Flashback Along Came a Thief [Part 1]

[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

73th of Fall 511AV It had been a couple of days after the incident with the young thief Eleazar who tried robbing Senghor and Noven during their assistance with the burnt orphanage, the two young men and the teen saw that instead of feeding the thief to the wolves in the Wildlands it would have been better for them to repay them through hard labour. It was quite comedic when they watched him struggled with the work that they assigned to him, after his somewhat unending torment the three of them went to the Pig's Foot tavern and enjoyed a meal together. Amongst the three of them it was clear who were the ones who were the muscle, but amongst them all the kid seemed to be out of it, mentally he may have been the one who was scarred the most. Senghor had caught instances of the boy talking to himself, he was beginning to want what home he came from or whether he may have been possessed by a ghost. Eleazar was a very strange kid no doubt about it but in the few days that he'd come to know him but Senghor had become quite familiar and more relaxed around the strange thief. He somewhat warmed up to him and let him be, his company brought a bit of light in their dark miserable lives and at some point in the days that he talked to him, he was willing to consider the kid a friend. But strangely it had been quite a few days since he last saw the thief, to say he was worried about him was more of a joke than a proper statement. The kid stole from them so would he?. As he sat up and looked at Noven he spoke, "You think the kid's alright?" he asked as he slowly stood up to stretch a bit of muscle, it was the morning was unkind to him because he didn't have a whore at his side and a drink in hand, but after meeting Noven the number of fights had indeed increased by a certain number, an just on second day after meeting Eleazar they seemed to explode out and just line up and all they had to do was take a number and the fighters amongst the three would beat the living essence of whoever came at them. So many fights it was becoming something of a routine for him, he'd lost count after meeting the kid. If there was a medal for the amount of brawls they had in a week, they'd have quite a number and would probably sold them for a bit of coin. The larger of the two sighed after a few chimes, a bell or two and Seng could see that the thief wasn't about to show up. Maybe he decided to bailout on the two, maybe he finally got in over his head and was laying somewhere with his throat slit... Senghor somewhat couldn't bear to think of such a young kid, already dead at the hands of Sunberth's finest. "Stupid kid..." he said below his breath as he inclined his head in Noven's direction, "Hey, let's go grab something to eat. He's not coming" he said as he walked out his nicely unidentified cottage, the thought of the thief already having burst the clouds didn't settle with his stomach, the Pig's Foot was currently the only place they could get something to eat and clearly Senghor could see that Noven wasn't in the mood to cook so early in the morning...

[Noven]

Sodding, fuckin' hell.

Nov stared up at the wooden ceiling as he nursed a wet rag on his right eye, wishing for all the world he had dodged that last punch. He should've, by all rights, but he was too busy trying not to give in to using his mark again. What had they been thinking, anyway? He couldn't even remember why that first exploding pint of ale had been thrown. Was it over Elisa the bar maid? No, that was a fortnight ago. Money? No..

The young man hissed in pain as he tried to move the rag. It'd been a long time since he'd gotten a shiner as black as this one, and Kyrsus did it hurt.

"Why are you thinkin' so much about that kid anyhow?" Nov snorted, hiding his own worry behind vivid expletives of pain. Much as he hated to admit it, that scrawny little thief had him more concerned than he thought possible. The kid had been jabbering a lot to himself. Down right addled mess, he was. And the hunger certainly couldn't have helped.

With a sigh, Nov sat upright in his chair again--slowly--and stared glumly at Seng with his one good eye. "Aye, maybe we'll run into him later. Food sounds good."

He dropped the rag onto the table and got to his feet. It took a bit of effort, covered in bruises and sores and aches as he was, but he managed. Together, the two friends made their way--or, in Noven's case, limped--to the Pig's Foot, bellies grumbling and minds clouded with frustrated thoughts.

As soon as they managed to plop down at a table, the more battered of the two flagged down Elisa and ordered the usual fare and drink. She bustled away once they finished with their requests, but not without raising an eyebrow at their states. "Ya get yer ass handed t'ya again, Nov?" The lass planted one hand on her hip and stared down at them disapprovingly. "I 'ope it wasn't fer another pretty barmaid at some lesser establishment."

The young man turned away with a scoff, hiding his black eye. "Wouldn't dream of it, Elisa. Now where's our food and ale, eh?"

Their waitress smirked, then sauntered off to fulfill their orders. In the meantime, Nov gave his friend an exasperated look and tried his best not to touch his throbbing eye. "Women."

He would've commented more, had his ears not suddenly picked up something...disturbing. Somewhere behind them, a few patrons at another table were snickering. Nothing unusual, as far as typical tavern frequenters go, but their conversation contained one too many coincidences for Nov to ignore. As they burst into laughter again, he looked to his friend and muttered, "Think they're talking about the kid?"

[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

Senghor kept to himself when Noven asked him about why he cared about Eleazar, his mind was deeply focused on the kid's well being at the moment and either way Seng found that explaining himself to his new friend wasn't necessary. As they walked towards the Pig's Foot, the air seemed quite stale and somehow out of place, something wasn't right today and Senghor could feel it deep within the very confines of his gut. Intuition was quite an odd thing it seemed. "They got you good didn't they?" he taunted darkly as they walked into the Pig's Foot, on Seng's behalf he hadn't suffered much of a beating, his height intimated a bunch causing them to easily go for Noven and Eleazar, it didn't mean that Senghor wasn't hurt it just meant that he knew how to hide it well. As both figures stepped into the Pig's Foot, Seng's immediate attention was drawn to a group of individuals that he hadn't seen before, they were unlike the patrons of Sunberth favored tavern. At first he shrugged the off as nothing more that people he may have missed during one of his drunken 'adventures'. As both men sat down into the embraces of their seats, Seng watched as Noven called for Elisa though his attention fell back onto the group rounded by the table not far from their their own. Bits of their conversation was heard but Seng but he couldn't make out what the hell they were saying and their laughing didn't sit well with Seng's frustrated mood. The conversation between the barmaid Elisa and Nov fell deaf to Seng's ears as he narrowed his eyes and looked amongst the group sitting there. "Yeah, good in the sack and bad for the ear" he replied unknowingly as, he turned to Noven. When his smaller asked what he thought they were talking about it only confirmed Seng's suspicions, "Mhm..." he hummed darkly, before shifting in his seat. Another burst of laughter seemed to be the fly that set Senghor off, "Care to join me?" he asked darkly as he pushed his seat back with a slightly unheard screech, calmly the dark skinned young man strode towards the group. Along the way his hand hooked around the frame of a lone chair, with a eased move it spun in his hand as he straddled and placed his arms in a folded manner upon the frame of the seat. "Gentlemen..." he greeted with a dark tone as he watched them all turn towards him, their murmurs filled with a great confusion whilst he looked at them with a hardened features. "Ta'petch ya want dog" one of them shot back at Senghor who first let it slide, he kept telling himself that today they weren't going to have a fight, not today. Not when they were hungry. "Ain'ts got nuthin' we's wanna bye, so leave" said another another said, Senghor let that one slide too. "Couldn't help but overhear your little conversation, said you found the thief that stole from your boss?" he asked with a calm tone, looking between their faces for a flinch or something to give them away. When one of them smiled that was all Senghor needed to know, after what seemed like a bell of silence but nothing more than a few ticks Senghor stop again "No?... Thank you for you useless time" As he stood off the seat and walked back to Noven, it didn't take long for the group to start talking once again yet the tone between their words had changed and now they were somehow lacking of joy and fun. The atmosphere around them was morbid and dim... "I think they've got the kid..."

[Noven]

"Care to join me?"

Nov blinked with his one good eye at his towering friend. "Uhh..." was his brilliant response as Seng walked right up to the rowdy group of men. Normally, the young cook was right behind his darker skinned companion, no questions asked. But at the moment he was beaten black and blue and grimacing at the very thought of getting out of his seat.

Seng was on his own for now, though Nov kept his functioning eye trained on the lot of them in case things went sour. Which they usually did.

Much to his surprise, however, they didn't, and his new friend returned without a single scratch or bruise to add to his growing collection. He seemed serious though, as did the group of suspicious fellows he'd just briefly interrogated. And it didn't take Nov long to find out why.

"I think they've got the kid..."

"Well, shit," Nov grumbled to himself. He sighed and looked up at Seng with a mix of frustration and worry. "Glad to know we weren't fussing over him like a pair of fat bottomed hens for nothin'."

The only way this situation could be any worse was if that scrawny little thief had gotten himself involved with one of Sunberth's infamous gangs. And by the sound of things, he very well may have. Balls and sacks, what were they getting themselves into? Or, more importantly, how much ale would they have to drink if they didn't pursue this so they could still sleep at night?

Noven didn't sleep much. Hadn't ever since Nona died, and almost not at all after the recent fire that took the very heart of Sunset with it. It wasn't long into this train of thought before Elisa came around with their food and drink. Nov wolfed everything down with the savagery of someone who had neither the time or luxury for manners. He was too busy minimizing the pain that came with the smallest of motions and working out whether or not they ought to go after the stupid kid.

It didn't take long though to come to a decision. Wasn't like they had something better to do anyway. Hell, might as well look into this with so little sleep to be had in the first place. Maybe the little rat had even picked up something good enough to sell for a nice price...

No sooner had he thought this than the group of fishy--and now quite grim and serious--looking thugs stood up from their seats with rough scrapes and squeaks of wood and made for the door. They hadn't even bothered looking in Seng's direction, which Nov took for one of two things. Either they were stupid enough not to acknowledge a potential threat, or confident enough to not care.

Well, one way or the other the two friends would have to proceed with caution. They didn't know exactly what the circumstances were and how many men they were going to have to deal with. And both were still tender from a recent brawl. They couldn't afford to be reckless for the sake of one, mentally unstable thief.

Food finished and a final swig of ale to wash it all down, Nov slapped enough payment to cover both meals onto the rickety table and glanced at Seng with a knowing look.

"Time to go, eh?" he muttered, then rose from his seat to make after the group of Eleazar's supposed captors.

Hopefully they would find the kid still in one piece.

[Eleazar Victor Syroin]

OOC: For GraderAll the NPCs used in this thread are City NPCs that have been approved by Twister. If the grader wishes to have the write ups for them, Please check the NPC List or PM me if said list is not available yet. 73rd of Fall 511AV Time is nearly a quarter to the fourth bell in the morning Eleazar's head lolled slowly forward as he tried to find some vague form of sleep. He wasn't sure why he was bothering though, bound to what may have once been a chair, half hammered in nails biting at his exposed back as splinters caressed his arms. He wasn't even sure how long he had been here, it might have been days since he had been caught pinching that book or maybe only bells. He couldn't remember either way. Each moment blurring together in the cool darkness of whatever cellar they had dumped him in. Bruised marred his face and arms from when that blasted woman had ordered her men to 'soften' him up a bit, not that hanging around Nov and Seng hadn't earned him a few bruises. It had been he guessed roughly a week since he met the two and already he had been pulled into more fights than could have possibly be run away from. Trust him to end up stuck in with the two people best at starting bar fights over a spilt drink or a little nudge. Even a life of thievery hadn't been that rough on him and then it had to all go wrong, running head first into these clowns down the alley way near the dry dock. They had been after him; literally targeting him, scrawny little him. He wasn't even sure why they had kidnapped him, well hadn't been sure. Answers soon came when a tan faced lady coiled in the smoke of her pipe had started asking him question about books. Petching Remmy. Whatever she was up to, he had just been dragged kicking and screaming into, literally. So far they hadn't gotten any answers from him beyond the fact he could read a little and wasn't a member of any gang, a repetitive 'Ay 'ave no idea what yer are on aboot' followed by the normal 'so can yer please let mi go' didn't seemed to phase the woman in the slightest. The key words being 'so far', this lot didn't seem to believe a word he said. They would throw a few odd punches and only do that if he was lucky, then he would be questioned then they would leave him be for a bit then it would happen all over again. The same thing over and over with the time in between leaving him with only his thoughts and the darkness. not even Eleanor to keep him company, she had vanished after the first few punches. A shiver coursed through his body, hovering over when their teeth and hands had wandered. Winter was still a few weeks away yet but it certainly wasn't being shy about it. Cold, beaten and abused, hah. Probably the image that got those merchants down by the seaside market to sleep at night, if only he could find such a thing now. Tugging lightly at his restraints, they proved no more liable to give way than the last time the thief had checked. Wriggling a little more caused the teen's skin burned under the friction, at least he wasn't as cold now. Why did it seem that everyone in Sunberth was amazing at tying knots but him? Was there some secret school somewhere where they learnt? Maybe it was down by the docks or something. All these pointless musings ended when the door to his prison threw bright burning light into his eyes as three men struggled in with a table. At least two of the men did, the other danced giddily behind then swinging a large bag gently in his hand. A candle was lit and after the table was deposited the two larger males lumbered back out to the cheerful waving of the third. Oh great, what now? The bag was clunked down on the table as what looked like carving tools were taken out; the ginger haired stranger gazed fondly at each. What the hai was going on? Who was this clown? Had they given up on him? The man hummed softly to himself before rapidly spinning to face the hostage; grinning like a child who had just been given a new play thing. A shiver went down the teen's spine. True he had never really been fully okay in the head but this guy might had been just about born not right in the head, or maybe just born with out a head. Those eyes that reflected the candle light too clearly and that hair like a mad fox curled around his face. Rocking slowly on his heels, the intruder then stepped briskly towards the door, slamming it shut with a loud bang. Now the candle on the table was the only source of light in the room. Squinting confused at what had occurred, Eleazar flinched when the ginger seemed to appear next to him, a little too close for comfort. “Hello there, Since I'm a nice sorta fella I'm gonna ask you before you get started. Did you happen to, I don't know, steal a couple books of value from a Miss Mar Santoro's house? I know you've been saying you don't know anything but I need to ask you for business reasons.” Mar Santoro? The name wasn't familiar, was she perhaps the woman that had been questioning him earlier? Either way he had never stolen from any house before. So it hadn't been him, most likely Remmy or one of her acquaintances. Although theft didn't seem like something they would do. 'Books of value', huh? He was so asking her about them later, assuming there was a later after this. The man had asked, far too calmly in Eleazar's mind, for 'business reasons' which lead one to think that he was being paid to be here with that row of worryingly sharp tools laid out on the table. Swallowing, he slowly shock his head 'no'. The ginger clicked his tongue expression flitting briefly to disappointment, 'Any idea who might have?' was his next question. Again, he got a shake no. “Real shame that. Ay truly wish not knowing would mean you go free but I have a job to do so you're stuck here.” The man's regretful tone didn't match the cat like grin smeared over his face as her danced over to the table. He wasn't sorry at all, the bastard was enjoying himself here. Eleazar couldn't share the feeling when a thin tip of charcoal began to trail over the skin of his upper left arm. He was drawing on him? This wasn't what he had expected; it wasn't painful at all, honestly it was kinda ticklish. A quick flick here, a pause, a few more lines there and a slow swirl to finish up. Apparently done, the ginger laughed openly at the confusion written all over his sleepy features. Craning his neck to get a better look at what had been doodled, the thief was vaguely aware of footsteps padding back to the table. “Oi, What ya doodle on mi? What es 'at fer?” Turning abruptly, teeth as sharp as the flash of mental now in his hand the ginger cocked his head to the side is a mock of confusion. “Oh I thought it was obvious. I mean you have to have guidelines when you are carving out a work of art.” ------------------- Time is now current time Another wisp of smoke fell from Marina's lips as the pipe left her mouth, her dark eyes sore from lack of sleep. Being woken up by tortured screams at four bells hadn't been her plan but what had she been expecting with Finny. The man worked on a completely different clock to the rest of the world, crashing out at about five in the afternoon to be up at for the first bell to toll at night. The mad ginger was still down there with their suspected thief. Funny you would have thought the kid would have confessed by now. He didn't even look the part to be honest; too scrawny and too young. But she doubted there was anyone else in town that stole books as regularly as the merchants said he did. Heck, books were next to useless to most sunberthians. Only those with an education found value in the squiggle covered paper and the lad didn't look to be the educated type. Sighing the woman nudged the colossal mass of flesh that was her brother away from his bird watching. Swivelling his lofty head towards her the man grunted expectantly as his sister roll her shoulders out carefully, lit pipe still in hand. “Ay'm having second thoughts on the kid. He don't seem like our man. Ay mean there's nothing to be done now Finn has him. But....” The only reply that was received was a weighty hand snatching his pipe back from her grasp and taking a blow of it himself. Pouting childishly, the elder of the two only got a shrug in return to her pondering. Sighing, she flung herself forward off the pile of rags to pace the room methodically. The tumble down house was a temporary residence provided by a friend of her fathers. The gang would probably move out in a moon or two, sooner if they found another place. The boys were all out at the moment; the shrieks that would occasionally echo up from the old cellar had obviously gotten to them. Cowards, they should have more nerve than that. Oh well a few drinks later and they would be back giving her a migraine like normal. Maybe by that time Finnado might even have finished with the kid then they would just have to clean up the cellar and she would have to figure out who to bribe; also where next to go on her thief hunt. Speaking of cleaning up, the study was still a mess from the robbery. So much damage over some stupid books a thankful customer had given her. Still pacing Marina waited patiently for the drunken laughter of her boys to signal their return.

[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

When Seng returned to his seat and eased down into it, a grimace plastered on his features only reassured him that he too wasn't on the best of conditions. He looked down at Noven nursing himself and nodded slightly, waiting for the tavern to explode into an frenzy of noise. He hoped his nod bolstered his friend's question of the capture of the boy. Elisa returned with the food, it was hot, with steam flaring upward from the body of it as the mugs of ale companioned the plates. A look of unease fell on the desert skinned mercenary as he watched Nov wolf down the food viciously, he ferociously tore through the food and that when Seng joined he wondered if he could catch up, if he was lucky enough not to choke first. When Seng downed his mug completely, the medical nectar of the Pig's Foot, it seemed that the strong sweet ale numbed their pain and they were both ready to take on the day. Long had the suspicious group fled, yet their presence left an everlasting zealous mark in the tavern that hug dreadily in the air, Seng looked up from his emptied plate when Noven struck the table with coin and a sense of relief from pain and hunger. To answer his fellow brawlers question, Seng did naught but nod and stand up from the table, his forearm trailed along the corner of his lips to remove any residue left over from the meal. Throughout the entire scene, the constant thought of the kid kept playing back in his head, he was conflicted - he felt the need to care for Eleazar yet also felt as if he should not. At the back of his mind, it seemed that the answer had already come to him and whether he or Noven liked it or not, that strange neurotic leech was a part of their lives, theirs was a strange cycle of life but it allowed the trio to survive than, and years to come. "You know, in a fight I've always favored the underdog," Seng said to Nov as they stepped out the tavern, inclining his head to the young man, "Whether we like it or not, no matter how many of these shit-stains in this or any other city we fight, we'll always be the underdog," he said, delving deep into his eldritch set of philosophies. "That kid, he's an underdog, one of the worst I've ever seen," Senghor said with the dunes of his flaring vehemently, "I hope that answers your question," he said, referring to the earlier question of why he cared about Eleazar, how Nov summed up the entire philosophy was entirely up to him at that moment. "Let's go, I heard them say their heading to Brega's to get some girls, if we hurry we'll catch up and maybe get a bit of information on where the kid is."

[Noven]

A full belly did wonders for his otherwise glum mood. For a breath, Nov just sat in his chair, languid with content. He barely even glowered as he placed the necessary payment upon the table for Elisa to collect when they'd picked their meal clean.

Then came Seng's explanation about underdogs and Nov found his expression growing serious again. "Underdog..." the young man shook his head. "more like underrat. And even rats don't get caught as often as this kid." Despite appearances, he said it all with a hint of pity, exasperated as that pity was. The thief might be a sorry mess, but he was their sorry mess now.

At the mention of Brega, however, Noven felt his stomach knot. Ever since he'd acquired this cursed mark of his, the mistress of Happy Endings had taken particular interest in his condition. She was convinced for some inexplicable reason that his abilities could be turned into a profitable asset.

Nov, of course, thought she was off her rocker. He knew better than anyone what kind of pain Vexation truly brought. And it held nothing desirable in nature. Not worth experiencing even once for the agony it would bring.

But if it was the kid's life on the line, then to Brega's they must go. The young man was still a shade reluctant though he did his best not to show it. "Let's just hope the Mistress herself isn't there to greet us at Happy Endings," Nov muttered. Then, realizing his avoidance would make little sense to Seng, given he had not divulged his curse yet, he added, "Don't want any of her black magic near me, rumor or no rumor."

The paired walked side by side down the streets, blending in with the crowd despite Seng's stature and Nov's wounds. For each of the brawlers there were at least five or six more just like them. Within Sunberth's stifling confines, they were just two medium sized carnivores in a sea of predators.

Once they got to Happy Endings, the two men walked by a couple bouncers without so much as an obligatory "hello." The guards said nothing but kept their eyes trained on the two strangers, knowing at least one of them to be something of a regular. Once inside, Seng and Nov were greeted by a tall woman with caramel skin and waves of jet black hair.

"Hello, gentlemen," she greeted with a slight incline of her lovely head, "My name is Isme. How may I service you today?"

From the corner of his eye, Noven caught side of the group of thugs from before lumber up a set of stairs. Not wanting to lose track of them he spoke rushedly, "A bell, nothing special. For both of us."

Isme nodded without judgment. "Very well, we can certainly accommodate. Let me call one of my sisters to join--"

"No," the young merc quickly interjected. "No others. Just you."

The whore raised an eyebrow but otherwise seemed not to mind. "This way, then, if you please." There was something slightly sardonic about her tone, but it seemed more playful than mocking. Noven took a bit of an instant liking to her but kept his first impressions to himself. It was to his immense relief that Isme began leading them up the same flight of stairs their targets had ascended.

Now, to hope they had enough luck between them both to get a room close by.

[Eleazar Victor Syroin]

His whimpering cries didn't even sound like a scream anymore, Eleazar mused to himself as the now harsh the breathless sound that left his lungs echoed around the room. Head lolled back to stare at the ceiling, he could feel the newly cut piece of skin slip away with the soft but steady whisper of the knife nicking it away oh soo carefully, far too well. It stung, it burned, it hurt. It petching hurt. It hurt like nothing he had ever known before but that was obvious the mad red head's goal at this point. The thief had already begged that he knew nothing over a hundred times to the psycho by now, but that had only seemed to fuel the man's grin further into the likeness of a cat toying with a cornered mouse. The teen had no idea how much time had passed since they had last had to stop. It had been a short stop just to simply attract a tourniquet around his upper arm. Something about him losing too much blood too quickly for it to be fun had been hissed in his ear. A sarcastic quip that if the madman wanted him to lose less blood maybe he should stop carving into him so much had been hissed back, only to earn him another purple lump developing along his jaw. Hah guess the 'artist' didn't like being talked back to by 'his work' or was he merely 'the canvas'? Who cared his vision had already began to cloud near the edges by now as eyes raw, red and puffy left streams down his cheeks, his breathing jolting with every new spike of pain. as his lids finally began to close. “Ah, Ah, Ah. Don't go ta sleep now my dear, we are only half way done.” A rough tug had him squirming against his bonds, very much awake again as the strip was ripped from him. A nasty tear was left flawing what was truly a master piece, although one he would have appreciated better on a vase rather than where is currently sat. The red head tsked at the result obvious annoyed at the blemish in his design, ha served him right. Dropping back to a fuzzier state of awareness as the waves of pain blended together back into to a constant level of agony. The ginger psycho grumpily stuffed the skin into his mouth, chewing on it thoughtfully. Swallowing down his 'snack', the man's head quickly bent forward as his tongue swept up the trails of blood dancing down Eleazar's arm before backing off entirely. “Time for a break I think. See you darling, try not to die whilst I'm out.” The sugar sweet voice spun promptly out the door, slamming it shut before the lock clicked back into place. Well at least the thief was alone now. Trying his bonds that maybe that last struggle might have loosened them slightly, nope still as sturdy as ever. Slumping his eyes closed, a soft groan exiting his lips. Remmy, petching Remmy and her stupid book-knapping stunts. She just had to drag him into it as well. Giving up, the thief’s body relaxed into the wood of the chair. If someone blew out the candle, he would probably be asleep by now. Candle? Peering out at the light source, Eleazar gasped in awe. That psychotic ginger was an overconfident fool! He had left everything where it was. The candle, the carving tools and the sharp blade of the knife too. Hope over powered fatigue as the teen lurched upwards, making his chair jump towards the light source and the sharp instruments of his torture with a flash of agony. He was getting out of here. ------------------------- Nosily Finnado emerged from the depths of the cellar, shooting Marina a casual wink once his eyes had readjusted to daylight. The evident blood splats along his arms and hands were ignored by the woman as she arced an eyebrow in silent questioning. Typically Finny didn't stop till his victim had been whisked off by Dira or something had put him in an artistic funk. With knowing him for a few years now, there was no way the lad was dead yet. It had barely been half a dozen bells since he started and the Zeltivan was always very careful about killing off his victims; ruined the master piece he had told her once. “What?” “You're done fair quickly...” the unspoken question of the kid's fate hung in the hair with her skeptical. “Done? Nah, the brat just pissed me off. I petched up a bit of the design so thought I would take a walk and get some more inspiration.” “Ah.. Well, while you're out looking for 'inspiration', hunt down the boys nd tell them to hurry up, would you?” “'The boys'? Oh right, yeah sure. Fine. I was thinking about heading to the pig anyway. I'll go see what they're up to whilst I'm there. ” "Thanks. Has the kid spilled anything useful yet?" "Not that I would call myself an expert on jusging a person's character but I thing if he had known anything, he would have probably squealed by now." "Shyke! Just I'll just have to start looking again." "Guess so. Anyway I'm gonna get cleaned up and head out. See ya later, Mar." One quick towel-bath and a change of clothes later, the ginger haired nutcase was out the door heading for the Pig's Foot. Hopefully the boys would be there to cheer him up, if not he would probably try Brega's. They liked frequent there when they thought the boss wouldn't catch them, bunch of idiots really since he was fairly sure Mar already knew. Quickening his pace, the Zeltivan rushed off through the crowds to find a way to regain his inspiration again. OOCNote: that whilst the goons are fair game, the cannibalistic ginger that was carving up Elea shouldn't be killed as He is a city NPC. Either way I thought I would figure out a way to clue Nov and Seng into where Eleazar is being held. Sorry this took so long.

[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

I. Happy Endings - under merrier circumstances, Seng would have enjoyed the visit. Yet it was not the case, the room they were lucky to find was adjacent to that they'd seen the group lumber into, waiting for the girls they selected to show up. The thin walls between their rooms provided the ample space to listen through and hear what their were talking about - which utter nonsense - from Seng could make out, there was drink; always provided - and talk of their next job with someone they called Marina. 'They aren't talking about the kid. But seems like they work for someone called Marina.' mustered the young man to his friend. 'They might be part of a gang too but its nothing that's talk of in the city. Small time fish still trying to make a name for itself.' Turning to find a seat, he turned his gaze toward the prostitute laying on the bed, she had something akin to what seemed to be bewildered look on her face. Maybe from the fact that the two men with her weren't having their way with her - yet. Seng sat there before inclining his gaze toward Noven for a moment to listen to what he had to say. 'We need to find a way to make them start talking, the more information we have on these guys than the higher our chances are of finding the kid." Seng said making sure to keep his voice low and nearly inaudible. "Any ideas?' 'I'll go. I can make them talk.' blurted out Isme, rolling on the bed. For a moment Seng considered it - after thinking of the countless ways Brega would deal with him and Noven if the girl got hurt - but than, the thought of having an informant inside, with the drunken thugs eagerly willing to spill more than just words made Senghor smirk. It seemed that Noven had something of a connection with Brega; one that Senghor couldn't relate too besides spending his families worth in Happy Endings. Whatever it was Senghor was willing to test it - he knew that the he'd pay with his life if things went wrong but than - what was life to a broken man like him? - worthless. 'Isme - was it?, you sure about this?' he asked, leaning into his seat to getting a better look at the girl. She was fair - common Sunberthian bred, a shell of what could have been something grand in a city like Ravok, Syliras Zeltiva. She seemed street smart and quite persuasive with her dark eyes and sultry tone. 'It beats sitting around and listening to you two talk. But there's a price, I don't work for free. I want double the pay - from you both.' Isme said, toiling sultry across the bed as she played with her hair. 'Double the pay...' Seng thought; turning his eyes toward his friend hoping to lock eyes. Seng knew that they were both in a deadlock when it came to coin - especially when their means of income mostly involved the Pits and taking care of the kids - though it was occasional for Senghor. 'I dunno about my friend over there or if he can persuade you otherwise but I'm sure I can pay - only if the information is useful.' Senghor said to her, his mind churning with thoughts on how he would pay her back - riskier fights?, more mercenary work?, more guard work? - he asked himself. 'If the information you bring back is actually helpful, I promise I will pay you for your services. If not than you can forget the deal.' he said to clarify. As he stood up and paced around the room momentarily to talk to Noven. 'If she gets hurt just know that more than our egos will be hurt in this.' he said, hoping his friend knew what that meant. 'What do you have to say about all this?' II. If only than the two brawlers knew who'd entered Happy Endings at that moment. His creepy demeanour soiled the usually cheerful atmosphere that Happy Endings was known widely for. Finnado brought about him an air of a waning death and morbid thoughts that crept into the minds of poets and suicidal men. His opaque mood and nature seemed to make even the girls in uncomfortable and they had met many others similar - if not beneath - such a morbid stature of life. He asked and they answered - his men were in a room. All he had to do was follow the trail of drunken stupidity and vehement drink, there he would find them. And there it will all be revealed...

[Noven]

Nov half-listened to their exchange as he pressed his hands and ear against the wall. He could have sworn he heard voices on the other side, as well as the telltale rasps of pain he was coming to know so well. Though trust was a rare commodity in a city like the Berth, he'd already taken a liking to this clever-eyed Isme, and that she was willing to strike a bargain to do something undoubtedly dangerous made him like her even more.

Of course, it also made him doubly suspicious. She could be working for those goons on the other side of the wall for all they knew. Maybe it was her job to ensure anyone inquiring after their shady deeds would be properly taken care of or informed on. And maybe said 'taking care of' was part of her job description. But, given there was no reliable way of telling where her motivations--and loyalties--lay until the whole thing was finished, and the fact that they were horribly short on both time and options...

The man sighed. They would need to cough up the money or risk losing the opportunity altogether.

"We'll pay," he conceded upon hearing Seng's question. "But, like my friend here says, only if you come back with something useful. Anything less earns you nothing."

Stretched enticingly across the bed, Isme merely rolled her eyes. "What do you take me for, an amateur? I heard you the first time."

With an exasperated, yet somehow simultaneously suggestive sigh, the whore extracted herself from the bed one long, silky leg at a time and approached the two men like a feline stalking its prey. "That being said, you can't expect me to just risk my neck for free. Half upfront, and half when I come back with what you need to know. What's it going to be, gentlemen?"

Noven shared a look with his companion, then turned to face Isme once more. He clenched and unclenched his jaw a few times in deliberation. What choice did the have? The kid could be dying and they were standing around like a couple of goons, wasting their time bartering with a whore.

Isme seemed to detect the reluctant assent in his eyes and stepped closer. She trailed a languid, caramel hand up along his chest before turning it over under his chin. A finger crooked with a 'come hither' motion. Sighing, Nov fished deep into his pockets for some coin and dropped them into her upturned palm. "Useful information. If we haven't made ourselves clear enough yet."

The whore let out a tinkling laughter in response as she moved to make the same motions on Seng. "Like I said. I'm no amateur."

No sooner had she said this than the door one room over opened, then slammed shut. Two pairs of footsteps, one heavy and one light, could be heard marching across the hall. Nov's eyes tracked the sounds as they passed by Isme's door.

"Well," the whore announced casually, "that's my cue. See you in a bit, boys."

She waited a few beats before opening the door and following their targets down the stairs. Once Isme was gone, Noven poked his head out of the door and checked to see if anyone else was present. Not another soul was in sight. So far, so good. He ducked back in and closed the door gently.

"So," one merc said to the other, "do we wait until she comes back, or kick down the door ourselves?"

It wasn't exactly a good idea to go around destroy Brega's property. But maybe they didn't have to literally kick down any doors. Nov had never exactly been a master at breaking into locked rooms, but as a Sunberthian he knew well enough there were usually more ways than one.

Now, it was just a matter of figuring out their next course of action.