Completed In Sheep's Clothing (Pi)

[Inoadar]

60th Day of Spring, 514

Inoadar sat in The Spot, a half an ale growing warm before him. It was not that he was brooding over anything. In fact, he was feeling pretty good about things. Business at his shop was good; good enough to easily afford his assistant, Burke. His young protege, Vera, was growing in leaps and bounds, both in skill and size. Progress on new findings in the field of toxins was developing well. There had even been another mercenary from Nyka, sent to kill him, to add diversion from the day to day routine.

The Ebonstryfe had found his remains, but they had not found Inoadar. Regardless of his good standing as a citizen, being caught up in such an incident might bring his identity under unfortunate scrutiny. His identity, as Nolan Parnell, was "on loan" from the citizen he'd killed in the riots the year before. Then the C.E.B., where such records were primarily kept, had been destroyed. His original, true identity was as an expatriate and murderer from Nyka with a bounty on his head.

He had earned a bounty here in Ravok when he first arrived as well. But through Rhysol's mercy, and a few sealed lips, he'd found both devotion to Ravok's patron god and a place in His society. He was now a devoted follower, but he knew that he dared not flaunt his old life where greedy men might seek to cash it in. Rhysol may have accepted him in spite of his past, but he would not protect a fool from his own stupidity.

Part of that caution was evident in the stash of clothes he'd prepared ahead of time when he'd gone to lure the Nykan into following him. A nonchalant demeanor, a dark alley and a reversal of the ambush had resulted in clothes he'd needed to be rid of. There had been a witness that had trailed him, but his ready change of clothes had remedied that complication.

Inoadar had considered purchasing some of the 'quick-change' reversible clothes he'd seen at 'Jester's Corner'. But at 250 gold mizas, they were fairly pricey. He'd already bought two disguise kits there, but the reversible clothes would be a huge enhancement to the disguise kit's effectiveness.

He took another long drink, his mind now more on the purchasing of another ale, rather than clothing. He was not currently in the middle of anything, and had received no reports of suspicious newcomers in town from any of the "watchdogs" he regularly bribed for that purpose. So he paid no more attention to the well-groomed and well-dressed man that had just entered than he did too anyone else in the tavern.

x

[Piraen Saneka]

Piraen readjusted the scarf around his neck as he stood just inside The Spot. He had entered only a few chimes ago, yet the heat of the room was already sticking to his skin. Clearly, he was overdressed. This was not only emphasized by the small bead of perspiration that lingered on his brow, but also by the scantily dressed beings that skirted by. Pi lifted a skeptical eyebrow as one such being, a waitress wearing hardly anything, danced over with a tray, and offered a drink to him with a poisonous smile.

Piraen shook his head and waved her away quickly. Apparently, his disgust was obvious; the woman sank into herself a bit as she dragged herself away. A small burst of guilt flashed through Pi. He hadn't meant to hurt the girl's feelings. Being something of a connoisseur of fashion, the tailor often found offense when people were poorly dressed. The reaction was instinctive.

As such, there had been a number of times where Piraen let this instinct rule over his judgment. Not that long ago, he had allowed himself to follow two terribly dressed men into a dark alleyway. They both wore dark and dingy clothes, the kind fit only for a cut-throat. As it so happened, the gentlemen were cut-throats. Needless to say, that incident did not end very well. It was one of those situations that left Pi feeling like he needed to watch his back for the rest of the night; the tailor did two intricate laps around Ravok before finally comfortably returning home. Though, in all honesty, Piraen wasn't shocked by the whole ordeal. After all, this is Ravok. Deception, mystery, and murder were all part of the game.

Coincidence, on the other hand, was not. So, Piraen took it as a sign from Rhysol when one of the malefactors happened to be sitting at a nearby table. Now, one might call a person a fool for approaching this man. However, Piraen would call them a genius. Pi, knowing what he knew of this man, had leverage. Leverage for what, the tailor hadn't figured out yet, but he had some power nevertheless. At the very least, this power would earn him a new customer.

"Hello," Piraen gave a cordial smile as he settled into the seat next to the man. "Have a tick or two to spare?" He would try the gentler approach first. Pi knew very little about bribery and blackmail, so he would only resort to that if this man was initially unwilling; he was in no mood for making a fool of himself.

[Inoadar]

Inoadar kept his gaze straight ahead. His situation had apparently changed without his prior knowledge. Not only was the smooth way that everything had been going forgotten. But it appeared that some game was afoot. "Now what would bring a complete stranger to sit beside me as though we were old friends, I wonder?" he asked the air before him.

"Hello. Have a tick or two to spare?" the stranger asked. Inoadar turned slowly to face the man. It was not so much the exceedingly slim set of facial features he noticed as the exquisitely tasteful attire he sported. Not overly dark and conservative, yet not flamboyantly gauche with stark patterns and vivid colors either. He did not attract attention, but when it came his way, the eye was impressed.

Now it was time to gauge the man beneath the clothes, and the purpose behind the eyes. "Will it grant me the courtesy of my usual elbow room if I agree to give you that tick, sir? It is not often that a man displays such confidence in his welcome. One might almost call it foolish. I'm quite certain I do not know you. And if you know ME, then you know that I am gifted with suspicion of such behavior."

As Inoadar went on, it was with the option of either seeing the newcomer rise and take the seat opposite him, or making the effort to accomplish this himself. Either way, their seating arrangement WOULD be altered, but Inoadar's distrust would not. "Even best friends do not sit beside each other when they have the entire table to themselves, like a pair of buggers. You'll draw the eye of every Nancy boy in Ravok that way. And, despite your admirable calm, I suspect you wish this conversation to remain private."

Now that they faced each other, Inoadar had to give a nod to the man's outfit. "You dress like a Nitrozian, but I'm certain I've never seen you there. Are you Valerius' new messenger girl?" he let just a twinkle of insult show in his eye with the remark. He knew that the young aristocrat's old messenger, Shy Carsma, had made herself scarce.

He leaned back, feeling a bit better with the table between them; in position to be flipped in the event of some treachery. "So what can I do for you?"

x

[Piraen Saneka]

Piraen nodded, his smile turning into one of genuine amusement. At least he isn't boring. He hadn't thought that the murderous man beside him would be particularly plain--at the very least, his work would be engaging--but he hadn't thought he would be too interesting, either. After all, how fascinating could a lonely man in all black be? The pale-skinned man, however, did not disappoint. His words were quick-witted and sharp.

Although Pi enjoyed banter as much as the next, the words this man spoke made Pi cautious. It was Piraen's understanding that a man who could drink ale and still speak intelligently was either a seasoned alcoholic or a man who was too smart for his own good; both of which were men that Pi did not appreciate.

"I hadn't realized we were exclusive." Piraen was never too keen on social norms. Whether it was because he rarely went out to observe them or because he simply did not care, Pi didn't know. But if sitting adjacent made this man believe others would draw near, then the tailor wouldn't torture him; he would move.

As he settled into his new seat, Piraen continued: "You don't come across as the type of man who is very knowledgeable about what best friends do or do not do. As for the privacy of this conversation, it is only in my interests if it is in yours." Pi folded his hands together as he leaned onto the table. It wasn't a move meant to intimidate as much as a gesture of good faith. He meant what he had just said. He would rather have this man as a "friend" than an enemy, and if that meant keeping this consultation hush-hush, then so be it.

"You dress like a Nitrozian, but I'm certain I've never seen you there." As the man opposite him continued, Piraen chuckled slightly. He waved the insult, as it was one he was well-accustomed to; even though the majority of wealth and people who could afford fine clothes in Ravok were men, it seemed that only girls could dress nicely. Instead, he chose to hear only the compliment: he looked like a Nitrozian. That in itself would cause anyone to smile.

"You're certain of many things, aren't you?" The inquiry was mostly an observation, a rhetorical question that served as a nice segue. "Well, I think you can be certain that it is less of what you can do for me, and more of what I can do for you."

"How often do you find yourself in dark alleyways, sir?"

[Inoadar]

"This is not a town conducive to the open trust one would extend to a "best friend"...friend." Inoadar's look flared briefly to a glare with the utterance of the last word. He waved vaguely to the nearby tables. "And I know everyone at the neighboring tables well enough to know that the last thing any of them want is to intrude in my business. One can only wonder what lesson they have learned...that you have not." His overly sincere expression of pondering this mystery clearly mocked his tablemate.

The man seemed to enjoy the banter, taking the mockery in stride. He smiled confidently, continuing the veiled exchange. "You're certain of many things, aren't you?"

Inoadar sighed with resignation and sat back. "I'm certain that you have piqued my curiosity enough to generously grant you the few chimes it should take to get to the point. Let me set the stage again though...What can I do for you?" he folded his arms in a gesture of taxed, but reinforced, patience.

"Well, I think you can be certain that it is less of what you can do for me, and more of what I can do for you." the slim stranger said. There was a pause, broken by Inoadar's rolling gesture with his wrist, encouraging the stranger to continue.

"How often do you find yourself in dark alleyways, sir?" The man said. Inoadar froze. It took a good deal of practiced effort to allow no facial reaction. But his failure to show any degree of puzzlement, and the longer pause than necessary made it fairly obvious that the remark had hit home.

"Apparently, at least one more time than was good for me." Inoadar said flatly, his eyes narrowing. Ravok was rife with dark alleyways. He'd been in them many times on perfectly legitimate errands and business. But he had no illusions that this conversation was about to steer down one of those alleys where something he wanted hidden was about to come to light.

He smiled with all the warmth of an Avathal blizzard. "Let me clarify something for you before you go any further on this subject. I have no moral qualms about blackmail, so when I kill you, to keep your mouth shut, it won't be personal." His casual demeanor made no attempt to conceal the absolute sincerity of his threat. "Now DO PLEASE feel free to continue. I suddenly find this conversation quite riveting!"

x

[Piraen Saneka]

Piraen raised his eyebrows, taken a bit by surprise by the man's abrupt threat. Though he wasn't overly fond of being threatened, Pi didn't take these words too seriously. Not that the pale man didn't look like he'd stay true to them--he did look rather trustworthy when it came to unsavory events. No, the tailor took his grain of salt from the fact that killing him would simply be a waste of time. In fact, Pi would feel bad for this nefarious friend if he did decide to kill him.

"Oh, no need for that." Piraen shook his head. It seemed his company had misunderstood him: his question was sincere. "Killing me would most surely be a waste of your time. Time better spent silencing those who actually speak. You see, unlike you, I don't know too many people. My reach is short and my words are quiet." Pi shrugged nonchalantly. Life for most Ravokian kelvics wasn't glamorous, and that wasas simple fact of life. He was used to be shunned and ignored by his fellow citizens. Piraen was just thankful that he was even able to walk around freely, a luxury he was given by his surprisingly human features.

"My question was one of genuine interest. I'm an Alvadasian, things of trickery and scheming like yourself intrigue me. So, once again...How often do you find yourself in dark alleyways? Excluding the mundane, obviously. Though I can help you with that, too," Piraen raised an eyebrow as he nodded towards his company's clothing. He scoffed lightly. "Gods know you need it."

[/color]

[Inoadar]

Inoadar studied the man before him. He was an odd bird; armed with excessive confidence for someone admitting to having no connections in town. His attitude that being killed was no less petty an event to him than it would be to Inoadar was curiously disarming. Inoadar had seen no indication that anyone was "speaking" about anything that he would need to silence.

It was even more curious the degree of priority he placed on Inoadar's carousing habits, where dark alleys were concerned. 'What possible difference could it make if he's not planning to blackmail me?' Many of his remarks seemed rhetorical in nature. Until he got back to the matter of the time he spent in dark alleyways. He was certainly persistent about that.

Somewhat miffed, Inoadar scowled and shrugged, "Look, I don't keep a log of every moment I find myself needing to visit a dark alley. You seem to have seen me in one recently, is that it? Was I not doing something "mundane" at the time, sir...uh...?" He let the question hang so the man could offer his name if he chose to.

"I honestly see no reason for your "genuine interest" in how much time I spend in back alleys. Perhaps if you were more forthcoming about why you want to know, I might find the motivation for a more definitive answer."

x

[Piraen Saneka]

Piraen tapped the table lightly as he thought about his options. On the one hand, he could offer the man his name. Given this man's apparent inclination towards violence, though, Pi thought this was a bad idea. Though he was confident that this man wouldn't bother him too much, the tailor didn't want to chance it. He took the second option.


"Of course." Piraen nodded. It was silly to think that he could get anywhere with this man without some sort of evidence or leverage. "I did happen to see you and another man walking a while back. Unfortunately, my eagerness to help you two made me oblivious to the otherwise obvious...situation."


Piraen paused, making sure the pale man was on the same page. "Either way, my eagerness hasn't faded. I'm a tailor, not a lawman. Whatever business you needed to settle with that man, though unfortunate, was your business." Piraen shrugged, gave a childish grin, and then produced his preposition: "I was, however, hoping my business could help your business. All those quick, alleyway wardrobe changes...surely you are in need of something."

[Inoadar]

Inoadar studied the man before him. He was waiting for the blackmail threat, but none was forthcoming. It appeared that this fellow truly had the capability to perform such skilled surveillance, yet was not employing it to make money. Inoadar was nonetheless hesitant to take things at face value. This man had been watching him and his tail, had seen him lead his pursuer into the alley, and apparently seen him stage his ambush.

He leaned his elbow on the arm of the chair and cupped his chin in his hand. "Did you know what was coming, sir? When you followed me...us...into the alley? I mean, you asked me how often I go into alleys, but specified that your interest did not extend to "mundane" visits. This gives me the idea you have seen me in alleys before, in both mundane and...exceptional...situations. If this is the case, didn't you have an inkling of what sort of..."situation"...was developing? Mundane or not?"

Inoadar scrutinized the man's face for signs of deception, but the man's answer seemed genuinely unconcerned over the nature of the events that had transpired in the alley earlier. It was not until that realization firmly took root that he accepted that this man was truly nothing more than a tailor. To the poisoner, it seemed a clear waste of talent, but that was none of his concern.

The man went on to give an account of his reasons for approaching the poisoner. They were both well-conceived and professionally intriguing. His assessment of how frequently Inoadar had to quickly alter his attire was quite insightful. And his lack of concern over the morality of the uses to which his goods would be put, indicated the proper Ravokian priority on the minding of one's own business. '...And, he's a tailor, eh?...'

Inoadar's original sense of well being began to return. He suddenly became almost boisterous, leaning forward, slapping the top of the table and calling for ale. "By The Voice, my good man. I believe we may be able to come to some sort of terms after all!" Miss Trenze, one of the two regular serving wenches, came by to take his order and his gold. She sighed playfully at his advances and they exchanged good natured slaps, the first to her sturdy rump, the response to his smiling face.

He'd have rather been flirting with Alice Lark, but she was still nursing a grudge against him. He shrugged and turned back to his company. "So, I can get a set of reversible clothes for 250 gold mizas at 'Jester's Corner'. Can you do better than that, Mr...?" he let the unanswered question hang.

x

[Piraen Saneka]

Piraen jumped, escaping into the back of his chair. He hated loud noises. He hated them with a passion. Most times, he was able to prepare himself for the shock that they sent through his body. This time, however, the man's abrupt change in attitude was too sudden and offered no warning. He recovered after only a few ticks, but it would take a bit longer before he returned completely to the table.

His nerves were still excited, so the man had dropped his previous playful demeanor. Where he would normally add a comment or jest to the conversation, Piraen now sat quietly and waited for a question to arise. A waitress sauntered over, but Pi waved her away; he rarely ever drank. In fact, he never drank. In the tailor's opinion, it was an unsavory pass-time. A pass-time that was even more unsavory when trying to conduct business, in fact.

"Piraen." Piraen allowed a pause as he thought about the man's question. In actuality, he was only pausing to keep himself from sounding bothered by the question. To him, the answer was obvious: why get a generic set when you could get one custom made?

"Well," Piraen tilted his head to the side. He knew that his skills as of right now wouldn't allow him to create the kind of product this man wanted. This, unfortunately, meant that he'd have to "sweeten the deal.""if you'd be willing to work with me over a longer period of time in order to perfect these items, I'll let you have them for free." The tailor gave a weak, almost pained smile as he felt the mizas drain from his pockets. It's for the better...it is for the better... "If you help me develop this, then you'll have earned yourself a loyal tailor." Piraen crossed his arms across his chest. He looked absentmindedly to his right, shrugging as he tacked a final thought onto the end: "Perhaps, even a loyal friend."