In response to Nyx she simply grunted something under her breath, narrowed her eyes and again dropped her eyes to the table.

When the wench appeared she spoke under her hat, "Another one of these..." raising her glass to her lips and finishing it off. The glass was then slammed onto the table and her lips wiped off with the back of her hand in a very unlady like gesture. "And a loaf of bread, I'm starving... and remind that cur at the bar that I've got the coin so the good ale, and no mold on my blood bread, got that?"

Once that seemed settled she crossed her arms, leaned back in her chair and sunk into a brooding silence.

"I suppose," Spite chuckled, "that if I were to cut the tips off my oears as well and prance about as one of the parasites, I could do, as one, what you do as well..."

She paused, twirling a lock of ebon waved silk around a long slender finger. "..but the people who typically employ me like things done well."

Drinks and food were ordered, and she passed a few coins tot he wench. "Clean glasses, if you can trouble yourself to find them, dearie. Two. And we'll have whet he is having," she smiled, offering a slight nod to Nyx.

"But yes, I could very well lure him where ever. For a roundear pretender, that's not a bad idea. Don't you think so, dearest Mallys?"

But her silent sister sat scowling, shadowed by her cloak. Leaning back, Sylla sighed. "It might be advantageous to disguise myself and have a look around while you lot work out some oother avenues to fall back upon, should our original plan fail for some reason," she suggested, focsing her smile, now cold but polite, at Cay.

"Of course, wecould always consider the possibility of dual diversions. Burn down the building while I have him out. THat way, the building would be relatively unoccuoied while you search."

There was something menacing about a crowded tavern. It wasn't the ambiance or the lighting. It wasn't the walls or the food, abysmal as Mallys thought it may be. No, it was nothing external. For Mallys, the most threatening aspect of inhabiting a tavern was the overwhelming desire she had to suppress each flame of life around her. Even, at times, Sylla's.

Such as now. Throwing herself so blatantly at Nyx. Baiting the clearly unstable halfbreed. MAllys would have been happier had this been set up, decided pon easily, and then done. She wanted this over with. She wanted out of this hell hole.

It was a familiar feeling. She had felt this way as long as she could remember. Never satisfied with where she was. Never happy. Well, never happy in a crowd. She preferred Sylla's company and hers alone. Though, the halbreed had a good idea, and she did rather respect Nyx's work in the field.

Maybe, MAllys thought, this wouldn't be so bad.

"I suppose," Spite chuckled, "that if I were to cut the tips off my oears as well and prance about as one of the parasites, I could do, as one, what you do as well..."

She paused, twirling a lock of ebon waved silk around a long slender finger. "..but the people who typically employ me like things done well."
With the snide comment about her ears she pulled the hat down further over them. Her ears were her concern, and her concern only. These little half breed demonic sisters didn’t know what she’d been through. From what she knew they had grown up here in the city, not living out there in the woods covered in fleas with those miserable elves, they knew nothing about what it actually meant to be an elf, so they could take their opinions about what she was pretending to be and shove it someplace dark and wet.

"But yes, I could very well lure him where ever. For a roundear pretender, that's not a bad idea. Don't you think so, dearest Mallys?"

But her silent sister sat scowling, shadowed by her cloak. Leaning back, Sylla sighed. "It might be advantageous to disguise myself and have a look around while you lot work out some oother avenues to fall back upon, should our original plan fail for some reason," she suggested, focsing her smile, now cold but polite, at Cay.

"Of course, wecould always consider the possibility of dual diversions. Burn down the building while I have him out. THat way, the building would be relatively unoccuoied while you search."
“Dearest Spite… we are looking for a document, paper… perhaps –burning- down the building isn’t exactly the best idea since paper, at least last time I check happened to be flammable…” She still sat back in her chair, arms crossed, head down, hat covering her eyes (and her cropped off ears), a pose that the others at the table would likely come to recognize. Her voice was dark and full of annoyance, over being called a pretender and over the obvious lack of thought put into this by Spite.
“Besides… Vadim said that the paper should be on his person. Not saying that it will be of course, but we should make plan A go according to the assumption that it is, and have plan B be backup in case the human decides to make things difficult for us. So… plan A…”

Uncrossing her arms she leaned across the table and unsheathed the small dagger that appeared in her hands. Where the dagger exactly came from and when it got in her hands was hard to say, especially with all the nasty comments flying about the table keeping everyone a bit distracted, but there it was. Head down as always she began to etch lines into the face of the already well scared table top. At one point she put an ‘x’ and then finally stabbed her dagger into the cross section of another two lines further down the table, it stood up like a little flag bearer.

“Alright… here is the layout down there.” Pointing to the x “That’s the Goblin, here the docks, and here… “ pointing to the dagger “is… is where I stay. This is what I think:

Malice should go tail him until tomorrow morning, find out what he’s doing here, find out where he is going tomorrow, and how many guards he has on his fat pink -. I say Malice because of all of us she is the least noticeable, and besides she won’t open her mouth and say something stupid… also” Cay rose her eyes up just enough to meet the silent half breeds with her own, “I have a feeling that while she sits over there and says nothing that she –sees- everything.

Once Mal figures out what his intentions are Spite can work up a plan to get him to my place. It’s the second story above a fish mongers shop, so you might have to get creative in order to get him up. Mal should follow and get rid of the guards.

Nyx and I will wait for you to arrive with the guest of honor, we make sure he has what he is supposed to have, chop off his head, you all can bicker amongst yourselves who will do that honor… and I’ll figure out how to get rid of the body without arising too much discussion amongst the neighbors. We bring the head and the paper back here and get our reward.

Now… if he doesn’t have what he needs on him I’ll find out where it is, and then one of us can go get it, with the guards already taken care of that shouldn’t be too difficult. If things go to hell… we’ll need to scatter and then regroup at a later time of course. But that shouldn’t happen, not if we all do our jobs. Now then… any questions or any arguments with that plan?”

She leaned back in the chair, and took the same pose she had before…

“Oh and by the way… the name is Cay, or at least witch… not round ear pretender, at least if you’d like to keep the pretty little points on your own ears that is…”
Her lips pursed up and she waited to see if anyone was going to challenge her on this issue, truly she didn’t want them to, she wanted to be Hellkite, and she needed them to do it, this she realized, but if they did challenge it, she had a little spell worked up that did a bit more than just changed the color of a candle and she wouldn’t hesitate to use it.

Nyx had fallen nearly as silent as Mallys since he’d given his order to the barmaid and had settled back into his seat, allowing himself to relax a bit without lowering his guard as his eyes continued their slow surveillance of the tavern and his ears remained trained on the conversation at this very table. While both Cay and Spite had both made feasible suggestions as to the best way to accomplish their task, they also seemed set upon finding faults with whatever the other might have suggested… And this is why I prefer to work alone, yes?… Had the job been offered to him alone, the plan would have been simple in design.

Gather all the necessary information, first, on both the mark and the location – the rough sketch provided by Vadim, as usual, was entirely too vague to be of any use – case the Grinning Goblin, become familiar with the comings and goings of its employees and patrons and, should one of those present themselves as useful, ply them with either gold or the promise of a not-so-swift-and-far-from-painless death to glean the intelligence necessary...

Which parts of the Inn are least used and easiest to slip through unnoticed? Are there unattended points of access? Which room belongs to the mark? How many bodyguards and other attendants might the noble have brought along in his entourage and what were their skills? Does Thanald keep a particular schedule and, if so, when in that schedule is he most likely to be furthest from his attendants? Does he, perhaps, forego his bodyguards when he visits the whorehouses, perhaps… shoo them from the room if a prostitute or sex slave is delivered? What are his vices and how can they be exploited?
…Secondly, review that intelligence and determine where and when the mark would be best taken and ensure that there are options should things change. Then, finally, sever the thread attaching the man to his life and retrieve the letter that Dmitrova had requested (but, of course, deliver it to the Hellkite captain only after having the letter looked at by a third party… payment was easier to negotiate if one had the upper hand on one’s employer come the end of the job, after all). Simple.
His gaze snaked back to the table as Cay began her carving of the tabletop and Nyx couldn’t help but smile appreciatively as the witch spelled out her own version of the plan – she had even managed to think about the security that this Corycian breeder might have in tow…

“Now then,” Cay demanded, huddling herself behind folded arms and the shield provided by the brim of that damned hat, “any questions or arguments with that plan?”

Impressive, little cousin, Nyx thought, offering a fractional nod, For one I’d taken as no more than a witch and a torturer you do think like an assassin, don’t you? There were, of course, arguments that he might make against the plan but it would have been futile to argue the fact that he was certain he didn’t need any of them to return the breeder’s head or his blank letter.

“Oh and by the way… the name is Cay, or at least witch,” the sorceress added as a point of note, “not round ear pretender, at least if you’d like to keep the pretty little points on your own ears that is…”

Nyx laughed out loud then, his eyes flashing as they darted from Cay to Mallys to Sylla and back. “Cay it is, then,” he smirked, leaning forward a bit and resting his elbows on the table, “my delightful, blunt-eared cousin.” Despite her oddness and obvious hatred of anything that so much smelled of elves, the little witch had not only endured the antagonism that had been leveled at her by himself and Spite but, also, had not hesitated to turn her own brand back at them. “The only flaw I can see with this plan, Cay,” he continued as one slim finger traced over the grooves left by her dagger, “aside from the waiting above a fish market for our mark to be lured in is this. Supposing this breeder’s loins are stirred more by boys than they might be by charms the likes of which Spite may ply him with…”

He allowed his eyes to wander shamelessly over Sylla at that point, thinking that even some fattened, simpering, breeder noble would have to be barking mad to not succumb to those wiles, orientation or preferences aside.

“…Should that be the case, you and I might be waiting quite some time for our mark to be delivered, yes?

We would all be fools to rush headlong into committing to any plan, at this point, my lovelies,” he grinned, coaxing a sharp tone from Cay’s dagger with the flick of a fingernail against it’s standing blade, “I would suggest that we all focus on learning what we can about our mark and his habits before we plan when, where, and precisely how we might relieve him of his life and letter, yes?”

The serving wench returned with the drinks ordered, placing them all before their respective owners. She shot a dirty look at Cay when she saw the dagger driven into the table, but quickly let it go - there was something obviously dangerous about this group.

"From Avenon," she said as she served the wine to Nyx, "From the vineyards at Sethbrook, literally on the other side of the continent...you'll not get any better in this part of the world..."

She bowed slightly and took her leave. Meanwhile, through the windows, the group could see the rays of the sun slipping behind the clouds; Drasnia had the luxury of warm-water currents keeping the inlet waters from freezing, and it was still in autumn. But still, they were in the north, and it was fact that one would be reminded of every so often in Drasnia - when it was winter, the winters were long. And the days were always shorter than elsewhere.

It would be twilight within the hour, and more and more patrons were starting to fill the Hydra's Breath tavern, either coming in at the end of their workday at the docks or just lesser nobles and adventurers from out of town coming in to find comfort in the arms of a stranger.

(OOC: Advancing time a bit; the group can sleep on it, scout out the Grinning Goblin tonight, or some other course of action. Just know that it will be dark soon.)

Meanwhile...
A few miles Northeast of Drasnia,
The Eduar Foothills
The wooded foothills of Eduar were an excellent cover; even from the highest tower of Drasnia, a camp would be well-hidden from even the keenest sentry. The hills were just alongside the Reyal River, where the road ran inland, towards many of the northern colonies. As such, they had, in the past, been the hideout for many bandit gangs as they waited for passing caravans.

Imperial persistence and zealotry had quickly put an end to that, however. If there was one thing the Empire was good at, it was making 'examples' out of those who defied it.

At this particular moment, however, the ones who made camp in the Eduar hills were not bandits.

They were elves.

There were six, wrapped in cloaks, and gathered around a modest fire. Hoods drawn, a passerby would not have taken them for elves. Their bows and swords were strewn about in the camp, and spartan tents erected all around the campfire. The cover from the surrounding hills and foliage was more than adequate to hide the half dozen rangers, but elves were particularly keen at being hidden in the wilderness.

"Are we doing the right thing, Tanael?" one asked

"There is no time to be principled," another replied. "We must do what is necessary..."

"And that means that we do not concern ourselves with what is right?"

"Tanael, there is no room for doubt in our undertaking," another voice spoke. His voice was authoritative, final. It was a rich, baritone; strange for an elf. As he looked up from tending the fire, his face could be seen under his cloak, revealing - a beard? He was not an elf at all, but a half-elf. "If you wish to back out, do so now."

"No..." the elf called Tanael replied. "No, Paliir. I will see this through."

"You may think this to be vengeance," Paliir continued, "But I have learned that justice and vengeance are sometimes the same. You know what the humans did to my brother, Jhahir. I cannot abide that, Tanael."

The other elves were silenced by the mention of the name, 'Jhahir'; that name must have carried some weight.

Suddenly, one of the group looked up; the sound of hootbeats was in the distance. He looked about at the other five - the looks on their faces were not looks of surprise, or fear, but of expectation.

They all rose, and walked over to the edge of the hill, peering over and watching the riders that were approaching. They were not of a merchant caravan, but instead bore the insignia of the Empire. There were only three, and they rode directly for the six elves.

As the three drew near, the elves, strangely revealed themselves, coming out to great the three humans who rode towards them. The horses slowed to a hault, and the lead human dismounted, withdrawing his hood to reveal a man with (what the Drasnians called) a 'pink' face and dirty-blonde hair; obviously a lower-caste, not of pure Braudian blood. He was of medium height and build, but as he approached the six elves, he approched them with the confidence of a man in power.

"Hail," he said, raising his left hand in a typical greeting. It bore a deliberate cut across the palm, no older than a few days...

"Hail," the leader, Paliir, replied, and the two approached each other. Paliir reached out to shake the human's hand, but the human didn't even bother to acknowledge the gesture.

"You're right on time, elf."

"You're an hour late, human."

"Watch your tongue," the human said, something dangerous in his voice. He reached into one of his saddlebags, withdrawing a bundle of documents and a small, velvet pouch. He tossed both of them to the half-elf. "That should be everything you need. If all goes well, you will find yourself in good standing with us very soon."

The human turned to go.

"Remember this, human," the half-elf spat, "We work with you only to further our own goals. Today, you are our ally. Tomorrow...who knows?"

The human mounted his horse, without saying a word. Grabbing the reins, he smirked.

"Just do your job, half-blood," he said, nothing but disgust in his voice. "If you double-cross me, or fail...well, let's just say that the last elf to do so didn't die well."

With that, he let out a "Yah!", and the three horsemen turned and headed back inland towards Drasnia.

The six stood, watching them go, their cloaks billowing in the wind.

"You know Nyx... I never suggested that Spite was going to lure him with her breasts... I left it up to her how she was going to lure him.

What if he does turn out to like boys?" She leaned over the table some towards Nyx, who sat directly infront of her, raised her head so her eyes could see his and batted her eye lashes, then with a soft voice cooed "Are you willing to tempt his loins?"

Then the face dropped and she slid back grabbing her knife off the table with a sudden movement.

"If you don't like my idea on where to go find a better one on your own, I just happen to trust it. Now then... as for your scouting, have at it, go off and watch the fat aristocrat." And with that she stood up, bouncing into the serving wench, from whom she grabbed the glass, downed in one long drink and slammed the glass on the table, again wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Now then... back here tomorrow afternoon, after we've gotten some bloody information? I'll check out the Goblin, I might still have a contact that will help me out with that..."

She waited only long enough to hear an acceptance of the time and then walked out of the bar, pulling her hat down and wrapping her cloak tightly around her shoulders.

“What if he does like boys?” Cay had managed to surprise him by leaning across the table and even more by actually meeting his eyes. A hand had, of course, found the hilt of the kukri strapped to his thigh but, otherwise, Nyx’s surprise at the witch’s advance went unbetrayed, neither did his expression change when she asked; “Are you willing to tempt his loins?”

“I am,” Nyx said flatly, his gaze locked to Cay’s, “but what of you? Should this one’s appetites yearn for a bitter, mana-slinging carp, are you prepared to be the one that offers to dangle from his hook?” The mith’ganni leaned forward himself, moving his face even closer to the crop-eared half-blood. His eyes narrowed a bit and bored into hers, searching for the death in those dark orbs. “Never doubt, witch, that killing is more religion than occupation to me,” he breathed in a deadly whisper, “and never question the lengths to which I may go to accomplish the task.”

The serving wench had just returned with their drinks, shooting a fleeting look of disapproval in the witch’s direction upon spying the dagger stabbed into the tabletop before delivering the libations. “From Avenon,” the barmaid said of the wine she placed before Nyx and the DeMoria Sisters, “From the vineyards at Sethbrook, literally on the other side of the continent...you'll not get any better in this part of the world...”

The elf offered a nearly imperceptible nod in response and his eyes may have ticked, ever so briefly, in the serving wench’s direction when he uttered “Fine” through clenched teeth. Otherwise his gaze and attentions stayed firmly fixed on the half-breed across the table.

Cay oozed back across the table at that point, snatching her blade from the table as she withdrew. “If you don't like my idea on where to go,” she snarled from beneath the brim of her hat, “find a better one on your own, I just happen to trust it. Now then, as for your scouting, have at it, go off and watch the fat aristocrat.” And with that she stood up, bouncing into the serving wench, from whom she grabbed the glass, downed the contents in one long drink and slammed the glass on the table, again wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Now then; back here tomorrow afternoon,” the snippy sorceress had begun to sound as if she seen fit to put herself in charge of the lot of them where this contract was concerned, “after we've gotten some bloody information? I'll check out the Goblin, I might still have a contact that will help me out with that...”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” Nyx nodded faintly, his tone now as dismissive of Cay as it had been of the serving wench a moment ago… Or would I be wiser to slit you from gullet to gizzard where you stand, right now, he wondered, reaching for his wine with one hand and began sliding the kukri free of its sheath with the other…

((OOC: Assuming here that the Sisters DeMoria agree to the meeting time and Cay stalks from the place as posted))

“Slitch,” Nyx growled, absently letting his half-bared blade slip back into its scabbard as Cay, huddled in her cloak, disappeared through the door of the Hydra’s Breath and into Drasnia’s street. “That one,” he smirked, turning his eyes back to the DeMoria Demons, now, “will either end up a great asset or a great liability, yes?”

Finally, he lifted the wine to his lips and indulged in a sampling of the stuff. To the barmaid’s credit it was quite a decent vintage. After, at last, swallowing the stuff, Nyx’s moonlight eyes studied the blood-red color of the remainder as he swirled it around in the goblet before taking another, heartier swig. His gaze swept the tavern once more …

Humans, he sneered inwardly, noting that the setting sun had prompted the Hydra’s Breath to fill more and more with Drasnia’s citizenry, like paching roaches in the dark.
…His glinting gaze then returned to the sisters, the faint sneer on his lips writhing its way into something more akin to a smile. “This place grows less and less conducive to discreet conversation,” the assassin said, “Should we take our leave and find someplace more appropriate to continue… A quick peek at the Goblin for ourselves, perhaps, or a test of the Sea Snakes watchers?” He tasted the wine once more, licking an errant droplet from his lower lip; “Or, like our darling Cay, have you lovelies had your fill of my company until the morrow?”

((I’ll wait for an answer from Spite and/or Mallys before detemining what Nyx does with his night time hours.))

Syla sighed and flipped dark waves from her face. The little wich was a trial to her patience, and she could see from the set of Mallys' jaw that it was taking effort to leave her alive.

"Yes yes, since you've elected youself to be our leader, no doubt a lingering trait from your beloved human side, that sounds fine...for now. However, be warned now that I have little respect for those who, like the Empire, use their bloodline as the basis for dominance. Why don't you scamper off like a good little dog now and make youself of some use now...

After Cay had taken her leave, Sylla turned her full attention to Nyx. "Oh my violent pretty man," she grinned, "one could never have enough of you. Let us see how well the salty old dogs protect what's theirs shall we?
Sister dear? Will you join us for a bit of sport?"

The response was as she had anticipated, and Sylla took her sisters hands for a moment. Releasing it, she turned back to Nyx.

"Lead the way, Precious."

THere was much she had seen in this night's performances, more she believed than any of them had learned. For one, she understood Cay more than any of the rest would have realized. She understood instense hatred that had existed in one as long as time went back, a hatred so intrisic to one's build that it was an identifying feature. Yet rather than internalize it, Mallys had chosen to externalize and make everyone suffer, a trait she believed Cay possessed as well.

Mallys also understood the desire to fit somewhere, to be something, but what she did not get was doing so at risk of losing oneself. Through everything, she and Sylla had always known who and what they were. Mallys was also finding it difficult to reconcile Cay's love for the pestilent humans, without whose charity and generosity none of this paradise would have been possible. Though it was impossible to pin all their problems in the world on humans, there was a whole host of things to which humans had to be taken to task for, eventually. And for Mallys, her tainted blood was the one thing that tied her to power far greater than herself. One day, she knew, the elves would rise up and then the blood would run.

"Sister dear? Will you join us for a bit of sport?"

It was a tempting offer. The three of them, together in the night, drowning themselves in all manner of debauchery and lecherous fun, was enough to make her consider the offer, but there was something of far greater impost to attend.

Something had to be done about Cay.

Whiel it was possible that Cay could surprise them all and be half-decent in this mission, it was not outside the realm of possiblity that she could also turn on them all and claim the fat prize for herself. She seemed the type. But Mallys was clearly not the only one who believed so, given Sylla's stunning turn as a mindless tart.

The sultry sister had been playing the witch, baiting her and then pretending to be slightly simple with her suggestion of setting fire to the building. Though Mallys knew that she had been referring to searching the premises for other valubles, the cleverly veiled suggestion had given Cay the impression that Sylla was more gust than guts.

Surely, thinking Mallys a dolt and Sylla an intellectual insignificance, Cay would believe she only had Nyx to contend with. And in the meantime, Mallys could keep tabs on all of them, particularly if Sylla could manage to keep the delightly perfect speciman of elven performance, the Assassin Prince, busy.

"Navekharasa non. Herattsu tesatsu, cera, dana esai desatatsu an rhojhideih." "Regretably, no. Please yourself, sister, while i keep watch from the darkness."
The hand of her sister took hers and then was gone. Replacing the hood, she watched Nyx and Sylla take themselves from the Inn to better pleasures, and left herself.

Cay stepped out into the coming twilight. The sound of the tavern lessened behind her as the door closed, and the sound of the streets filled her ears. It seemed to Cay that some nights the streets became more filled in the first few hours of darkness instead of emptying out, this was one of those nights. Everywhere she looked she saw some poor derelict that called Drasnia home, and in each of them for a fleeting second she thought she saw the face of one of her new companions.

They hated her, just as the rest of the world hated her. She would not be surprised if they did follow her tonight. Silently she cursed herself for not only offering up her place to do the murder, but for marking it out on a map for them. Now they knew were she stayed, she would have to keep an extra careful watch tonight, perhaps stay somewhere else, in case one of them felt it necessary to act.

The cloak was drawn closer around her as she stomped away from the Hydra’s Breath, she could still hear the voices in her head…

“Are you willing to tempt his loins?”

“I am,” Nyx said flatly, his gaze locked to Cay’s, “but what of you? Should this one’s appetites yearn for a bitter, mana-slinging carp, are you prepared to be the one that offers to dangle from his hook?” The mith’ganni leaned forward himself, moving his face even closer to the crop-eared half-blood. His eyes narrowed a bit and bored into hers, searching for the death in those dark orbs. “Never doubt, witch, that killing is more religion than occupation to me,” he breathed in a deadly whisper, “and never question the lengths to which I may go to accomplish the task.”
Nyx… the bastard elf.

"Yes yes, since you've elected yourself to be our leader, no doubt a lingering trait from your beloved human side, that sounds fine...for now. However, be warned now that I have little respect for those who, like the Empire, use their bloodline as the basis for dominance. Why don't you scamper off like a good little dog now and make yourself of some use now...
Then the twin… little respect for those who use their bloodline for dominance? They were all the same, tainted mixed blooded girls, what bloodline could Cay possibly hold over her head? And Cay had not appointed herself leader, she had simply suggested a plan that made more sense than burning up the Inn… But even if she had Spite did not seem to suggest that it should be otherwise, at least not now, the woman double talked herself. Then again good prostitutes were known for that, so it only fit.

The other twin, though… the silent one. Cay had complimented her, and the girl did not respond with even a flicker of the eyes, the girl worried her. But enough of that, she reminded herself that she had work to do, then she would worry about where she was going to stay tonight, and how she was going to handle these companions. She made her way back toward the docks, boiling over with anger with every step. The anger gave her something to focus on for the moment, but it also clouded all other thoughts and sights from her full view.

“Hey! Watch where yer going!!” A feminine voice called out suddenly and broke through the veil of anger surrounding Cay. Stopping she looked to see where the voice came from.

It was an elven girl, and by the slight outfit she wore along with the heavy makeup Cay assumed she was one of the ladies of the night around these parts. The girl had her hands on her hips and looked straight at Cay with an disapproving look. Cayrimisa didn’t even think, the dagger she had stabbed the table with was still in her hand, and in a second it was out in the open again. She held it between them and stared back at the elf with contempt.

“You watch where you are going… I’d rather not have to pay your pimp back after I killed you…”

Rolling her eyes and tossing her hair back the girl replied “Yeah right…” then took another look at Cay, at the two dark eyes that peered out from under the brim of her hat and decided that it would be best not to test it any further, stepped aside and then proceeded down the street.

Cay watched her go, and thought to herself that someday the crowds here would part in her wake in fear… but until then… she made her way to the Goblin.

(OOC: Rolled to see if she would find the girl:
Your roll results:
20 Your total roll is 23 and a mod of +3.

I’m going to assume this means she finds her… and probably means I’ve wasted my excellent roll... lol)

The familiar sign with the painted green goblin on it came into view. Cay found her way around to the back alley so she would end up at the back door of the place. Once there she knocked and when the door opened slightly and a pair of eyes looked out at her she asked, “Ovelia here?”

(Going to assume a positive answer)

“I need to speak with her…”

(Room here for conversing with the cook, and Ovelia to come down)

“Good to see you again Ovelia, so this is the hell hole your currently working? I’ll make this short and sweet, I don’t want to hold you up. Gracchus Thanald. I know he’s staying here. What do you know about him? And of course as always I’ll make it worth your while…” She smiled at Ovelia and waited for her to respond.

"Oh my violent, pretty man, one could never have enough of you,” Spite purred in reply to Nyx’s invitation, "Let us see how well the salty old dogs protect what's theirs shall we?”

A pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and a more-than-mischievous glint sparked in his eyes. “But of course,” he grinned before quaffing the remainder of his wine.

“Sister, dear,” Spite regarded Mallys as Nyx gathered his cloak about him and slithered from his seat, “Will you join us for a bit of sport?”

Whatever tongue it was in which the typically silent sister voiced her reply, it was none that Nyx had ever heard before and the syntax of the answer was lost to him. The tone of it, though, told him that Mallys would not be joining them on Drasnia’s streets tonight. It would be wise to pay attention to that, Nyx told himself regarding the DeMorias secret speech, his gaze panning the still-filling tavern as Sylla and Mallys clasped hands in their silent farewell, both the spoken and unspoken bits. Insight into such things often prove their worth at the most unexpected of times, yes?
The mith’ganni’s eyes flicked back to the twins as their parting gesture concluded and, sketching a bow to Mallys, he offered as reassuring a grin as he could manage. “I shall mind her, well, lovely,” he said as Spite slinked from her seat, “Not that I imagine you’ll worry overmuch, yes?”

“Lead the way, precious,” Spite cooed as Nyx’s eyes lifted from Mallys’.

“With pleasure,” he nodded, placing a hand at the small of her back – though not quite touching her - and ushering her gracefully through the crowd towards the door. Once outside and in the rapidly cooling night air, Nyx quickly scanned the streets looking for signs of Cayrimsa’s recent passing.


“Our earless leader left us an easy enough trail to follow,” he snickered, his eyes flicking over a series of faint footprints left in the mud by the witch’s too-large boots before dancing too meet with Spite’s again, “shall we shadow her steps until we reach the Reyal? See if she is as cautious as she is bold?”

((assuming that Nyx doesn’t have a problem picking up Cay’s trail… and that Spite has no objection to dogging the witch’s steps for a time, of course))

The pair slipped into the deepening shadows of the Drasnian dusk, then, expertly following the telltale signs of Cay’s passing through the streets and alleyways of the Braudian metropolis, never failing to notice the routine patrols of the city’s militia or the clumsy passing of another Hellkite, Sea Snake, or Nightcloak as they went. Nyx, of course, was more than accustomed to this routine and, while he did closely heed those signs that warranted interest, his attentions were just as intent on watching Spite… the way she moved (which, admittedly, he found distracting at times), her own attention and awareness of her surroundings and the goings on there, unseen or otherwise…

And so it went, swift, silent, and alert, all the way to where the Reyal River bisected Drasnia and to the fringes of what Nyx knew to be a Sea Snake holding of city blocks just on the southern banks. “Here, my beautiful bardess,” Nyx whispered, slinking deeper into a pocket of shadow where the alleyway they had followed dumped onto a more heavily travelled thoroughfare west of the Grinning Goblin, “is where the Sea Snakes would likely set their eyes on the comings and goings of nobles who visit our city… particularly those that might board at the Goblin.”

Beneath the folds of his cloak Nyx’s fingers moved to curl around the ready hilt of his blade even as his hawk-eyed gaze skimmed the intersecting streets and the structures packed about its corners. “Most like the Snakes often set their younger, more inexperienced members as scouts and lookouts,” he noted, “and there is one in particular whom I know, of late has been posted hereabouts recently. I scare him, for some reason, and for that reason, the boy is often eager to pass information my way… Let’s see if, mayhaps, he’s at his post tonight, yes? And if he might have any news of worth where Thanald is concerned…”

((OOC: Leaving it there for the time being… Since Nyx has, to this point, been working freelance, I imagine he might have made some contacts in organizations such as the Snakes and the Cloaks (as mentioned in the post, perhaps a young ‘lookout’ for the Snakes who is scared absolutely s#!tless of Nyx and, out of fear for what the elf might do to him, is typically eager to part with info if Nyx is able to find and/or corner him alone)… Figured it might be a good opportunity to RP a ‘hunt’ with Sylla and, perhaps, let our DM make the determination as to whether this particular lad is ‘available’… Carry on as you see fit, GiGi… ))

As Cayrisma approached the goblin, the familiar green-painted sign and hustle and bustle outside the inn met her eyes.

The hangout of dock-workers and untitled noblemen alike, the Grinning Goblin was known for its ale, a brew that was named for the tavern itself. Men both common and well to do came to the tavern for the famous blend (famous in Drasnia anyway), and the inn had rooms for anyone from the common man to the travelling adventurer to the wealthy merchant.

It was also, on any given day, crawling with Sea Snakes.

Cay made her way to the back alley so meet with her contact, Ovelia. She knocked.

The door opened, and an Elvin slave opened the door - the mark was branded so obiviously onto her. She was likely owned by the Goblin, a cook or maid or something of the like. She looks both ways down the alley, nervously.

"Can I...help you?" she said. Her hair was a mess, she was wearing rags. Clearly they didn't treat their slaves well at the Goblin...

"Ovelia here?"

"Who's asking?"

"I need to speak with her."

The slavegirl paused, assessing Cay, then simply nodded, shutting the door on her, however. It was only a few minutes when the door opened again, revealing Ovelia, who was looking overworked, underpaid and exhausted.

"Good to see you again Ovelia, so this is the hell hole your currently working?"

"Cay...?" she looked a bit confused. "Listen, Cay, we're a little busy tonight, so if you could make this quick..."

"I’ll make this short and sweet, I don’t want to hold you up. Gracchus Thanald. I know he’s staying here. What do you know about him? And of course as always I’ll make it worth your while…" She smiled at Ovelia and waited for her to respond.

Ovelia smiled back. "Well in that case, Cay..." she replied. "Exactly how worth my while are you going to make it?"

She certainly looked down on her luck. But Ovelia had a certain devious look on her face; she looked determined to take advantage of the situation...

Meanwhile...
As Nyx and Sylla scan the streets near the Grinning Goblin, Nyx sees neither head nor tail of the watcher he's looking for. However, he sees an unwelcome sight - many, many watchers, and none of them the 'young, inexperienced' types that he's used to. In fact, for some reason, Sea Snakes are all over the place.

Any Drasnian worth his salt can spot a Sea Snake - their colors and green and blue, but they don't wear them promenantly. It's usually just a blue trim, a green vest, or something of the like. But the tattoo is a dead giveaway - some wore it proudly on their forearms or biceps, sporting it for all to see. More often, it could be spotted on the back on someone's neck. There were some that had no visible tattoo, but just had the look of Snakes; perhaps they were in a group of them, or wearing the traditional colors.

And Nyx and Sylla could spot literally dozens of people, either coming or going, or just loitering about that night, with the talltale blue snake in the shape of an S inked onto them.

It was an unusually busy night, even considering the usual fare of pub-crawlers and men seeking escorts, but even so, it seemed to be an unusually high proportion of Sea Snakes among the pedestrians loitering about in and around the Grinning Goblin (and the many other taverns all about the Sea Snake turf).

Nyx can't see his man anywhere, and after some watching, he realizes that most of the Snakes in the area see to be the rough and tumble "enforcer" type. Very strange, considering that they're not very deep into the Sea Snake turf, and there's no apparent reason for it. Then again, you never knew the 'schedule' of a gang - the Snakes might be ready for a rumble with the Nightcloaks, they might be receiving a particularly large shipment of smoking weed or the strange roots that grew in the Zuun plains that would make one see things. But the possibility that they knew the Hellkites would be there seemed out of the question - after all, Dmitrova and his boys did not talk. If there was one secure organization in Drasnia, it was the Hellkites.

But regardless of the reason, the situation was clear - there were veteran Sea Snakes everywhere and no newbies to be found.

It was the wrong night for some Hellkites to be reconnoitering about on enemy turf...

There, in the darkness, Mallys waited. She crouched on the roof of a building overlooking the Sea Snake territory, shadowed by smokestakes and their billowing breath. She counted the bodies, the rising number causing a thick hard knot to form in her gut. She felt it sink; there were too many.

It was blatantly obvious something was happening. One didn't have what appeared to be the whole of the Snakes veteran assembly parading about the open air for nothing. Perhaps, she considered, their mark was moving against... but no, it was something bigger.

She missed Sylla. Her sister would have tempted or taunted one away and tormented the truth from his screaming lips. but no, she was off with that dark one, the one with the hungry eyes. Ih he touched even a single hair upon her head, Mallys vowed to take his hands from him. But she did believe he would leave her alone, in that regard. Nyx was a professional, and would leave playing for after the mission at hand.

She could see them, or at least she saw their advancement to the edge of safety. Another few steps and they would have been discovered. for herself, Mallys would have little time to reach them if things went south. She receded from the rooftop, climbing down the side of the building, and would join them by the safest possible route.

Sylla was good, but together, they were stellar.

Ovelia smiled back. "Well in that case, Cay..." she replied. "Exactly how worth my while are you going to make it?"

She certainly looked down on her luck. But Ovelia had a certain devious look on her face; she looked determined to take advantage of the situation...
Cay smiled at Ovelia. All things considered she had to admit she liked the girl some. The evening seemed to be improving since she left her little band, and for that she was glad. First she had found Ovelia, right where she was expecting her, and that was wonderful. Second the girl didn't deny that Thanald was staying there, which made her feel better about this mission. And third the girl seemed ready to talk, if the price was right, and Cay was relatively certain that with the amount she had in her cloak that a price could be met.

She leaned back agains the wall near the door. One hand slipped inside her expansive cloak and found the inner pocket where the bag of gold lay secreted. The other hand she pulled out of the cloak and began to inspect her fingernails, digging at the dirt in the cuticles, as if it were much more important than anything she might discuss with Ovelia.

"Well... you know I guess that would depend on how much information you have to give. You know if I pay the butcher five gold coins I expect to get a nice bit of rump roast and some ribs... not some dinky sausages. I'd also expect that meat to be fresh." She raised her eyes slowly to Ovelia's to see if she was catching on... likely the girl was, she was usually rather quick.

"Now if it's just sausages... I pay for sausages." Shrugging slightly as if it didn't matter if it were rump roast or sausages, because it was still dinner, she lowered her eyes and went back to picking at her nails, waiting to see just how much information the girl knew.