At the Blacksmiths.

[dabria]

Dabria followed Geoffrey back through the forest, bringing up the rear of their small group. They were considerably less noticeable now, which bode well for them, and they barely drew any looks as they emerged from the wooded area and made their way back through the town. It took everything in her to keep calm and walk slowly and unobtrusively

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[norrington_j]

Norrington halted a few steps into the blacksmith's workshop, the rest of the group crowding in behind him. He spotted Mr. Brown at the back of the shop, passed out drunk as usual, an empty rum bottle having rolled a few feet away from him.

Well, at least some things never change.

He turned back to those behind him, whispering.

"Mr. Brown is not likely to waken soon, but try to be quiet nonetheless"

Even if the smith did not awaken, he wasn't keen to draw attention from outside.

There were, as usual, swords hanging from numerous areas. Some of the more recent ones were Mr. Brown's own servicable but lackluster efforts; he passed by them and went directly for the blades forged by Turner, grabbing three immediately and passing them back to whomever was closest behind him.

"Get a few daggers as well, they will be easier to conceal."

He glanced back toward the door nervously, praying that no-one would be frequenting the forge today as the rest of the group fanned out around the workshop.

[will_turner_2]

Someone became aware that there was activity in the blacksmith's shop, and it wasn't the snoring proprietor. Quickly, he pressed up against the outside wall in the darkness, listening to the voices inside and the faint noise of scuffling feet. He frowned, aware that he had no weapons upon his person and likely couldn't have much effect upon those inside if it came to a fight, but he had to get inside and get what he had come for.

Unable to think of a reasonable way to get inside without being seen, he finally just threw all caution to the winds and yanked the side door open, dashed inside, and reached for the first heavy iron tool he could reach. "Who are you!" he demanded, not really questioning but hoping for the element of surprise.

It was, of course, Will Turner, barely lit by the red glow of the coals left in the forge, iron mallet hefted in one practiced hand. Clearly, he still couldn't see whom he was facing.

[norrington_j]

Norrington had had his back turned when a door flew open suddenly, banging against a wall. His heart leapt into his throat as visions of armed marines flashed through his mind and he whirled around with the sword in his hand ahead of him, ready to take out the nearest assailant.

"Who are you!"

He just barely managed to stop short of decapitating one Will Turner. He noticed that the others around him were equally riled by the intrusion and equally surprised by the identity of the intruder. He breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly, letting the tension in his body leave with the breath. He finally remembered to lower the sword in his hand before giving the younger man a sardonic look.

"Forgotten me already, mister Turner? And shouldn't you be with your wife?"

[will_turner_2]

Will sensed that a blade might be coming his way by the sound in the air; he ducked instinctively, but the sound of Norrington's voice brought him up short in the next moment. The hammer was dropped onto a wooden bench with a thud.

"Couldn't see you there," he said, more quietly, squinting into the darkness. "I came to try to free the others." Once he could make out about how many people were in the room, he added, "Who's with you?"