talks to the overdramatic fellow with the hat.

\"I\'ve never met ya! And I thought I knew everyone in Bree.. Bollocks! Well, perhaps you are the only I do not know.. What\'s your name?\" He begins to step towards Crebin, holding his hand out in greeting, the other still hidden under his cloak. \"I know! I\'ll just call you Shanty!\"

Creban tenses suddenly, perhaps hearing that man behind him. Instincts he did not know he had kicked in and his body weight shifted forwards, eyes breaking off from the distracter to either side, then back once more, not taking the hand at all \"I am called many things.\" he states simply, taking one or two steps back as the man approaches \"And I do not think I want to tell you any. men do not make friends in the dead of night.\"

The fellow that\'s sneaking up has a long scar along his face, from bridge of his nose to his left ear, and stringy brown hair. Scarface has a club in his hand, and stops just out of reach of Crebin, or so he assumes. \"Then we shall call you a victim. Hand over your money or you\'ll wish you had when your fingers are all broken and no longer able..\"

Hatman offers Creban a cheerful grin, or maybe it\'s for his partner. \"Yes! Finally!\" He throws back his cloak and lifts his right arm, an old short sword clenched in his hand. \"Come on, Blackbeard, you don\'t want to get hurt.\"

Creban states \"If I had any to give, I would not anyways. My coinpurse hold a few copper and dust. \" he notes, tilting his head just so to see the man behind him. Eyes narrowing, the dark pits seem black as night in the ... night, and he shifts his weight, looking back and then suddenly past Hatman \"oh good, a patrol!\"

And then he whirls, a sudden movement towards Scarface, fist coming up quickly to the mans\' chin from below.

Hatman is fooled, just for a moment. His eyes widen and the rim of the hat bounces as he looks back sharply in fear. Scarface, though, quickly ducks to the side when Creban punches, dodging away low. He swings the club at the Breelander, aiming to try and sweep the fellow off his feet, or break a leg.. he\'s not too picky. \"Idiot! He\'s bluffing!\" Scarface snaps at his partner.

[Creban(#22423)] Creban too dodges, but the club nicks his knee and he grunts, stumbling only a step sidewys. He blinks, looking quite shocked \"didnt hurt...\" he mutters, then instead whirls about, one fist going low, while the others\' going high.

Scarface takes a fist to the hip, and grunts in return, but manages to catch the other with his free hand. He\'s too close now to get a good swing with the club, and instead tries to adjust his footing to a better stance. \"Hit him!\" He growls.

Hatman is still glancing between his partner and down the road, but snaps out of it at the command. \"Oh!\" He lifts the old rusty sword and clumsily swings the flat of the blade towards the back of Crebin\'s head.

[Creban(#22423)] *THAWK* The blade slams into Crebans\' head, rocking him forwards. He sees stars, but felt the grip on his fist, and the other one snaps out instinctivly, as though knowing where the man\'s face would be \"Begone! You\'ll not take me so easily!\" he rasps, blinking away the dizziness, now fighting blind.

The fist smashes right into the scar on the outlaw\'s face and he staggers back, swearing sharply. He loses his grip on Creban\'s hand, but raises the club as he shakes off the pain that spreads through his fractured cheek.

Hatman swings the flat of the blade at Creban again, another wild, undisciplined attack towards his neck, shoulders.. wherever. It\'s obvious that these fellows aren\'t trained in combat.

Creban grunts a little at the repeated flailing of the man with the sword, whirling about now to face him. But he still couldnt see, and staggered seriously to one side as his balance was off, head throbbing now. He raises both his fists, crouching, trying to keep track of both as his face tensed into a scowl

Scarface rushes at Creban again as soon as the man turns on Hatman. He grips the club with both hands and makes a broad side-long swing at the Breeman\'s side, hoping to further push him off-balance.

Hatman laughs nervously and holds the sword up defensively, \"I\'ll cut your hands off, Slugger!\" He says, waving the rusty weapon to ward Creban back, away. Theatrics, Hatman has in droves.. Courage? Less. Much less.

[Creban(#22423)] The club connects cleanly with the mans\' ribs, a crack echoing out. He gasps a little, body stiffening as he stumbles to one side, managing to evade the old sword \"You\'re more likely to cut your OWN hand off swinging it like that, fool.\" he rasps \"Leave me be. I haven\'t enough money to bother.\"

Scarface chuckles now, \"If you haven\'t any money.. why put up a fight?\" He asks in a dark tone and swings the club at Creban again. Hatman takes the advice to heart and eases back on waving the sword around, stepping around to the side, away from both but ready to block should their victim try to flee.

[Creban(#22423)] The club strikes the dazed Creban again and he cries out now, stumbling to one side \"... You were going to attack me either way.\" he rasps, whirling now, trying to block the club from striking him, though one more hit would probably drop him

Hatman interjects, \"No! Noo.. we wouldn\'t have. We\'re quite polite. Hand over all your wealth and you\'ll walk home tonight.\" He lowers the sword to his side and gestures at the ground, \"Just toss it there.\" Scarface glances over at his partner, but grunts and rests the club against his shoulder for the moment.

Creban blinks a few times, holding his side as he drops to a knee. He growls a little and pulls out the - as spoken, rather empty coinpurse - and tosses it to the mans\' feet \"there. I told you.\" he growls

\"Your cloak too.. and any jewelry.. And your boots.\" Scarface mutters, eying Creban with little remorse on his face. His cheek is growing dark in the shadowy moonlight, the bruising already showing. Hatman smiles congenially. \"See, Glitter? No problem.\"

Creban snorts a little at that \"This old thing?\" he rasps, pulling his cloak off, then laughs thickly \"My boots would not fit either of you. They\'re childrens\' boots. I wear no jewelery.\"

Scarface growls in anger, his patience at an end. He swings the club down swiftly towards Creban\'s arm, \"Got quite the gall for one that has to limp the rest of the way back..\" He snarls, and will swing again regardless of whether the first hits.

Hatman draws back another step, sheathing that rusty old short sword now. He scratches at the stubble on his chin, and comments in a nervous fashion, \"Don\'t kill em..\"

Creban lets out a soft cry, and lifts his arms to shield his head and face from the club as it reined down at him. knocking the wind from his gut he coughs, toppling over now as his flesh was struck again and again, uttering a few curses in a garbled tongue under his breath.

Scarface looks up sharply at his compatriot in crime, scowling. \"Black hair.. black beard.. Was a man looked like this that killed my brother!\" He says, angry. Hatman shakes his head, \"This isn\'t the same man, you know that.. Come on. If you kill him we\'re both going to be in trouble and I got enough flak about that woman with the sword.\" He moves forward to grab up their \'booty\' and starts moving north into the woods.

Scarface looks back at Creban, fingering the hard club in his hand. \"Not so cocky -now-.. are you?\"

Creban coughs a little, nearly unconcious as he lays there now, cloakless and purseless. But at least he had his boots right? He gloweres at Scarface coldly, a grimace of pain, but also of burning anger promising venegeance. \"I will not forget.\"

Scarface reaches in to grab for the boots on Creban\'s feet, tugging hard to pull them off. \"I -can- kill you..fool.\" He says in a threatening tone, returning that look of hatred with a confident gaze of his own.

[Creban(#22423)] THe small boots come off, showing scarred feet, a few toes missing. Creban grunts a little at that, and mutters something incoherently

The bandit lifts a brow, but only smirks and melts away to the north to join his companion in the woods. Creban is alone again on the road.. unfortunately.