For'se, Gentleman Kobold!
Click. Click. Click.
Heels on stone, a great jacket on a little body, a cap hiding the face from prying eyes. Too short to be a dwarf, but the smell of soot and coal was present, as was an over-sized flintlock pistol thrust into his belt.
Click. Click. Click.
Heels across stone, the figure vaulted up and grabbed a brass railing along the side of the long carriage, and began to ascend, hands tightened on the pole and feet pressing against the polished, treated wood. Climbing high, the figure pulled up onto the roof, and slid forward and across the brass and wood.
Chug. Chug. Chug.
The engine up ahead began to start, as a loud and deep whistling echoed - the engine starting to move, and draw the twelve cars behind it. Chug. Chug. Chug. The rails rattled and groaned under the weight, as the small figure crept forward - unseen and silent, ducked and hugging close. Not much time now - he crept forward, and climbed to another cart. Three to move through - and one to open.
Chug. Chug. Chug. Woooooh!
Hurrying, as the wind began to lick at the edge of the jacket - the train began to move, at three, six, twelve, twenty miles an hour. Chug. Chug. Black smoke rose from the front of the engine and still the small figure crept forward - while reaching for a final handhold, and then climbing slowly over the train-cart. Thankful it was still pre-dawn, the small figure could work in the few minutes of greater darkness, and set to opening the locks...
Pop. Two locks open - the figure propped the roof of the train-car open with an extending bar from his pocket, tightened the springs at the base, and then slid inside with a muffled thump. His hat low, he ducked behind a seat, and listened for the beat of five. The wind would make the slightest of sounds - enough to cover his approach.
A rear comparment - he moved beneath seats, and between the legs of an elven woman, who slept soundly. His fingers lifted quick to pilfer a pouch from her belt - and he tucked it into his jacket - always one to take a chance where it presented itself. He drew forward and paused at an opening, and rose up - grabbing onto the windowseal and pulling himself to his feet.
"Late night, almost time for the boss to be up. Then he can watch his own crap." The hum of the warforged gave a light buzz to the back of the small figures head - his nose twitching with the smell of magic. They guarded the door - both looking honestly very bored. As always, a challenge - but the kind that the little figure reveled in.
Whispering under his breath, and with a pinch of sand drawn from a small pocket - spell pouch and energy flowing together - he blew on it - and it shot forward, hard and fast, to break against the back window. The two jumped - turning - and went to get a look at the noise. It would buy only a few seconds - but stealing forward, and popping the door open - the small figure darted through and closed the door behind - and rested his back against the wall. So far, so good.
The occupant of the car, a Mr. Johnson, slept soundly in his bed - clutching a pillow and his wife - a half-elf maiden of long leg, and pretty smile. She wore little - and a pleasent view was afforded eyes that saw very well in the dark - but ignoring pleasure for business at hand, he crept forward towards the sleeping platform, and ducked down - underneath the bed. Fingers felt - and he searched - feeling for the small case that would be found in the carry of his target. Drawers were opened, and quietly searched - before he found it - black, rolled up, and with a lock on it. He reached and paused - smelling trouble where it lay. A thin string was connected to it - as was a small bell to the case. A clever little thing - instead, the small case was not moved - but opened instead, allowing the small papers to fall with. Wrapped in a ribbon, it was tucked into the jacket and a note was placed inside instead.
There was more to steal - but greed got a thief killed - as tempting as the diamond ring that rested on the hand of the targets wife. But, it would be simply uncouth to molest a sleeping woman - so he turned... and found the door creeping open instead.
"Hey, Boss!"
Eyes opened. There was a scream, and the figure stiffened as eyes fell upon him...
"Who in the name of the Abyss..." The warforged started - before the small figure darted back against a wall - his body carried low, and a hand resting behind, against the wall. A pistol was raised, another - and the figure smiled - the hat low to hide the face, as was the collars popped to hide the features. But, there was a gleam of scale - and the flick of tongue told by the ever faint hiss.
"Doctor Kingdom Brunel sends his regards, Mister Johnson - and is very sorry that he had to collect his payment in this manner." He jerked - two shots went off in the small room - and the goldem lunged forward, a sword in hand. It was met with a smaller, slimmer one - almost a child's rapier - but quite as deadly. The two weapons struck and parried, as they fought together in the room. Clash, clang, click, the two fought - but the great brute was no master, and his blade was slapped from his rocky hand to clatter against the nearby wall. The golem looked, for a moment, afraid, but the death-blow did not strike through the heart-wood. Instead, the hat was tipped.
"Good form, but please don't interfere." The kobold smiled, before darting forward, two more gunshots spilling - and a duck between the legs of a rather startled and confused man. The small figure ran - figures scrambling - and ascended up the back of a seat, and pulled himself up and out of the car.
So far, so good.
He raised his pistol to the sky - and whispered the words of power - before releasing the trigger. It buckled but gave no sound, instead, it illuminated the sky in a streak of light - red and gold that burst a hundred feet above him. The signal that all was well, he ran - as the hatch was opened, and Mr. Johnson pulled himself from the cart.
"Give it back, you filch! Give it back!" The lizard continued on - running for the last cart - the short-haired man after him. The lizard leapt and tumbled, but there were only so many cars one could run across - and he was running a little early. Distractions had to come - and come soon.
"No where to run, you little bastard! Give it and I'll only throw you off!" Anger coursed through the mans frame, his eyes staring and boring daggers. The kobold, turning, faced the man and held his blade low, waiting.
"You were given a service, Mr. Johnson - and you failed to pay the fee. Doctor Kingdom Brunel does not like being lied to or cheated. It's not in the spirit of fair-play, which we have always treated our clients. You defaulted, and I collected."
Pistol against sword - it was suicidal to do. But the lizard held himself firm and let his fingers dance the hilt of the blade, waiting. Confidence flowed and hid away the fear of death - for death was no where for a Kobold to fear.
"I propose we fight as men." The lizard said suddenly, sliding the tip of his blade into the wood and facing his opponent. He droped his hat and coat onto the blade. "We fight as men, hand to hand. If you win, I will surrender the document. If I win, you will give apology to the good Doctor. Is it a deal?"
The gun lowered. And the man nodded. If anything, it was poor form to be called out by ones lessers.
"I'll have you know I was the best boxer in the fleet." Fists raised, and man to lizard, they faced one another.
Speed versus reach - the two circled as best they could, fighting against the wind and focusing on one another. They danced back and forth - a strike to the lizards snout making it bleed, and a retaliation to the stomach doubling the man over. Trading blows, back and forth, they fought - across the cart and over near the edge - never once going for a weapon. Another strike blinded an eye - a painful slap across the face disoriented the other. Again and again they fought, never once backing down, as stomachs bruised, eyes blackened, and knuckles grew bloody.
"You aren't too bad." A hint of respect for his foe - the man circled, a jab missing, only to be slapped away and a clockwork punch hitting him on the jaw. He wobbled.
"I must certainly be, for I am ever Bold." The lizard said - and struck again - sending the man to a knee. A third strike sent him nearly toppling back, and the form started to slip - only to be grabbed by the collar.
"Get your grip?" He asked of the man, who nodded dumbly. Let go - he crouched, panting for breath - as the two took a mutual moment to catch their breath. Both looked like hell.
"Good. Round two." A slam into the side of the snout made a tooth break, and the lizard wobbled himself, only to dance back and leap - bringing his hand high, to crash into the temple of Mr. Johnson. The man fell, hard. A worthy opponent and a challenging battle - the lizard grasped the man and held fast, so that he wouldn't fall from his spot and fall upon the tracks below.
"A good fight, Mr. Johnson, but I am the victor. Your apology will be accepted. Sleep well." He shoved him towards the middle of the cart and worked the locks - before pushing him down and into the cart below with a thump. He'd feel like hell in the morning. Scooping the mans pistol, he fired off the remaining shot and tossed it in after - and returned to his jacket.
"Not so fast, bugger!"
"Dear, not you again." The gollem stormed forward, in his hand a large cudgel - or what had been part of a sleeping bench. He stormed forward, as the lizard grabbed for his blade, and hurridly took his stance. This was not good.
A familiar sound filled the air - and a look up caught a grin on the face of the kobold, and a frown on the Warforged. Over-head, a blimp floated past, engines spewing black smoke as a rope-ladder was dropped down.
"As much as I would love to stay, we must postpone our appointment. Perhaps another day." The lizard said, before leaping backwards and catching the ladder, to climb up to the angry shouts of the golem.
Climbing up, he pulled himself into the low-flying blimp and stumbled into a seat, feeling the ache of the fight and the soreness of the run to catch the train. A smile met him - then another. The lovely daughter of the Doctor sat, in her dress fair and dainty - legs crossed and a cup of tea in her hand. And beside her, her father - older, the scales not as bright as his youth, but eyes sharper than the blade of the lizard who worked for him.
"I see you had some fun, For'Se. You are ever a rapscallion, aren't you?" She asked, sipping her drink. Though battered, the hat was dropped from the head of the gentleman fighter.
"Looking lovely as ever, Mad'am." For'Se replied, before reaching in to deliver the payment to her father, who laughed to himself.
"You remind me of my youth, boy. You certainly do. Come, sit, you did well. Grab some tea and something to eat - we've work to do, to keep the iron kingdom running. Our pilot will be taking us back to the university - I pray you are not behind in your classes?"
"Of course not. That wouldn't be very Bold."