A thin, ragged looking man moves swiftly and with purpose through the modest crowd in merchant's alley. He has a box slung under his arms, clutched tightly, his eyes shifting side to side.
He steps out from one mob and into the open, about to go about his business....
Until a pair of men break from an adjoining alleyway, panting. Swords in hand they push aside those in their immediate way and then spy the box carrier.
Skul was leaning against a nearby building, arms crossed, hat over his eyes. He'd been looking in town for a magical thingamajig that would let him detect specific souls, but none of the magical shops carried such a thing. He had very little magical ability in the scrying or vision-ing sense. It had been a long morning, so he took the opportunity to stand in the shade, rest, and think.
Except that he heard the guards yell at a thief. His conscience got the better of him. He saw the man running down the alley he stood at the entrance to, and stuck out a long leg to trip him as he ran by.
Of all the graveyards in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into mine.
The assumed thief broke into a frantic run as the men alerted everyone to the ruckus, and he plowed into a mob of people in a beeline to escape. Knocking an elderly woman to her knees, he didn't so much as look over his shoulder. The box held every tighter, he leaped over a barrel, swung to the right to avoid a grocer and...
BLAM.
Right over Skul's leg. The box went sprawling but was still intact.
The two men - not in guard uniform were pushing their way through the crowd with equal recklessness to catch up.
The man, now at Skul's feet was muttering, a vicious snarl.
Skul juked back, the knife narrowly avoiding his ribcage, slicing open his suit. He cocked his head a little, setting his jaw. He slammed the man against the wall, putting a bony arm against his throat.
Don't. Cut my suit. He leaned in to his face.
What's going on here? What's in the box?
Of all the graveyards in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into mine.
The man was too slippery. A knee to Skul's gut bought him the second he needed and he slithered from Skul's hands, clambering across the dirt to reach the box. He'd dropped his knife an apparently wasn't too concerned about it.
Meanwhile the other two had gotten close enough with weapons drawn that the crowd pulled back.
The thief rolled and crouched in the dirt, one hand on the box and the other looking for a knife that was no longer there.
Skul was the middle man in a confrontation now, thief on one side and the other two behind him.
"You know, we might 'ave to cut your 'ands off for thieving from us. That's breaking the law it is."
He threw a look back to the ragged man. Trapped in a box? He'd seen the look in the man's eyes, he wasn't lying about something being wrong. Trapped...his mind flashed back to the Scarecrow. Trapped. Unable to move, no one to talk to.
He groaned, and his fists clenched. Every bit of himself wanted to step aside and stay out of it. It wasn't his business. He couldn't risk being killed and leaving Her to stay out there forever. But again...trapped. He felt like he owed the man, and owed Her.
He shook his head and, checking around for a source of fire, relaxed his pose, keeping his head down, unmoving.
If you won't tell me what's in there and why you're so set on getting it back, then I can't let you pass.
Of all the graveyards in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into mine.
Skul noticed a simple fire nearby, it seemed a vendor was cooking something or rather over it. There were people nearby, it seems they'd drawn something of a crowd.
The man with the box was scowling, intent on leaving this confrontation but it appeared that same crowd wasn't so keen to let him get away. They too appeared agitated, this being the center of commerce, it was unlikely thieves were appreciated here.
The two armed men stopped their sideways motion and turned their full attention on Skul.
"I told you. It ain't none of your business and it belongs to US. What we do is legal, we got papers. You wanna 'elp a thief, you die with 'im. Last chance mate, move it or lose it."
They were dangerously close, easily within reach of lopping bits off of Skul.
If you're so concerned with legality, let's take this to the proper authorities instead of street justice. He threw another look back to the crowd. They may not work with him. Who would they like better, the skeleton, or the guards chasing down the thief? He wanted to step away. He saw himself doing it, leaving this whole thing behind.
What did he mean, 'trapped'?
Of all the graveyards in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into mine.