Completed Thicker Than Water

[Rorick Set'ani]

Petricious. That was it, right there, staring him in the face. That's why Gavor had talked to him, had tried to figure him out. He was working with Petricious. A chill echoed through Rorick, his blood turning to ice in his veins. No, not again. He won't ruin Rorick's dream, his life, not after what happened to his father. Not after what Petricious did to him. Garvor was rattling off some nonsense or other. Lies, all of it, Rorick realized, anger poisoning his thoughts. With a sinister grin, Rorick rose, hands trembling slightly on the hilt of his sword. Eyes, dancing with ghosts long past, glared daggers at Gavor, malice scrawled across Rorick's face. With shaky breaths, Rorick found his voice thick with hate. "Enough. The game is over. You can stop now, stop pretending." His sword pulled free, slow, steady, deliberate. A solid kick, and Gavor sat on his back, staring up at the now vicious figure of Rorick, rage seeping out of every pore and sword point held steady at the man's throat. "Now, tell me exactly why you are here. Every word, every detail, every sentence, speak for you miserable life. No lies, or my steel might be painted a shade of red come this morning."

[Arlo Berakailen]

Ah yes. Flat on his back, looking down a deadly weapon. This was a situation Arlo had been in many times before, and likely would in the future. If he hadn't learned ways to survive it, he would be dead by now. So instead of panicking, like many others would, Arlo's mind began to work at lightning pace, going over what happened, and what it might mean. The attack had been sudden, Rorick going from placid and probing to violent and angry. It seemed he'd come to a conclusion then, though to what Arlo could not imagine. He had insufficient data to draw a meaningful conclusion. His demand that Arlo tell him everything was laughable. How was he to know that everything he said wasn't a lie? So he wasn't an observer, then. An observer would not be this impatient. An observer is merely sent to watch, and to learn, and to report back. Not a punisher, or an enforcer, or he would be dead. Certainly not an assassin, or he would not have made it out the Tavern. So he was just a stranger then. Utterly unrelated to anything. Perhaps not even attached to the Daggerhands, or Arlo would have heard whispers of it. A complete waste of time. "You are quite right. The game is over. And we are done here. I do not know who you think I am, or what you think I do, but I can assure you that I do not take sides. Consultants such as myself cannot afford to tie ourselves down in that fashion." Arlo gave Rorick a hard look. "If you intend to kill me you can do so. Just know that I have ... plans, in the event of my death. Most people in my profession do. Rest assured, the act will not go unnoticed." There was no fear in Arlo's eyes, despite his compromised position. It was critical, key to his continued success. Pure confidence. "This is a city of lies. Unless you are skilled in the art of sifting through them for the grains of truth you would never get anything useful from me. Information has its price, Rorick, just like everything else." There were many factions in this city. The Dagger Hands, the Night Eyes, the Sun's Birth. Not to mention a multitude of smaller gangs. Arlo's had tabs on all of them, yet this Rorick managed to slip his net. That could mean he was either very good, or very lucky. Arlo had a feeling he would find out which one it was in the next few seconds.

[Rorick Set'ani]

Rorick's mind was quiet,an utter, complete silence. This whole night it had been wracked with the problem of Gavor, who the man was, what he stood for, what he wanted. And now he knew all he needed to know to make a judgement. He only hoped he wouldn't regret it. Rorick sheathed his sword, and extended a hand to help the consultant him up. "You've got a way with words, I'll give you that." Rorick stood crossed armed, studying Gavor's expression, the same mask of calculated confidence still plastered to the man's face. "But you're wrong Gavor. For all your cleverness and guile you're wrong about Sunberth." Rorick fixed his face in a solemn position."This isn't a city of lies, filled with intrigue for you to sift through. This city is a wound on the landscape, so ancient, so old, that it has become infected with walking, talking maggots." "Do you want to know why how I'm not in a local gang's clutches, or under Petricious' thumb? It's because the people of this city, these vagrants, drunkards and vermin, hide me in their won little way. They refuse to talk about me, to reveal their little secret, their little hope." "Do you know what that tells me Gavor? That tells me that these people, deep down, are good. Every. Single. One." Passion flowed from every word out of Rorick's mouth, his moral view of the city finally spilling out to an ear that would hear, register and retain every word. "You and I have a rare chance Gavor, a chance to change this city, for the better or for the worse. We have a chance to heal a sick city, to be doctors. Or we have a chance to be like The Dagger Hands, the Night Eyes, and The Sun's Birth, maggots, eating away at the soul of this metropolis. The time's coming Gavor, the time to make a choice, a stand. I know which side I'll back. You might want to find out which one you will." Cold sweat dripped down Rorick's back, his speech resounding off the listening walls of the ally. His breathing came out slowly, an attempt to calm his nerves from the night's events. Even-tempered once again, Rorick leveled an curious gaze at this ever observant man. When their conversation started, Gavor wanted to know his angle. And now he did, plus a little more. With a slow, soft sigh, Rorick stalked off into the night, his voice now lost in the echoes of a sick city. OOCSorry about the long winded speech

[Arlo Berakailen]

Naïve foolishness. That was what Arlo thought of Rorick's speech. It was a wonderful dream, full of butterflies and rainbows, but at the end of the day people were selfish, arrogant, and self-serving. That could be used, of course, to one's benefit when necessary, but it didn't make them good. None of his associates, now or in the past had ever been anything but pure self-centeredness. Remember our promise, Arlo! Don't let me fade away... Petch it. Gavor's words echoed in his mind. They'd done everything together. Brothers for life, they said. But the city had ways of tearing family apart. It was a dream, back then. Arlo's brains, and Gavor's brawn, they'd survive. They'd thrive. They'd make Sunberth theirs, and then ... And then. Arlo had almost forgotten it. They were so young, so naïve back then, to think they could change this city. But what was it Gavor had said? We can't fix the whole world, Arlo. I ... I know that. But ... we can fix little pieces of it. Piece by piece ... put the world back together. It had been a long time since Arlo had thought of Gavor Trask. Really thought of him, rather than just tossing out his name like a cheap party favor. Of who he was, of what their dreams had been. Then he thought of Rorick. The passion had been real. Arlo was fairly adept at spotting lies, and he was not lying. He truly believed the people of Sunberth were good. Arlo did not fully agree. But perhaps ... little pieces. "Wait," Arlo called out, running to catch up with Rorick's retreating back. What was he doing? This was a stupid idea. Rorick had infected him with his stupid naiveté. The man was like a disease. Like Gavor had been. "Perhaps we can start this conversation over. The name is Berakailen. Arlo Berakailen."

[Rorick Set'ani]

Rorick had expected a drawn out silence as he walked away. He had expected a quiet walk in the cool night air, a good night's sleep in his broken down apartment. And then, then the city surprised him. Gavor, no, Arlo, had surprised him, offered a fresh start, maybe even a friendship. Needless to say, Rorick was ecstatic with the prospect. "Start it over? Hell, that was the most intellectually stimulating conversation I've had in a year! No, we're not starting over, merely continuing from a new perspective." Rorick smiled easily, a look of childlike mirth flashing in his eyes. Maybe it was the alcohol, but it seemed to him that the night's most serious events were long behind them. "Come on, I'll buy you a drink! Even serious men need a night to relax, to swap stories and be merry!" Excitement flowed from his words as swiftly as a river, and now invigorated with the prospect of a night's reprieve from his lonely evening, Rorick dragged Arlo back through the street and to the tavern, dingy as it was. "And Arlo," he said softly, arm leaning on the tavern door. "Thank you for listening. I needed that."

[Arlo Berakailen]

Arlo chuckled. It was the first time he'd laughed in over a season. "Sure, whatever. Right then! A drink it is." No more mind games tonight. No more worrying about Carver Jack or who he might be. Arlo stared up at the stars. A new day, perhaps? He didn't know. But it felt good, to finally let loose. The problem with always looking over one's shoulder is that inevitably, one can no longer see the road ahead. With a shrug, Arlo grinned and strode through the Tavern door. ~Fin~ ooc : Apologies for the late reply and the short response, but Arlo is being retired, so I figured you should at least get your grades. Feel free to turn this in for a grade whenever you're ready.