MTG Salvation

Golan turned away and put his good hand on his face.

"Dammit, I mean, why couldn't we stop him? And will we EVER be able to? What happened here?"

"We got our asses handed to us because we were foolish enough to devote a good chunk of our life to doing things like not letting innocent waitresses get smacked around."

A serious look came over Allona's face.

"And Golan, we WILL catch him, not today but we WILL and I promise you, when we do, he's going to pray for execution before were done."

Golan Nods his agreement at the execution bit, then bent down and retrieved his sword, putting it back in his sheath.

"I don't understand what you mean. How is defending the innocent foolish?"

The woman couldn't help but smile at that as she slowly raised herself up to the seated position.

"High danger, low pay and a general sense from the general public that your about to bust them for wearing the wrong kind of socks, not a lot to love about the job except... I don't know. you know the except, you have more of it in you than I do and your less scared of showing it."

She finally got to her feet and put her arm across Golan's back, grasping him around the ribcage in the friendliest manner she knew how.

"Lets go get you some healing."

Golan walked along with her, treating his left arm tenderly.

"It's a job... Orin said it was the most important job in this city, or any other ... I went from needing help to helping people ... But now I just need help again."

But then, he remembered that he still had the strongmans cloak, and took it to a table to lay it out and examine it.

**It was black and of fine craftsmanship, or it was before it was set on fire. Metal jingled in its pockets.**

Golan pondered the implications of having accidentally stolen some gold from the stranger, and whether it was okay to steal from such an awful person. Uninterested in counting his new loot, Golan walked away with Allona, until he realized that coins were not the only metal thing that might clink in pockets.

"Allona, could you inspect these pockets for me? I don't want to put too much stress on my arm, and I think we should see what's in here sooner rather than later."

Allona removed her arm from around Golan and spread the cloak open, carefully searching all of the pocket's and gently feeling for any hidden compartments or solid goods which seemed unattached to any pocket.

**She found 250 gold, a stiletto blade with a hilt of orange metal, and a golden belt buckle inscribed with a lion.**

Allona pouched half the gold and gave the other half to Golan, she slide both of the items into her jacket.

"I'll hold on to these while we get you to the healer, he might be able to tell us what they do, I doubt a man like that holds on to belt buckles for fashion."

Allona led the pair out of the bar.

Golan is back at the Drunken Ass, having crawled away from the quest for knowledge. He decided to drink his sorrows away with Cranberry juice.

**The man at the stool beside Golan wrinkled his nose at the sight of his cup, leaning in a little.**

Man - "So. What'd you do?"

Golan looked at him, slightly annoyed, then let out a sigh.

"I lost. I'm a keeper of the peace, and some jackass can just run me over like I'm a .... speed bump."

**The man leaned back a little, pushing up his hat to scratch under the rim.**

Man - "I meant to the bartender. To get him to give you that instead of a proper drink."

"What? I don't drink Alcohol. It just slows you down."

**The man tapped his finger to the side of his nose.**

Man - "Ah! Says a man who hasn't done his homework! Did you know nearly all of the greatest works of the Eastern Work were achieved while drunk?"

"The greatest works? Well, art maybe, but not architecture. That takes real skill, commitment, attention to detail!"

Man - "Okay, sure; designing bridges may be something best left to the teetotalers. Were you planing on any civic engineering tonight?"

"Errghh.... No. I was mainly planning on brooding. ....What did you say your name was, Stranger?"

**The man stuck out a hand.**

Man - "Gamble Highgrove, at your service."

Golan concentrates for a few seconds, turning off Mantle so he wouldn't be too hot to touch. Then he reaches out his hand.

"Golan Trevize, likewise. So, do you drink much?"

**Gamble gave the young mage's hand a solid pump, then dropped his hat onto the bar.**

Gamble - "Oh, not too much. Only on special occasions, like tonight."

Golan admired the hat a second, then pondered "What makes tonight a special occasion?"

**Gamble visibly started at that, perhaps overplaying it a little. But Highgrove was always a bit dramatic; a man shouldn't have to apologize for that should he?**

Gamble - "You don't know? It's Saint Vega's Day! The day for meeting new people!"

Golan was mildly incredulous. "Saint Vega? I've never heard of this Saint. What did he do to earn Sainthood?"