Closed Dark Trilogy III - A Dark Assignment (Brandon)

[Sal Mander]

Drinks were finished, coins were paid, and a pair of unlikely partners took their leave of one tavern in favor of another. Behind them they had left an assortment of sailors and working class dock workers, heading instead towards a more reputable inn that was more to the standard of rich merchants and people of importance. While the surroundings of such a place spoke of decadence and wealth, the liquids served were the same the city over. The only difference were the prices. Apparently rich people were willing to pay more for the same thing, if it meant keeping the riffraff out.

Sal and Brandon weaved through the streets like wisps on the wind, their steps purposeful and knowing as they slipped through alleyways and slid past other citizens. To innocent bystanders, they were just a rich looking merchant and most likely his escort or bodyguard, an image that Sal fitted well with his tall frame and serious look. But neither were trying to look intimidating as they journeyed on, but rather were focused on the task at hand. The few drinks earlier might have served to take the edge off of their nerves, but only by a few shades. Inside, there was a mix of adrenaline and excitement, coated with the old feeling of concern that usually accompanied people about to head into the unknown.

Their plan was good as far as either of them were concerned, simple as it was. Simple was good. It left little room for complications and surprises. All they needed to do was intercept Burton's man who would come to the tavern to collect the spice merchant. With that done, they could assume the role of chaperon themselves, free to prize the merchant away from his jamoura and drykas bodyguards. Once they had the man alone, they then just had to see to him being incapacitated for the duration of the card game, so that Brandon could pose as the card player himself. Brandon might have wondered why they needed the merchant at all, if they were to apprehend the messenger. The answer there, as Sal explained, was twofold. Firstly, the spice merchant had the rest of the money they would need for the game, since the purse that Brandon had already acquired was far from the amount necessary to buy one's way into the game. Secondly, the spice merchant was a problem if left unattended. Though by no means a certainty, he might have grown impatient if the messenger never arrived and try to attempt to locate the game himself. It would have been a fine mess had he shown up halfway through the game.

There were other problems the two men had managed to skip over. For example, how were they to explain on returning to Burton Tally's venue where the original messenger was? Furthermore, what if on apprehending said messenger, he was resolute to not give up the location of the card game? There were many what ifs, that had either of them had the mind to stop and think it through properly, they might have reconsidered the whole thing. As it went, the excitement and ale had catapulted them into the situation where only moving forwards seemed to be the viable option. If mistakes were made, they would roll with it. That was the excitement of it. But it was also excitement in such situations that could get the unwary killed.

"Up here, on the right," Sal motioned to Brandon as they turned the corner. The kelvic could see now the familiar golden glow of candlelight through the frosted glass windows of the tavern. There was the din of revelry from within, with patrons occasionally arriving or departing, in various states of lubrication. The building was two stories, the upper level playing host to the inns accommodation. In one of those rooms right now sat a spice merchant, nursing a rather fat purse of coins and no doubt counting down the minutes until he was called for.

"You wait here a second. I'm going to check it out," Sal announced, as he slipped through the door into the inn. It was not more than a few minutes before he reemerged, a serious look on his face now that this was all real and happening. He put a hand on Brandon's shoulder and led him away from the doors where they could speak privately. "Okay, the jamoura is present and accounted for. He's trying to look inconspicuous at a table in a dark corner. But, you know, he's a jamoura. As for the drykas, he's stationed himself at the end of the bar by the stairs. No getting passed him it seems. But maybe we just tell him to go get our man and see if he buys it. Speaking of which..." Sal glanced over Brandon's shoulder down the street, his eyes seeming to fix on something heading their way.

As Brandon glanced over his shoulder, he saw two men approaching. Immediately, there was something about them that said they were up to no good. They just had that look about them, like they owned the street they were walking on, and were not going to take crap from anyone who suggested otherwise. To put it another way, they looked like Burton's men. Thankfully Burton Tally had not found it necessary to keep jamouras in his own employ, opting instead for the more traditional human thug type that was synonymous with gangs and crews of ill repute. Neither of them looked particularly beyond Sal or Brandon's capabilities to take down, aside from the obvious arrogance of course.

They were now about a hundred yards away, closing in fast. Sal's voice dropped to a whisper, both men now stood their ground and watching the new pair of arrivals approach. "Shyke. Two of them, and here early." If Brandon did not know better, he could be sure there was a hint of worry in Sal's voice. But before Brandon could answer, one of the men shouted over to them as they continued forwards.
_____"Oi! Yeah you. You da spice merchant yeah?" The man spat on the ground, his partner dropping his head to whisper something inaudible, to which the first man then laughed. By now they were upon Sal and Brandon, eying them with a critical eye but also still with that arrogance emanating from them like a bad smell. The first man gave Brandon a look up and down, taking in the details of his fine garments and pausing briefly on the fat purse. "Yeah, I fink dis is 'im, judging from that fancy outfit," he said proudly, as if having invented comedy there and then. The second man snickered, before adding his own comment.
_____"What you think then merchant? You ready to lose that fat 'ol purse of yers?"

In some ways, the way events had unfolded was quite brilliant. They could, after all, arrive at Burton Tally's with the two messengers intact. That would have done a great deal to keep any suspicions from arising. But yet there remained two enormous flaws in that plan. They still did not have enough money, and there was still the small matter of the real spice merchant.

[Brandon Blackwing]

x

The two men strode through the network of alleys and streets, minds fixed on their mutual goal. It wouldn't be long before the reached their destination, an inn well known for its rich audience. In fact, in some criminal circles everyone agreed that this was the place to be if you wanted to collect a lot of well-filled wallets in close to no time. That Brandon was part of one of those circles was a huge advantage, or it should be anyway. Still, he did not dismiss Sal's lead with an annoyed “I know where we're going” or something the like, instead letting his gaze drift over his surroundings while he walked, scanning the environment with all his usable senses.

While Sal actually was a perfect fit for the role as bodyguard, Brandon was not quite suited for the one of rich merchant. Sure, he could act all he wanted, mimic the wealthy he'd observed many times when strolling through the streets of the Crystal City or buying a drink in one of the fancier taverns in the neighborhood, but that was all it was, an act. The subconscious habits he'd developed over the years spent as a thief could unmask him as one to any and all people with a good eye and a bit of deductive abilities. The shifty eyes, the way he walked and the ease with which he slipped through the crowd like mercury through one's fingers... Well, perhaps he could pose as a paranoid fellow who'd started out as an acrobat instead of spice dealer. Perhaps.

It was funny though that now he was wearing the garments of a wealthy merchant the citizens of Lhavit made way when they saw the duo coming, suspecting that they had to show some respect. Of course, when they did not see them approaching, Brandon employed his slippery elusiveness of a pickpocket's graceful stride. Actually, those people only took a step aside when Bran had already passed them -they'd have never noticed him- but Sal was coming through. The investigator's stern gaze was more than enough to scare them away, especially so since his mind was focused on the task at hand, making him appear even more gruff than usual. In fact, it might have been Sal's expression that had made the people step aside for them, for he looked as if his eyes would spit fire at anyone who dared to come too close.

Another corner was turned and finally the duo arrived at the Glowing Horn Inn, easily recognized by the Okomo-shaped nameplate hanging above the door. The windows were frosted, but gentle candle light escaped through the ones on the upper floors, where Brandon knew the guest rooms were located, some even had the curtains closed already. Barely audible, due to the isolation materials used to provide the customer with absolute privacy, creaking of a bed could be heard by the bat, as well as ecstatic screams of female origin. Many of the upper class came to this place to enjoy a night out with their mistress instead of going home to their wife. Well, they had to work late after all, so it wasn't possible for them to make it back before the very next day. Brandon could not suppress a grin, his companion headed inside, leaving the Kelvic by himself.

When Sal emerged from the inn he took Bran aside to inform him of the situation inside in hushed whispers. Another grin pulled his lips into an upwards curl as he pictured the giant ape from legend sitting at a tiny table, on a tiny chair drinking a cocktail from a way too small glass. In any case though, he at least did do his job like he was supposed to, as did his companion. Getting past them would be tough indeed, but perhaps they could trick them... Or just go upstairs without wasting any glances on the bodyguards, pretending to go to a room of their own. Or just Brandon, while Sal stayed downstairs. On his own the bat would be more effective after all, the Kelvic remembered the investigator's attempt to be stealthy on the day of his employment all too well. To Brandon, that sight was as funny as Sal deemed the inconspicuous jamoura to be.

Though before they could decide on how they were going to deal with the whole situation, a couple of thugs showed up, being spotted by Sal first. Over his shoulder Brandon glanced then too, spotting them with ease. Those guys just had to be the men sent by Burton Tally, they matched the Rat's taste in employees perfectly. Did Tally hire a headhunters bureau to find these guys or so? One could categorize them as the 'Dumb, arrogant and filthy but get the job done' -type without even thinking about it. In fact, all of Burton's men fitted into that category. Sal cursed under his breath and the bat readied himself, mentally preparing to start the whole rich man act.

“I would be 'the spice merchant', yes,” the bat replied, straightening his body and standing up completely, reaching his true height. In addition he slightly puffed his chest out, and kept his face slightly haughty, the finishing touches to his disguise. The Kelvic had to refrain from looking the first of the duo of thugs in the eye, intensely staring with his black orbs -something which he'd usually do. People seemed to find it unnerving, those black holes for eyes glaring at them. Now though, he just crossed his arms and cast his gaze to the sky, as if this was very, very annoying. Truth is that it actually was.

While the thugs observed him carefully, obviously trying their utmost best to determine whether this was the man they were supposed to pick up or not. In the end they decided he was, proudly stating the obvious, being deceived by the bat's fancy outfit alone. Since it had been stolen from an actual merchant it was a pretty damn convincing disguise after all. Their query brought on problem to his attention though, and that was the entrance money. Sal'd explained that one had to pay an enormous sum of Kina to get into a game with Burton. They'd been planning to rob the real spice merchant from his purse, though it didn't seem like that was possible anymore. Time for plan B then, a scheme he'd come up with on the spot. “Hmmm? Oh, I'm not going to lose … gentlemen,” he stated with utmost, though feigned, confidence. Tally's men found this to be the best joke they'd heard in years it seemed. “I am pretty sure I'll win. Ovek's always been on my side with gambles, though I've never tried my hand at cards. I won't lose any coin today, gentlemen.” He cocked his head slightly, as if something just popped into his mind. “Speaking of coin, did Mr. Tally receive my entrance fee yet, hmmm? I sent a runner a while ago.”

There was a reasoning behind this series of words, it wasn't like Brandon spoke of things this risky without first thinking it through. Well, not with things like this anyway. Since Burton expected one to pay to enter a game, it seemed logical that he wouldn't send any of his men to pick someone up who hadn't paid yet. Besides, Tally wanted to make these games seem like a friendly affair, if one was to hand him a bag of coin the size of their head when they entered, everyone in the pub where the game was held would find things smelled a bit fishy. These were friendly games of cards after all, why pay an entrance fee?

x

credit goes to Euthisa

[Sal Mander]

Good planning could only get you so far. The world's best strategists and tacticians could mull over maps and infantry units, planning offensive maneuvers and counter offensives, looking to exploit weaknesses and press home advantages. But when it came down to it, even the best laid plans could unravel in a few mere moments. The difference then, between the greats and the not so greats, was how they constantly changed and shifted to adapt and overcome. Thinking fast and deploying sound judgement on the fly was key to success, with perhaps a pinch of good old fashion courage.

So it was that Brandon and Sal found the battlefield constantly shifting, as new players entered the arena along with fresh problems. Brandon had wondered earlier as to Sal's master plan. But perhaps now he could see the true beauty of its original simplicity. The basics were there, to serve as a conduit into the whole affair. But it was how they traversed it now, taking each new attack as it came, while adjusting and redeploying to maintain the upper hand.

With the two men from Burton's flock having convinced themselves of Brandon's identity, there remained only the matter of coin. As Brandon had correctly surmised, those men would not have been sent had payment not already been made. Which of course meant the spice merchant must already have sent his entrance fee. That helped and hindered in one fell swoop. It meant of course that their entrance to the card game was secured. But on the other hand it meant the real merchant, sitting upstairs in the tavern overhead, was very much expecting to attend the game himself. No doubt he was up there now, growing impatient over the delay.

"Just one second. It seems I have forgotten my master's...er..gloves," Sal said with his best effort to look dismayed at the error. In this lovely spring weather, it might have seemed odd for anyone to be wearing gloves, but thankfully the less than sharp thugs did not concern themselves with the fancies of the rich.
_____"Hurry it up then. We don't want to keep Mr. Tally waiting now." The thug offered a satisfied grin with that, still finding mirth in Brandon's earlier display of confidence over the coming game. If only they knew the half of it.

In the meantime, Sal had slipped back inside the tavern and headed straight towards the drykas with purpose. In situations such as these, Sal had figured, confidence was all that mattered. Give the mark no reason to question a thing, and you could convince people of anything. The drykas rose to his feet, as if suspecting foul play by the fact that Sal was headed straight at him, their eyes locked together. One hand subconsciously fell to a blade at the belt, fingering it in anticipation. Sal noted the move, but did not break stride. When he was upon the other man, he glanced up at the stairs leading to where the merchant was still waiting.

"Tell your man upstairs Mr. Tally sends his regards. Unfortunately, due to unforeseen circumstances, the game has been postponed until tomorrow night." There was a lingering pause, as though the drykas was trying to decide what to make of it all, before he nodded his understanding without a word. Sal nodded in return and turned away. But after one step, he turned back to the drykas. "Also, Mr. Tally wants to assure you the entrance fee is in good hands. Again, apologies for the inconvenience."

"It's 'bout bloody time eh," one of the thugs muttered when Sal came through the doors and into the spring night air. If the investigator's little ruse had taken root, he had just bought him and Brandon some time. A whole night's worth in fact. Furthermore, only the drykas had seen his face. This helped since it meant better odds. One man had a harder time to find a fellow instead of three men. But that mattered little for now. Instead the focus had shifted once more as the party headed off into the night, picking their way through the streets to Burton Tally's hospitality. Sal knew only that it was a gambling room, located in the back of a tavern somewhere in Lhavit, behind a door that was always manned by a guard, within which a lot of money was frequently lost by strangers and visitors, and redistributed into the pockets of Tally himself.

Of course, nothing ever lasted forever. Including winning streaks.

[Brandon Blackwing]

x

Whatever Sal was plotting, the Kelvic bat did not know about it, though he did not question the man's actions. Most likely, the tall investigator had some sort of business to take care of, in order to make this whole operation a success. The guise of fetching Brandon's gloves was a good idea, though the statement itself was enough to make the bat feel tempted to raise an eyebrow in silent query. He resisted though, going instead with a dismissal flick of the wrist, gesturing towards the Inn's doors as Sal started to move. Despite the grin on the thugs' faces, they seemed more hurried and pressed than their laid-back appearance made one expect. Perhaps it was just that Tally was not one to stay friendly when it came to tardy employees, or maybe just because they'd screwed up once already and wouldn't be allowed to do that a second time. In any case, their hurry made them less attentive and let Sal do as he pleased, since they figured it'd be faster that way than to deal with a rich knucklehead being stubborn about a pair of gloves.

“Honestly,” the bat complained to the two of Burton Tally's men, “I sometimes wonder if there aren't any good servants around here anywhere. Dolph's forgetfulness is quite annoying really. It's not like I am expecting much from him, though , but still he manages to screw up even the simplest of tasks every now and then.” He shook his head demonstratively, the two thugs stared somewhat dumbfounded, not quite knowing what to make of this all. Their confusion did not last long though, as Sal then emerged from the Inn again -without gloves, but they did not seem to realize- and they decided it was time to lead the merchant and bodyguard duo to their master.

While on their way, Brandon purposefully slowed down a bit, allowing the thugs to create some distance between them, while outstretching an arm to signal Sal to do the same. “Well? ” he whispered quietly when he assumed his voice wouldn't reach their escort, “And where are my gloves, hmmm?” It was meant as some sort of joke, which should be quite obvious since the bat produced a pair of the hand-coverings from his richly adorned doublet and wriggled his fingers into each of them. A grin of his own split his face in two as he intentionally putted the gloves on at eye level, making it impossible to miss. The true meaning of the bat's words should have been apparent to the investigator though, as the bat wanted to know what exactly he had been doing inside the Inn.

The reaction to the answer was just a nod and then he increased his pace again, so they'd rejoin the duo of thugs before they noticed. Things were going well it seemed. They could only hope that the spice merchant would buy Sal's lie, if he didn't... well, they might have a problem. Brandon did not quite know what the punishment for imposters was, but he doubted he was willing to take it. That he also had stolen a great deal of money from both a spice and a naive merchant, as well as the latter's clothes, he suspected that if he was caught things wouldn't look good for him. Though, as for now he did not have to worry about that, only taking care to stick to his act.

Before long the four men had entered a tavern of some sort, one that looked neither great nor bad, the kind that was easily forgotten due to its sheer normality. Everything about the place just breathed mediocrity, from the furnishings to the waitresses serving the drinks and food. Someone had obviously tried his hardest to make this place to appear as unsuspicious as possible, though most of the times this had the exact opposite effect. Well, it did on Brandon anyway, but he was used to spot such things, so maybe the tavern seemed like one of the many to everyone else. Maybe, maybe not.

Some customers turned their heads towards the small group of four that had newly entered and purposefully marched towards the back of the chamber. Once their curiosity had been sated, having taken in the most apparent features of the newcomers they averted their gaze. Some of them nodded in greeting or wished them luck with the game, obviously aware of the unfamiliar duo's objective. Brandon answered them with a confident declaration of his coming victory and the promise of buying everyone a drink if he did win. Needless to say that this statement was followed by sounds of appreciation and yells of drunken glee.

And then they stood before the door leading to the back room, where the game would be held, a guard was stationed at a table next to it. The man stood up immediately, wanting to confirm Bran and Sal's identity with a short “ Dis tah one?” and opened the heavy wooden obstacle after receiving affirmative replies from the thugs who'd guided the duo. With an inclination of his head the two escorts were dismissed, not allowed in the room it seemed. Brandon and Sal on the other hand were very welcome, especially the wallet dangling at the bat's hip.

“Ah, Mr. Nils Vander Kruyt, welcome,” a ratlike, wiry man with an abundance of rings decorating his skeleton fingers spoke from the other side of the room, seated in front of what appeared to be the game-table. Instead of actually sitting at the poker table, the Rat sat perched upon a barstool, his elbow positioned on a small bar, supporting his face. The other hand of his was clutched around a glass filled for a quarter with a dark brown liquid, and the black and white wearing waiter behind the bar was shaking a cocktail of some sort. “We were awaiting your company.” He gestured to the other three people observing the bat and his companion. “Ah, thank you... Mr. Tally I assume? I hope I did not kept you waiting for too long?” Right then and there the Kelvic decided to drop the 'hmmm'. It was kind of getting on his nerves.

“Not at all, not at all,” Tally assured him, gesturing for Brandon to take a seat, while he did the exact same thing. Two out of the three other players smelled strongly like the sea, the captains most likely. One of them was female and sat on Tally's left hand side, she introduced herself as Captain Marion Moore, her voice quite low for a woman and her words spoken with the unaccustomed tongue of a foreigner. That aside, she had some sort of air of authority around her, which certainly came with her occupation. Though the other captain made that statement invalid. Next to Marion sat the silk merchant Johnson Altman, who was the very picture of Brandon's expectations.

As to answer to the formality of introductions, the Kelvic stated his name in response when the two others did, keeping up the act. And then his attention was fixed on the last member of their companionship, the other captain. The contrast between him and Marion couldn't be any greater, for he possessed some sort of laid-back attitude and no authority whatsoever. He had been busy inspecting his nails all along, not looking up from that important task until Brandon slid in his seat and shifted his black gaze to the man on his right.

x

credit goes to Euthisa

[Sal Mander]

Sal spotted Burton Tally as soon as they entered through the guarded door, the man's rat features unique and one of a kind. Those beady eyes seemed to drink in all the details of the two newcomers, leaving Sal feeling both uneasy and suddenly unsure of this whole, foolish plan. Now that the object of their plotting was but across the room from them, the dangers of mingling with cutthroats and thieves were becoming alarmingly pressing. Sal and Brandon both knew only too well, one wrong foot and it was curtains for the pair of them. To the bat's credit, Sal thought, he was continuing the ruse of playing the rich noble with a deft touch. Maybe the lad was just better at this than Sal. That said, the older of the two could at least boast a little experience of his own when it came to tricky situations. He had found in the past that to remain relatively out of sight from curious minds, one only had to retain a certain degree of anonymity. Roughly translated, Sal had to keep his mouth shut and not draw attention to himself.

As he did his best impression of a man trying to go without notice, Sal swooped over to the bar and perched upon on of the vacant stools. The other players had also come with their plus ones, each sending threatening glances towards one another while their masters were readying for a more sophisticated version of 'winner takes all'. For now it seemed the staring contest between the bodyguards was just for show, each one trying to make clear to the others that if necessary, they would jump to their employer's aid in a moments notice. What was particularly interesting was that while each player had one escort with them, Burton's men counted three, each of them positioned around the room where they could keep everyone else within their hard gazes. Unlike the other card player's men who were making a visible effort to look mean, Burton's men had it down without even having to try. They just reeked of violence and murder, so much so that Sal could not bring himself to hold any of the three's gaze for more than a fleeting moment.

The card players themselves carved a different picture altogether. There was little use for stares and intimidation at the table, where several glasses of varying liquids sat, having already done much to lubricate wagging tongues and allow the more traditional banter to flow that was common in situations such as these. The truth of it was, one of these men - the others had no idea of course that Burton was already fixed to win it - was going to walk away with everyone's money. They all knew it; it was just a matter of time. But for now there were jokes and playful threats before the game was underway, and of course a round of introductions now that the final player had finally arrived and taken his seat.

Sal let his eyes move from one to the next around the table, seeking out any details or facts that might in someway prove useful. But instead he found himself just looking at them each in turn, wondering how they had managed to get caught up in the affairs of Burton Tally. He almost felt sorry for them, knowing full well that they were all going to leave later with lighter pockets. But he reminded himself that the kind of people that moved in Burton's circle were most likely deserving of the forthcoming poverty they were soon to experience.

The first to Tally's left was the woman captain, introducing herself as Marion Moore and inciting in Sal's vivid imagination a host of devious thoughts that all involved her in various states of undress. The woman had that wild exotic kind of beauty. Not the porcelain princess type that would shatter at the slightest touch, but rather the more dangerous yet hypnotic type that came with just the right amount of crazy. Expelling such thoughts from his mind - this was neither the time nor the place - Sal moved onto the next at the table, the silk merchant Johnson Altman.

Coupled with Brandon's own costume that he had 'borrowed' from another unknown noble, Sal was starting to think that rich merchants were ordered by some unseen power to dress as they did. There was no subtlety involved when it came to expensive threads, fine silks, and extravagant buttons and cufflinks. Why settle for mediocrity when the very best satins and most sought after dyes could let everyone know, here was a man with more money than he knew what to do with. Johnson Altman was no exception of course, wearing what might pass in other cities as a buffoon's outfit, for all its pomp and fanfare. But here in Lhavit, it seemed, the outfit was a signal of hard earned wealth that was to be admired as it was envied. Was that really the case though? Certainly there was envy from a monetary standpoint. But if the common folk were to be honest with themselves, they would have likened the rich merchant and his even richer garb to that of a clown.

Even so, Altman had perfected that 'better than you' sneer that was accomplished from literally looking down the nose at people. His head was tilted back so far to accomplish the feat that he looked like an old man about to fall asleep in a comfy chair. His voice too was littered with the nuances of a man who had perhaps a little too much belief in his own importance in society. Sal pondered that the silk trade in Lhavit would most likely have continued well enough without Altman, despite the latter's protestations to the contrary.

Finally came the second of the two ship captains, at once at complete opposites with Marion Moore. While she portrayed the very image of a respected and revered maiden of the seas, followed loyally and obediently by a stalwart crew, the second captain failed to invoke such confidence. At face value, he had more in common with the silk merchant in that he seemed too self involved for his own good. His casual demeanor was that of silver spoon fed young adult who had been handed the keys of the kingdom by a rich father, but had neither the incline nor the sense as to how to proceed from there. Furthermore, it was clear to see that the man had other pursuits more worthy of his time and efforts, and those generally centered around personal hygiene and image.

It was a strange melding of appearances, in that to begin with he seemed lazy and too laid back. But if one was to look at it long enough, every inch of the man appeared to be completely intentional. The flop of hair to one side that he frequently pushed back with an extravagant wave was no mistake, as if he had even grown his hair that way simply to have such a tick. His creased and long white shirt had just enough flair around the collar and the seam of the buttons, lacy and finely crafted as they were, but at the same time there was a sense that he perhaps had been wearing it for three days straight. Again, an intended look. His shirt hung open down to his chest, revealing a hairy expanse that he was proud to show off for others to admire. He wore the traditional fixings of the svefra in terms of jewellery, but again had managed to look like he had thrown it on in a rush, while still managing to look...well...cool.

That was it, Sal thought to himself. The man just oozed a certain charisma that was especially captivating, since it was not readily identified at first glance. But like a good book that drew you in, he seemed to materialize into this fascinating charade of a man that might well have leapt from a book after all. Perhaps most noticeable was the dark eyeliner that made his eyes the prominent feature, giving a sort of theatrical look to his appearance. As for the nails he had been tending so busily, they were immaculate and faultless, at odds with the profession of sea captain where one might assume callous hands were commonplace.

Sal looked on, not sure whether he was amused or just simply baffled, as the man turned his attention to Brandon. A wide smile laid bare rows of perfect white teeth, sat upon that perfectly constructed face that could neither be attributed to good nor evil, yet some place nestled within that was clouded in both mystery and rumor. "Mauritius Riptide, at your service my young and exquisitely dressed friend. Spice merchant did I hear our esteemed host say you were? Why, I dare say you're undoubtedly the pièce de résistance when it comes to....hmmm...spiciness."

Even the bodyguards could not help but crack a smile for a moment, as the room fell silent to listen to Captain Riptide. He spoke with a flourish, his voice singing and captivating at once, allowing the true nature of his words to seep into his audience's ears unfiltered and unopposed. If Sal were to make a guess at it, he would argue this man had taken up residency as captain of a ship with words alone. Meanwhile, if Brandon had not been alarmed by Riptide's opening salvo, surely the hand that came to rest on the bat's leg was a more conventional warning.

[Brandon Blackwing]

x

As soon as the man called Mauritius Riptide parted his lips and started speaking with that somewhat-but-not-quite arrogant silken voice of his, Brandon felt the hairs on the nape of his neck raise in terror. Not only that, but his brain ringed the alarms, a high pitched tone that drew anyone's attention with its ability to annoy the shyke out of anyone. Of course, that tone only existed as a figure of speech, used by Brandon to try and put into words what his instinct worked like. Not that it actually mattered. In any case, the bat was immediately aware of the imminent danger he was exposed to, a lethal predator sat right next to him with its eyes fixed on the prey.

The meaning behind those words did not escape the thief, nor did the tone of voice used to utter the very last word of his phrase. Though, while words could be ignored, the hand placed on his thigh most certainly couldn't. Not ever having faced a situation like this before, Brandon was at a loss of what to do, freezing on the spot, his muscles contracting simultaneously while he contemplated giving in to temptation, the fight or flight reaction tugging at his brain. Fight? No, one did not simply cause a ruckus for something so trivial, no matter how uncomfortable it was. Fleeing then, but it was hardly the time to retreat, seeing as the game hadn't even started yet.

Totally lost in the situation, Brandon sent a glance to the place Sal had taken position, looking for help, but finding none. The tall investigator was too busy trying suppress his laughter -just like the other bodyguards, in that regard, he was playing his role like a top-class actor- to be able to lend his aid. In the end, Brandon could only send Sal an icicle glare that clearly meant: “I'm going to hold back fifty percent of your wage from this moment onwards.”

Meanwhile, Captain Riptide's hand had started moving up and down his thigh ever so gently, rubbing over the fine fabric of the bat's borrowed pants, Since he could count on no-one but himself to take care of this mess -as per usual- the Kelvic decided it was time to take some action. “Your services are entirely unnecessary, Captain Riptide,” the thief spoke with a thin smile, “They are today anyways.” While the bat was not one for the same gender, he felt that it might be best to keep one of the guests in the room on friendly terms -though friendly terms was quite the understatement- just in case things turned bad. However, his nerves and mental health could not tolerate the hand on his leg, so: “Could you remove your hand though? It's … distracting. Besides, I believe you'll need both of them for the game.”

While Mauritius Riptide graciously though reluctantly drew back his perfectly manicured hand, Burton Tally decided that the introductions had taken more than long enough, clapping his hands, then rubbing his bone-like skeleton fingers together. “Right, let's begin, shall we?” the Rat asked with a honeyed smile, deceivingly friendly. Brandon doubted that Tally's smile made anyone's guard lower, or whether it could cool down the heated tension beginning to spread through the room. Everyone knew that what was to follow next was a war for money and none of the participants would hesitate to cut the others' throats to get the reward, so to speak.

“We're playing Stammer and Blush,” Burton clarified as he started shuffling the cards at high speed, dropping none in the process. Brandon's eyes were fixed on the man's rapidly moving hands, letting his black as night orbs take in every of the man's motions. From the looks of it, Burton was more than competent in sleigh of hand, probably having spent a lot of his early criminal days picking pockets and the like. “I take it everyone here knows how to play it?” It was not a question, even though it sounded like one, however, Brandon was not going to let that stop him. “I don't.” he replied truthfully, only knowing the basics of the basics. The Kelvic knew what cards were worth the most, but he had never played an other card game than Bullshyke.

x

credit goes to Euthisa

[Sal Mander]

A moment of hush descended on the room, as though the smoky air that hung just below the ceiling had been summoned to cover everyone like a blanket. Then an explosion of laughter, banishing the silence in an instant as the players exchanged hearty grins. The source of the amusement was Brandon's plea of ignorance concerning Stammer and Blush, so called due to its extensive use of bluffing and deception. Ironically, had Brandon known of the game, he likely would have found himself a true natural at wielding its intricate tactics and strategies.

With the laughter settling, Burton continued to shuffle the deck with practiced expertize, while the other players waited patiently with baited breath. The silence was again broken when Riptide cleared his throat, before following with his honey coated tone. "I say. Would it not prove beneficial that we be furnished with our meager savings you procured from us preemptively?" Riptide was of course talking with regards to the money paid up front, by each of the players to procure their entry to the game. Indeed, a glance around the table revealed that each player had no such purse before them.
_____"Quite right," Burton agreed with more than a little displeasure slapped across his face. A stern glance to one of his three lackeys brought the man scurrying over in an instant, having lost his earlier guise of a murderous villain now that he was being summoned by his even deadlier and notorious master.

There was an uncomfortable moment as Burton set about his man in a most ferocious manner, hurling insults concerning the parentage of the man, as well as shouting rhetorical questions as to the whereabouts of the player's entrance fees. Punctuating his cruel words with a slap to the face, Marion Moore could only look on in disbelief, while Riptide and Johnson Altman seemed not to notice as they instead conversed about a possible trade of silks, a subject of course of paramount interest to both parties. Sal meanwhile flashed a concerned look towards Brandon, noting that this was merely another example that they were getting tangled up with some serious personalities. In any case, the whole fiasco proved advantageous, giving pause to the game so that Sal and Brandon could regroup and amend their strategy.

While the berated man sulked off to find the money, Riptide and Altman continued their convesation, while Marion Moore headed to the bar to refill her drink. Burton meanwhile had taken an audience with another of his men, out of earshot from Sal, though he could not help get the impression that whatever was being discussed was of great importance, judging from the stern looks being traded between the two conversationalists. But Sal withdraw his interest from the exchange, instead taking the opportunity to seek council with Bran.

"What a fine bunch we've got ourselves tangled up with eh?", he said, though with only half the smirk that Brandon had been accustomed to witnessing. It was fair to say that Sal's earlier excitement regarding the whole affair had somewhat diminished, no doubt from the taxing and grim reality from having now been in the situation, rather than outside looking in. "But listen. We'd be fools both if we try to make our move early on. You're going to have to play it cautious, right? No big bets. Let the others fight it out and kill each other off. If you can get down to just you and Burton...maybe one other, then we're in a better position.

Had Brandon hoped for a quick lesson in Stammer and Blush, he was soon met with the stark reality of disappointment as Sal renewed his perch up by the bar. He watched as the man offered a smile to Marion Moore on his way past her, but the intimidating woman only offered a scowl in return, instantly wiping the smile from Sal's face and, it seemed to Brandon at least, adding a little haste to the man's steps.

Before long the man sent to fetch everyone's coin had returned, distributing the various purses between the players. Burton resumed his seat, watching everyone counting their coins with a greedy look. Sal could not claim to be sure, but he wondered if he did not just see Burton lick his lips, no doubt at the prospect of counting all the coins for himself before long. As the coins were counted by their original owners for now, Burton spoke up. "I assure you, your one thousand kina is all there and accounted for. And remember, as agreed, you may each add an additional five hundred from your own purses as you see fit." As if his words of permission had been expected, the players each plucked additional purses from their persons, emptying yet more coins into piles before them.

Johnson Altman seemed to be the most meticulous of the lot, arranging his coins in neat and perfect stacks that he nestled together in tall columns. Meanwhile, Riptide seemed to be intent on maintaining some kind of equilibrium, having dumped his small fortune into a single pile, in complete contrast to the silk merchant. There was a single coin spared from that pile though, one which Riptide majestically filtered through his fingers back and forth, while he sat waiting for the others to ready themselves. Marion meanwhile had opted for the middle ground between Altman's neat stacks and Riptides haphazard arrangement. She had most of her coins in shorter stacks, while maintaining a small pool of coins in a pile that she would draw from to start with, adding more coins as the need arose.

Brandon himself had some counting to do, sitting there with the real spice merchant's thousand kina before him, as well of course as the noble's purse he had earlier procured. While he set about tending to that, Burton meanwhile had continued his shuffling, before flicking three cards across the table to each player, each one remaining face down and landing right where Burton intended them to. Sal had to conceded that while Burton Tally was a lowlife cheat, he certainly did know his way around a deck of cards.

[Brandon Blackwing]

x

Had the bat known that his confession would only bring about laughter and hilarity, but not the explanation of the rules, which was the goal he'd tried to achieve with his statement, he probably wouldn't have opened his mouth. Unlike the name of the game though, Brandon's face remained a controlled mask, hiding his annoyance as the voices boomed through the room, fading slowly to allow everyone to hear the sound of cards sliding over each other, being pulled out and put back into the deck with ease. Burton's fingers seemed to have become hazy due to the sheer velocity with which they moved, manipulating the cards with minimal movements.

Riptide's silken voice was the one to rip the silence to shreds, subtly demanding -in the form of a suggestion of course- that the players were to be given their entrance fee back, which would then serve as the bulk of the betting chips for the rest of the game. Good thinking, only there was but one problem, it being that Tally certainly wouldn't agree with such ideas. Right now the entrance fee was already in his hands, even if he lost the game, he'd still have the ridiculous amount charged to enter the game, which turned the loss in a victory. Much to the thief's surprise though, the man reluctantly agreed, calling one of his men with nothing more than a glare in his general direction.

The barrage of insults that followed made everyone less comfortable, though not all were willing to show it. The comment of the man's heritage was a matter that caused Brandon's blood to boil, seeing as the man's mother was labeled 'Kelvic-brained dirty whore'. Proud as the bat was, insults to his race and people were not appreciated, to use an understatement. Willpower alone could only barely hold back a furious frown and gnarling molars as well as a stare that probably could burn through stone. Marion was the only one who was visibly shocked by the spectacle, Brandon's face blank with a couple of twitching muscles here and there, and the other two debating a trade of Silk, negotiating hypothetical payments and hypothetical locations to ship the goods to. Not quite interesting, and Brandon let his chin rest on his intertwined fingers as his elbows rested on the table, letting out a sigh. The stare Sal gave him went by not unnoticed and was only replied to with a shrug. No need for concern just yet, he was still fine. It was curious that the investigator had picked up on his mental turmoil in the brief instant it had flashed over his face. But then again, it was Sal's job to be observant.

The female sea captain stood up to refill her drink, the insulted fellow scurried away to go get the coins, Burton discussed something with another of his men, and Altman and Riptide were still negotiating. Brandon felt no need to pay attention to either of these events, instead focusing on Sal as the man approached. The thief had no idea what the investigator had to say, but he imagined it would be some hints and a brief explanation of the rules of the card game. He couldn't have been more wrong. Sal instead discussed what he deemed to be the wisest course of action, to which the bat nodded, even though he doubted he'd be able to fulfill that task without any knowledge of the rules. Unless he was really lucky, but unlike his claim to the two thugs at the inn, Ovek did not quite favor him. Besides, trusting good fortune and luck was like closing your eyes and jumping off the Radiant Tower, hoping someone would catch you before your body was splattered about upon hitting the ground.

Before he could even react and ask the investigator about his knowledge of Stammer and Blush, the man was already walking back to his seat, passing by Marion Moore, who gave him a dirty look. Almost as if Sal was a rat having eaten the supplies on board of her ship, a rat she was about to stab with a dagger while firmly holding its tail. Brandon couldn't really blame the man when he added a little more speed to his steps, it was amusing to see. For a change it wasn't the investigator's sour face that had that effect on people. Supporting his chin with one palm, the bat commented “Is that your standard reaction to men smiling at you?”, which was of course said with a smirk and met with the same look Sal had received, be it a little less intense. “None of your business,” she retorted bluntly, then looking away. Brandon was about to add another sharp comment to that, were it not for the coin pouch put in front of his face, ridiculously big and, according to Burton Tally, containing one thousand Kina.

There was no doubt that the abundance of coins displayed on the table was the largest amount the young Kelvic had ever seen, the amount he held in his hands about two or three times the amount he owned himself. I bet that if I would empty all these pouches in a tub, I could literally swim in the money, Brandon mused with a dreamy expression, different from Tally's, but somehow very much alike. In fact, everyone in the room seemed to hold such a look in their eyes, no doubt the effect of seeing that much coin in one place. He did not bother to count, immediately emptying his other pouch as well, which he guessed held a measly two hundred and fifty kina, which was about half the amount the other players had. Shyke, the underdog position seemed to have been tailored to his person. No use in worrying though, it's not my money anyways. No sweat. I lose nothing if I lose the game. the bat thought while using his coins to build a castle, complete with four towers occupying their respective corner. The Kina not used -about one fourth of the total amount- was ordered in neat stacks, resembling Johnson Altman's arrangement. Brandon called his work of art 'Castle under siege' the stacks being siege towers of the enemy troops. The bat could swear he saw Sal sighing and shaking his head in the corners of his eyes .

Cards were dealt to the players, three each, which slided right in front of the participants with precision. All of them picked up their given cards and held them in front of their faces in a fan shape. Brandon's hand contained a two of stars, a nine of crystals and the Okomo of Peaks. Whether that was good or not, Brandon could not decide, still ignorant of the rules. However, the set-up wasn't completed yet. Burton flicked six more cards to the middle of the table, the cards ending up in a perfect row. “Six, for luck.” he said with a smirk, before laying four of them open and revealing their worth. Sun and Moon of Peonies, ace of Crystals, Goddess of Stars, and three of Stars. While a vague idea of the working of the game started to appear in his head, the thief still had no idea what was expected of him. Obviously it involved using the cards in the middle, but how was a mystery. His confusion was ignored by all players though, who probably thought it a good idea to remove one rival from the game early on, even if it meant not explaining the rules. “Well then, Lady and Gentlemen,” Burton started with the smooth voice he used to host the event, “It's time to place your bets, small and big blinds” spoke the man with a grin, gesturing to Brandon and Riptide.

Without hesitation, Mauritius Riptide placed twenty-five kina in the middle of the table, then nudged Brandon, briefly stating he had to bet fifty to start, since the thief was the big blind. A shrug and the bat obliged, two siege towers removed from the battlefield. Altman, who apparently was the next one to play, proudly stated he'd raise the bet and entered one hundred Kina right away, Marion on the other hand merely spoke “Call” in her rather frigid tone and shoved one hundred Kina to the middle as well. Burton Tally rubbed his hands with a sly grin and raised the bet too, betting two hundred Kina before passing the figurative baton to Riptide, who had been playing with one of his coins without worry, displaying once again how laid back he was, yet, for one or other reason Brandon felt that the man was lying in wait like a cat, ready to pounce any chime, but for now content to stand around eying the target. It was oddly unnerving.

x

credit goes to Euthisa

[Sal Mander]

"I'll sit this one out", Riptide purred, conceding the lose of his small blind with nothing more than a smirk. The coin in his hand continued its journey along dextrous fingers, being flipped over again and again with grace and agility, before completing the route and starting over. Meanwhile, Altman and Marion had preemptively agreed to meet Burton's raise, having readied the additional coins before them while they waited on Brandon to make his own decision.

As the game had begun, a calmer aura had enveloped the table as attentions were turned to cards, coins and the promise of fortune. Meanwhile that aura had slowly began to snake out from the table, invisible tendrils floating in the air, grasping and clawing closer to the rest of the denizens that sat spotted around the room. The bodyguards had done away with their childish games of staring at one another, as though the period of trying to assert dominance was at an end, with all participants having agreed on a draw. Indeed, as Sal sat on his perch intently watching the game, he had not even noticed the man to his left approach.

It was Altman's bodyguard, a rather nondescript looking fellow who people immediately forgot after having met. Perhaps that had been the man's very intent, when he dressed himself in drab browns and dull greys. Even his features were unremarkable, as though the gods had taken every human on Mizahar, tossed them all into a melting pot, and pulled from it the aggregate look. "Between you and me", the man said, almost causing Sal to fall of his chair in surprise, "Altman ain't the best at cards."

The revelation was unexpected to say the least, immediately peaking Sal's interest. "I'd say your man ain't no pro either, by the looks of things." That too was unexpected, causing Sal to regard Brandon in that moment, who was concentrating hard over his cards as if within their borders they contained the secrets to life itself. Sal was about to reply when for a third time Altman's guard spoke up. "See, I know a thing or two about cards. The pirate wench, she's got the look of a short temper, easy to rile, easy to bluff. Riptide there. He's the dangerous one. See, you got some who act all confident...or arrogant depending on how you want to see it. But him. He's one of those that is all confidence and with the means to back it up. He knows when to bet big and when to bet small. We call his type a fisher. Kind of apt for a sailor, wouldn't you say?"

Sal offered a half smile over his shoulder at the man, still watching Brandon struggle with his first bet. It occurred to him in that moment that maybe, just maybe, Brandon was unsure of the game. Stammer and Blush was by no means a rarity at card tables around Lhavit, even if it could be said to be a more 'finesse' style of playing. Still, the prospect of a thief not knowing the rules was...well, a little absurd. Shyke, Sal thought, the seriousness of the situation dawning on him. If Brandon truly had no clue as to the game, it would mean a sharp exit and all their planning for nothing. Sal had to do something, and quick.

First, a little damage control. The initial plan was to stay in the game for as long as possible, not something the Bat could achieve by playing hands he knew not the strength of. Blind luck could only get a man so far, in terms of what benefits the central six cards could offer a hand. But none of that mattered if Brandon did not know the worth of those cards. Damage control Sal. Damage control. "Well if it were me, I'd probably play it safe the first few hands, let things calm down a little. You know, why sprint when there's a long jog ahead." Sal intended to say this loud enough that it was within earshot of Brandon. He just had to hope that the kelvic was better at picking up hints than he was picking up cards.

[Brandon Blackwing]

x

With Riptide passing, laying down his card on the table with the back facing up, the first round had ended, and it was once again Brandon's turn. From what he had come to understand, one had to keep betting to stay in the game, either raising the sum of money that had to be entered, or entering the same amount as the player before you. However, it seemed one could also retreat for the game, which was what Riptide had done. Still that didn't help him one bit, not when he had no idea what he was supposed to do with the cards laying in the middle. What purpose did they serve? Could you use them to make combinations with your own cards? That seemed the most logical explanation, but when exactly was it allowed? Any time? At the end? If you made a combination of cards, was you awarded points and were there new cards placed in the middle? Too many questions, and no answers.

His gaze scanned over the faces of his opponents, making eye contact and staring intensely for a couple ticks, studying, observing. Altman had donned some sort of “I am so much better than you” smirk on his visage, one that complemented his outfit really well at that. The female captain returned his stare with a scowl -again- and Tally just sat there looking extremely bored. What to do what to do? Maybe he should not worry too much about his opponents, maybe he only needed to concentrate on his cards, perhaps they would help him in making a decision.

Not quite.

Instead of reaching an answer, the bat remained indecisive, pondering over the worth of his cards, glancing at the four drawings in the middle. Sun and Moon of Peonies, ace of Crystals, Goddess of Stars, and three of Stars. Of course the Goddess was the highest one, followed by the Sun and Moon, then the three, and lastly the ace. Or was the ace worth the most? Or second most? Eyes found the way back to his hand, once more going over the cards there. Two of stars, nine of crystals and the Okomo of Peaks. Could he do something with that? What combinations could be made with those cards? Was it a bad hand? A good one perhaps? Maybe if he placed his two next to the ace and the three... Would that solve anything? Was he even allowed to do that right now? Should he just give up to observe while the other three played for a while, and rejoin when the next game started? That did mean he'd lose the money he'd bet though, and pass up on the chance to win big. If he even could win. Burton Tally would probably not allow anyone else to win... or perhaps only just one or two rounds, perhaps a lot, but not enough he'd be left without coin. In the end Burton would just claim the whole of the coins no doubt.

Ahhggg! The urge to let both hands slide into his hair and scream in frustration was overwhelming, it felt just like getting lost in the dark; something that had never happened to Brandon before, something he knew would annoy him more than anything else. There was no way he could get lost in the dark! Damn it! Damn it all! 'Beat him at his own game', ha! Nice one liner, but next time go increase your knowledge of card games before entering an underground competition, you fool! What did you expect they'd play here? Bullshyke? Daaaaaammn! Daaaaaaaaaaaaammmn!

And there it was, a light in the dark; Sal's voice offering him comfort and a subtle hint. Loud enough for his keen ears to pick up – well, anyone could have, probably. The loudness of his voice wasn't quite as subtle as the aid he brought the bat. Play it safe. Good advice, just like Sal had said, there were still many rounds ahead of them. No one knew who'd win, perhaps they'd sit here for a couple bells, maybe a day. Play it safe. You could have helped me a little bit sooner though, the Kelvic complained internally, yet glad he'd actually received some aid at all. It was settled then, he'd pick the safest option available.

“This seems like the right moment to strategically retreat,” the disguised thief spoke as if he'd been planning this all along, though his trembling grin might have betrayed how utterly lost he had been just mere moments prior. The tiny beads of sweat starting to form near his hairline too, perhaps. A deep, shaky sigh could just barely be suppressed as he laid his cards on the table, the drawings facing down. Fingers intertwined, elbows place on the table, nose resting on the fingers that pressed into his lips, both thumbs touching his jawline. Right, it was time to observe and learn the basics of Stammer and Blush.

x

credit goes to Euthisa