((only just got back from xmas vacation, you folks have been busy))
~Three Suns Ago~
A glass pitcher, appropriated from gods knew which table, sailed through the air across the tavern and struck some poor Sea Wolf sod on his thick noggin, spilling the pitcher's contents over many a patron throughout the chamber. Cries of disbelief and outrage preceded the inevitable fight that broke out and spread like wildfire throughout the Wench. Consequently, no one saw the small hooded figure in his mole brown robe skirt around the sea of bodies and dart into the chaos just long enough for a hand to shoot out, take the seated Seeker by the arm, drag the male off his chair and out into the cold Lominsan air.
"Jin," breathed the man, his emerald eyes darting back and forth from beneath the hood as he guided Lon'qu along the upper decks, "we've been had. Was a setup after all. Captain and most o' the company headed back t'Aldenard, t'see what can be done. A'laric and I stayed behind, t'learn what we could. Ain't much, but I've a few leads."
He pulled Lon'qu aside just enough to allow a warbling pair of drunk Yellowjackets to pass them by, then the Red Wings were on their way again, themselves passing into one of the glistening marble towers of Limsa.Â
"I need you to draw from whatever personal funds you can, hire out a number of trusted men 'n' women. The sort o' mercs you'd take on as caravan guards. Send 'em t'me at Moraby Drydocks. I'll need them. Then make yourself scarce." The bearded midlander glanced at his companion, then scowled. "Someone's goin' t'get caught, Jin. Someone always gets caught. Then the bastards'll carve 'em 'til they talk, and that talk'll bring trouble. They'll be hot on our tails, but we can cut 'em off, maybe take a bastard or two alive and actually learn something. Anyroad, hands off the pearl from now on. They'll be listenin'."
The company's sergeant gave the company's quartermaster a pat on the back, then broke away, turning the corner and mounting the steps headed towards the Aftcastle. Melkire stripped his robe off, revealing a lighter robe of mesa red underneath, then tossed the mole brown garment to another midlander who'd been reclining against the wall. The stranger caught the fabric, donned the robe, then leapt over the rails and made for the opposite direction.
A moment later, the Hyur were out of sight... but a single voice sounded across the Red Wings' linkshell.
"Noble, this is Shadow. Made contact with Merchant. We're going t'need knaves with knives. I'm too well-known in these parts, so you'll have to be the one t'cross palms. I want us ready within two suns. Same rendezvous as the last. Silence on this shell startin' now. Oschon guide your steps."
~Three Suns Ago~
A glass pitcher, appropriated from gods knew which table, sailed through the air across the tavern and struck some poor Sea Wolf sod on his thick noggin, spilling the pitcher's contents over many a patron throughout the chamber. Cries of disbelief and outrage preceded the inevitable fight that broke out and spread like wildfire throughout the Wench. Consequently, no one saw the small hooded figure in his mole brown robe skirt around the sea of bodies and dart into the chaos just long enough for a hand to shoot out, take the seated Seeker by the arm, drag the male off his chair and out into the cold Lominsan air.
"Jin," breathed the man, his emerald eyes darting back and forth from beneath the hood as he guided Lon'qu along the upper decks, "we've been had. Was a setup after all. Captain and most o' the company headed back t'Aldenard, t'see what can be done. A'laric and I stayed behind, t'learn what we could. Ain't much, but I've a few leads."
He pulled Lon'qu aside just enough to allow a warbling pair of drunk Yellowjackets to pass them by, then the Red Wings were on their way again, themselves passing into one of the glistening marble towers of Limsa.Â
"I need you to draw from whatever personal funds you can, hire out a number of trusted men 'n' women. The sort o' mercs you'd take on as caravan guards. Send 'em t'me at Moraby Drydocks. I'll need them. Then make yourself scarce." The bearded midlander glanced at his companion, then scowled. "Someone's goin' t'get caught, Jin. Someone always gets caught. Then the bastards'll carve 'em 'til they talk, and that talk'll bring trouble. They'll be hot on our tails, but we can cut 'em off, maybe take a bastard or two alive and actually learn something. Anyroad, hands off the pearl from now on. They'll be listenin'."
The company's sergeant gave the company's quartermaster a pat on the back, then broke away, turning the corner and mounting the steps headed towards the Aftcastle. Melkire stripped his robe off, revealing a lighter robe of mesa red underneath, then tossed the mole brown garment to another midlander who'd been reclining against the wall. The stranger caught the fabric, donned the robe, then leapt over the rails and made for the opposite direction.
A moment later, the Hyur were out of sight... but a single voice sounded across the Red Wings' linkshell.
"Noble, this is Shadow. Made contact with Merchant. We're going t'need knaves with knives. I'm too well-known in these parts, so you'll have to be the one t'cross palms. I want us ready within two suns. Same rendezvous as the last. Silence on this shell startin' now. Oschon guide your steps."
![[Image: 1qVSsTp.png]](http://i.imgur.com/1qVSsTp.png)
