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***Nero*** · **08-12-2014, 06:17 PM**

That seemed to be the best offer Nero could get from this. The phrase "you don't know what you have until it's missing" rang invariably true this time around. Had Daegsatz stayed, Nero and his first mate might have been able to turn things to a more favourable position; the Hyur was no slouch in a fight, but he didn't have the Sea Wolf's talent for tearings limbs out of their sockets. Thaumaturgy wasn't an option, as even if Nero had his scepter in his possession, reducing the Wench to naught but rubble and broken bottles was out of the question.

"I thought we were here for business," Nero said to Kink, pursing his lip. "This spat you have with Xydane sounds personal. And if you ask me, personal isn't good business." The Hyur's point seemed to be punctuated with the sound of a chair being smashed over a school. Nero glanced hurriedly towards the centre; the last thing he needed was the breakout of a brawl. It would hardly be unusual in the Wench, but he'd be damned if he was going to foot any bill for broken furniture this time.

As for Kink's suggestion that he might utilize Inessa for sweeping, Nero preferred to do that himself, or at least assign it to someone he trusted like Satz or Garalt. There was no way of knowing if this less than subtle vigilante would leave a blood trail splattered over the walls, a trail that might lead directly to Nero and possibly to the brig or, if he was incredibly unlucky, the execution block.

"But then, that's the way it goes, doesn't it," Nero said to nobody in particular, his face expressionless.

He withdrew the gil pouch from his pocket, but took a hefty measure out of it and running calculations in his head. He had initially planned on overpaying the runner, but that plan was now off the table. Nero withdrew a small sheaf of parchment from his trouser pocket and slipped it inside the pouch before pulling on the draw string; inscribed on it was a location and a name: Fisherman's Bottom, Sebastian Redgrave.Â

Apparently satisfied, the pouch made a clink on the table. "Five hundred and fifty," Nero said tersely. Â "We can meet later to discuss the details." He winced reflexively as a few roars grew louder, and somewhere in the din were Tenfingers' enraged wails. If it wasn't a brawl yet, it was very likely going to start soon.

Zhavi · **08-12-2014, 06:41 PM**

"If it affects me business, then it's business," Zhi said to Nero, sweet as candy. She tilted her head to the side, "asides, his need t'clean th'city o'scum would be bad fer yers, too, come t'think o' it." She'd wink, and reach for that last piece of fish.

She glanced in the same direction he had. Big brawls meant the jacks would eventually be called in. So while watching (and sometimes participating) in such extra curricular activities was fun, she'd no desire of being caught underfoot when the navy came sailing in.

The fish was slurped down, and the gil plucked up and tucked away. She'd need to secret that away in one of her hidey holes; wouldn't do to be caught out somewhere while carrying too much money.

"I'll come collect ye on th'morrow once I've readied," Zhi said to Inessa. "Now then, 'less there's more wind blowin', I've a mind t'make wake."

She backed up a step from the table, into a small pocket formed by the backs of a few women engaged in conversation.

If neither of them had anything to say, she'd leave as fast as she was able.

LiveVoltage · **08-12-2014, 06:56 PM**

Inessa had nothing left to say, she just tilted her head back as she continued to drink her wine. She enjoyed watching fight's. It gave her a chance to observe Lominsa fighting styles and she was sure to watch from one of the distant tables, while avoiding any of the confrontation or the guards. They wouldn't likely bother her so long as Inessa minded her own buisness and didn't say anything.

"Just a little longer master. The criminals will pay with their lives or their blood..." Inessa mumbled to herself as she savored the wine she kept taking sips of every so often. Inessa wasnt looking to get drunk on wine, merely to enjoy the taste of it.

***Nero*** · **08-12-2014, 09:24 PM**

The next morning, a blood red sun dawned on the island of Vylbrand, the sort that the superstitious would fear as an omen of turbulent times. As it stood, the most ominous thing that it signified for Nero was that it was the morning. He hated mornings.

Sleepily, the smuggler managed to muster the discipline to sit up, his eyelids blearily making up and down motions that vaguely resembled blinking. Like molasses, he cast off the unfinished sail that had served as a blanket and struggled to roll himself off of his ramshackle cot, landing with a dull thud.

The impact with the ground having jolted his basic senses to kick in, Nero stood up and stretched, his back protesting with a loud crack that relieved tension as much as it sounded wholly unpleasant. In an attempt to stimulate his mind, he forced himself to recall as many details of last night's little rendezvous as possible.

Kink. A runner and street rat who nonetheless had dirt on some important people in Limsa Lominsa's underworld. She had vexed the wrong ones. He was going to make a deal with her. Then the newcomer--the name escaped him--had butted into their conversation, spouting some nonsense about cleansing Limsa Lominsa of crime. Kink decided to use both the newcomer and Nero to her advantage. They were due to meet him today.

A hand was rubbed across his face like one would attempt to wipe a smear off a window. The plan had been so simple. Hire Kink for her info, use that info to remove or appropriate the assets of the rest of Limsa Lominsa's crime bosses, expand into Ul'dah, overthrow the Syndicate, become Sultan, conquer the Garlean Empire, ride a chocobo made of solid gold, replace his left arm with a cannon that fired pastries and slices of cake, go gambling with Nald'Thal, open an entertainment venue upon which the name "Grand Wonderdome Eorzea" is emblazoned on it in perpetual blue flame, clean that one barnacle off the hull of the SecondÂ Forte, and open a successful chain of culinary steak houses in Gridania.Â

Where had the situation become so complex?

His imagination ran wild as Nero slipped on a functional black sleeveless shirt and pulled on his boots. He couldn't be bothered to dress well for his appointment today, and it was about time that he made his rounds in Fisherman's Bottom anyway. Walking to the front of the building he was sleeping in, the smuggler pushed open the double doors to be greeted with the early cries of gulls and the sound of the sea lapping at the docks of Limsa Lominsa. It was a small warehouse he owned, but for a single frigate it served well enough as a storage facility and occasional hideout. Every now and then the tax collectors would come around, looking to collect on the property value from one "Sebastian Redgrave", who was always mysteriously absent but who nonetheless always left his owed amount on the door.

Locking the double doors behind him with a thick padlock, Nero stretched again, groaning as he did.

It was bound to be a long day.

Zhavi · **08-13-2014, 11:40 AM**

Zhavi wasn't hungover so much as she was still drunk. She'd crashed in one of her holes around the city, not trusting the cheap boarding house she'd recently paid a room for. She hadn't slept for long. Long, restful nights had never come easily to her for as long as she could remember. Sleeping light kept you alive.

There'd been other jobs to see to after the strange meeting the prior night. Things to deliver. Messages to give. People to spy on. The last had been the cause of her small amount of sleep, but she'd gotten a good tidbit out of it. She knew she should sleep more, just the same way she knew she should smoke less.

About that. . .

She inhaled for a long time, savoring the sophorific effect of the smoke held between her fingers. She was still dressed in the clothing from the day before -- not the stuff she'd met the two in, but her climbing gear.

Zhi made decent enough money as a runner, but over half wound up getting spent as payments, for disguises, clothing for jobs, tools -- it wasn't a cheap occupation, not if you meant to be any good at it. A good portion of the rest was spent on alcohol, smokes, and. . .other habits. All in the name of collecting information, of course. She wasn't irresponsible in the least.

The stub almost burned her fingers. She would've used her pipe, but it was at the boarding house. She grimaced and put it out. The ash was left where it had spilled on the ground, and she dressed for the day in sturdy, practical clothes tight enough to her body that she could climb in a pinch, while thick enough that it left her shape on the feminine side of androgynous. Then she left.

She made her morning rounds, deciding on the spot where she was going. It was true that she couldn't fight for shit, but when it came to following people and keeping them off her own tail she was good. Really damn good. She was watching as she circled a couple places she'd skipped the day before, and a couple more that she had.

In between her more normal work, she carefully spread rumors about Unrelenting, with the slightest implications that he should be taken care of by those with the chops to do so. Bad for business, was her suggestion. Good for reputation should someone put an end to him. Oh, aye, she'd brought on Inessa to take care of the problem, but it was always prudent to have backups. How well would he fare, she wondered -- how dangerous was he? That she didn't know was a big problem. That she'd been sloppy enough for him to figure her out was the bigger problem.

Once she'd finished her rounds, she made her way to Fisherman's Bottom. She made a few careful inquiries into Sebastian Redgrave, and eventually found herself in front of a small warehouse -- one she'd never interacted with; there'd been no need to look into it before. It was in a bland stretch of territory that generally belonged to honest traders of the sort she generally didn't pursue in business. Perhaps things were changing. She'd have to start investigating.

She banged on the door when she found it locked, and waited with one hand resting on her hip, looking up and down the street.

***Nero*** · **08-13-2014, 12:00 PM**

Nero's patrol around Fisherman's Bottom was fairly routine. He would often hand out a few gil to some of the beggars and collect some rumours. A few of the fishermen would update him what ships they had seen come into port--many of them rose early before going out to sea, and so if any clandestine arrivals had come in before dawn, they would have seen it.

He also took the time to check on his new ship; construction had just started to begin, and thus the hull had barely begun to form. It was to be a brig, and due to be somewhat larger than the Second Forte. While Nero's vessel wasn't lacking in fangs, his clipper was slight and built for running blockades; raids took in the form of hit-and-run or boarding action, never ship to ship combat, as the latter would likely destroy valuable cargo and cause unnecessary damage to both ships.

Nero hadn't any idea yet what to christen the vessel, but he would worry about that when it was complete.

Returning to his warehouse, Nero found the Miqo'te lounging outside of it, to his surprise. She had arrived sooner than he'd expected. And it was to his great pleasure that Kink had decided not to bring along her new bodyguard; that was going to be very annoying if Nero had to find a way to lock that vigilante out.

"Morning," Nero said, a small smile cresting his face. He never greeted anyone with "good morning"--the smuggler considered it bad luck to greet someone with an oxymoron. The Hyur kneeled down to unlock the padlock of the warehouse. "This is something you can consider to be a safehouse. I'll give you a spare key when we're done discussing our business." The padlock unlocked with a click, and Nero pulled open the double doors of the warehouse.

It was a small thing; various unmarked crates covered in various tarps were scattered around it. There were a few makeshift cots scattered around it, and the unfinished sail that Nero had used to cover himself lay on the floor. A hammock was also strung between two massive crates that couldn't possibly be used for smuggling.Â

"Ladies first," Nero said cordially, waving a hand to the inside of the warehouse.

Zhavi · **08-13-2014, 12:16 PM**

"First," Zhi said, not budging an inch, "yer me client. That means I keep yer hidey-holes safe. We'll need another place t'meet when I've Hara at me back. Meantime, fer now any information I'll need t'be knowin' needs t'be spoken now. After, I'll collect Hara an' we'll meet elsewhere."

She gave him a long look and a confident smile before walking inside. She moved with a certain amount of swagger. She set herself up near the hammock, leaning against one of the crates. She didn't fold her arms or stand in any way that would make movement difficult. She wasn't tense, but it was clear there was little trust lost between herself and Nero. She was ready to move if she needed to.

***Nero*** · **08-13-2014, 01:07 PM**

Nero raised one shoulder and lowered the other. "That suits me just fine. The last thing I need is Miss Paragon-For-Justice crashing my safehouses," he said amiably. He followed the Miqo'te inside and shut the double doors shut, before turning and folding his arms, gazing at Kink intently. The grin molted off his face like a snake sheds its skin.

"First and foremost, ships," he began. "I want to know about ships travelling to and from Thanalan, and if they're connected to any other smuggling, or if they serve as funds for any other crime organisation here in Limsa. And before you make a smart comment, ships that aren't mine," Nero said, his stiff and business-like manner prevailing again. "If they're providing black market goods to Ul'dah, I want to know about them." The Hyur was careful to make his desires clear without revealing his plans. The easiest way to keep a secret was not to tell them.

"Secondly, about those goods. I want to know who those imports are going to here in Limsa. I want to know who relies on the smugglers for their narcotics or their weapons or their indentured servants. The bigger the reliance, the better. Any additional intelligence you can gather on them will be valuable."

"Lastly, contacts. You've surely made a few business associates in your...profession." Nero moved his arms from across his chest to on his hips. "Fences, runners, informants, assassins, anyone you think might be useful. For every viable contact you can establish with me, I'll pay you one-fifty extra." He had almost said the word "trustworthy" instead of "viable", and it was only at the last second that he realised how foolish that would have sounded.

"Do our terms sound reasonable?" he asked.

Zhavi · **08-13-2014, 01:55 PM**

Even when Nero's smile disappeared, Zhi's did not. She almost seemed cheerful while listening to him. She nodded along, though she looked thoughtful at his last request. "Aye. It's fair. Now, ye want all ships what have room fer smugglin', or only them what hits a certain amount o'haul or worth? An' fer now. . . do ye want this information all at th'same time, 'r do ye want names o'crews an' such I'm havin' knowin' of now?"

***Nero*** · **08-13-2014, 02:03 PM**

Nero shook his head. "My main concern is whether or not they make frequent landing at Thanalan." Choking out the sea trade to Ul'dah's underground would be the first step in expanding. If the Monetarists and their cronies couldn't get their precious black market goods, then Nero would be in the stronger position to defy them. "Following that criterion, the ships who transport the most goods to least. Their captains are my primary concern."Â

The smuggler re-folded his arms. "And if you happen to know any such captains, then I would be happy to take their names now," he offered.

Zhavi · **08-13-2014, 05:02 PM**

Interesting. So he was interested in who was doing what business, was he? She immediately started rattling off names, starting with some of the largest movers of goods and who their affiliations were down to the smallest that she knew. It was by no means a comprehensive list, but it was thorough.

She looked up at the ceiling, adopting a puerile expression. "Now then, mate, I don't know if yer plannin' on bein' a disruption, 'r openin' lines o' business, 'r what it is ye want from this. I don't care. Can't say I want t'know; ye feck up yer own take an' they'll be lookin' t'who was feedin' word out. But some o'these, well, ye'll want t'treat 'em wi' a real gentle touch. Don't go playin' sharks if ye don't got th'teeth fer it. Fancy? Now, if ye want, I'll tell ye which are th'safest t' . . .interact wi'. Some o'these, ye don't want t'be messin' wi' until yer real sure o' yer positionin'."

***Nero*** · **08-13-2014, 07:19 PM**

Nero nodded, mentally filing away each name to be used for a later time, even as he scrounged for a scrap of parchment, ink, and a dip pen. A tiny desk with a drawer was located at the far end of the room, behind several of the larger crates. Inside was some used ledger paper and the ink and pen; it was slipshod, but it would have to do.

"I always play the game to win, Kink," Nero said, his voice somewhat muffled by his position behind the crates as he scrabbled some names down. "I won't be approaching any of them until I'm already victorious." It was part truth, and part bravado; the smuggler preferred to leave few things as possible to chance, but only the most naive would believe things would always go according to plan. Emerging from around the crates, the Hyur stared at the sheet of parchment in his hand, scanning the names. Some were recognisable, and some were not. A few were legitimate merchants; they were most likely being used, without their knowledge, as mules or to launder gil. Those were likely the ones Nero would target first.

"I trust your expert opinion," Nero said, his eyes refusing to leave the paper. "If you've any advice on the subject, I'll accept it."

LiveVoltage · **08-14-2014, 02:43 PM**

Inessa wake's up in the early morning inside of one of the inn room's at the Drowning Wench, wrapped around in her bedsheets, which were quite strewn and messy. Inessa has always been a rough sleeper and tended to make a mess of thing's in her sleep, but on a smaller scale then what she could do in her awake hour's.

She pick's herself up out of the bed, she is armorless, wearing just simple cloth garb's. She stretches and let's out a long winded sigh, dreading the fact she had to get up in the morning's.

Immediately, she strip's and dawn's her battle garment's, but dawn's her chainmail over that which she then put another garb over the chainmail to hide the fact she wore chainmail under plate armor, then proceeded to put on her armor plate's. She was quite heavily armored, but this was expected as she was not only hunted by criminal's but law enforcement official's as well. Being overly cautious has served her well in survival of combat.

Inessa then grabbed her Halberd, which she kept next to the bed in the event she had to fight off attacker's and set out to middle La Noscea to begin her daily morning training as she always did most day's.

Zhavi · **08-15-2014, 01:06 PM**

Expert opinion, indeed. He had a way with words. He was a smooth talker, the sort who could slip all sorts of things in without you noticing if you weren't careful. Zhi could appreciate that in a man, but only in the kind that weren't terribly dangerous. It was likely to make things difficult for her, and only time would tell if that difficulty was fun, or just a pain in her ass.

Still, she had her usefulness and this was the time to prove it to him. They both had things the other wanted, but there was always a chance of double-crossing. Wouldn't that just be such fun if he used her contacts to get established and then dumped her out? The problem with being a runner was that it was sometimes expected that you were doublecrossed; none of the big players much cared if their compatriots screwed over the lesser pawns. Indeed, in some circles such bloodthirstiness was looked upon with respect.

She needed him to need her -- as much as she needed his offerings. Inessa was part of that. The rest was just being rutting good at her job.

So she listed the safest to interact with, the easiest to gobble up, the ones who she knew to be in trouble. Those that were connected to the barons or those who had near power to the barons were saved for last, but she still told him. She'd wait and see how he used it. And then. . . then they might have more to talk about.

"Anythin' else ye've need o' hearin'? Or, now we're talkin', anythin' ye've need o' me t'know? Afore I go an' fetch th' muzzled bitch."

***Nero*** · **08-15-2014, 01:53 PM**

Nero studied the names. His sheaf of parchment had begun to fill fairly quickly. Many of these names he could use, but some were strictly off-limits--harassing them would draw the attention of the Maelstrom, and Nero wasn't interested in contending with the Admiral's brand of justice.Â

But this was a good haul of information. He'd use his gil and his men to lean on some of these names, and be able to muscle his way into the good graces of some Ul'dahn clients. Nero already had some ongoing operations to Thanalan and a few clients here and there, but this would accelerate his profits and his status considerably.

"Contacts," he repeated to Kink's inquiry. "Should you or anyone you're associated with need a job, I will likely have something for you to do worth a few hundred gil. You can consider me a source of regular income, so long as the jobs are accomplished correctly." Nero had never needed to use runners or assassins before, but it wouldn't hurt to have a few in his pocket. The beggars and the fishermen of the docks worked well enough as eyes and ears, but the farther his reach extended, the better position Nero would be in to focus on Ul'dah.

"And while I know your sort are fond of their autonomy and freedom of choice and all of that," the smuggler was tempted to insert 'the freedom to choose which garbage pile to sleep in', but refrained. "I can always use capable employees."

Finally, he pocketed the parchment and turned to look at the Miqo'te, his arms folded. "For the moment, there's nothing else. You'll already be providing information to that vigilante about Limsa Lominsa's crime scene. Any information you provide to her, I'll pay additional." If Nero's instinct was right, someone like Kink wouldn't be able to resist double dipping on clients like this. What the vigilante did didn't matter, as long as she didn't try to stick him; if Inessa removed Nero's competition for him, it'd be all the better.

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