Osric screwed up.
Generally speaking, he almost always screwed up.
The important questions to ask were always how and how badly.
Hawkers' Alley was a fairly respectable place, relatively speaking, for a market crawling with thieves, footpads, pirates, ruffians, scoundrels, and the lot. Though you were almost certain to be pickpocketed at least once a visit, you weren't likely to find yourself accosted, nor - unless you were a very troublesome sort - find yourself shanked and dragged off to be dumped into the ocean. The one thing Hawkers' had going for it that markets such as Sapphire didn't were the street urchins.
Though this wasn't the gutter, the gutterborn were always out in force.
He'd pressed his way through the sea of living bodies, noted the Seeker in question - was that a glacial coat? - passed Raz discretely, crossed palms with a few youths of his acquaintance, and sent those scags on their way with a message to Thomys. It was more or less the usual, something along the lines of, "I'm in town. Stay low. Keep them safe. You know the drill. Territories any different? Borders shifted? Any change in management? Who's new in town?" And so on and so forth.
Tom would deliver.
He doubled back to deal with the inevitable hanger-on, and was gifting the lad - highlander, young, brawny, stupid - to Lymlaen's waters when he saw his mistake and learned the how. He'd rightfully assumed that they'd have picked up a tail already: the lift was always watched, even when the landing couldn't be. What he hadn't accounted for was the possibility that their tail had a tail.
Osric had time to think, the hells is Faller doing here?, and then their eyes met.
He bolted.
Generally speaking, he almost always screwed up.
The important questions to ask were always how and how badly.
Hawkers' Alley was a fairly respectable place, relatively speaking, for a market crawling with thieves, footpads, pirates, ruffians, scoundrels, and the lot. Though you were almost certain to be pickpocketed at least once a visit, you weren't likely to find yourself accosted, nor - unless you were a very troublesome sort - find yourself shanked and dragged off to be dumped into the ocean. The one thing Hawkers' had going for it that markets such as Sapphire didn't were the street urchins.
Though this wasn't the gutter, the gutterborn were always out in force.
He'd pressed his way through the sea of living bodies, noted the Seeker in question - was that a glacial coat? - passed Raz discretely, crossed palms with a few youths of his acquaintance, and sent those scags on their way with a message to Thomys. It was more or less the usual, something along the lines of, "I'm in town. Stay low. Keep them safe. You know the drill. Territories any different? Borders shifted? Any change in management? Who's new in town?" And so on and so forth.
Tom would deliver.
He doubled back to deal with the inevitable hanger-on, and was gifting the lad - highlander, young, brawny, stupid - to Lymlaen's waters when he saw his mistake and learned the how. He'd rightfully assumed that they'd have picked up a tail already: the lift was always watched, even when the landing couldn't be. What he hadn't accounted for was the possibility that their tail had a tail.
Osric had time to think, the hells is Faller doing here?, and then their eyes met.
He bolted.
![[Image: 1qVSsTp.png]](http://i.imgur.com/1qVSsTp.png)
