PM to join Trotter Trough Thinking [Gad]

[Zandelia]

Spring 26th, 514 AV – The Pig’s Foot Tavern


The smoke form her pipe coiled around her face, shrouding it intermittently from the other patrons of what she was now beginning to call the Trotter Trough – a small piece of slang that the denizens of Sunberth had used for time immemorial but she was only now becoming reacquainted with. There was an almost poetic justice to it, the name matched the location so aptly. Everyone sauntered into the Pig’s Foot eventually, it was a hub of rumour and intrigue that got all the more rowdy as the Bells grew later and the twilight converted itself fully to the watchful nature of Leth. She liked it, it allowed her to practise her art without moving and often with little effort at all. She remembered a time when it had been hard, how times had changed it seemed.

How long have I been away? A year? More? How quickly one can learn when motivated she mused as she continued to draw upon the sweet tobacco and inhale it deeply, letting it out in drawn out breaths – she had come to enjoy her new vice, it was so much simpler than murder.

“The Hound? Oh he’s long gone lad. Crawled away with his tail between his legs as I ehar it?” a brute mercenary all but shouted, deep in his cups. She listened to the ensuing conversation with interest.

“Sure, like they say Robern is really still alive and it’s all lies. Don’t be a fool!” came the verbal riposte.

“What and he’s just alying low eh? No more dead Daggerhands I notice. Nah. Dead and buried more like it”

“Cos it’s so hard to lose yourself in this city?”

And the conversation went onwards, rumour and gossip filling the air with its throbbing tendrils. It amused her how people viewed such things as static and pointless. They couldn’t have been more wrong – it was alive. A great, roaring beast that changed and morphed constantly. It was a story really, the storyof an entire people. What they believed, what they feared and suspected. If you could read it correctly it could even be a potent weapon. How easily could one manipulate with it! And they called it simple. Simple!

At any rate she was more interested with the reactions than the philosophical leanings of her mind. She smiled slightly as she noted that many agreed that the Hound was long gone. For all she knew that was the case but she knew two of his scars whom had hoved into the city with intent clear within their mind.

No, the idea still breathes and as long as it does there will be more dead Daggerhands. Of that I will make sure she vowed to herself, her promise to Bitzer more binding than many in her lifetime that she had made.

She drank her cheap ale, pouring another tankard from the wooden flagon before her. She had bought it perhaps two Bells ago and it was still half-full. She was merely keeping up appearances and Merv sensed it, his gaze frequently slipping back to her with a frown she saw. She was wearing her mercenary garb, passing for a brawler for hire perhaps – tonfa upon the table before her neatly stacked on upon the other. Truly she did not need them to see off an unwanted advances but it paid to advertise one’s skills to give other pause for thought. She watched the newcomers, ankles crossed and resting upon a chair opposite her under the rough wooden table top.

So the Scars are no more in people’s minds it seems. Or rather they hope. That is good, we can operate quickly and with enough luck launch a surprise upon the enemies we have chosen. Garret and Markus will suffer, they will die soon. But Bitzer…she could be a future as my past is crumpled she told herself, working through the rest of the gossip she had learnt that day and wondering if she could use any of it for her own ends.

[Gad]

Despite what everyone said, Gad thought life was long, and dealing with some people made it even longer. There was a self appointed bouncer at the door that was giving grief to all the would-be patrons, and shaking down anyone who looked like they had the coin. Gad guessed it was his bright clothes that made the guy single him out, but either way he didn't think he should be hassled like this at the door. The guy said something about an entrance fee. Bleary eyed Gad yawned, and suggested they role for whether or not Gad got entry. He produced his "lucky" jade dice and tossed them around a bit, until the man's eyes were on them and following them. Gad was careful with this move, but managed to tuck the dice under his thumb at the same moment he made the tossing motion. Like a dog looking for the stick you never threw, the bouncer swiveled his head quick to chart the trajectory of the dice. Gad took the chance to slide in past him, through the doorway. By the time the man noticed, there were other costumers to haggle, and Gad was already seated at the bar, hunched over an ale. After a few gulps, he started indulging in one of his favorite pass-times. Gad cocked his head back over his shoulder as he eavesdropped, angling an ear towards the two drunks chatting it up. Something about The Hound and Robbern. Gad had only been mildly lucid over the past year or so, and whatever had (or hadn't) happened to Robbern had escaped him. So had, perhaps, Robern. Or, at least Gad harbored a secret hope that the man did. Before, when the Daggerhand had a vice grip on the city, it was easy to hate the guy. It wasn't like Gad was feeling nostalgic for those times, but now that the tables had turned on old Dalanger, Gad couldn't help rooting for the guy. It was something about the underdog story, even if Gad knew the man really wasn't an underdog (and had probably been in the richest man in town), he could respect a guy who slid by with more than half the city on his back. Then again, Gad supposed it really wasn't any of his business one way or the other. He twisted around in his stool and his back was leaned up against the counter now, and he scanned across the milieu of Sunberth's high society life. There were the two gossipers he'd spotted, a serving wench getting her butt slapped, a few drunks slumped over, one of which was getting a bag of coins yanked out of his coat by his apparently much more sober date. There were a few sword-for-hire types, the kind he like to avoid, and then there was one he saw who was doing as much watching as him, or more. He didn't recall ever seeing her in here before, but from where he was sitting he couldn't make out her face well enough, obscured as it was in puffs of smoke. He considered her for a moment, scratching his jaw as he tumbled over the idea of getting a better look at her. Why not? he decided. He snatched up his mug and shambled over to her, unselfconsciously. When he got near, he spotted the weapons laid out on the table, some kind of clubs, but with sideways handles poking out of them. He smiled as he looked at them. Perhaps she was flaunting her exotic weapon in hopes she wouldn't have to use the, or maybe just to indicate that she wasn't afraid to. Through the smoke he saw a green iris not unlike his own, but another grey orb was there, concealed in the cloud, blending in. Was she a merc? He pulled up a chair and twisted it around so that the back was in front of his chest and he leaned over it. He didn't think too hard about what to say. "Hello, those are some interesting looking tools you got there. You a sell-sword?" Now that he was closer he could not only make out the glassy gaze of her grey eye, but she scar that told it's story, and the varied line across her countenance. She was definitely a woman accustomed to rough living, and he noted crow's feet, but no smile lines. Meanwhile, the thug at the door had gotten a harsh tongue lashing and a light thrashing from a few of the real tough guys who'd came to the trough to get a drink, and had made his way inside and over to the bar. Gad didn't notice him, but the man was sneering and eying him up and down and steaming from the ears.

[Zandelia]

She did not immediately reply, favouring a silent assessment of the newcomer over unguided words and trivialities of conversation. He was tall she noted, very tall indeed and thin. One could perhaps say that he was scrawny but there were muscles there, under developed in some ways compared o the usual patronage that visited the Pig’s Foot. He seemed easy to smile too, a trait that they shared after a fashion. Few would approach her these days, she had picked her garb well for Sunberth – armour and weaponry. Most gave her a wide berth unless they were drunk enough to think she would open her legs to them. This one seemed more at home with curiosity perhaps, or at least enough that he felt the need to meddle with her for a while.

A trait that can be used. And he reverses the chair like a common mercenary – but he isn’t a mercenary, no. Most engaging she ran through the basic assessment, noting they also shared the trait of eye colour – a rarity.

“Of a fashion,” she replied simply, smoke curling around the small smile upon her lips, “and you are not. Though you sit like one. Chair reversed, protects the gut from attack. Easy to stand up and retreat. Or throw the chair perhaps. Been in a few scrapes have we? Are you searching for a guard?” she asked, her gaze pinning him and watching for any reaction.

And he’s already got an enemy here too… she noted privately as she watched the wannabe bouncer walk up to the bar, order a drink and fix the man’s back with a look that could have murdered.

She wondered what he had done to deserve such distaste, such a sneering turn of the face.

“Tonfa, they are called tonfa. Not so much interesting as brutal. In the right hands of course,” she continued smoothly, testing the waters with unspoken threat, “though I do rather prefer conversation to combat. Watching. Waiting. Thinking” she breathed in another draw of smoke and waved her piped hand to scatter the smoke as she breathed out.

Her fixation upon rumour and gossip had abated for now, instead she focused her mind upon the man opposite her like a lance. He had annoyed the bouncer and that raised him somewhat in her estimation, the door drubber was a fool and few liked him. He was a bully and often took more than was needed – not that anything was even needed. It was more a freelance act to try and swindle those new to the city. If he disappeared few would care. Scant few. An idea formed inside her mind, a small test perhaps.

She had met him before, he was a Scar like herself - though how firm his convictions were was still to be discerned. She was still puzzling them all out, trying to figure out how they would fit into the grand scheme Bitzer and herself had thought out. They had so much to do, it seemed, and only a few people at their disposal to do it with.

“Looks like you need a guard though boy, the man at the bar seems quite dissatisfied with you. I’d watch yourself. Do something about it perhaps. He’s probably a better fighter than you after all. Don’t want to get your throat cut in here” she suggested, wondering if the other would pick up upon her tone and go along with a small side attraction, “in my…experience…it’s easiest to deal with it sooner rather than later”

Would he wonder what experience she held? How she dealt with things?

“How are you Gad? Still getting into, and I hope out of, trouble?” she asked softly, making no move to stop her smoking.

Let’s see how smart he really is. How…perceptive she told herself.

[Gad]

Gad grinned. He'd seen her just yesterday at the Scars meet up, and now he happened to bump into her here. It really was a small world. The fact that she was the first to arrive at Bitzer's tent gave him the impression that she was a high up member in the organization, and Gad thought he might do well to stay on her good side, if it was possible. That might be hard. She wasn't the type to give straight answers, or be fooled by a sycophant. Zandelia wouldn't make anything obvious until she wanted to, but he went with it. "Of a fashion, huh? Oh, and no, not a mercenary." He shook his head. "I'm a little too, let's say 'delicate', for that kind of thing." He laughed. When she mentioned the way he was sitting he looked down at the chair and took note of what she was saying. "You know, I never much thought about it before. Guess you learn something new everyday. Today it looks like chair throwing lore." She had the knowledge of a person used to fighting dirty, and Gad made note not to test her on it. Then again, it was Gad's genuine opinion that dirty was the only way to fight. Whether it was in a ring or in the streets no one walked away from a fight clean, so why bother with 'fair', or 'respectable'? Zandelia no don't had more dirt on herself than she'd give away. "Nah, not a guard. Just thought if I hung around you, you'd scare all the bullies away." Gad considered her. What was she doing here, he wondered, before I came in. Waiting for a customer? It was odd, she was just sitting before. He chalked it up to her just wanting to enjoy a smoke in peace, but then, there were more peaceful places than the Trough, for sure. He couldn't help but look at her scars again, particularly the one across he grey eye. Of course there was a whole story behind how she got it, and what happened after, but she wouldn't tell and he wouldn't ask, at least not with out some more to drink. On that note, he beckoned to a serving girl and when she was close he asked for two shots of rum for each of them. After placing the order, he asked "D'you like rum?" He nodded as she explained the nature of the weapons, chiming in here and there. She told how brutal they were. Gad got the picture though; of course, the right hands were hers. It wasn't like she had to tell him twice though, he already knew she was dangerous. Perhaps it was his gambling blood that drew him to risky ventures, but it'd worked out pretty well so far, and so Gad had come to enjoy that feeling of danger. Veiled threats were the spice of life. "Conversation, is that what you call it? Haha, well, I'm something of a conversationalist myself. Rather wag my jaw than get clobbered in it. Gotta keep my face pretty, you understand." The rum was brought over and set before them, Gad downed one of his immediately. "Oh yeah, I don't so much mind the thinking, and watching can be fun, depending on what you're looking at- waiting. Eh. That one, I've never been too good at. I'm Mr. Instant-gratification-can't-sit-still. Huh?" he followed her gaze to see the leering goon hanging out by the bar. "Oh, him? Nah, he's just mad cause he lost a dice roll." Then, she went into the gory details. "Yeah, I never pictured myself going down in the Pig's Foot, like a chump. Hmm, what did you have kicking around in that head of yours? What kind of experience could you be talking about?" He grinned. One could get the feeling just from talking to her she was loathe to reveal anything about herself. Gad couldn't tell if it was paranoia or just the shykes and giggles of her knowing something you didn't. Bitzer - an intimidating alias, he was sure- seemed somewhat the same, if not a little more taciturn. At least to him. "Oh, you know, same shyke new day. More the former than the latter for a while there, but recently things have been up. What about you? What should I call you in this mortal seeming of yours? What was it, net- Web?" He looked past her for a moment. The bouncer was still steaming from the ears. Gad sussed it was on account of being made to look a fool, though he didn't really think he was the one responsible on that count. Zandelia was right about the guy being a better fighter, or at least a bulkier one. But, then, Gad was never the type to risk going toe to toe with anyone on even ground. He liked to drag them in the mud first. Fighting meant fighting dirty, and Gad was feeling a little too clean.

[Zandelia]

Zandelia snorted around the mouthpiece of her wooden pipe, teeth worrying it and leaving yet more indentations that told the tales of each draw she had taken in her short stint since taking up the habit. She remembered being told not to smoke as a youth, something about it being unhealthy, but seeing as she was old by Sunberth standards she wasn’t overly concerned with her death. It would come one way or another. Gad was a strange curiosity though, one which she was learning held many layers – layers that she would discern if given the chance. She listened as he talked, he liked to talk she realized and it was so much easier to understand someone by listening.

Not to what they are saying of course, but what they are not saying. Therein lies the secrets they do not wish to reveal – whether that be personality quirk or more she mused to herself as she took another draw upon her pipe and blew the smoke to one side and looked upon Gad once more.

“You say delicate, I say surprising,” she spoke aloud then with a measured tone, “scrawny does not mean weak though many confuse the two. I could wager you would deal with hi in your own way. Could deal with him in your own way. Decent but perhaps not the most effective” she blew out yet more smoke as she accepted the rum and tasted of its dark and bittersweet nature. She placed the cup down carefully, perhaps giving the suggestion of inebriation and thus the advantage being with Gad.

“Not bad, better than ale I suppose. And no, I do not scare them away. They merely know to avoid me unless needed. Call it what you will but it serves my purposes” she reasoned.

As he went on about what was within her mind she wondered what she had been thinking, there were so many thoughts and memories. Rumours clashed with misinformation and then abutted facts and secrets. She had been contemplating rumour but now she was merely thinking upon Gad. He was a trickster and now she knew he used dice to earn his way and confuse his vagabonds. He fancied himself a face and thought he was a con-artist – Sunberth had many and few enough were successful. Whether gad was or wasn’t was still up for question.

A test then perhaps? she mused, wondering what form it could take that would best reveal ore of this creature before her and how he could be of use to her. It would have to be something small, something that wouldn’t reveal much about herself but a wealth about Gad.

“You do indeed like to talk but can you walk as well?” she asked him with a challenging smile, “because to move within our folds, though you have been accepted for now, does mean you must prove useful. If so then perhaps I could sue you myself. A test, hmm?” she suggested as she smoked a little more and took in another sip of enjoyably warm rum.

“Web is both y name and my experience, if you know how to fathom it, and to be part of the Web you must have a talent. Your talent seems to be drinking and dice. The perfect setting we are in then. Show me your talents and then we can discuss what I can offer you. Believe me the trade will be worthy” she reasoned aloud.

“Use your talents to cheat the man at the bar again, make him angry and then he will be thrown out by the others if no foul play is detected. Do this and we can discuss a trade of uses” she challenged him, nodding to him over the rim of her cup and smiling all too sweetly.

[Gad]

Gad watched her measured consumption of the rum, and wondered if it wasn't just what she wanted him to see. Gad waited patiently for her to explain the nature of the test to him. He grinned. She knew more about him than he did her, but he was all right with that. Letting people think they knew him, or were more clever than him, made his life easier. Not that he was out to deceive anyone- yet- but when people thought that they tended to give much less in the way of grief. When she was done with her proposition, Gad tumbled the idea over in his mind. He was right to be curious about her, and it looked like it might turn out more lucrative than he'd anticipated. Now things could start to get interesting. What would she do, if his little trick impressed her? There was no telling, but she alluded to having some connections, and skills that Gad would do well to get on his side. He sussed it was worth the trade, for a little invisible sleight of hand. "Okay." was his simple response. He grabbed the attention of the waitress, and pointed to the man at the bar. "Hey, tell him I've got a drink waiting for him." She went over and tapped on the man's shoulder, from where Gad was he could see her pointing in their direction. When the man looked over Gad waved and gave a friendly smile. Then, in a smooth and relaxed fashion he set his left hand on the table. There it sat, innocuously, as he pushed his djed around inside. With a steady throbbing that was in rhythm with his pulse, Gad managed to wiggle out his hand from it's meaty capsule. His hand didn't move from it's slight fist, balled up position on the table. Some people might've imagined that the hand might splay out and go limp, and it did go limp to a certain degree, but the tendons and all the things pulling on it didn't magically vanish when one used projection. Which is to say, if a person let their hand hang limp, their fingers wouldn't dangle straight down, they'd hang out and curve slightly till the tips of their fingers were pointing down. And, if they kept their hand limp, but pulled their wrist back, it would form a slight grasp naturally, without any effort being expended to do so. All in all, the hand looked natural, sitting there on the table. The goon approached and pulled up a chair in a quick motion from another table. He plopped himself down and looked Zandelia up and down, sneered a bit, and then started staring daggers at Gad. "So?" Gad tossed his head back and let out a kind of nervous laugh, then swallowed audibly and nodded to the man. "Well, it's pretty simple. You see, my friend here- can I call you friend?" He implied Zandelia. "My friend here, she thinks what I did to you before was awfully unfair, cheating you like that. Now, I've got kind of a reputation as a fair guy, and so I didn't want word getting out that I'd cheated you or anything, and certainly didn't want any hard feelings between the two of us. So I figured, why not do this as fairly as possible, and leave it up to chance- chance is fair right?" Again directed and Zandelia. "Yeah, chance is fair. So, now. Maybe I could persuade you to play a little game?" Gad slowly pulled out his pair of dice with his active right hand, and set them on the table. "Here we are. See-" he tossed them a couple of times to show the rolls weren't fixed. "- why don't we leave it up to these, hm? We each roll, high roll buys pays for the other one's drinks?" The man looked suspiciously at the dice, then at Gad, before resting his eyes on the jade cubes. "Alright, but no funny business, I get to roll first and," he stressed this last part "low roll wins." Catching on to the man's intentions Gad turned his head down a bit and shook his head, before he spoke in a cautious sounding voice. "Aw-alright. We can do it your way." The man grinned and took the dice up with one hand, and then cupped them with both. He shook them vigorously and was staring intently at the spot on the table where he'd toss them. Gad saw this, and put his astrally projected hand a little further down from that, so it could be there as the dice rolled. The man loosed the dice and they tumbled across the wooden surface. Gad watched close and moved quick as they approached his hand. The tick he saw a six tumble to the top of the roll he set his invisible finger on the face of the die, stopping it there. Perhaps, if someone were watching very closely it might've seemed unnatural, but the man's wide open eyes were focused on the die that was still rolling. Gad let that one go it's course, because he couldn't reach it in time, and it stopped on a three. "Nine." The man said. "Nine." Gad agreed. Now it was his turn. These things were a bit harder to do when you had to both roll the dice and catch them on the right number, but Gad felt up to the challenge. He'd managed to do it before when his life depended on it. Things weren't so crucial now. A part of him, however, wished they were. His was a diamond under pressure, just a lump of coal with out it. But, he knew how to burn slow, he knew he could set this off right. He tossed the stone dice and they clacked end over end. He spotted two show it's face, and he moved to pause it there. However, it got another roll in and the dice stopped with a four face up. He was off to a good start, but he ran the odds that he had a one in three chance of loosing or tying and that was too much. The last dice still rolling, he managed to tap is invisible finger on the four face just as it looked it was slowing to a stop. Gad nodded and gave the slightest of smiles. "Well, eight. Low roll wins, right? Looks like drinks are on you buddy." Gad reached across the table and scooped up his dice, and turned to face the man who was sitting to his left. The man had a look of inconsolable anger on his face, Gad thought he could see the steam fuming from his ears and out of the guy's flared nostrils. The man seemed to mutter a noiseless curse, and slowly, he stood up, and stepped behind his chair. He looked at Gad with eyes of wrath. "You cheated didn't you." He stated, nodding with each syllable. "What!? Buddy, no, I didn't" The man screamed like some psychotic ape. "Mmn, YOU CHEATED ME YOU BASTARD!" He picked up his chair with both hands and swung it diagonally towards Gad who barely had time to get his hands up.

[Zandelia]

Zandelia watched with interest, removing herself from the situation as best she could despite Gad’s attempts to illicit her aid. She responded when prompted with curt nods but other than that left the scenario, and its outcomes, to the trickster’s skills alone. It would reflect poorly upon the challenge she had set him if she aided hi in any direct way and would therefor nullify the test itself. She merely eased her chair back as if she were nonchalant and watched the display as it unfolded from her position – the front legs of the chair off of the floor for a reason though she doubted Gad noticed it as engrossed as he was.

A dice game as a decider? Interesting, then that means there is something a little off about the dice. Or that he has a penchant for something far more forbidden in Sunberth. Given the city I’d opt for the former, a die switch with sleight of hand. We’ll see… she narrated and analysed the events as she sipped upon her beverage sparingly.

In truth she was hoping that he would prove a stellar success in the gauntlet, she had need of some shady characters for her own ends and a con artist of some skill would be a valuable piece to lay upon the chessboard that was her life. She had recruited beggars and street urchins so far – skilled in the arts of listening but genuinely passive pawns. She required people with ore agency, with the ability to actively seek out information of interest. She was new to the building of an eyes and ears web but she knew enough that without agency it was doomed to stagnation or failure. She watched them barter and agree upon the game and weighed up whether she should use her Auristic talent to read the situation ore closely.

Dare I? It is not a skill worthy of overuse but for the occasional situation perhaps? Does this constitute one? she mused to herself, carefully balancing her mental scales upon the matter and tiling her head. She nodded – just the once, a small glimpse to see if there is more to the tableaux wouldn’t hurt.

She felt the trickle of her Djed as she manipulated it, called to it and teased it ever so slowly towards her singular eye and her cranium in general. She had learnt that seeping it into the eye gave her some senses but it was best to form the link between her vision and her mind fully. The reasoning behind it was unclear to her but she did know that it gave her additional abilities – weak ones at least. She sniffed the air and focused upon Gad intensely, shutting out all else quickly so as not to become submerged beneath the waves of informative data. She sniffed again and thought she caught the faintest hint of a scent about hi, the scent of a copper miza when wet and rubbed between the fingers, tangy and dulled. She smiled and focused upon him, his aura flickered quickly but seemed larger and brighter than normal – she wondered why and shifted her gaze across him.

He rolled the die upon the table she heard, though did not look. Not until something flickered outwards towards them, for all the world like a hand, and she noted that his true one did not move an inch. This was a skill she had not heard of, had never seen but was highly probably magical in nature. She let her Djed loose, to dissipate back into her body and sighed as the energy left her and a slithering of lethargy seeped into her bones. It was a tiring skill that much was true. As the man began to protest she let her hair fall forwards and her fist shot out as she came to her feet – momentum carrying her forwards and slamming her fist into the mercenary’s jaw.

“Merv, got a trouble maker here!” she called in a tired tone.

“Was he cheated?”

“No, I watched and there was no foul play. Poor loser is what he is”

“I see him, lads!” the barkeeper shouted and within moments the man was wrestled to the ground and dragged unconscious through the door to dwell in the mud for a while.

Not surprising, he has been annoying many this night. He will return though and so we should be cautious she noted as she sat back down and regarded Gad with a different perspective now.

“Well done, you are quick and clever and possess talents above many. Perhaps uniquely” she spoke, each word precise but tired and leaving them ambiguous as to their meaning - she was not about to reveal her own magic in a tavern after all, nor his.

“You could do well within the Scars, but you could also do well with me. I find myself in need of those with particular talents, skills that set them above the usual refuse of this city. What I plan to do is not to be revealed at this juncture but it is crafty, highly dangerous and possibly lethal. I offer you my hand this once, accept it or not. If so then we can get another drink and discuss…potentialities”

“Any questions before you decide?” she asked as she held out her right hand with her offer, “I actually have all evening so feel free to ask. The answers may not be as fulfilling as you like however. I will do my best though” she grinned at him across the table.

A different kind of test this time, can he trust? Or at least is he curious enough to see things through based upon that alone? I have no use for those who can’t follow direction of learn quickly and curiosity is a must for what I have planned for him she told herself privately, looking him in the eye with a slightly drooped eyelid.

[Gad]

Things happened fast. Before the raised chair could connect with Gad, Web's knuckles were jammed into the side of the brute's jaw. The next instant he was swarmed by a group of fed up patrons who tossed him out into the street. Gad blinked. He didn't know if he should be glad Web was here, because if she wasn't he wouldn't have really been in that trouble in the first place. Oh well, a little excitement never killed anyone- that he knew of. Gad let out a huff, closed his eyes and took a sip of of ale. When web started speaking Gad almost blushed. Quick, clever, talents above many? Well, he always knew he was unique, but it didn't hurt to hear it from time to time. Flattery was enough to both disarm him and make him cautious. It was only after well timed compliments that people would reveal their true desires, Gad thought. And now she was coming to it. He could do well with in the scars, but also with her? What did that mean? He supposed it would make sense for her to have other goals and responsibilities outside of that organization, but what did that entail. Then she started to get to the good stuff. Highly dangerous and possibly lethal. Lethal to who? She put out a hand, and told hm this was his one chance to accept or deny her offer. He grasped her hand in his. Hers was actually rough by comparison. "Okay." He said with a nonchalant agreeableness. Gad could trust, indeed. He could also rescind such trust if it were necessary, and he didn't find that so hard to do either. For the time being, he'd take her at face value, because she hadn't led him to believe she had any other intentions. "So, I can ask questions him? I suppose I might want to ask if Web was your real name...but it would probably defeat the purpose of an alias if I just turned around to ask you what your real name was." Gad drummed his fingers on the table. He did have a few questions he could dart lob at her, though he considered that they might not be answered at all. He also was aware that asking certain questions might reveal more about himself that he'd wish. Then again, he wasn't in a position to be too careful. "But as far as any other questions go, I have a few. This first being: What do you want in Sunberth? Why are you here, of all the places you could be, why this one, and why now?" Gad felt it was a simple enough question, and the most direct. Motivation, he thought, was more important than anything else when it came to trying to understand people. If you could find out what they wanted and why, you might be able to form some kind of predictions about their behaviors. The funny thing about gamblers was, that most people assumed they liked risk. While that was true to a certain degree, those who worshiped risk-taking above all things were rarely successful. Gamblers, like Gad, much preferred certainty, and making predictions. Part of that was understanding the rules of the game. If you thought of everyone's life as a game, then their motivation was the rulebook to that game.

[Zandelia]

The hand came out to grip her own, the strength admirable but the skin softer than she had expected. She had hoped for a few callouses at least to indicate that he held a weapon, had fought at times enough to know he was a competent defender. She did not sense that from Gad but he had proven himself capable in other ways and the ability to fight was something that could be learnt easily and certainly would learn well enough if he actually stuck with the Scars through their foundation and developmental stages. They were a long way off from being a force to be reckoned with but they needed all sorts to achieve their goals and Gad provided a door for some of them she thought. Her hand gripped firmly, shook as she looked him in the eye and then retreated to lace fingers with her other hand neatly.

His questions show curiosity and yet also direction, a rare combination and it proves that he has a mind decent enough to be of worth. Seeking to ferret out my motivation in such a scenario is clever. I cannot tell him everything and yet telling him nothing ensures a lack of progression. Yet his quick acceptance of my hand shows he is either good at keeping his word or good at breaking it. Interesting she noted as she allowed the silence to ripple out from her and her face showed a deep frown of concentration that she didn’t require but leant truth to her words for the casual observer.

“Web is my name Gad, the same as yours,” she responded softly, her tone of voice distant, “whether that is believed or not doesn’t matter as either way you learn something about people. For example, now I know you don’t think it to be a true name. A suspicious personality perhaps?” she asked him rhetorically.

She considered his second series of questions as she sipped from her ale, wondering how much would be appropriate to reveal to gain interest and how much should be held in reserve for a future time. She had planned much with Bitzer and the meeting had been revealing but for the most part their plans were for the future more than the present. They had some things to pursue immediately but it would take time to achieve the ultimate goals and letting thme flitter out through carelessness was foolish – ears could be listening even now and she was aware that information was a dangerous game at best.

“What I want is what anyone wants Gad, success and gold. So simple and yet entirely too difficult to achieve. You were at the meeting and so know some things, I can reveal more but only up to a point. Sunberth is a transient city and so plans are ultimately useless unless you can adapt them” she spoke thoughtfully.

“I want us to have a central place we can work from, I want us to be unnoticed and able to work without hindrance as much as possible. Personally I want other things but they are my private concerns. You might learn them one day but I shall say they involve death and power”

“As to why here and why now…I was born in Sunberth. This is my city and right now there exists more opportunity than ever. If one can harness it they could perhaps climb to the top of the pile” she finished as she sipped from her beverage once more.

“Right now though I am more interested in the fact that the people think a certain group is finished. They have had little knowledge of them recently and thus think what they like to – that things will go on as before. I am not opposed ti this,” she looked at him directly then, “I would actually like to facilities it. You could help me”

“But first my own question, how much do you know about rumour? How it works and how it can be used? Have you done so before? Do you see how we could use their current thoughts to our own advantage?”

“If you wanted to be secret, to be unknown…what would you do Gad? Imagine they don’t know your face, your purpose or even what you want. How would you use that against them?” she asked.

She had a plan in mind and she hoped he would be clever enough to help her reach its culmination – or at least is foundation.

[Gad]

Gad couldn't help crack a lopsided grin when she drew attention to his suspicious nature. It was something of a compliment, in this city. Paranoia was what kept you alive, especially if you used magic like he did. Either way, Web didn't seem too offended by the insinuation that she'd use an alias. Besides, Gad didn't think it mattered. It wasn't like this could be a trap, or a set-up. Too complex, and too many moving parts to get him hear, and now, and to what end? As he dismissed the possibility of this being a planned occurrence Web took the words right out of his mind; plans are ultimately useless. This just appeared to be one of those infinite twists of fate in Lhex's tangled beard. A instance of synchronicity. Sure, there was nothing special about wanting success and gold. Tumble over any bum passed out in Stumble Alley, and ask him what he wants he'll probably say the same thing. The rarity was finding the type of person that could make it happen. The type that could turn words into gold, and who could adapt a plan into success was a unique breed. Gad kept track of the rest of things Web would need to bring them said success and money. A central place to work from? He wondered where that might be, and what would be needed of such a place. Would an inn work? A house? Or was something more secret necessary? She was saying that she wanted to be unnoticed and unhindered. Gad's mind turned towards the mines, and he wondered if they would be able suffice. His eyes twitched when he heard her mention her private concerns; death and power? Well, surely there was more to it, as she'd said. Still, Gad was only interested in the one so long as he could use it to avoid the other. Maybe it was best that he didn't know. Then again, maybe it would've been better if he hadn't just agreed to do- whatever it was he'd agreed to do. Gad didn't dwell. He never regretted the roll, once the dice had been cast. He didn't know she was born in Sunberth, but it made sense. He could tell from the get go that she was cut from something tough, and familiar. For the second time, she said something that made him worry. Being at the bottom of the pile was no fun, but climbing to the top just made you a target to get knocked down. Gad caught himself and suppressed the weak minded thinking. For now, at least, he'd climb to the top. But, he'd stop before the final floor, and wait by the stairs, just in case someone came along and wanted to show whoever was at the top the quick way down. But by now, Web was referring to "a certain group". This, more than anything she'd said so far, got his attention. His first thought was the Daggerhand. His eyebrows raised with interest and he leaned in closer to her to make sure he didn't miss anything and also to let her know she could be quieter in necessary. His face contorted into confusion. What was she talking about? What did she mean? Was she saying that she wanted the people in Sunberth to think the Daggerhand was already dead? What could she have to gain from that? It was no use, Gad realized, trying to piece together what was going on behind that glass eye. If he was going to figure her out, he'd just have to do as she said. When she said he could help he looked up to see that she was already looking at him, and they stared it to each others eyes solemnly. She asked what he knew about rumors. "Well, they're mostly just gossip right? I mean, I could probably whisper something to the tavern wench over there, and by the time it got around the whole bar it'd probably be a whole different story. Maybe even the opposite of what I said, if that." Gad shrugged. "I never really thought that much about rumor actually, at least not for spreading them- though I've been pulled in by one or two. So, I guess I'm usually on the other end of the rumor mill. I'm the one eating the bread, not grinding the wheat- if you'll forgive the metaphor." He scratched his neck. "I'm not so sure how someone would use that though?" Then Web posited an interesting situation. He thought for a moment in silence, then continued out loud. "Well I-...I guess if there was a group of some kind or another out there that didn't know me, or my face, or what I wanted, and what I wanted was to use that against them...then I guess I might join them? Hide right under their noses, if I could. Tell them what I wanted them to know, and have them tell me what I wanted to know. You know? Heh. But, that couldn't be what you mean, could it? If it's the group I think you're talking about, that couldn't possibly be what you mean..."