Meeting V ~ Chyril 23rd, Early TT

[Adriano Marinetti]

Adriano nodded in response to Rusty's greeting and took a seat. It felt safer, what with the redheaded adhiel and the bulky foreigner at his side. Althaluin wouldn't be trying anything foolish. That the big guy, Arnholt, had already taken to calling him 'boss', without any apparent sarcasm, was certainly a good sign.

"Namaste, Rusty. This here's Arnholt. He's new in town and looking for work. Here, of all places.", Adriano said, "Arnholt, meet Rusty, one of my most trusted friends."

He leaned closer to the adhiel criminal and glanced around to see if anyone was eavesdropping.

"There's some dangerous stuff set for tonight, Rusty. We're going after Scullio and Penna.", he continued in a softer voice, "He's gotten some people very angry, and I think there's some benefits to be had from removing him and his gang from the West End. For good. I'm going to need your help on this. Gather as many people as you can, as fast as possible. Signor Arnholt's particular talents will prove very useful."

He turned to his newly acquired asset and smiled.

"You up for a baptism of fire, outlander? We're gonna be needin' those daggers of yours tonight. I hope you're good with them, because we've got a shitload of people to kill.", he said.

"Now, any questions?", he asked and leaned back.

[Arnholt]

"Pleased to meetcha," Arnholt remarked, extending a beefy hand toward Rusty.

While the wanderer was looking for work, he hadn't exactly come in looking for it. His stumbling across a potential job while schmoozing with the elves of World's Mouth was nothing but sheer serendipity. But even with a couple of beers in him, Arnholt did not feel moved to clarify that point. Now clearly wasn't the time to start spouting off about his interest in comparative religion. Not while his prospective employer sounded to be setting up for some kind of major gangland hit, and was looking to bring Arnholt in on it.

The big man assumed a thoughtful mien as he considered the possibility of his committing multiple counts of capital murder on what was only his second night in town. Moral objections? Nope, he couldn't think of any. Maybe if he was being invited to massacre civilians. But this sounded like a gang war. Arnholt figured he wouldn't feel bad later if he killed a few gangsters. After all, going into the life, everyone knew the risks. Sure, some people did wind up on the wrong side of the law out of pure bad luck or gross misfortune. But so fucking what? They couldn't handle the danger of a life on the streets, they ought to have found some shit job elsewhere by now. Sure it wouldn't have been easy... but it was possible, and maybe better than dying. Hell, even Arnholt knew a couple guys who'd managed to leave leave the life behind.

Okay, then. I'm up for a little bloodshed. Might be fun. Dominicus will forgive me for killing a few assholes... or if not, fuck him.

On the other hand, Arnholt could also think of a few practical objections to his participation, here, and those were generally more serious. And the number one problem was, he knew next to nothing about any of the gangs to be involved in tonight's little tiff. Jumping into a fight with so little information was tantamount to cutting your own throat. He had no notion as to what numbers were involved or what kind of enemies he might make by getting into this crap. And while Snookums seemed like an alright guy on first glance, Arnholt didn't know much about him, either. He could be the kind of manipulative fuck who'd sign a guy like Arnholt up with the intention of pissing his life away as cannon fodder. Or he could be a complete tactical moron whose plan would only get everyone killed.

"Yeah..." Anrholt said slowly. "I done me some knifework before. And if I'm in, I'm in all the way. You'll see I'm a steady guy in a fight." He flashed his friendly grin. "But before I sign my fucking soul away, I got to have some more details than I do now. Gotta know what we've got to work with. What we'll be up against. Things like who you guys are, and who exactly the other guys are, to start. After all... I don't even know your real name, yet, boss."

[Tristam]

Tristam stepped somewhat warily into the Lost Elf Inn. His overtones to the adhiel community through renting preferentially to them and his affiliation with Black Heart should make him safe here. Yet, Tristam had never been quite brave enough to try it. He always paid an adhiel youth to put up his notices of apartments for rent. Today though, time was of the essence. Things were moving fast and he could not wait to work through intermediaries.

Scanning the room, Tristam picked out Adriano easily enough but he seemed to be in the middle of something. Rather than break into his discussion, Tristam wandered to the bar. He was sure Adriano would notice him as Tristam stood out in just about every way there was to.

Tristam laid a lance on the bartop. "Namaste. A glass of wine." Tristam ordered in adhiel. His accent was still horrible but the words should have been clear enough.

[Adriano Marinetti]

Adriano was, of course, taking a massive risk by hiring a new and unknown face off the street with virtually no questions asked, but the gang could not afford to be picky about new members. This was a time of crisis, a time that asked for decision and risk-taking. It was good to hear Arnholt was willing to risk his hide for his new friends, and the fact that he didn't simply agree to everything off the bat showed that he wasn't just a brainless thug. He'd prove to be useful. Looking around, Adriano noticed the arrival of Tristam, who had said he would meet him in the Lost Elf today. The man had valuable information, so he'd be the next one on the agenda, right after everything regarding tonight's hit was agreed upon. He waved and nodded to the Costanza man in an "I'll-be-with-you-in-a-moment" gesture the businessman would no doubt find familiar before turning to Arnholt again.

"Fair enough. Your ass is on the line here too, so it's only fair you know what's going down.", he said, "To answer your questions, one by one. We got all the men Rusty here can gather, in addition to you, me, and a couple of gentlemen of the magickal persuasion, and also the element of surprise coupled with a stealthy approach. We're up against... Well, a shitload of people. We are Black Heart's gang, or were, rather. The big boss is dead or missing, and now we've gotta fend for ourselves under new management. They, on the other hand, are Scullio and Penna, two minor hoodlums in the extortion, espionage and blackmail business. They're our only serious competition in the West End, and we need to remove them to consolidate power here. As for my name, for now you call me Signor Alfredo. You're going to need some time with us before you're completely trusted, capisce?".

He stroked his goatee.

"I'm going to be meeting with the people from the l... the people who've hired our services to dispose of their little problem later this tide, to make sure no problems have cropped up. I need you to gather every available man we've got and have them gather in here just before eveningtide. We'll meet here again and agree on the tactical approach.", he told Rusty before turning to Arnholt again, "You stay here, enjoy the drinks, and wait until you're called, or if you're going to leave don't stray too far and tell us where we can find you. Now, unless there's anything else, I have a very important man waiting for me, and it's not smart to keep important people waiting in this town."

[Morg]

The Lost Elf was not a big place, and it wasn't easy to hide away. Indeed, Althaluin kept turning and periodically regarding Adriano and Arnholt. Adhiel hearing was generally better than that of humans, but there was also a wider range, so it would be difficult to tell how much the ex-Kislovani heard of what they were saying. Those closer to would be able to hear without any problem at all, but no one appeared to be paying the two humans and the red-haired adhiel much attention for the flicker.

Since his friend Asher's disappearance, Rusty hadn't been quite as mouthy as he had been before. He listened calmly as Adriano outlined the situation, and then spoke. "I can gather maybe fifteen or a dozen, chief," he replied, unfazed. "If you need more than that, you'll have to look further afield. I'm not the big man around here."

Tristam's arrival drew mixed reactions. Unlike Arnholt, the young merchant was at least recognised in the area, although his actions in the Elf Quarter were still viewed with some suspicion by those who feared he might be trying to exploit them in some way. One broad, brown-haired adhiel - Althaluin - set his eyes on him in a murderous scowl before looking away to watch the other two humans. The girl at the bar, Aylmari, even gave him a smile, but an uncertain one, as she uncorked a bottle of the house white and poured him a glass. His effort to speak in the local language had clearly been appreciated, and the girl even passed two banner tentatively back across the bar as change.

[Arnholt]

Following the direction of Snookums' glance and wave, Arnholt was amazed to see the arrival of a familiar human face. A slight stiffening of his spine was the most visible sign of his surprise. "The fuck?" he muttered aloud. "It's what's-his-face from the Flying Dortman." Weird. A man in Arnholt's position might sometimes shadow a merchant for a while, waiting for a chance to take a shot at him, but he had never heard of it happening the other way around. And yet it had to be more than mere coincidence that the man was showing up in the Lost Elf, of all places. It had been made clear to the traveler shortly after his own arrival that World's Court humans just didn't do that. Happily, after only a flicker's reflection, the mystery was resolved.

"Oh yeah," said Arnholt, just a little sheepishly. "Friend of yours, huh boss? Guess that would be why he was hanging around with an elf last night. I mean, since I understand there's been some trouble between our people and yours here in World's Mouth," he added to Rusty, lest the adhiel think he was implying that hanging out with adhiel was somehow objectionable.

The big man listened to Snookums'... rather, to Signor Alfredo's explanation in sober silence. Truth be told, though, the little speech left him feeling pretty good about the job ahead, shitload of enemies notwithstanding. Black Heart gang, huh? I can work with that. Damn sight better than the Burning Crimson Fire Bandits, anyway. It would be nice to be part of a gang whose name he didn't have to spend five burns explaining every time it came up in conversation. More importantly, Alfredo had clearly given his plan some thought, which was definitely a promising sign. Arnholt liked the idea of a sneak attack backed my magic much better than a plain old clusterfuck of guys trying to stab one another. Hell... Alfredo might have won him over with the magic, period. That was high-end stuff. Arnholt's old gang hadn't so much as had so much as a hedge wizard at there disposal. He'd never even met anyone who did. No mistake: the Black Hearts looked to be a whole 'nother league above what he was used to.

"Wouldn't have it no other way, boss," he answered at the last. "But for now... hell, sign me up!" His tone was a merry one. Arnholt was looking forward to this already. I'll be out there tonight with blood in my eye." He just bobbed his head agreeably at Alfredo's next instructions. "Sure thing, boss. I got me a conversation I gotta get back to, myself. And, hey..." He stuck his hand out a final time. "Thanks for bringing me aboard. Mister Rusty." Arnholt gave the adhiel at the table a nod of farewell as he rose from his seat to find the white-haired elf.

Yessir, things are looking up. I got me a gen-yoo-ine shot at the big time, now. Arnholt grinned to himself as he sipped at his beer. His last, for today, unless he lived to tip a glass or two at the victory celebration. He for sure didn't want to go into a gang war bleary-eyed and foggy-headed. And anyway, the prospect of a knock-down, drag-out brawl was stimulation enough. What he wanted right now was to find that Carminello guy. Unless the white-haired adhiel had come back to the tap room during his brief meeting with Alfredo, Arnholt would begin by approaching Aylmari once more.

"Hello, again. I wanted to hear that story I didn't get to hear from Carminello. He still hanging around here somewhere?"

[Morg]

Rusty returned Arnholt's nod, his red Mohican bobbing jauntily. Evidently Adriano's advocacy meant that the brightly clothed adhiel wasn't going to reject him out of hand, even if he wasn't entirely sold yet. All told, it was a pretty moderate reaction, especially compared to Althaluin's hostility.

"He's in the back," the adhiel girl replied with a dainty shrug. "I think you'd better wait until they're finished..." As it happened, that wasn't long, for even as she spoke the white-haired adhiel emerged from the stairs along with the grey-haired Itinori. At their emergence Althaluin stirred, but he was not fast enough in acting to react to the old elf, who immediately made his way purposefully to the door and departed.

Carminello, on the other hand, made for Arnholt, depositing his two beer mugs down on the bar. "You're still here," he commented with a smile. "Good. I'm guessing signore Snookums put in a good word for you?"

[Arnholt]

"Not a problem," Arnholt agreed. Having come this far toward winning the trust of the adhiel (and the mysterious Black Hearts), he wasn't about to blow it now by barging in somewhere he wasn't wanted. And the elf girl's advice certainly hadn't steered him wrong so far. If it weren't for her, he'd still be bumming around World's Mouth looking for work, not to mention wondering why the city's elf population seemed to have a grudge against him. "Thanks again, Aylmari," he said with a wink. "For everything."

With nothing better to do in the interim, Arnholt stood around nursing his beer and watching the crowd. He paid no further attention to the comings and goings of Alfredo and that guy from the Dortman. None of his damn business, he figured, unless someone told him otherwise. And happily, Carminello happened along before he started to get bored. Arnholt was gratified to see that the old fellow hadn't forgotten him, either... though the big human supposed he was enough out of place, here, that it would be tough to forget him regardless.

"Yeah," the rookie gangster grinned. "If I ain't a made man, at least I got my foot in the door. I figure after tonight I'll have me a steady job. Or be dead." Arnholt thought that over for a flicker, and then lifted his heavy shoulders in a shrug, still smiling cheerily. "Either way, I don't guess I'll have to be worrying about my bills for a while. I'll make good on that offer to stand you another, if you still got that story to tell me."

He wanted to hear Carminello's tale now more than ever, given that he now had little else to do but hang around the tavern all day, and getting stone drunk wasn't an option.

[Adriano Marinetti]

With the business around the gang war settled, it was time to see what he and Tristam should talk about. If it was connected to Alvero, it was bound to be important. Nodding to Rusty, Adriano rose from his chair and made his way to the bar, ignoring both the paranoid (and quite obviously eavesdropping) Althaluin and Arnholt. He casually leaned on the bar next to Tristam.

"A glass of wine for me too, Aylmari.", he said and threw a few coins on the bar, and then addressed the Costanza trader sotto voce, "Just how important are the news you bring, signor Tormsen? Will we be needing privacy?".

[Tristam]

Tristam smiled back at the barmaid and slide the two banner back. "Keep it." He said in adhiel. "You need it more than I."

Tristam took a sip of his wine before turning to face Adriano. "A great many things are in upheaval and I come to talk of how to best take advantage." Tristam answered. "Privacy sounds best. Lead the way."

[Morg]

"Well, how could I refuse?" the white-haired adhiel murmured with a smile. "It's maybe not so great a story. But it starts with once upon a time." He took a seat at the bar and sipped gently at his beer.

"Once upon a time there were a whole range of peoples," he began, "and they all worshipped their own gods. Reasonable, eh? Different peoples are different, so they have different gods. But in time..." He sighed. "In time one of the peoples decided that their god was the only god worth worshipping. In fact, they decided that their god was the only god who even existed, despite plentiful evidence to the contrary. So they started trying to convince other peoples of this, and other peoples disagreed with them. Again, reasonable." He smiled. "If you disagree with something, you're not just going to accept it because the other guy thinks he's more right. But then the people doing the convincing had a problem. They thought they were so very right, and what do you do with someone who refuses to believe you no matter what you say? You can't just leave them be, because they're spreading a lie. So you kill them, or send them away, or both. And that's what the Mouth's been doing."

He took another gulp of beer as he finally contextualised what he'd been saying. "Now, in my view, it's fine to believe something like your god's the only one, even if it's crazy. In fact, in my view, it's fine to believe whatever you want to believe. But it's not fine to tell other people what to believe." Carminello's low voice was firm, and his expression serious, as he addressed Arnholt. "You with me so far?"

Aylmari nodded and smiled again to Tristam and poured another glass of white wine for Adriano, collecting up the coins. Three humans in the Lost Elf in one day, she reflected in disbelief. We haven't had that many since the Puros came in here during the expulsion. Still, they seemed to be good tippers... but that wasn't going to change the barmaid's rather negative opinion of the human race. Humans, after all, didn't have nearly as much trouble earning money as did the adhiel, so it stood to reason that they could be more generous.

[Arnholt]

"Keep 'em coming for my new friend, here, please," Arnholt told Aylmari. He pushed a couple more banners her way as he settled in to listen to his... well, maybe 'friend' was a bit of a stretch. But that was Arnholt: ever the optimist, at least once he'd had a couple drinks. Anyway, he figured that as long as he was buying, he could call Carminello a friend if he liked.

The big man listened to the beginning of Carminello's story with interest. Not just an "Oh, well, maybe this will while away a few burns" sort of interest, but the honest-to-God, genuine kind. Now this was pretty much the kind of talk he'd been hoping to hear when he first walked into this place, and before he realized how suspicious the adhiel were of humans like himself. A good Oneist would have been mortally offended right off the bat, sure, but Arnholt was hardly that. He was about as backslid a Oneist as it was possible to get while still maintaining some faith in Dominicus. And frank talk about the state of the Church and antics of the gods above was the next best thing to ambrosia for him. Arnholt couldn't even remember the last time he had met anyone who had ever really shared his interest in a candid discussion of questions of the faith. Sooner or later it always came down to "Dominicus smite this willful heretic!" or "Shut the fuck up, Bram! Can't a guy just drink in peace?"

Was it any wonder, then, that he'd acquired a great curiousity regarding the pagan peoples? Who else was there to talk to, really, to get a fresh perspective?

"With you all the way, sir," Arnholt said expansively, reveling in the freedom that came from speaking in a roomful of people who couldn't care less about blasphemous talk. "Don't start nothing... that's my motto. You gotta fight hard enough to stay alive, it ain't worth it to try and beat your own beliefs into other people's heads." Lowering his voice out of reflex, rather from any genuinely felt need for caution, the big man went on, "Know what I think? I think that Balthasar turning up daisies and the kingdom being divided is the final proof that there's more gods out there than just the One. Why'd old Dominicus get his ass kicked if there weren't no one pushing back? Hmm? And anyhow, what you say is so. People will believe what they want. They'll do it no matter how many get put to the sword. One god just don't fit everyone. And that's why..."

Arnholt paused, blinking slowly. For a moment his finger hovered in the air in mid-pontificating gesture. He hadn't spoken to anyone to honestly in years, and here he was spouting off to the second elf in one day? Crowd of heathens or no, maybe some caution was still warranted.

"Huh," he said at last. "Nevermind. You were telling the story, not me." And flashed his friendly smile. "Go on, then."

[Adriano Marinetti]

The back room was quite popular today, it seemed. Everyone had confidential information to share. Adriano nodded, took his glass of wine, and moved towards the stairs without a word, expecting Tristam to follow. Once they were both inside, he sat on one of the chairs and took a sip of wine, motioning lazily towards the other chair.

"There we go. Privacy.", he said, studying the trader carefully, "Now, what sort of upheaval are we talking about, signor Tormsen? And just how exactly am I to derive any benefit from said upheaval?".

He hoped it was something he hadn't heard already, something with more far-reaching implications than the death of Hart.

[Morg]

Carminello smiled sadly. "The story is probably the less interesting part," he admitted. "What happened? Well, we - that is, the non-humans of the Mouth - became more and more despised. We couldn't get a job, we couldn't make it in trade or the military. And part of the unfairness of that was that halflings and dwarves who've lived here for yahren, faithful worshippers of Dominicus, were suddenly cast as pagans because of their race. But that was only the tip of the iceberg. I'll tell you now, I was a Panling for most of my life. It was only when I got to Aveas that I turned away from the Horned God. But I get ahead of myself." He grinned and gulped down some ale.

"There were expulsions after a while. The Puros came in here and kicked a lot of backsides. You met Rusty over there? He's been a lot quieter since his best friend Asher tried to resist the Purificatio and got his head smashed in for his trouble. Lots of people fought, but we didn't have the advance warning we needed. They sent off thousands to Pax, and as many to Aveas as part of the Magisters' armies. I was sent to Aveas. Had to fight for the chance to be a free adhiel again. So I fought, and I killed a couple of Panling adhiel and a centaur out there. Did what I could to survive." Carminello shrugged. "If it makes it seem any better, they would have killed me first if they'd had the chance. I still despise myself for it, though," he continued matter-of-factly.

"I survived, and won the right to come back here. And I imagine you're wondering why I'm telling you all this. Well, it's because I guessed you were a good sort, and I'm fed up of pretending that what's happened to us here is fair, or that anything done by the Prodesse diocese in the name of Dominicus is just. Because I know justice when I see it, and I know that we're sitting on the wrong end of a heavily weighted set of scales at the moment. And I just wanted to know if there were any humans out there who cared about bringing the balance back." The adhiel shook his head in a self-mocking fashion and glanced up at Arnholt.

[Arnholt]

The second part of Carminello's tale was the bit that Arnholt had been expecting from the beginning: the sad tale of how World's Mouth's pagan population had gotten the shaft so bad. It didn't come as much of a surprise. Arnholt was well acquainted with Oneists' capacity for cruelty toward their own fellow believers. Of course it only stood to reason that they treated the heathens a whole lot worse. The big man's own life hadn't exactly been a walk in the park, by most folk's reckoning, but he was able to empathize to some degree with the suffering that Carminello described. Though not, of course, to the extent that Arnholt suddenly found himself imbued with a burning passion for righting the wrongs done the adhiel people.

As the white-haired elf finished his tale and looked to Arnholt for his reaction, he would find the human with his mug upended, draining the dregs of his last beer for the day. Then the big man leaned back in his seat with a contemplative look on his face. He remained silent for several flickers, making up his mind as to whether to let Carminello down easy, or to just go with the flow for now. After several long flickers, he began to speak.

"Well, Carminello," Arnholt said mildly, "first of all, lemme tell you a little bit about me. Contrary to what your buddy with the temper might think, I didn't actually come here to the Lost Elf looking for Snookums. Hadn't even heard of him until I got here. I was happy to find a job, yeah, but I came here first of all because I was wanted to get to know your people. By which I mean you adhiel... but especially, you pagans." The big man fished out his little book of prayers to Dominicus, which he carried with him nearly everywhere. The book was dog-eared and foul. It had seen a lot of hard use. Arnholt held it half hidden in a fold of his cloak, figuring that waving one of the One's holy books around in plain sight was not a likely path toward continued popularity in the Lost Elf. "Yeah, I'm a Oneist. Sort of. I didn't fight in the war, on account of I was lucky enough and sneaky enough to avoid the press gangs in King's Court. Or because the Vanguard didn't come after us petty criminals as hard as the Purificatio came after you all. I dunno." He slid the book away again. "Maybe if I believed hard enough... I mean, really believed... I would've fallen for Balthasar's bullshit. Become a crusader. But I don't, and I didn't."

Arnholt folded his hands neatly on the bar in an almost prayerful pose, looking back at Carminello to see if he was still following. A former Panling, huh? Then he ought to understand as well as anyone could.

"Truth is, Dominicus really don't have much to say that means a shit to a guy like me. And I don't get off on feeling like a good person just because I still say my prayers regular. Now, a pagan like you, I guess if you lose faith in one god you can find another pretty easy... yeah? I mean, there's all kinds, the way you folk see the world." Arnholt grinned easily, aware that this might be merely a typical Oneist misconception on his part. He had no earthly idea how hard or painful it might have been for Carminello to turn away from Pan. Nonetheless, the human plowed on. "Anyhow, I figure maybe Dominicus just ain't the god for me. But damned if I know who'd be a better fit. An' that's why I wanted to make me some pagan friends. Maybe get a chance to see life from a different perspective. Maybe there's some god out there who speaks to me."

The big man chuckled weakly. "Well. I ain't never told that to anyone else before, you know. But I guess there's no harm in telling you, since it sounds like you been through the same... eh... dark night of the soul stuff, before. Anyway... if I may answer, at length, the question you seemed to be askin'." Now Arnholt met Carminello's gaze directly. "I don't know if I believe in justice. However, I do think I could come to like you adhiel pretty well. And I'm always up for thumbing my nose at some of the more obnoxious sheep in the One God's fold." And again, he flashed his easy grin. "You got anything in mind, I'll help you out. Just as a fucking hobby. Especially if it'll help me make a few friends around here. I still got a lot I want to learn from you all."

[Tristam]

Tristam looked about the back-room and shrugged. He felt certain adhiel ears could still hear him but it would have to do. "The first part I am sure you already know. Hart is dead. No doubt the battles to control what was once his territory have already begun. When the battles for the West End are over, I want the Black Heart to be on top." Tristam tossed a purse onto the table with a heavy clink. Inside the pouch was a crown's worth of lances. "Consider that a contribution to the fund."

[Adriano Marinetti]

Well, it was something. Any amount of money was well appreciated, as the gang needed all thehelp and resources it could get. Adriano weighed the money in his hand, and then pocketed it with an appreciative nod.

"Much obliged. I assure you that we will come out on top in any conflicts in this area, and that we will continue our fruitful cooperation with your business.", he said. Revealing anything about tonight's hit would be too risky - the less people knew about it, the better.

"You said you spoke to Alvero. Wouldn't happen to know of any plans the gentleman may have for our part of town, would you?", he asked.

[Morg]

"Well, maybe I can help teach you," Carminello responded affably. "I suppose I wasn't expecting you to leap to our defence, but if you have a hand to lend, it would be welcome. And I'm sure there are a few things I can learn from you, too." The adhiel followed Arnholt's example, downing the remnants of his glass. Although weak, the drink was already having a visible effect on the elf's movements, one of the disadvantages of the adhiel physiology.

"When I followed Pan I didn't believe in justice either," he confided. "I thought that the gods didn't care about it - didn't care about us. But I was proven wrong. Now I believe in Justice with a capital J, and the Righteous, but that's not essential. All you need is a sense of what's fair and what's not, however subjective you believe it to be. There's a group of us here who want to even the score a little." He grinned. "We meet at the tanner's shop across the road. The owner's a friend of mine. If you want to drop in on us, you'd be welcome, although please don't spread the word too much. You can imagine that the Prodesse doesn't take kindly to people planning to rough up its servants."

Carminello sighed. "Apologies again if I have overreached myself," he finished. "I'm just not used to dealing with open-minded humans. Anyway, if you're interested, pay us a call. There's a lot we can show you." He extended a slender, white hand. "Nice to meet you, signore Arnholt."

[Arnholt]

"Maybe so, maybe so," Arnholt said, agreeing readily enough to the idea that Carminello could learn from him as well. General stuff, he supposed, such as the perspective of a human and a Oneist and like that. He didn't really figure Carminello would be interested in the more specialized knowledge he had, such as his passing familiarity with religious trivia and his knack for gutter fighting. Or for that matter, how to tell if your drinking buddy was starting to get a little tipsy. Having worked as a mugger gave you an eye for any little hint of weakness like that. Rolling drunks was easy work... if sad. Thank God I found me a job already. Dominicus willing, I won't be having to pull that kind of shit again for a while.

"I don't figure justice is one of Pan's priorities," the big man remarked. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but the way I understand it, Pan's mostly into folks getting piss-drunk or stoned out of their heads and then fucking like bunnies. And also putting foot to ass if anyone hassles them." Arnholt flashed a sly smile with that, to say he knew he was grossly oversimplifying things. But from his father's perspective, much like that of so many devout Oneists, that was Pan in a nutshell. Arnholt himself didn't actually have a problem with any of those elements of Panling faith. It just seemed to him that, taken all together, the whole thing was little more than an elaborate philosophy of mindless escapism. A religion devoted to gross self-indulgence and little else. Pan didn't really seem to do anyone much good as far as surviving life's daily struggle. Case in point: the fate of Pan's Isle, now called Aveas. What good was a god who couldn't protect his worshippers' own fucking homeland?

The human just looked blank at the mention of "the Righteous," especially since it was given in the context of gods. Arnholt had a wide-ranging, if largely superficial understanding of the various strains of pagan faith, and he couldn't for the life of him think of a deity who went by that sobriquet. Red Warrior, maybe? Eh. "The Righteous" is probably just the name of Carminello's revolutionary social club. Still, the big man did look slightly wistful at the adhiel's faith in gods that actually cared about people. Arnholt couldn't remember the last time he actually felt like Dominicus cared about him. Probably it was no later than after the first full week of his living alone on the mean streets of King's Court. Having to scrounge for food in the garbage could disabuse you of such notions rather quickly.

"Hell, I'd love to drop by," Arnholt said in all sincerity. Whatever else could be said for them, a clandestine gang of Prodesse-hating elves ought to be pretty damn interesting company. Just being welcomed anywhere by adhiel would be an excellent way to start satisfying his curiosity. "And don't worry about me, friend. I ain't the time to go 'round shooting my mouth off about other folks' business. But, uh... what'd be a good time to drop by? Or can I really just drop your name to your friend there, and expect to be let in any time?"

He answered Carminello's closing comments with his usual, friendly grin. "Oh, sure. My mind's open all the way. I'm a what ya call... a free-thinker." His father had damned that sort as the worst sort of heretic, but Arnholt rather enjoyed self-applying that designation. It even made him feel sort of free. He shook the adhiel's hand firmly. "Nice to meet you, signore Carminello. I'll hope to see you over there real soon."

[Morg]

"We're open at all times, but it's best to come by at morningtide or gravetide," Carminello replied after a flicker's thought. "We all have day jobs like you, signore. Actually, they're mostly better termed late eveningtide jobs." He smiled. "But you get the idea."

Once they'd said their goodbyes, the white-haired adhiel made his way back over to Althaluin and the two began conversing in a low voice. The exact words could not be overheard by any of the others present, although the broad Althaluin didn't look happy at what he was hearing - but then he rarely looked happy at anything, so that was no particular giveaway.

[Arnholt]

"Yeah. I get it." Or at least the big man thought he did.

Way he figured it, most of Carminello's buddies really did have day jobs like Arnholt. Their line of work must be just about as shady anyway. The white-haired elf had ties to the Black Hearts, in addition to whatever the Righteous was. So how likely was it that Carminello was the only one in that lot with illicit connections? Not every revolutionary, vigilante whatever was an honest tanner by day. Underworld types and revolutionaries go pretty much hand in glove. Hell, we're all malcontents of one stripe or another. Probably there was more than one reason that lot liked to meet in the witching hours.

Arnholt watched as Carminello headed back toward Altha, and wondered idly whether the hotheaded elf was in with the Righteous, too. It would at least explain why he seemed to listen to the older adhiel. In another moment, however, the human's gaze was wandering over the room at large. Just looking for something else to do. Drinking was out. Would any of these other elves want to talk? Probably not. Game of cards, then? Or darts? Arnholt was spectacularly bad at both, but he had fun trying. He didn't know if either were available here, though, or if anyone would take him up on a game even if they were.

Finally he just turned his eyes back to the bartender. "Hey Aylmari. They serve food here too, by any chance? I haven't had lunch yet today."

[Tristam]

"He wants to upgrade it." Tristam snorted. "Buy it up on the cheap and try and turn the West End into another Silver District. As a merchant I cannot fault his logic but as one with a vision for the city I think it short sighted to run the adhiel out. There is so much they could give to the Mouth if only they were given the chance." Tristam shook his head. "So while we are allies in other arenas, here it may be that we will come into conflict. Yet another reason I would see you have a strong grip here."

"No doubt you have heard about my own difficulties." Tristam commented. "Have no fear on that score. Countermeasures are in place. But I would ask of you one thing. Have a couple of your lads watch my block of buildings. If anyone shows too much interest in them I'll need to know. Any pains you take to keep them safe will of course be rewarded."

[Adriano Marinetti]

Adriano nodded with a frown. It was expected of Alvero to try and pull off something like that. The man had melted gold flowing through his veins, and no conscience or loyalties to anything but money. If money could be made from turning the West End into an exclusive neighborhood for the elite, he would stop at nothing to do it. That was probably the reason Alvero wanted to see him - he needed someone to help him make the neccessary arrangements. He pondered the possibility of actually cooperating with Alvero. Perhaps he was too powerful to be stopped, but his plans could, through discussion and negotiation, be modified to provide a benefit to the adhiel of the district as well. That was an issue for another day, however.

He finished off his wine and rose from his chair.

"I figured he'd do something like that. Don't worry, though. I'll talk to him tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow at the latest. With Hart dead, some things need to be renegotiated, and his development plans for the Elf Quarter are part of that. I'll see to it they're developed in a direction that will be beneficial for both of our businesses.", he said, "If our position is strengthened, we'll have enough bargaining power to make him deal with us as partners rather than obstacles. I'll have some guards posted around your buildings, and I'll keep in touch. Looks like we're done here."

After exiting the room, he approached Rusty once more.

"Rusty, Mr. Tormsen is worried about his properties, what with the recent troubles his family's been having. Get a couple of the boys to look after them.", he said and patted the thug on the shoulder before leaving the inn. Some things had to be arranged with the people in the Lycaeum.

[Morg]

No card games or dartboards could be seen in the Lost Elf for the moment, but Arnholt would be able to spot two young adhiel dressed in rustic clothes and playing a game of some sort. Between them on the table was a wooden board holding two rows of six depressions in the wood, and two larger pits, one at either end. The pits contained varying numbers of brightly coloured glass counters. The pair were smiling and talking in Adhiel as they played.

"Food? Yes, we do," Aylmari replied cheerfully. "We have some venison in from T'aquar... ah... if you're feeling like something special, or we can do you a frittata. We have broccoli, ricotta, spinach, tomatoes, asparagus... and there's a beef stew on, as well."

Rusty nodded and made a reassuring hand gesture at Adriano when approached. "I'll ask Carhiel to look into it," he replied with a smile. "See you this eveningtide, chief."

[Arnholt]

Arnholt's gaze fixed with interest for a short while on the two elves and their game. He had a passing acquaintance with the set-up. Mancala. That was what those sort of games were called. In his childhood days, the traveler had known a deacon who'd had a game like that. The man had used to play it with some of the kids at the local church after services. But Arnholt's father had considered such things an indulgent waste of time better spent learning Dominicus's good word. That alone was almost enough incentive for the big human to approach the adhiel pair... except, as he recalled, it was strictly a two person game. So maybe he'd just watch from afar for a while.

Yeah... just like old times. But maybe later I'll ask 'em to teach me to play.

For now his attention turned again to Aylmari. "Frittata? Oh yeah... that's basically an omelet, right?" After a flicker's consideration, he went on, "I'll have the venison, please. Very rare. And, uh, one more for the road." Arnholt slid his empty mug over to her, figuring it didn't really count as drinking as long as it went with a meal. He forked over whatever payment was needed without any argument. Again, the big man figured he'd have steady work after tonight, or be too dead to care about his finances. Not that he was beyond considering his future altogether, He did remark, "Know what else? I kind of like it here. And since I'm signing on with the local businessmen... and the Flying Dortman really ain't my style... I was wondering. You got a vacancy here for a guy like me?"

Arnholt was pretty sure that humans residing in the Lost Elf was not verboten. Otherwise, why write the sign in human as well as adhiel? Of course he wasn't entirely sure whether a ninadhiel like him would be welcome around here for the long term. It would be nice, though, to live right where the Black Hearts seemed to be based out of. Not to mention he'd be right across the street from those Righteous guys, if they turned out to be worth his time. Wouldn't hurt to be close to the Lycaeum, neither. They were practically certain to have a few books relevant to his peculiar interests.