But strong in will.... (Open - OOC Welcomed)

[Raz]

Normally, Cenric would choose a quieter meeting spot. But Skit's words have made him uneasy. Paranoid, even. He has no intentions of being gutted in some piss-stinking alley by one of Abiga's thugs, so he'd left Skit with some clear instructions.

 

Wincing a little at the noise in his ear as he weaves his way through the bustling street, he replies. "'Tis best to meet first in public. No man or woman'll give ye a second glance. Follow the man- a Seeker, wearin' clothes that no other bugger 'round here can afford. You'll see him, trust me. Follow him, 'n he'll lead ye to my good self."

 

Perhaps he's being over-cautious, but he wasn't about to take any chances.

[Melkire]

"We'll be seeing you shortly, then."

 

The lift stopped. 

 

"Hawker's Alley, merchants' strip due west, follow the rich-as-shite Seeker," Bartolomeo whispered as the doors opened. "Be slow about it; I need to check for tails."

 

He let his head drop, drew his hood further forward and down, crossed his arms, hid each hand in the other's sleeve, and walked out the lift ahead of Bolvi, past the attending Yellowjacket at a brisk pace, robe billowing as he left his companion behind.

 

A moment later, he was gone, lost amidst the populace.

[Erik Mynhier]

It had been months since Bolvi had touched foot in Limsa. He hated the humidity, the gulls, the accent. He had history here, history he would have rather left in the past. Here he was though, walking these streets, and here was his past again, catching up to him.

 

 

((Sorry for not posting in the last few days, just worked 2 20hr shifts))

[Erik Mynhier]

Lips in the Quicksand were sweet, but loose. It did not take much for the flamboyant Elezen to piece together where Erik was going. One or two whispers from those who had been in the Goblet that morning and saw that "fancy little black" airship launch from the cliff under the Red Wing's base, heading west. The "Shadow" had been seen making ready for the last few days as well. Melkire would be with the Captain, he could be an issue, but nothing he couldn't handle.

 

The Elezen was merely an agent of interested parties. He made his way to the city of Limsa swiftly. On arrival he inquired about the Falcon but found nothing about it. They were here he was sure, but they would be cunning enough to hide it.

 

There was something off about this man. He spoke with his hands as much as his mouth, fingers pointed here and there. Sharp smiles and laughter, his humor nothing less then bizarre.

 

As he walked the streets he watched... listened... then a name, a word, a lead came..... Shadow, Cathal Lynn, South Docks. Ombre smiled as it came together. He made his way to the docks, he got here last, but he was not concerned with being quiet about a search, he would find this man, this Cathal Lynn first.

[Rynn]

The man had short, wild and mopish hair. His face was smooth, holding only a few solitary freckles. The man was in his late twenties, but his appearance seemed almost of a young adult. He wore a white blouse with black pants. If one had walked past him in the streets, they would have never figured this man for a pirate captain. However, right now, it was perfectly clear that this man was Cathal Lynn. Men were scurrying all about him, loading supplies and cargo onto the rather imposing ship that sat on the waters. 

 

"A'! Hurry up ya' damned waifs!" he shouted at them, directing the dozen or two men who were trying to load everything as quickly as possible. There were dozens of crates piled up on the dock. It was clear that the ship was getting ready to leave for a very long voyage. 

 

The man turned, narrowing his eyes at the newcomers. He waved a hand to a younger lad who ran over. Cathal whispered something into his ear, and the lad whispered back. Nodding, Cathal ran a hand through his hair, sighing in annoyance. Slowly, he began to approach them. As he got closer, more was visible. He had bags under his eyes, and his very appearance was somewhat sickly. 

 

"Are y'all the ones who've been askin' aroun' ab'ut me?"

[Zhavi]

It was rare for Jacel to do anything on his own. The days where he hotfooted it about on someone else's errands were long behind him; when he personally went somewhere, it generally meant one of two things: one, that he was bored and saw the chance for some sort of profit or entertainment; and two, that someone had royally stepped in it.

 

Lale knew that Jacel expected someone to royally step in it. His directions had been clear, and veiled in his very typical cheerful gushing that did nothing to hide the very real threat underneath. Jacel was not what Lale considered to be a bad man. Given to tantrums? Yes. Given to harsh discipline? Yes. But not bad. All the same, everyone who served under him always got the sense of a string on the verge of snapping. Jacel was scary in a way that could not be defined -- there was no evidence that he should be considered a dangerous man, yet it was there all the same.

 

No one ever disappointed him twice. Not if they could help it.

 

There were always the rumors.

 

Lale, contrarily, was not scary. Not in the least. It was why he was one of Jacel's favorite errand boys. Tall, gangly, pale -- he was the sort of elezen who stood out for all the wrong reasons. People, most people, noticed him, and dismissed him all in one smooth motion, usually with some variant of pity. Lale was not handsome. He was awkward. His nose was far too big for his face, his mouth too wide. He had a tendency to squint, which made him look the part of some or other beastkin. His one saving feature was his hands. They were a pianist's hands -- fingers slender and well shaped. The only time he could be considered charismatic was when he was playing.

 

It was why he made an excellent choice for watching people. There was always a slightly befuddled air about him, as if he was almost, but not quite, lost. He was the sort people avoided going out of their way to help, because he looked as if once you gave him help he would cling endlessly -- and in a busy city like Limsa, no local wanted some gadabout clinging onto them while mewling for help.

 

But he could blend when he needed to, could dress and change his mannerisms to belong. He was Jacel's chameleon. Resourceful. Quick-thinking. Well-trained.

 

Jacel always liked his people well-trained.

 

Some days Lale thought he considered them his pets.

 

No matter. They'd their assignments. Jacel didn't always act immediately, but he was thorough. People had been sent to the entry points into the city. A few wandered.

 

Lale was following Raz. Had been keeping tabs on Raz ever since that day in the Wench when certain individuals had arranged jobs. Zhavi was a person of interest to Galine for very specific reasons. Raz was a person of interest for entirely different reasons. It was coincidental that Raz had run into Zhi first -- but it was also a boon. Galine tended to have business with Abiga. Lale knew information about Raz was valuable.

 

It was easy to be seen in Limsa Lominsa, but it wasn't easy to lose sight of someone in certain parts of the city; the necessity of bridges ensured that, at some point, people would be seen.

 

He lost sight of Raz, kept ambling forward. He would find the other man again, would follow him down to whatever stinking warren he ended at.

 

It was Lale's job not to screw up.

 

Generally speaking, Lale almost never screwed up.

[Raz]

Cenric waits. The markets are bustling, and he remembers how he used to love it. Loved watching the people; the seafolk, the merchants, the wealthy and the cut-purses eyeing them from the shade. When he was younger he'd spend the nights with the other gutter kids from lowtown, but in the day he'd watch the people at Hawkers'. It was a great place to practice picking pockets. Easier still to the lose the jacks in the crowd if he was caught.

 

Now? Now it makes him nervous. He's on edge.

 

His eyes flitter across the throng of people, to the ground, to the side, back to the ground. Surely Abiga didn't know he was in the city; it was unlike her to wait. But then even now, Cenric doesn't understand the woman, how her mind works. He isn't sure he wants to.

 

He hasn't brought his lance - wanted to remain as inconspicious as possible - but he wishes it was in his hand. He's one shiv in his boot and one tucked in the belt he wears, but they don't offer much comfort.

 

His eyes turn back to crowd.

 

Pull it t'gether. Yer fine. It's fine. Everything's fine. Godsdamnit.

 

He's getting restless with no sign of Skit. He hopes his client doesn't take long.

[Melkire]

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.

[Zhavi]

"Yer sure?" Zhi almost choked on the second word, spat it out the way she might clear vomit from her mouth.

 

Chirp leaned out from the alcove they hung out in. Her exaggerated back and forth look up and down the alley was, as pantomimes went, enraging. Zhi lowered her voice, sure, but the heat was still there.

 

"Ye blasted blary bitch --"

 

Chirp cut her off. "Would I court yer stupid idea of praise if I weren't?"

 

Zhi ran a hand through her hair, nails digging into her scalp. "When?"

 

Chirp shrugged. It was a lowtown shrug.

 

It was never a good thing when enemies overlapped. At least not in Zhi's experience. Nald'thal always tipped the scales the other way when overlap happened. "Days? T'day? . . .now?"

 

Chirp shrugged again. Before Zhi could spout off more curses, she said, "look, ain't as if them who knows Dirk good enough t'recognize him are also dumb enough t'cross intent wi' him. Naw, only one dumb enough fer that is yerself. Half-wit, lately."

 

Zhi glared.

 

"He's made somethin' of hisself in Ul'dah, y'know."

 

The statement didn't change the glare.

 

Chirp frowned. "Ain't like ye t'hold this sort of grudge."

 

"An' the Skites're somethin' I'll jes turn me nose up at an' flounce around like they're wavin' sticks an' rocks at me."

 

Chirp gave her a look. A knowing you-were-the-one-who-trespassed sort of look.

 

"It was a shortcut, a'right?" Zhi flushed, but held firm.

 

"Was somethin'. Shortcut ain't what comes t'mind."

 

"Drop it."

 

"Sloppy, on me other hand. . ."

 

"Shut it. It was a risk I took. Fancy me a cut purse, but yer lips are flappin' fer no juice t'day. Last I checked, I paid ye fer information, not yer idea o' what wrong I done."

 

Chirp considered that, and took her time replying. She chose to trim her nails with her knife instead. When she spoke, her words were measured. "He weren't alone."

 

That gave Zhi pause. "What?"

 

"Yer man Dirk. Had another with'm. Ain't no one knowin' him."

 

The job. Comprehension dawned, followed shortly by a scowl. Rutting bastard!

 

Chirp watched her. "Real strange fer a man like Dirk t'bring a stranger t'town. He ain't done problemsolving here in a good long while. Could be there's more gain in trackin' him, 'stead of yer man Dirk."

 

"Do it."

 

Chirp was silent. At first, Zhi thought the other woman was calculating costs, but when she didn't move Zhi leaned closer. She opened her mouth to offer some invective as incentive.

 

"Ye should put Brindle on it," Chirp said suddenly.

 

"I'm not askin' Brindle."

 

"Ye should."

 

Zhi had a feeling the Bad Day was imminent. ". . .a'right. Why?"

 

"I ain't takin' no more of yer jobs. Not anytime soon." Chirp looked at Zhi and looked away. What she saw there made her continue a little faster. "Ye've been real sloppy. Makin' shit mistakes. Got word ye were beat out in th'middle of daytime, and ye've been spreadin' weird talk -- Unrelenting ring yer bells? Thought so. It's weird. I ain't wantin' no more part of it. Ain't a risk I'm gonna take. Cool yer heels fer awhile. Drop this cockered shit ye got with Dirk. I mean it. No one's gonna wanna play wi' ye if ye keep this up."

 

It took effort to keep her hands from balling into fists. Real careful effort. "Anythin' else?"

 

"Yep. Hawker's. That bit o' information cost, so wi' that, I ain't got no more dues t'ye. Don't go crooked, Streetrunner."

 

Zhi left first.

 

___

 

 

Calling her mood spectacularly bad didn't begin to touch on what was going on inside Zhi's head as she stalked Hawker's Alley. She wore a worn, floppy straw hat, a simple sleeveless vest, and a dirt-encrusted pair of pants. She looked like someone's farmhand. Those tended to be ignored; they usually were good for nothing but hard work, brought into town to shift things and little else. They usually carried little to no money, and had nothing of interest to say to anyone but other farmers. Most who walked Hawker's Alley left them alone.

 

Zhavi'd smeared just a smidgeon of goat shit onto the knees of her pants to encourage that general consensus.

 

The looseness of her clothing kept her genderless and uninteresting; her tail was looped up under her shirt and secured against her belt and her ears were folded flat under her hat. So long as no one got a good look at her face or lingered too long on skin color, she could have passed as a gangly hyur kid.

 

She moved through the Alley, carrying a sack of some sort of grain (filched) over her shoulder to disguise her stride, playing the hapless gadabout -- clueless farmhands who weren't used to the city lost their employers all the time in the Alley; Zhi'd used to bet with her companions on how long the most obvious of them would take to find said employers -- as she looked and sniffed for traces of Melkire.

 

It was her second pass through when someone wholly unexpected caught her eye.

 

Faller.

 

More than that, the older man passed someone else she recognized, though there was no visible contact between them.

 

Raz.

 

Zhavi did not believe in coincidences. She had no idea what Faller was doing, but that he'd breezed past Raz. . .

 

The likelihood of Raz being involved with Faller was low. Very low. Raz was still too fresh with the city to be able to offer anything to Faller that more established and trustworthy runners could. Probably. But if Raz was here, it meant he was working. Probably. For her? . . . no easy way to answer that question. Chance that he had heard a crumb of information about Melkire? Likely. Maybe.

 

Doubt hit her. A choice presented itself: follow Raz, or follow Faller. Which could she rattle more information out of?

 

She chose Raz.

 

__________

 

 

Lale had caught sight of Raz again, and from there it had been but a matter of time before he'd caught sight of an interesting transaction, and an even more interesting set of interested parties. These were not highly trained individuals. They were either hired thugs, or those invested in whatever personal acquisition could be gained from tailing someone who so obviously knew how to avoid attention. Indeed, had Lale not been watching Raz, he wouldn't have seen the slip.

 

That was worth something.

 

He'd picked up the end of the daisy-chain trailing after the man who was Jacel's most recent assignment.

 

He saw that moment, the big one, when Osric laid down a daisy and saw the second daisy in the chain. Osric ran. So did the daisy.

 

Lale was not so stupid. He put a hand to his ear.

 

"We have guests," he said, softly, walking forward with his usual awkward amble. "They're heading south-east by way of Cripple's Walk."

 

He paused, slowed to a halt, and took an abrupt turn. "Of course, ser."

 

Another pause.

 

"I imagine this is something Abiga would be very interested in knowing. It is possible the serra could use it, yes."

 

Another pause. Another turn.

 

"Hawk can watch. I will be there shortly."

[Erik Mynhier]

Bolvi walked the streets, the memories gradually returning to him. He remembered the few times he had been here, but not enough to fill his need to know everything about his surroundings. Even the sounds and sights of the streets caused confusion. He had lost sight of his Shadow quicker then he was comfortable, there were few in this world that could slip past him, he was fortunate Osric was a friend.

 

As he made his way he looked for the signs he was told to look for. He needed this guide to lead him quickly, a shiver had taken him and he felt time growing short.

 

-------------------------

 

The Elezen bowed a joker's bow, "Indeed I have Captain Cathal." I have come on such urgent business." The man rubbed his hands together, "Tell me do you happen to know someone in Ul'dah, a big someone?"

[Melkire]

He bolted, and as he did so one hand flew up to his ear. 

 

"Twenty fulms ahead... and off to your left... deep blue coat, white trim... shiny new shoes... aye, that's him... go ahead, I'm going to--"

 

What's the play?

 

 

 

Goobue high. Dirk smiled as he leaned back, one foot hooking around the leg of the table as his weight took the two front legs of his chair off the wooden floor. 

 

"Find a corner. Stick the old geezer when he turns it, slit his throat, and be done with it."

 

The uniformed man to the left snorted as he dropped a pair of slimes on the tabletop. He steepled his hands and glared at the boy. 

 

"There's the captain's mission to consider. The higher the body count, the harder it becomes to get the job done. Bring in the authorities, make the search an official one."

 

Dirk barked a laugh as the dealer started shuffling the deck from sheer anxiety. "Dream on. Do that, and you'll lose the target, sure as the sun rises and sets across the sea."

 

The gentleman to the sergeant's left sighed and came down with a suit of Flames. He looked across the table to the dealer from underneath his green bandana and shook his head.

 

"Ditch Faller. Hightail it back to the Falcon. Fly back to the Goblet, pick up Kanaria, and leave. Head for the Shroud. You've no history in Gridania; you can start a new life there with her. You can be safe."

 

The dealer stared in disbelief, mouth agape. His jaw snapped shut, and He frowned, but before He could retort, the next man in line - dressed in a light red shirt with long sleeves and a black vest - folded his arms and spoke up. 

 

"We can't off Faller, the sergeant's right about that much - and I won't stand for it, anyroad - but we can't just leave the captain behind, either. Ain't right, when we owe the man as much as we do. "

 

The dealer spread His hands, deck held in His left as eyed His helmsman expectantly. "So? What's your suggestion?"

 

There came a smile as the man flicked his cards out over the table. "I fold."

 

Osric sat back, stunned. "What, nothin'?"

 

Ossy shrugged. "I'm here to make sure we don't go off course or run aground. I don't care which way we sail."

 

Oz snorted. "Then why not let Him have fun with the whores while we're here?"

 

"Principle."

 

"Ah."

 

Expectant eyes turned towards the last individual seated at the table. Rings looked up, gave his customary shite-eating grin, and came down with Coeurls over Snurbles. 

 

"Gutter games."

 

 

 

 

"--make some noise, draw attention away from you, be a nifty distraction."

 

Osric ran for Cripple's Walk.

 

The Walk wasn't the pride and joy of Limsa Lominsa, but neither was it the shame. The wooden docks that shot off from the main thoroughfare were home to the meager and destitute, were in disrepair, and only the poorest of seafaring vessels chose to moor there... but at the same time, the commodities that flowed across the boardwalk were a lifeline for Hawkers'. Cheap goods, cheap supplies, that was what let the cripples thrive.

 

The former problemsolver poured on the speed. Faller, old highlander that he was, may have had the constitution and fortitude to run him down... but he wouldn't prove nimble enough for this dance, of that Osric was certain. 

 

...skirt this stand, slam through these gadabouts, vault this next one, dodge left, slide, feet back underneath me, next stand drop the pack drop the pack, good, good, TO THE RIGHT, shite that was close, the mop grab the okay got the mop, knock out those supports HAHA take THAT y'old kook... 

 

He danced around another storefront and stumbled, skid to a halt. Three of 'em. Three there, waiting for him. Sea Wolf with a two-by-eight cord of lumber, Seeker with a gladius, Plainsfolk with a musket. 

 

A gods-damned musket. As he watched, the Lalafell finished priming the shot, leveled the weapon, and--

 

--Osric didn't wait. He shed his hempen cowl, threw off the robe, kicked off to his left, brought his hands together over his head, and dove, to the sharp crack of gunfire, into the sea.

[Rynn]

Cathal cocked a brow at the Elezan. He wasn’t sure he likedhim. The short man glared at the taller one. “I have my own urgent business. As for your question, I know plenty of large folks in Ul’dah. Now go away.” With that, the man turned to continue barking orders to the other pirates to continue loading their ship. The view of this short, rather effeminate, man barking orders to the larger pirates was somewhat surreal.

[Erik Mynhier]

The elezen raised his finger as he followed the man, his words swift and grating, "Oh this fellow is a large fellow, so large a fellow one would be hard pressed to mistake this large fellow from any other large fellow, this fellow in question I mean." He giggled as he whispered the last few words, "Erik is his name."

[Rynn]

Cathal turned to face the Elezen, narrowing is eyes with afrown. The grouchy man grit his teeth as he eyed the taller man. This person wasn’t going to leave him alone was he? When his words continued, Cathal’s frown grew even larger and more founded. “Aye I know that fool Erik. Last I heard he was off with some withering broad neglecting to even care for the woman who was carrying his child. That man is a waste of air and a burden on this realm.” The more he spoke of Erik, the angrier the man seemed to get.

[Raz]

The muted crack of distant gunfire snaps Cenric from his thoughts, and it's this which alerts him to something he would have otherwise missed: the pair of eyes watching him, belonging to a lanky elezen. Gunfire was not an uncommon sound in Limsa: the Jacks could often be heard practicing their aim - on targets or rowdy pirates. Never anything to pay mind to. Ordinarily, the man would not have raised suspicion. He looked like just another lowborn, pale and awkward, too slim to be in proportion. Certainly nobody to worry about.

 

But with the way Cenric's nerves are wound and twisted, he feels his skin prickle and heart speed up. He's sure he's a got a tail. The question is; who's he working for?

 

Rather than making eye contact and breaking the illusion of obliviousness, he waits for a group of peddlers to break the man's line of sight before slipping from the bench and into the throng of people. If there was one thing Cenric was good at it was blending in with a crowd. He swaps out his linkpearl with the one in his pocket, his finger reaching up to press it.

 

"Skit? Think I've got a tail. Ain't got time t'wait 'round. Find this client. Now. I'll come t'ye."

 

Everything feels so... convenient. Abiga's sudden return, the arrival of his client - who came from Ul'dah, no less - and now, his possible tail. He feels like there's something going on, something that everyone knows about but him. And that, that makes him uncomfortable.

 

Nophica's flamin' knickers.. Has he stepped in something more complicated than he wanted to? Can he make a clean exit, stay clear of the fallout? Somehow, he doesn't think so.

 

Suddenly, Cenric has a very bad feeling.

[Erik Mynhier]

Erik headed the 20 fulms until he came to the blue coat. Walking past the target he grumbled "I'm the one lookin' for a captain. Ya who I'm lookin' for to lend a hand?"

 

-------------

 

The elezen smiled, enjoying where the conversation was going, "Yes.... that's the one. He took something from me you see. A book.... he likes to take things that don't belong to him. Anyway he is in town and I was hopeful you might see about getting my book back for me.... should you see him. He is here about some child or something my birdies tell me."

[Rynn]

Cathal narrowed his eyes, gritting his teeth as the Elezenspoke. “I aint your errand boy stranger!” he snapped, raising his hand to wave off the taller man. However, when the word ‘child’ escaped the other’s lips, Cathal’s gaze grew cold. “If that fucking scum thinks he can come and just walk off with her…” he muttered softly to himself. “You’ll get your book back, but it may have blood over it. In return, you’ll never mention that child to anyone again, clear?”

[Zhavi]

"Hawk, my dear girl, I believe there is someone interesting coming your way. From Cripple's Walk, of all places."

 

Jacel paused.

 

"Oh? You already see them?"

 

He smirked, held back his giggle with supreme effort.

 

"Surrounded? You don't say. How dreadful."

 

His eyes crinkled as he considered the words on the other end of the line.

 

"Yes, I think that is . . . quite a good idea. We wouldn't want our prize getting cut up before his big day!"

 

 

Jacel dropped his hand from the linkpearl, and returned back into the parlor. "Lord and Lady Greenwell, do forgive my lapse of manners! Important call, I dare say. Now then, shall we discuss business?"

 

___________

 

Faller had the bastard in sight, his people blocking him from running, when all hell broke loose.

 

It came from above. Rather, she did, some gigantic roe woman, axe in hand and a snarl upon her face. Ugly face it was too, was his confused impression -- a fighter's face.

 

The gun went off, its trajectory blown off course by her foot, and his man killed within the same breath.

 

Rorojino. He had kids. He was a good man. The loss hurt, but he pushed past it as the bitch swung her weapon into the next man. Her surprise attack was effective. More than effective.

 

He couldn't wait to see what else she was doing and how his men fared -- Osric had hit the water and he could not let the bastard get away. There'd been a casualty already, and he wasn't going to let it be in vain.

 

Faller hit the water, and he swam for all he was worth.

 

__________

 

Zhi saw Lale.

 

Her blood went cold. He was walking back through Hawker's, back from the direction she'd seen Faller going. Had they. . .had they already. . .? No. No, no, no.

 

"Shit!" The word was an afterthought as she saw the direction his eyes went -- the same man she was watching. Raz.

 

Oh.

 

But he was walking past with his usual lame-ass gait, the glance a brief one rather than one with intent. No, he was headed somewhere else.

 

But he had seen Raz.

 

Zhi felt the cards slipping from her hands as she dumped the bag of grain and shoved her hands in her pockets. She wanted to see Lale dead, but knowing him he'd already reported in. Knowing him, and his skills, they wouldn't be able to kill him unless they trapped him somewhere. And that? Not today.

 

She needed to move Raz. He was her backup, dammit, not Galine's piece to move about as she pleased!

 

She ran into him. "Razzy-lad, move yer ass. We've got trouble, an' we need t'get somewhere low. If ye unnerstand, head t'the walk 'twixt Hawker's alley -- we'll head fer th' Fisherman's Guild an' drop tails from there. Get ready t'climb, mate."

 

He had to respond. He had to obey her. They had to get ahead of it, and fast.

[Raz]

Skit turns to face the voice. Well, about time. My clothes will stink of this city if I linger any longer.

"Ah, why hello sir! I am here on behalf of dear Raz. There have been some... complications. Curious sets of eyes, you could say. I am to accompany you away from said eyes, if it please you." He smiles. It's a well-practiced expression, charming even, intended to put people at ease. "If you would like to contact your man to accompany us, you may feel free to do so. I realize this is unorthodox, and most certainly not how I do business," he shakes his head. Really. Why am I always cleaning up after that fool?

 

"Shall we leave now?"

 

---

 

Cenric jumps at the voice, hand shooting to the knife tucked into his belt in blind panic. The voice registers before he can draw it and he stops, a frown pulling at his features.

 

"Zhi?" Cenric doesn't think he's ever called her Zhi. "Wha-why-huh?" He stutters dumbly. Her statement raises several questions in his mind - such as exactly whyshe was here and, more curiously, why she was warning him about... whatever was wrong. He knew Zhavi. She wouldn't involve herself unless there was something to gain, and Abiga wasn't likely to involve Zhavi in her games. So what then?

 

Despite the many questions he wants to ask, the urgency in her voice stops him. "Aye, alright. Fine. Lead the way," he says. "But would ye please tell me what's happenin'? Ain't sure I like not bein' the one shufflin' the deck."

[Erik Mynhier]

The elezen smiled and bowed, "Child? What child?"

 

-----------------

 

Erik nodded to Skit, "The pleasure is mine. I'm hopeful you can help me with this."

[Rynn]

Cathal glared into the taller man. He didn't like this one. "None of your damned business. Now scram!"

[Erik Mynhier]

The Elezen skipped down the docks from the Captain, coming to a halt as a thought crossed his mind. Turning back toward the ship he waited for Cathal to go out of sight. He then straightened, wiping the crazed look from his eyes, hardening his voice. He looked on for a moment until he spotted the youngest crew member, one who would not know to be silent and walked to him. "Excuse me young man. Would I be able to offer you business proposition?"

[Rynn]

The red haired lad looked up, blinking softly. His face was covered in freckles, and his bright green eyes stared up with a youthful charm. He didn't look any older than sixteen! "Eh? A business proposition? What do ya' mean mister?" he asked, leaning in curiously.

[Erik Mynhier]

As serious, quiet, and wise as a doctor would sound, he asked, "How long have you been part of this crew? I would seek information from you. You see... and do not repeat this, the Captain is a proud man, he is not well. I could help but I would need a blood sample from a close relative. Would you know where I might find such a person?"

[Rynn]

The lad's eyes widened with worry as the older man spoke. He believed every word of it, with an expression that showed his gullibility, the boy spoke. "W...what!? really! Er, I've worked for the crew since I was a little kid... a blood sample? Well, he does have a daughter! But... er... she's not here anymore"