Open Chronicles Iniquitous Inquiries

Ah, there was nothing like a festival day to refill the coffers as it were. The boys, or at least the more grown members of the Jungle were busy with fruitful contracts to protect vendors and some had even got jobs building floats or stands for the events.

That was all fine and good, but the real money came from the kids Dmitri, or as the other kids liked to call him Scales, had put together. The little band of pickpockets made absolute killings on days like this, and they would keep thirty percent, no small amount while the rest would go to the Jungle's funds.

Of course, Dominic would not be sitting on his hands all day. The old adage remained true, one had to spend money to make money. The towering figure hunched through the doorway of Blind Luck, quickly being met by one of the staff.

Ignoring any sort of pleasantries, his deep baritone voice growled out, "Whisky, neat." The waiter already knew that, but Dom always made it a point to be clear on what he wanted.

Without a further exchange, Dominic lumbered over to the tables, many other patrons moving out of the way of the Otternali.

Kalherron stood to one side of the door talking quietly with the dark skinned lady in her dusty whites, faded yellows. She nodded her head to the crowd, the pageant of tables and backs, pints and plates. But she clearly meant the big form of Boss Valentino, all shoulders and smoke, dark as a crow’s quill.

Kalherron, a young man, barely above an urchin’s age, decked in his dark coat and white shirt laced loose and low, thanked her with a smile. Their hands touched briefly, fingers acquainted as she breathed in. Then he moved into the crowd, one more fowl in the flock.

Navigating the tables and elbows, side-wise and soft-stepping, he kept a hand near the shoulder bag, drooping by his waist. A shoddy leather pouch, stitched with gut; a fisherman’s bag.

Arriving to Valentino’s table, he offered a small bow, the dark waves of his hair framing and re-framing his pale face.

“Greetings, I am Kalherron Vex. Might I request an audience with the Jungle King, Master of the White Eye?”

Allirian streets reeked of festival cheer, a cacophony of voices and footfalls rising in waves over the heart of the city. Overpowering perfumed oils burned at the alters of Blessed Pagiano, mingling with the sickening scent of spiced meats and that ever-present and ever-infuriating stench of too many bodies pressed too closely. Natasha weaved through the revelers, cloak slithering behind her, warding away those foolish enough to brush against her in the crowd.

She preferred the parades to the masses- the way costumed dancer moved like whirling magic, careful illusions of fire and shadow cast by guild magicians. There was a discipline to it, an artistry. Unlike slurred laughter of the ale-soaked, frantic, sweaty cretins that gorged themselves on roasted venison and dried fruits. But the carnies? She had learned to keep a healthy distance after the previous Pagiano Day. A moment of careless siphoning, letting herself indulge a little too much with a street performer- whose blood promised nothing but amusement.

She thought him extraordinary, had felt the hum of his magic with every tossed blade, and convinced herself that he was something greater than he was. And when she was finished with him, all she had taken was his absurd trick. She wanted his illusions, but took the ability to juggle swords. It was a fantastic lesson in temperance.

A lesson she loved to test in the Blind Luck.

Inside, smoke from pipes was suffocating, curling like ghosts around tables. In here, patrons were a different breed with wealth, and dreams of wealth, clinging to them. "Chernova reserve." She told the barkeep as she scanned the crowd. Merchants' sons spent freely and foolishly. Thieves played better, and if they couldn't, they'd still leave, pockets heavy with stolen silvers. Occasionally guards joined in. Rarely, someone worth her time would enter.

His ringed eye ached. It usually did, as a matter of course. It was a near-constant discomfort he had learned to accept. Everything had a price, as the old laws dictated, and in the grand scheme he was quite pleased with the exchange. But all that was years ago. This was the present: a wondrous and transient thing, filled with possibilities.

Meliant followed after Natasha like an old, slovenly hound. The light plates of his armor clanked and clinked. It would have been quite the spectacle if it could have been heard over the din of the crowd. Meliant could not say with any certainty why he had been retained. Then again, nothing generated so much interest as a beautiful woman under guard.

He stood around and did his best to look attentive and tried not to speculate on the fate of that unfortunate jongler. That was in the past now, you see, and this was the present.

Dominic found his usual table and slowly lowered himself into the seat, hearing the predictable groan of the wood as he strained to hold up the large patron. He had not even gotten his drink yet when some string bean of a man arrived. At first, he had expectantly awaited for the man to place down his drink and leave but that unfortunately did not happen.

Was this smoothskin speaking with him? Was this some joke? Ignoring the man for now, Dom slowly took out a cigar from his coat pocket, along with a match, and lit himself a smoke before finally taking a moment to look over the man calling himself Kalherron Vex.

"Mr. Valentino is fine...What can I do for you? Must be important to interrupt my drinking and gambling."

Like a call had signaled its arrival, a waiter appeared next to him with his requested whisky along with the remained of the bottle. Throwing back the entire glass, a large sigh escaped his lips as some of the tension in his large muscles slowly relaxed.

"Don't want people thinking I lack manners, so take a seat. The next words better be good."

Kalherron Vex

The young man nodded and dropped into the seat across from Dominic Valentino, unlimbering the bag carefully.

“I am here in the stead of one Madame Le’Tenne.” Kalherron said.

“She and her girls operate dockward, the alley beside Oligaunt’s Wares connecting Coral and Loam street” He said, moving a slender finger as if tracing the area on an invisible map.

“It seems that some two nights past, a few Redfingers arrived in the very highest of spirits.”

Redfingers, Barbs, Hooklanders, Sakers, the docks seethed with small-time cutlass gangs frothing up into conflict or washing away into the damp shadows only to drift up again with new names, but the same old knives, chewing on each other and anyone else luckless enough to get their start among the barrel-heads and salt trays.

“They paid in copper for silver service and soon enough the ladies paid in crimson.” Said Kalherron pausing for a complicated moment before continuing.

“But as fate would have it. Two men of your own patronage arrived.” he said with a note of pleasure at this turn of the tale and leaned forward into the imagery.

“To hear the Madame tell it, they were fearsome giants and great was their wrath at the sight. A boar and a bull, to boil her epic to its bones. They set the redfingers to their heels, and in the beat of a sleepless heart, set out after like hounds to the hunt.” he said catching himself waxing poetic.

With some small effort he sat back and lifted the satchel by its loop, sitting it carefully on the table between them.

“Madame Le’Tenne would have come herself if not for her injuries. She is not currently party to your largess, Master Valentino, but she sends this as a gift of gratitude for the heroic actions of your men.” he said, indicating the bag between them; looking all the more ragged compared to Valentino’s own fine jacket or even his fur as dark as a mysterious gem.

“Some coins, some jewelry, a cup… or two.” he said trying not to sound apologetic.

“There was more commentary, but it was all quite gushy.” he said sitting back away from the bag.

Afanas wasn't the gambling type. He didn't believe in lady luck, much less the games she supposedly patroned. Nonetheless, he felt impelled to spend his fair share of coins on drinks and food, hence how he found himself amidst a gambling den.

Its frequenters were colorful: well-dressed lads and ladies, grizzled war veterans, local wannabe gangsters, corrupt officials, and foreign merchants. His unusual choice of attire would've hardly earned him a glance if not for his impressive frame, which towered over most humanoids in spite of its wiriness.

Blind Luck.

He chuckled over the rim of his glass, prompting one of the serving girls to tilt her head sideways as she passed him.

Wasn't justice the blind one?

Never mind that. Afanas knew fuck-all about dice and cards. He'd undoubtedly be robbed blind if he joined one of the playing tables and thus felt content in keeping to his little corner of the establishment, sipping away at wine that was decent but not quite good and certainly far from excellent.

His probing eyes surveyed the chamber, soaking in the features of anyone caught in their field of vision. A few peculiar individuals tickled his fancy: a young, unassuming man of handsome, if not effeminate, facial features, a hulking bipedal otter creature, and a male figure with hair so flawlessly crimson it invoked the imagery of liquid flames. He fully intended to scrutinize at least one of them, should an opportunity arise.

Glug, glug, glug.

Afanas drained his cup in one prompt manoeuvre, setting it aside before motioning for another pitcher to be brought to him.

Scarcely did he get the chance to eat out, leaving him with money to spare. Solid food and water were pleasant but hardly required for his continued survival. Capable of fully sustaining himself on the victuals of life force, Afanas consumed human food for the sake of indulgence.

Three rounds in to a private table, playing Kings & Crowns for high value buy-in. There were six players and the dealer, a variety of skin tones and skull structures to suit the variety of cultures that melted in the pot of Alliria. To her right: an elf of darker skin and a white coif, his attire formal and suiting that of elvish nobility. To her left: a bipedal reptilian sort of which she was not familiar but heard another refer to as a komodi. When casting the first stone for information on a specific island to the south of Alliria, she'd assumed her contact would have been one of regal bearing such as the former.

It turned out her instincts had been incorrect - it was the latter.

Though not as primly dressed, the Komodo had introduced themself as Zeviir and had, thus far, proven rather skillful in the game of strategy and chance and eloquent in his words.

Lorelei was learning the rules, but she was not truly here for her purse. No, she was here for information.

"The current Monarchy is in the midst of a great merchant upheaval and dissolved relations with our largest importers," said Zeviir to her sister who stood just behind her chair, acting as their combined voice for their present pursuits. "They are speaking of cutting ties with four major Kingdoms, both in trade and in business for reasons unknown while raising import fees on those that remain. To put it lightly, the entire city is on the brink of revolt."

A prime opportunity... her words filtered through to Aristeia Darke's mind as she drew a card from the center pile and arranged the collection in her hand, ask him what his ideal solution would be.

Ah Pagiano’s day. A time of opportunity. The Vitale’s had a number of different jobs going on throughout the city. Lorenzo had already completed his assignment for the day, the kidnapping of a young woman whose mother ran a traditionally disreputable establishment. It was embarrassingly simple. A gift of a couple bottles of wine to her boyfriend, a suggestion spell that he take her for a ride on a parade float, and a simple grab once they were isolated. Her mother was given an option to sign over the deed for her establishment for a criminal price or lose her daughter. She made her choice wisely and quickly. Thus the Vitale’s had a new business to entertain, launder money, and lure meals.

A bit ahead for the day, Lorenzo decided to focus on getting a lay of the land. There was certainly value in expanding out to new jobs, but there was also value in knowing the competitors of the market. He found his way to the Blind Luck, rumored to be a frequent haunt of the 'King of the Jungle'. Lorenzo personally had little against the demi-human gang, though he could not say the same for all the Vitales. The Jungle was a powerful niche, held effective recruitment, and were effective in pushing out any message they needed. Though some called them animals, they had distinctly more class than say, the Brucht.

Arriving he spotted the otter himself, though he seemed occupied by a . . . begger perhaps? He wondered if the King knew who he was. He was certain the Valentino knew of his clan, but how much, what the structure was? Lorenzo didn't have that intelligence. The Table had not convened in some time, leaving ill opportunity for formal exchange.

Glancing around the room he recognized the face of Zeviir, a Komodo that was known as a key trader with some of the Merchant Princes. He was also known for boasting, and loose lips around women, of which he spotted two flanking. Interesting.

The elf to Lorelei Darke 's right fell victim to a suggestion. Tonight was not the night for Kings and Crowns, but perhaps the craps table. He excused himself and Lorenzo took his seat at the table.

"Deal me in."

The weight of Meliant's presence settled beside her, an ever-looming shadow of armor and tension. Even without glancing in his direction, she could feel it. The way his posture screamed of his vigilance, the way his fingers flexed ever so slightly at his sides, ready for whatever imagined dangers might leap from the dim corners of the Blind Luck.

"Relax," She placed a hand on his arm, murmuring just loud enough for him to hear before she dropped her hand entirely. "At least pretend you enjoy being here." A lazy flick of her fingers followed, in the way one might dismiss a hound trying to settle at its master's feet.

The bartender set the deep crystal glass before her and Natasha accepted it without a word. The taste was exquisite. Dark and rich with a ghost of spice lingering at its edges. It was a relic of her family, a rare vintage that only the foolishly wealthy or ruthlessly powerful could afford without a second thought.

A man stood beside her, signaling for his own glass to be refilled with whatever peasant water he could afford. Natasha waved off the bartender, gesturing towards Cosimo. It was an order. One of what she was having for him. There was a raised brow from the bartender at her casual generosity. One she did not acknowledge. He could marvel. He could wonder. She'd drained men for less.

Here on business or pleasure?

"Does it matter?" She mused as the barkeep returned and set Cosimo's glass down with a delicate clink. "One often leads to the other, does it not?" The corners of her lips twitched almost into a smile. "Tell me, what is it you seek then?"

Dominic sat back in his chair and listened to this story with a slightly puzzled expression on his face while his one good eye seemed to be focused more on his bottle of whisky than the storyteller. Of course, that changed when the coins were placed on the table.

It did indeed sound like it was Tusk and Dorado, but he had warned them more than once not just to go around and cause problems for him. He knew of Le'Tenne and also knew that she did not employ many beast folk. Dom had told the boys to stay away from those types as the smoothskins always brought trouble.

As the story came to a close, silence followed only alleviated by the puffs of smoke that came from Dom's snouth. Finally, he leaned forward and plucked four coins from the prize that was offered to him. His meaty fingers plucked four coins from the small pile.

"Tell Madam Le'Tenne to thank you, but that was no order for me and the boys were just doing whatever they felt like. They will each accept two coins, as for the rest...give it back to her and her girls or take it for yourself. I don't care."

By now, Dominic's eye was focused on something else as it darted around the room seeming to find something he did not like. It looked like the Stillbloods were about and about, and this many in one place was dangerous. But, places like Blind Luck were off-limits, and everyone had a right to some fun.

"Come with me, you might be able to make more coin for Le'Tenne than she ever imagined."

Without waiting for an answer, Dominic Valentino lumbered from his seat, taking his bottle in one hand, and crossed the room to the private tables.

"Make room for two more."

Lorenzo Vitale Lorelei Darke Kalherron Vex Aristeia Darke

Aristeia Darke Lorelei Darke
Lorenzo Vitale

The vampire's batlike ears twitched, causing the earrings hanging off them to clink and clank against each other. In an instant, he rerouted his attention to a playing group seated some distance away from his shadowy corner.

Of the lot, three figures stood out to him, two were women, both of great beauty and inconspicuous racial backgrounds, while the man speaking to them was undoubtedly of the komodi stock.

Afanas wasn't privy to a great deal of knowledge regarding their race, but the few komodi he did meet during his journeys proved to be resourceful and pragmatic individuals.

The more he listened, the more the wheels in his head turned, churning up at least a dozen thought trains.

Having been made aware of the various blunders undertaken by the city's ruling class, Afanas assumed the status quo to be shaky, but not quite on the brink of breakage as the Komodi man implied. Still yet, he was a complete non-native, an incomer to the land and thus didn't fancy his chances at discerning the various political plays currently ongoing between the major actors, not in the least unaided.

He chewed on his lower lip, cogitating on the possibilities, the do's and don'ts.

Finally, he steeled his resolve enough to pry his buttocks from the chair's cushioned embrace. He sauntered in the direction of the conversing assemblage, his broad, darkly clad form weaving through the human anthill with preternatural fluidity.

Once close enough, he took off his hat, placing it rim-first against his chest, and in doing so, caused his chestnut-colored locs to spill over his prominent shoulders.

"You'll have to excuse my eavesdropping, ladies and gentlemen, but I couldn't restrain myself from taking an interest in this exchange of yours. I am a foreigner here, a wandering sellsword. Thus far, I hadn't the chance nor the luck to meet any people as chatty as you in the matters of local politics. Would you permit me to join the table? Not much of a gambler myself, but I'll provide the wherewithal for your drinks if need be."

He jabbed a subtle, knowing look Lorenzo's way. He was the only familiar face at the table, that much Afanas couldn't deny.

The Blind Luck was basically the same sort of establishment Eamon had frequented a hundred times over. Low ceilings, thick air, you could either get your throat cut here or you could make a fortune depending on your fortune.

He liked places like this. If need be, he could disappear into the background, but people didn't pay attention to him to begin with. They were all too focused on the glitter of coin and the waterfall of ale flowing down from the bar into their cups.

Eamon was sitting in the corner of the room, his back to the wall so nobody could sneak up on him easily. A tankard of ale was still resting in front of him, but it was mostly forgotten. Its chill lost to the heat brought by so many bodies collected in one room. His eyes scanned the room, waiting and watching.

The man was late.

It had been a surprise to get a snippet of parchment pressed in his hands as soon as he arrived in the city proper. An old name etched into it from an even older life. He had never expected to see it again and truth to be told he didn't know if the sender was alive either.

It could be a trap.

Come alone. The Blind Luck. Blessed Pagiano's Eve.

That was nearly an hour ago and truth to be told it wasn't a message that inspired confidence.

He breathed out slowly, trying to center himself in the moment and not get distracted by all the revelry going around him. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility that the man was delayed and would still show up. Or maybe he had second thoughts. Or- well, you could come up with a lot of stray reasons if you had nothing but time and filth acting like ale in your hand.

Eamon's gaze swept across the room again. Trying to find a familiar face. Anyone from his past that might have invited him here... or lured him here. Not the first time he considered the option that this was a trap to get him in the open.

Well, if that was the case, they got him good.

Nothing to do but wait for it.

It was a lovely night. Having spent most of the day inside sleeping despite all the things going on outside for whatever holiday this was, Crowne was actually quite eager to get moving downstairs and stretch his legs. He had arrived early during setup for the whole event after completing a job and learned it was called "Pagiano's Day", though what exactly this Pagiano fellow had done to deserve such a honor was evidently a strange and unknown fact. After that, he managed to secure himself room and board.

Rest was found at a somewhat empty (at least, then it was) gambling house called the Blind Luck, a name Crowne actually found quite funny. Gambling was, at its very core, exactly that. Dumb chance that couldn't be gamed by skill lest someone trick everyone else at the table. He had never tried it himself due to that fact, but it wasn't as if his travels required much in the way of currency, so he resolved to give it a go. If not at a time of joy, whenever would it be appropriate?

Already changed into new clothes by the time of this declaration, he separated a reasonable amount of coin from his pouch into a trouser pocket and nodded to nobody. Everything was ready to go, everything but the most important part of all. Bringing his hand close to his face, he cast an illusion spell over his body and suddenly his clothes went from basic to slightly less basic. Taking inspiration from the armor he had worn with his last illusion, the only change was a new grey vest with gold trimmed pockets.

As for his body, he chose a tan skin tone, rounded his ears, "fixed" his teeth, and decided for tonight he would keep the bald head and beard when faking. Finally his eyes went from all-black to the relatively standard blue pupil and white sclera combination.

He grinned as he remembered those he had met that night. As it turned out, his disguise would be far more telling of who he was than he thought, but for now he was just innocently getting ready. Opening the door, he would exit into the hallway and sigh at the encroaching noise as he got closer to and then headed down the stairs. Yes, this was a day of merriment, but it still gave him a mite of whiplash after sleeping in silence for what must have been hours.

Almost as soon as his feet hit the floor of the lower level did he notice the large group of people settled around a table. Given that any game, from cards to dice, were luck-based, it made the most sense to go over there. It was, after all, where the most money was to be won if fate was on his side. He approached and then realized that perhaps it would be a bit rude to barge in without checking if the game was going first. When he walked in further, he noticed there were no cards out at most spots, so that was good...what next?

Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw a strangely large hat and brown hair but brushed it aside, figuring such a coincidence to be impossible. Of the cast at the table were a large otter-person, two ladies, a man who looked like he was dressed in a pillow covering, and a beautiful ginger-haired...grey skinned...person. There was truly no chance it could be anyone else, was there? Well, how funny of fate to have caused a reunion so soon.

He decided to see if he would still be identified by going over to Lorenzo, doubly hoping a spot was still available and interested in a bit of trickery. "Pardon, friend, but how might I join this game?" He asked before pausing for a moment. Well familiar with what a gang member's priorities might be playing cards, he decided he could make the prospect more appealing. "I haven't gambled before, but thought now was as good a time as any to try."

If Lorenzo recognized him, awesome. If not, then Crowne had just presented himself as a newcomer who had stepped up to the high-roller table. He didn't know it was the high roller table and was in fact new, but luckily it would only add to the many other illusions at play...probably.

Lorenzo Vitale Aristeia Darke Lorelei Darke Dominic Valentino Afanas

Aristeia Darke said:

He looks weary, does he not, sister? Should I smile more?

Click to expand...

Perhaps... Lorelei replied to her thoughts, but no teeth.

"A clean slate," Zeviir replied over a broad smile of his own pointed teeth which Lorelei admired from where she sat. "Something that would bring us back to our... former prosperity."

Or maybe teeth are fine, Lorelei corrected herself to her sister, faintly amused.

The common folk of the world in this age had presented as being... rather flighty. Given their short stint of time in Alliria thus far, Lorelei felt comfortable saying that the predators that had once ruled the lands across the world had over the last several centuries been forced to the shadows.

Yet the more things changed...

Lorenzo Vitale said:

The elf to @Lorelei Darke 's right fell victim to a suggestion. Tonight was not the night for Kings and Crowns, but perhaps the craps table. He excused himself and Lorenzo took his seat at the table.

"Deal me in."

Click to expand...

Dominic Valentino said:

Without waiting for an answer, Dominic Valentino lumbered from his seat, taking his bottle in one hand, and crossed the room to the private tables.

"Make room for two more."

Click to expand...

Afanas said:

Once close enough, he took off his hat, placing it rim-first against his chest, and in doing so, caused his chestnut-colored locs to spill over his prominent shoulders.

"You'll have to excuse my eavesdropping, ladies and gentlemen, but I couldn't restrain myself from taking an interest in this exchange of yours. I am a foreigner here, a wandering sellsword. Thus far, I hadn't the chance nor the luck to meet any people as chatty as you in the matters of local politics. Would you permit me to join the table? Not much of a gambler myself, but I'll provide the wherewithal for your drinks if need be."

He jabbed a subtle, knowing look Lorenzo's way. He was the only familiar face at the table, that much Afanas couldn't deny.

Click to expand...

Crowne Garisi said:

He decided to see if he would still be identified by going over to Lorenzo, doubly hoping a spot was still available and interested in a bit of trickery. "Pardon, friend, but how might I join this game?" He asked before pausing for a moment. Well familiar with what a gang member's priorities might be playing cards, he decided he could make the prospect more appealing. "I haven't gambled before, but thought now was as good a time as any to try."

Click to expand...

Lorelei felt the tethers of her sister's frail social facade begin to fray. She wrapped a mental blanket of support around Aristeia's bubbling anxiety to help stem the tide.

Steady darling.

The more things stayed the same.

A curved brow twitched over an expression of placidity as the woman dipped into her handbag to withdraw from within what appeared to be a rolled cigarette. She acknowledged no one directly aside from her contact, Zeviir, with a prickling glance to which he could only offer his own apologetic, shrugging smile -- and then a secondary glance to their dealer.

Though it was her reserved table for the night, she would defer to the man's judgement on who should be allow to sit there. The dealer nodded in return.

To Lorenzo Vitale he accepted the buy-in and dealt the man his cards.

To Dominic Valentino he also nodded and looked to the other presently seated players. Two of which rose from their chairs, clearly displeased by being displaced, but found some appeasement in the dealer's offering of two golden tickets that would afford them free drinks for the rest of the evening. To Dominic and his associate, Kalherron Vex, he dealt their cards.

To Afanas he gave a curious glance and circled back to the Lady of the table. The man had outwardly declined gambling, so he was here to... what, converse? Lorelei nodded in assent and looked to Zeviir.

"Ah-" said the komodo, "yes well, we could all use a fresh splash I think. Let us find you a seat," and promptly pulled an empty chair over to place between himself and the Ladies where Afanas could make himself comfortable before signalling to a passing waitress for a fresh round of drinks.

To Crowne Garisi the dealer shook his head, "I'm afraid this table is reserved for a private party, Sir, at the Lady Darke's behest."

The Lady Darke in question did finally turn to the new player on her left (Lorenzo), a man whose hair rivaled her own in hue, and gestured politely with her cigarette and a questioning look to see if he might have a match light for her.

"As for local politics..." Zeviir blew his cheeks out and took up the remainder of his glass, "Alliria is a city embroiled by foreign invaders and a poor turnout for protection. The trade routes are plagued by warbands, highwaymen, and mercenary groups and the waters are full of pirates. That you made it here in one piece you might consider yourself lucky."

As Lorenzo covered the buy in he noticed the price was steep. With over a century’s worth of dealing in Alliria Lorenzo had assets, far more than the average man, but he was also no merchant prince. He would have to be shrewd at this table.

As Lorelei Darke extended a cigarette he grabbed it’s end with his fingers and blowed softly. The end went alight, and smoke began to rise at a very minor display of magic. He let the cigarette go and leaned back, returning some space to the woman whose red hair outshone his own.

“You have my apologies and gratitude. I was not aware this was a private game.” Lorenzo said to the woman. He then affirmed Zeevir’s comment.

“The Ranger presence is not what it once was. There are certainly less lives and coin flowing from the Reach.”

The wooden frame to the chair began to creak from stress, her fingers curled over the top and tightening the more bodies had come their way. This was a private table. This was no invitation, and yet the audible groan of wood was the only indication that Aristeia was bothered by the newcomers.

To which she gave no acknowledgements to.

Her sister's embrace was welcomed, steeling her struggles as she pressed on.

"Do not stray far from our interests, Zeviir." Aristeia's voice, although low and smooth, held an edge that threatened to press against one's jugular. Patience had been a struggled for the younger Aszai, for this past year had proved to be difficult when processing all that had been lost of their life. She would forever be thankful to Moire for leaving her with her sister.

Afanas blithely accepted their charitableness and, with a lighthearted smile gracing his alabaster countenance, plopped himself into the designated seat. His dark eyes flicked back and forth between his tablemates, then between the cards being played. He was vaguely aware of the rules they played by but had neither the creativity nor the necessary fortitude to put said knowledge to good use.This place was a mouse trap, and the gamblers were mice—a clear predator-prey relationship, yet so normalized.

It was in establishments like these where the vulnerable were legally robbed, and the criminals lived large on their gains.

His was a more natural game, the oldest game, the primeval gamble; life versus death, hope versus despair.

Lorelei Darke said:

"As for local politics..." Zeviir blew his cheeks out and took up the remainder of his glass, "Alliria is a city embroiled by foreign invaders and a poor turnout for protection. The trade routes are plagued by warbands, highwaymen, and mercenary groups and the waters are full of pirates. That you made it here in one piece you might consider yourself lucky."

Click to expand...

Afanas couldn't help but shake his head playfully, his locs swaying in beat with the motion. He came to Alliria on foot and was, thus, accosted more than once by gangs of perfidious vagabonds looking to relieve him of his belongings before chucking his lifeless and likely naked corpse into the nearest ditch.

...they ended up providing an acceptable source of nourishment for the duration of the long hike.

"A pity, truly. It is a beautiful city. A man learns to appreciate the trappings of civilization when he spends most of his days either on the battlefield or hunting things and creatures in places where most wouldn't venture to set a foot on even if threatened at sword point."

"But, there's an opportunity in it all. The city ought to be protected better, and I heard, although I cannot verify the veracity of the rumor, that the merchant council intends to recruit a large contingent of mercenaries for that exact reason. Not your run-of-the-mill cutthroat bastards, but rather... professionals. People with a pinch of creed and a splash of fidelity to their character."

Lorelei Darke

Natasha snorted at Meliant's thoughts. The man's humor was certainly worth keeping him around. She returned with a quip of her own. Speaking of hogs...look at that trough over there. Her eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement as they trailed over to a bizarre crowd that had formed across the way.

What do you think I seek?

Her attention turned back to Cosimo as he made an attempt at conversation. "Ah, a mind reader I am not." She sipped at her wine. "But if I had to take an educated guess, I would say you are here to make back rent money that you squandered on..." She looked him up and down. "Whores and ale. Tell me, am I correct?"

She waited only a moment for his response before scanning the room once over. A familiar face caught her eye. "Eamon?" She made a beeline for the table, waving her guard and new companion over to join them at a table for four. "It's been an age. To what do I owe the pleasure?"