PM to join A few Foxes and the Hound

[Adam King]

Winter 38, 513 AV The streets were cold, perhaps the coldest this year. The note had amused him as a joke. He took the copy along, without thinking. Always store if your pockets aren't full. But then, the same morning, hearing that there had been a real kill, and a top kill no less, later on during the day, curiosity began to creep into Adam's mindscape. He soon read the note again and again. Things were changing in Sunberth this winter. The season's clues so far had proven it. And things seemed to be changing against the Daggerhands. That was the best kind of change. Might this be a Night Eyes gambit? Even if it was, it was also an invitation to get closer to... whatever this was. To the Hound. He got to the site of the kill in time to see the thug-general get dragged away. It was all real. The note sounded like the Hound sought capable killers. Strong fighters. But between the lines, a "control" here, a "throw against the fates" there meant wit, leaders, talkers, know-ers were also needed. He needed a lead. Someone with their ear to the ground that nobody suspects. His favourite. He had to go see Thomis. By the afternoon, at the time he knew was right, Adam was striding into the Pig's Foot striding directly for the bard. While they had good rapport, both of them knew that if King was there, he was there for business. When Adam placed three entire gold-rimmed coins in front of Thomis, interrupting his nod hello, the singer's smile widened. The amount meant that the bearded fence was clearly not here just for a song. But the blonde handsome man asked anyway, pulling his lute close: "What will it be, boss?" "Whatever's... most updated, Thommy-boy." Adam joined him at the table, pulling up a chair. "Oh, that'd be "Welcome ta'berth", Addy." Addy. Yuck. Perhaps it was deserved, considering his usage of Thommy-boy. "Get in with it, if you really must..." Adam was sure to have alcohol brought to help him through the over-cheerful singing, but has his ears peeled and attentive. Throughout the song, he smiled at the funny bits and stred for the man, firstly checking what parts of the song he seemed to perhaps possibly know more about and secondly nodding at the subject he wanted to hear more about. And that lute. It seemed entirely way too cheerful, an offense to the scummyness of Sunberth. Still, Adam would never admit he secretly loved every part of Thomis's singing. By the end of the song, Adam was sure he had come to the right person. Welcome sweet lassie to Sunberth Cos' adventure we'r gon'unearth, Jus' do try to not get enslaved Cos' there's few ways left ta' get saved! Ya best not been rais'd inn'er cavern, Cos here at the Pig's Foot Tavern Good manners will a good man fetch For a good ol' boozin' and petch! Hey! Welcome sweet lassie to Sunberth Cos' adventure we'r gon'unearth, But don't wander places unknown And at night du'n be walkin' alone. They's say that them ol' Ni'te Eyes Are a bunch a' shady ruff guys, But in front of them Dagga'hands There's just naw-body that stands. Welcome sweet lassie to Sunberth Cos' adventure we'r gon'unearth, Jus' do try to not get enslaved Cos' there's few ways left ta' get saved! Except for a little rumour - That'a hound with a little humour, Marked turf not with piss but 'Hand-blood, Has shown up afta' tha' flood! He-hey! Welcome sweet lassie to Sunberth Cos' adventure we'r gon'unearth, But don't wander places unknown And at night du'n be walkin' alone. And now we have a My-reean Who hacks up pethchers real mee-an! But more than some flesh he can etch, He likes his hot redhead to petch! Ya-ha! Welcome sweet lassie to Sunberth Cos' adventure we'r gon'unearth, Jus' do try to not get enslaved Cos' there's few ways left ta' get saved! Babe, in 'berth ya got ta be strong No man cares fer right or fo' wrong. Only yer lust for freedom's worth shyke And finding some brothers alike! Sun-berth!"

[Noven]

When news of Rokan's death first reached Noven's ears, his blood boiled so wildly out of control he nearly punched a hole straight through the wall. Fortunately, he didn't. Seng wouldn't let him, going so far as to threaten to knock out his lights if he didn't calm down. Besides, if he had so much as nicked Jillene's property, the frightening little woman would have beat him senseless. Again.

Between getting his ass handed to him by six feet and eight inches of muscle and getting his ass handed to him by a full blooded Isur, Nov didn't exactly have much of a choice. He plopped down in a chair and fumed for a while. Then he notified Seng that he need some air and stormed out of the building.

Two bells later, he was back, his knuckles a bit bruised and a lurid grin plastered on his face. "'Tis my lucky day, Seng," he announced in a sing song voice as he waltzed into his friend's apartment. "That Rokan fellow had nothing to do with Nona's murder. A little, screaming Daggerhand thug-bird told me so, right before he died."

But, despite the good news, this "Hound" business still had both of the fighters perturbed. To take down an entire gang was no easy feat, and to claim one possessed the ability to do so with the Daggerhand...

...well, this Hound was either a god, or completely insane.

In the end, the two friends had decided it wouldn't hurt to be a few steps ahead of the game. Most of Sunberth's ordinary citizens weren't going to go anywhere near something so risky and preposterous, but there were plenty left who hungered for power, no matter what the cost. Senghor and Noven were fighters and survivors, first and foremost, not mobsters or greedy politicians. But, they were also driven by fierce, personal ambitions, and neither bore a single drop of love for the Daggerhand.

So, it was to The Pig's Foot they went, hoping for a lead of some kind to get them started on this merry goose chase.

The two of them sat in a dark corner, making idle conversation over a few pints but mostly listening and watching for bits of news or gossip. And then, as luck would have it, one of the bards started singing.

"Gods, what is this awful shyke," Nov muttered at first, thoroughly repulsed by the exaggerated cheerfulness of the bard's song. But, the more he listened, the more his eyes widened. Sweet Krysus, the man was singing lines about the gangs and the Hound! He was close enough for them to hear, but not loud enough to attract the attention of the whole tavern.

Nov shifted his gaze to meet Seng's. The bard was behind him, so he couldn't see who was singing and who had enough coin to prompt this merry little melody, but his towering friend could.

"Hey, Seng," he whispered. "What can you see?"

[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

As Seng watched Nov. pace back and forth, his rage licking and consuming at him he was slightly amused because whenever he came to visit his short friend it also always a lightened mood between the two yet that cold winter morning, he had to hold him back from breaking something and injuring himself in the process. An when that seemed to be the easiest approach to things and failed, he resorted to threatening his friend, true that most of the time between the two Intimidation worked on others and not between themselves but it sure calmed him down. And than after a few chimes, he left Seng to wait and be consumed by boredom. It was only two bells later that he returned obviously 'productive'... "I thought thug-birds weren't singing anymore, you must have quite a talent" Senghor replied as he sat back in his seat and hearing it creak under his weight, Seng was somewhat of a curse because in the eyes of the people, he was a giant to them even though that wasn't remotely true. As Seng and Nov stayed in for a few chimes, this business with "Hound" had been dwelling at the back of their heads for quite some time since they'd heard about it, and now that Nov knew that this Roken had nothing to do with his Nona's death he was ever more intrigued. Opportunity and Ambition, was the drive of every man, woman and child that woke up in Sunberth and they both knew that, and these two would take the bull by the horns and if ever bucked to hard, they could easily break 'em off. Situated in the blanket of shadow they fighters sat there and spoke, Nov kept nagging Seng to watch his intake of alcohol or else they'd be thrown out for 'disorderly conduct'. Again. The gossip, was mildly interesting to Seng and he sat there with mug in hand and another hearty gulp down. His eyes would occasion swift to the side to grab a glimpse of what was happening, though quickly lost interest. "Gods, what is this awful shyke?" Nov asked as his face said it all, yet Seng remembered once hearing that a bard's song held more messages that a courier and so he listened. "Shhh..." he hushed Noven momentarily, "Listen, listen clearly" he said as he kept his head down to blend in with any ol' bastard out of his luck. When the corners of his mouth tugged and he listened to the lines properly, he was amazed that even now an old tradition didn't leave them, money over anything in Sunberth it always seemed. "Hey, Seng" Nov whispered in his direction as Seng raised his head to casually seem like any patron in the tavern. "What can you see?" the million miza question came from Nov as Senghor fixed his eyes ahead and began describing the scene. "It's that bard Thomis, and behind him is..." "is..." "gods damnit, he's busy moving around. I can't see who prompted him to loosen his lips" Senghor said with mild agitation, he wanted to just do it their way, go up and beat the answers out of everyone. Yet this time, they'd do it Nov's way, and just relax, listen and wait...

[Adam King]

As Thomis ended his song, all a satisfied smile, Adam nodded back in appreciation. So Thomis was well up to date. Good. After another sip,leaning closer to the bard, inquiry began. Now to earn the other two-and-a-half-gold Mizas, blondey. His voice was low and stance discreet. The conversation would lower in tone or even halt as passers by got close. "I'm interested in this Hound business. You know I've never been a fan of the 'Hands. Tell me more. Dig me down to your sources and skip the chit-chat and cutesy-talk." Thomis didn't seem all pleased with this. Singing had put him in a jovial mood, and he was of fan of messing around linguistically with Adam. The business man in him, though, recognised the situation. "Fine. I don't have a lot. There's this fella', deals as a blacksmith's apprentice even though he's twice our age. Trem, they call him. Lives on Stonework street." Thomis leaned in further, voice just above a whisper. "From there, he has a view of a freshly-bloodied lil' spot where, he says, he saw the slaughtered 'hander get jumped and wrestle-fought by a quick-lookin' fella, he again says." The bard leaned back. " 'S all I got." Adam nodded thoughfully, honestly satisfied with the answer. But he knew Thomis. There was a bit more. His eyes narrowed with a challenging smile "There's more. There's a bit more." Thomis's dismissive shrug confirmed this for Adam "I'm a good client, I even bring in the occasional news. I did bring you the bit about the savage and the redhead, after all." With this, Thomis gave in. "Fine, fine. This Trem fella' - he's a sucker for dreamdust, totally hooker. The way I know you, you've got that shyke already in yer pockets." Adam nodded in thanks, finally leaning back relaxed. He sipped in satisfaction from the drink, and in some thought on the new information. Gold fairly well spent. Catching sight of Noven and Senghor, King raised his glass and nodded a friendly hello towards the two. Pack mates would likely be a good thing in pursuing Houndfolk, brawly as the two might be.

[Noven]

His patience waned. Curiosity itched at the back of his head, making his scalp tingle with anticipation. Who else was on the Hound's tail? Would they have competition? A potential enemy? Balls, so many possibilities, and he just had to be the one sitting with his back to the important bits.

Across from him, Seng seemed he was also wrestling with impatience. Nov guessed what the towering brawler was thinking right at that very moment. I ought to just go up and beat some answers out of the prissy bard and his mystery patron, he mused in his head, imagining Seng's deep voice as a flourishing touch.

Honestly, he was beginning to think along the same lines. But information of this nature was a delicate thing, and this was too public a place for blatant use of fists. Nov waited for about half a tick, chewing over these useless postulations, then turned all the way around to get a good look at what was going on.

There he was, the blond haired bard named Thomis who liked to hang about The Pig's Foot. Nov couldn't see his face, just the back of his head, but he could recognize that yellow sheen of hair anywhere. And across from him, looking as smug as ever, was none other than Adam King.

Ah, the little rascal. Should've known he'd be one of the first to capitalize on this Hound business.

Nov gave Adam a smirk before turning back around. He took a good swig of his pint of ale, wiped his mouth with the back of his arm, and nodded to Seng. "It's Mister King, our good old pal, chatting up that fine bard," he announced, loud enough for both parties to hear. "Come on, Seng. Let's go greet our old friend, shall we?"

Nov slid out from his seat, taking his pint with him, and sauntered over to Adam's table. He gave each man a toothy grin. Setting down his pint with a loud thud, he slapped one hand on the back of an empty chair and spun it around. Then he plopped right down, taking up one side of their little square table. He looked to Thomis, then to Adam, and leaned forward on the back of the wooden chair.

"So, fellas," Nov greeted congenially, chin propped on crossed arms. "Got any news to share? We're just dying to know."

[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

Seng stared down the two men ahead and grit his teeth whilst Thomis kept moving about frantically, occasionally Seng's eyes caught a glimpse or two of whoever he was with. His gaze soon turned towards Nov as he turned back and look at whoever was behind him, yet he took a tick or so before even daring to do such. It was than Thomis stopped his seated dance and moved aside well enough for Senghor to see who it was... Adam Kingston, that name rang through Seng's ears whilst he shifted his position from his seat and began to stand long before Nov could even speak a word. "Come on, Seng. Let's go greet our old friend, shall we?" Senghor inclined his head as Nov slid out from his seat, taking his pint with him, leisurely walk towards Adam's table. That toothy grin he gave caused Senghor to roll his eyes as he held Thomis by the shoulder and shoved him back into his seat. As Nov caused a bit of scene amongst the for by slapping one hand on the back of an empty chair and spinning it around to take his seat. He turned to look at Nov as he took a seat right next to Adam, he shifted his gaze between the three men as a thick ominous presence hung over them all. "So, fellas," Nov greeted whilst Senghor set back in his chair and felt it strain slightly, lean as he was it seemed that the cheap craftsmanship of Sunberth furniture always remained the same. "Got any news to share? We're just dying to know." Noven said as Senghor shifted his gaze towards the bard of the Pig's Foot... "Of course they do Nov, our singing friend here has a wonderful singing voice... I won't mind hearing it again and what more it has to say" said the dark skinned man whilst turning back to his old friend, Adam King...

[Adam King]

The two pals had arrived, full with insinuating macho inquisition. These two were anti-staples of the "catch more flies with honey than vinnegar". Though, to be fair, sometimes you just needed to drown a radge in vinnegar. Fortunately, Adam usually had a lot of wordy honey and they had a lot of smash-face-in vinnegar, so they worked well together. Thomis, however, seemed at least a bit intimidated as he picked up and with a smiley polite goodbye immediately moved to a farther away part of the establisment. With a sigh and a smile, Adam turned towards Novghor (or was it Sengven?), speaking fast and cheerfully, though low enough to keep the discussion between the three. "One: Thanks for scaring off my informer. Two: Before you ask, no, we're not going to beat the rest out of him. I've gotten enough and probably most he had for me. Three: Yes, I'm after the Hound - this dangerous mutt seems a gentleman one might be able to aspire towards, make a profit off-of-or-along-with or simply prove a welcome anti-Dagger' player. Hopefully all three. In any case, it's the sort of opportunity best taken early. Four: You petchers in for the search or what?" Adam downed his glass and leaned in closer, smiling in anticipation of their response. He would wrap his coat getting ready to soon head out, hopefully along with the two.

[Noven]

Noven watched Thomis go with mild disappoint before he turned back to Adam's scruffy, smirking visage. So, the Hound was a man. One mystery solved, only a few more to go.

"Oh, we're in," Nov answered. "But, uh, just where or who are we searching for, exactly?"

He remembered distinctly what Bitzer had told him yesterday. The first thing he had wanted to do, and would have usually done, was report this miraculous meeting with the strange woman to Seng as soon as the encounter ended. But, his friend hadn't been home at the time, and Nov resorted to lurking about the evening streets, hoping to find this man with the broad rimmed hat. Alas, all he managed to bring home was a coat damp from snow and zero leads on Bitzer's infuriatingly vague clue.

By the time he met up with Seng again to discuss their next course of action in finding the Hound, the whole encounter with Bitzer and her wolf seemed like a faraway dream. Nov was beginning to question whether he had conjured the whole thing up. Unsure of what he ought to do with the information, he simply chose not to reveal it until he felt it would be useful. At the moment, all he had wanted to do was see what he and Seng could find on their own in the Pig's Feet.

And, 'lo and behold, there Adam was before they'd even arrived, already engaged in all the chatting up they would likely need.

"Alright, here's the deal," Nov proposed. "I'll tell you what I know first, as a gesture of good will. Then you tell us what you managed to weasel out of pretty boy Thomis, we'll call it even, and go after this Hound fellow together."

He gave an apologetic look to Seng and explained, "Sorry I didn't tell you earlier, for the longest time I thought I had dreamed it all up. But I did manage to stumble across some information that may or may not be useful. Well, here goes nothing."

Without wasting any time, Nov explained how just the other day, he had been trying to follow one of those mysterious hooded figures lurking about on the roofs. He lost his target, but bumped into a very curious, slip of a girl and her wolf. Yes, her wolf.

"It's not something I can make up," he assured, keeping his voice low so no one around them would hear. "The girl literally had a pet wolf circling her feet the entire time. She played dumb at first, as though she knew nothing at all of this Hound and his ballsy business. But then she started grilling me with questions, and when I'd answered all of them, she grabbed me by the collar and told me to find the man with the broad rimmed hat."

He paused for a moment, then added, "Oh, and she also used the words 'us' and 'the scars,' as if she was part of some kind of...gang. Dared me to find out more about them and the Hound, she did. Was more cocky than all three of us combined."

Nov took a long draught from his pint, then looked expectantly at Adam. "Well, Mister King. Your turn."

[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

Senghor leaned over the table and listened in on the men as they spoke, truly this 'Hound' character was attracting to much attention and in time it wouldn't take long before people did either one of the two, capitalize or kill... He breathed steam into his palms slightly as he inclined his head towards, Noven as he spoke. His mind couldn't wrap around this man's intentions and truly it both angered and intrigued him... He sighed in frustration and sat back in his seat as Nov and Adam conversed, and it was than that his friend proposed a deal. Senghor thought he and Noven equally knew knowledge and here he was taking about some girl with a wolf and how cryptic she was, Seng was there when those hooded figures stalked thread roofs yet he just shrugged it off as a bunch of zealous fanatics belonging to some strange cult or some of that shyke. And Noven didn't tell him this, huh... Senghor listened in on him telling them about a broad man with a rimmed hat and thought aloud, "This is either one interesting thing to pursue or the simplest way to waste away our lives..." Senghor turned to both men, slightly reclining in his seat whilst smirking, "Either way, opportunity I don't know about you gentlemen but if we don't get moving, someone might beat us to it..."

[Wrenmae]

No one in Sunberth wore a broad-rimmed hat in the winter.

By its very nature, the hat was a call to hotter seasons, when the sun's scathing wrath sought to burn red palmed slaps across paler faces. In the winter, when the wind howled and grabbed at the unsuspecting, wearing such a hat would only invite the capricious fingers of Zulrav to yank it from ones crown and send it cascading down the dirty cobblestone.

So Fallon's clue was all that Wren needed. He was the one and only man with a hat such as that in Sunberth...or at least it appeared to be so. In the last two days he'd heard whispers begin to circulate about the nature of the Hound. Some assumed it was a Daggerhand ploy...yes, to root out their strongest enemies and slaughter them at once. The general had been a traitor in the first place and killing him to lure out their foes.

Another rumor suggested a mad mage from Sahova had settled among the gangs, seeking hidden mages among their population. Still others suggested it was the Nighteyes or even the Sun's Berth, although their domain was chiefly the territory of the Gated Community.

Some said it was Robern, not really dead, and seeking revenge.

To all of these, Wren simply encouraged their use, idly spreading his hypnotic influence to those around him in subtle conversations, meaningful glances. A sea was growing out of the trickle of many whispered streams...soon there would be a river. The Daggerhand would be seeking retribution, but how could they adequately respond to ten different origins?

Hit them all?

Wren opened the door into the Pig's Foot, drawing the eyes of cautious degenerates, sizing him up the moment he stepped inside. Calmly, he knocked loose snow from the broad brimmed hat on his head and removed it, shaking it off lightly before returning it to his head.

Passing the long bar, he paused only to slap a silver miza onto the table, take two mugs of ale, and take a seat toward the back of the room. One mug he put in front of himself and the other he put facing the empty chair. Tipping his hat down low over his eyes, he observed the bar with casual interest, feigning rest.

Those who Fallon had told would seek him out here, and it would be impolite not to offer a possible new ally, or crafty enemy the chance for a beverage. Crossing his arms across his narrow chest, the lithe man pushed away from the table, as if stretching to be comfortable.

He was not imposing, losing the eyes of most patrons the moment he stepped in. His light body was hardly threatening and his ostentatious choice in headwear suggested he was from out of town, passing through, or lost.

All of which weren't Sunberth's concern.