"Well... yes, actually. Maybe."

He wasn't even lying. Even if he didn't disclose his conversation with EP from early in the morning, his reading their two stolen tomes hadn't proved fruitless. Rua leaned back on one foot as he relaxed. "There's actually a ruin somewhere around here that's associated with Kasdim-Ur somehow," he told Terrel. "It might take us a couple days to get there, but it's better than waiting around Rogueport for something to crop up."

And hell, maybe it'll give him a lead on finding this mysterious EP. "But first, we gotta go talk to the info broker I found out about last night," continued the player, as Relayia took flight from the bed to move to his shoulder.

oh heavens, please don't let George freak out . . . Bekka's mind went spinning as she tried to control her own reaction. It was obviously a fantasy game, in which strange and wondrous creatures could be found, and even played as if a gamer were in the mood. But it still took some getting used to. For George, a mercenary from a brutal homeland . . . a four-armed creature might not go over very well.

For her own part, she had an easy enough time keeping her reaction in check. She'd seen much in this game, and a four-armed creature that looked more fitting of a sci-fi movie didn't cause her to stumble.

Rather than drawing attention to her comrade's "newb" status. The creak and rustle of armor next to her kept to a minimum, though she could feel the wariness pouring off George like heat from a furnace. She pressed ahead with a simple smile. "I'm Bekka, this is George." She inclined her head to the side to indicate her armored companion. "As to the Stamarian prison. Torturers make poor soldiers." She said with more assurance than she felt.

The creature's eyes were unnerving, giving her the urge to double-check everything she said for fear of angering the apparently powerful Lion. She'd done enough to anger powerful people in the last three months to last her a lifetime. Perhaps a very short lifetime. Best not to press her luck.

______

Sera tilted her head to the side in thought, strumming the strings of the guitar absentmindedly. "The main bazaar is where I'll start, I imagine." She finally said after a moment, eyes far-off. "I heard the Mayor frequents the classier parts of it. And if someone's controlling the Mayor . . .well, they'd not let their prize poodle go unattended, would they. Whoever's got the power will have someone watching him. I find them, try to make my way up the chain."

Peer watched them closely, noting their own wariness. With one hand, he tapped a few keys at his terminal while using another hand to grab a display and angle it toward his guests. At once, the screen filled itself with two diagrams of two individuals, the outlines matching Bekka and George. The diagrams were filled with their heat signatures, and along the sides were their general information: height, weight, body temperature, heart rate, and even a potential blood pressure range. If they got anxious, they would be able to visibly see it right in front of them. Most people found the situation increasingly uncomfortable.

"Yes," he said simply in response to what Bekka had said, deciding to get straight to the point. With a few more key strokes, he changed the display on another screen to a camera of their docking bay, angling that one toward them as well. "This is your ship--Reaper Variant, special edition, yes? A gift, no doubt, from the powers at be for your previous contracting experience with them. Generous of them to leave it in your hands even after losing that connection."

He leaned back in his chair only slightly, raising the two six fingered hands together and steepling them in front of his chest, as if in thought. "Curious of you to go charging after a friend given your current vulnerability, don't you think? I understand your connection runs deeply, but your entire ex-cohort is very capable, even in this realm. You do not fear death in this game like most who play now do."

"You'd have to be like the people around here if you want that to work," Fille told Sera. She shook her head and leaned back, looking up at the unadorned wall with distant eyes; a sign that she was thinking. "To be honest, you're not cut out to be a criminal and that's the only way to make yourself known here."

Slowly, the auburn-haired girl rocked her head gently from side to side. "I think you should just attempt to find out where they socialize at and filter in with the entertainment," she suggested finally. "You're best off keeping a low profile until you can do your thing. This isn't a place you want people to sink their claws into you, Sera."

Terrel frowned, giving up on tidying her appearance and turning to face Rua again. "If you already know about the temple, what do we need the broker for? Those guys nickle and dime you for information that ends up being a trap half the time anyway. Seems like we'd be better off skipping town as fast as possible." Last night had been a good reminder why.

Rua cocked his head to the side, a perplexed expression on his face, as he crossed his arms in front of him. "Well, what would you rather do--bank on a chance that we might find something at a dessicated ruin in the middle of nowhere, or have a professional find concrete info?"

He then shook his head and made a dismissive gesture with one hand. "Besides, the guy we're going to see, we won't have to worry about paying. I've got that part figured out already."

Something seemed to change in Bekka's manner as she slowly realized, with a sinking feeling in her gut, that this man would not be easy to fool or keep on the outside. He was already knowledgeable as to who she was and what she could do. He knew she had a Reaper gunship, and he very likely wanted something.

On the other hand . . so did she. She clamped down on the churning in her stomach, trying to muster the words in her suddenly dry throat to speak. But then . . .George's calm voice spoke out, buying her time and appearing, at least to Bekka, as a gesture from an old friend covering her back.

"the Orphans face death every other week, Peer." The armored form said simply. "And we don't leave people behind. Curious to you, maybe. The only option to us."

The few seconds he'd bought her was enough, Bekka mustered a grim smile as she realized she didn't have to try and pretend any more. Not with Peer. He could check their vitals, so faking wasn't really an option. "My Cohorts are extremely capable." She agreed solemnly. "But this world brings new dangers that they don't quite understand. And anyways . . .I've faced death most of my life, in one form or another. I don't leave brothers or sisters behind, no matter what the relationships were on the outside. Ties like that matter."


_____

Sera nodded. What Fille said made sense. But she had the urge to say no. "It's. . . almost to prove a point, I think." she finally said after another silence. Her orange-flecked eyes gazing up to Fille, once again a sadness filling their depths. "Theta's are running scared. Fille. They're terrified of death in this game. Bloody hell, we're all dying, for crying out loud." Her voice seemed to grow almost desperate. "Here we still have a chance, a better one than what real life gave us, in some ways. Call me crazy, but I want to be the Outlander bard, the Theta who sang for kings and queens, even though she could die doing it. For the first time in over a decade, I've got a chance to live, to dance, to sing. I'm going to take it, and take it on my terms."

She trailed off slowly, closing her eyes, surprised by her own tone, more than a little desperation in it. "I'll be out of your hair in a bit, have no worries about that. Risking my life I can do, because it's mine to risk. Yours . . isn't."



Edited by Ajax on June 10, 2014 at 0:17:18

Fille looked back at Sera over her shoulder, listening carefully to what she had to say. At the end, Fille only closed her eyes and shook her head. "That's... understandable. But death isn't the only risk here, and it wasn't what I was warning you about."

She turned back to the wall, idling kicking her legs back and forth in a slow manner. "This is a criminal hive, and to make a name for yourself here to get an audience normally, you gotta be one yourself. But then you're stuck, and you'll be lucky if they ever give you a chance to leave."

She glanced down at her bare feet--her boots were still in the corner of the room--and continued speaking her mind, her accented voice soft. "You sound like you've got a whole world to see, and you won't get to see it like that. Just infiltrate where they'll be at, and take your chance to sing for them. If they think it's worth it, they'll notice you without thinking you're one of them. And given what this place is, I think accomplishing that will be all the more worth it."

Suddenly, Fille kicked herself up off the bed, moving to get her boots. "Well, either way you still need to find out where they'll be at, so we need to figure that out first, right?"

Sera couldn't help but give Fille a confused look. Why was she helping? She could have sworn Fille thought she was insane. But the auburn-haired woman still talked as though she meant to help her. "Quid Pro Quo, at the least. You need someone to watch your back? What's the deal with that?" She asked, standing and stretching her tired body. She was puzzled as to Fille's actions . . .but if the woman would show her kindness, could she do anything less than try to help her right back?

"There's only one profession in this bloody town," Terrel grumbled, though her posture indicated resignation. "How far away is this guy, and how are you paying him?"

---

"There is a middle ground between abandonment and needless risk," Peer said, his tone snide but dismissive. "One would think that if those were so strong as you suggested, you would not have broken from them not so long ago, yes?" he asked, his eyes meandering to the screen of their diagnostics to see how she handled such a direct question.

"Mercenaries, traditionally, are driven almost entirely by avarice, though the code you once followed seemed to be one of family instead. What does that make you? For now you have no family in this strange and hostile world, and your actions suggest you are not sure what to make of it. Perhaps the time has come for a new path."

Peer stood now from his chair, his long legs extending him to his full height of around seven feet. With easy strides, the man walked over to the window that overlooked the Core, tapping it once with a hand to change the display. Immediately, the view faded and was replaced by a map of the world, hundreds of points lighting up all around the globe.

"Money may not interest you, and I cannot guarantee you family, but I can offer you power--power to make your own path, instead of living under the subjugation of another's." Peer clicked two pairs of fingers, and the points on the map populated, information stemming from them fluidly and covering the entire window from left to right.

"These are just a few of the ongoing contracts the White Lions are engaged in at current. The pay is handsome, in this world and out--if you ever get out--but I think we both understand it's about more than that. If you accepted an offer on one of them, we could negotiate including references for team members as well. Should I continue?"

"I told you, we don't have to worry about paying him," Rua said once more in a dismissive tone of voice. "He's not too far from here, actually--he's hiding out closer to the edge of town."

He motioned for Terrel to get up as he began moving to the door. "C'mon, let's try and catch him before he slips off for whatever it is that he does for the day."

Fille blinked at the oddity of the question. "Well, I'm a Theta too, you know," she replied, the lilt in her voice more pronounced in the confused tone she answered in. "A Theta in Rogueport, at that. Why wouldn't I want someone to watch my back?"

"If you fear for your life, why stay in Rogueport?" Sera questioned with more than a little confusion. "Why not go to Minervum, wait out the storm in safety?"

_____

"You garuntee leaving the so-called subjugation of one for your own." Bekka replied matter-of-factly. Her voice without rancor or anger, stating what she saw as fact.

She was about to deny him. She really was. He offered power, but she'd never wanted power, not particularly. Enough to safeguard her loved ones . . . but besides that, no.

The rational part of her brain said he was a resource, a way to get help. And apparently her comrade thought the same thing. As she opened her mouth to speak, George cut her off yet again. "You should continue, sir." He said with a polite, business-like edge to his modulated voice.

"I wasn't intending to stay in Rogueport," Fille told her as she slipped her boots on. "I needed to wait a bit to get the info I want, and I also came across a foolish woman looking to get knifed in the street because she kept advertising herself to all of the thieves around here."

She gave Sera a rather dry look from the side.

"Because a guitarist singing for her food is a prime target for theft." Sera laughed as she stood, stretching her sore body. Everything felt so real. She absentmindedly wondered if everyone felt it like this, or only her. Maybe her condition on the outside had something to do with it, or maybe no one else talked about being sore. She really wasn't all that sure.

"Well, this "foolish" girl is going to continue her "foolish" path." She said with a sleepy smile. "I'll watch your back while you're here, but I don't think you'll want to go where I'm going. End-goal of the Valtheran warzones . . . heard most Theta's bugged out of there when they found they were mortal."

Terrel grunted, but she made to follow Rua all the same. "I hope you know this guy from more than just last night," she said, not terribly convinced but also not in any position to call the shots. "Or if he just owes you a favor, that works too."

---

Peer focused on the woman for a moment, speaking to her directly, for he had anticipated the remark to a certain degree. "This world is full of yokes and burdens. Ours differ in the fact that the strong and capable may rise above it, if they wish. To some, the Lions are a family. To myself, it is simply business, the likes of which may bring great freedom, especially for someone such as yourself."

The lights on the map pulsed again, and Peer brought his attention back to it. "You may sort your missions either by objective or by location, if you prefer, though we can arrange transportation out of the Core with ease. I will warn you, though, that once you leave we will not invite you back here freely. Few may travel to the Core without great expense--the one who brought you was very generous. If this is all acceptable to you, Bavish can assist in the remaining details."

The armored form of her companion spoke simply, his tongue the half-gibberish, alien tongue of their home in the physical world. "Aanvaar sy aanbod. Glo my."

the words brought back a flood of memories . . . a half-eaten apple on the streets, a smiling, manic-eyed child gazing up to her and telling her it was okay, to believe him, to trust him. She'd done it then, for Duff. And George was like a brother to her bearded, psychotic friend. Once upon a time, he'd been a brother to her too. And something in his tone brought back the familiar feel she'd missed for months.

She didn't like this Peer, his way of viewing things, and she had a feeling she wouldn't like his way of doing things. But she'd worked with Outcasts and Derringers before. With Blood Hound and Black Dog. If she could work with a literal crazy clown on the outside of the game, a four-armed buisnessman inside wasn't such a hard thing to ask.

"It's acceptable." She finally replied, her voice sounding a dozen times more confident of the world than her brain felt at the moment. "Bavish can handle the details? We'll just see ourselves out to him, then."

Bec laughed. "You might want to be careful of forming your opinion so early. After all, you haven't seen me try to fire a gun, yet. It's not pretty; trust me, I've tried." He shook his head with the last vestiges of laughter. More seriously, though, Duff made a good point. It was suspicious to be toting around so many weapons. Especially modern guns. While the tech did exist within the context of the game, their use wasn't nearly as wide-spread as other sorts of weaponry. Dangerous, yes, and effective as well, but most of the players within the game had leanings more towards fantasy or sci-fi combat, so it would seem particularly strange to see two players toting around a veritable cache.

Thankfully, Bec had a fix for that. They were still in the bank, so accessing his own vault was fairly easy. It took only a few moments before a wooden crate now sat on the disc, covering the weapons from sight. "I uh... I normally use that to reach things that are a bit to high up for me." he explained.

"Something like that, yeah," Rua affirmed as they left the room, and then the hell altogether. The stench of caught fish seemed extra strong this morning, causing him to prickle his nose and for Relayia to nearly try to find some of the fish herself. She was only stopped by Rua raising a hand to hold her back.

As the creature chirped reproachfully, Rua shaded his eyes from the sun with his other hand and looked about. "Let's see... think she said it was in... that direction," he muttered to himself. He raised his voice higher as he confirmed. "Yeah. This way."

They only had to go a little ways before Rua was certain he could see the right place; he saw the half-rotted boat propped up on the side like she had told him. They still had a ways to go before they arrived, so he nodded aside to his companion.

"You're gonna need to answer the door," he informed her. "He, ah, probably won't help if he sees me right away. His guard will be down if he talks to you first. Just ask him that you're there for some info."

Fille nodded at that. "Still, in Valtheran there's safer places than this dump," she told Sera. "The powers-that-be are more reasonable, too."

Duff gave the box an odd look. After several moments spent paused on the street, he gave Bec a curious glance, then back to the box. Finally realization dawned in his eyes. "Ooooh, 'ee stand on it." He said, voice quickening a touch as he tried to cover up the fact that his mind had momentarily blanked. Willpower got him through most things. But with no specific danger known to him at the moment, he was tiring out.

"It'll do, though." He nodded appreciatively to the box. Absentmindedly wondering where Bec pulled a box from . . . his brain finally coming up with the answer of it being a video game. Logic need not apply. With a final nod, he turned and proceeded at an even pace back the way they'd come. forcing himself to focus, remembering that if he could have a gun here, so could others.

_______


"Yeah, but rumor has it the Valtheran Queen lives in that big--what'cha'ma'callit, castle. Fortress thing. Near the middle of the battlegrounds. Figure getting to it will be pretty tricky." Sera smiled simply. "Life's no fun without a challenge."

She then pulled a slender, cracked mirror from her satchel, making sure her hair wasn't too incredibly bed-head, checking the smudges on her face . . .that caused her smile to cease swiftly. "Do they have . .. a washroom?" She asked, nearly breaking the mirror as she shoved it back into her bag as though it were something vile.

"There's a washbasin around here, I think, but that's about it," Fille said with a half-smile, her stature amused as she watched Sera's cosmetics plight. "Meet me outside when you're done."

With that, Fille turned and left the room, headed back outside. She had to lift a hand up to shield her eyes from the morning sun, and prickled her nose at the overpowering stench of fish. Why did it get so bad in the mornings here?

without another word, Sera made her way to the wash basin, grabbing a ratty old scrubber with a gnarled wooden handle from within her satchel, she shivered as she looked to the simple cleansing tool. She'd been dirty, and probably scruffy in some fashion, for most of her time here. Seen herself in mirrors, not a problem. why . . .now, of all days, did that nagging voice in her head have to be so loud?

Before she rightly knew that she was doing it, the brush was scrubbing methodically up and down her cheeks, dipping into the water and darting back up to scrub her nose, then behind her ears. Whatever it took to shut the voice up.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, but was most likely only five minutes or so. She gave a sigh, returned the brush to its place in her satchel, and headed outside to find Fille. Nose wrinkling absentmindedly as the smell of fish filled the air.

A raise of a hand, to shield her eyes from the sun. And she could finally look around the brightly lit town well enough to try and find her companion. "Fille?" She called out.

Edited by Ajax on June 21, 2014 at 3:10:15

How did Rua know about this place? Some long lost friend he had only just remembered last night? Terrel frowned at the prospect of it. It seemed possible but... it mostly just seemed like there was something going untold. Still, she followed him closely through the town, walking with a measured step and a keen eye trained on anyone who stared for too long. Once you got over the initial shock and terror of Rogueport it became a lot easier to fit in, but that didn't mean it stopped being dangerous either.

Eventually they arrived at their location, though how Rua could be so sure about it was beyond the woman. Then, worryingly, he stepped aside and told her to do the honors.

For a moment she thought about arguing or demanding what was really going on, but if the guy was watching them from some crack in his hut... After a moment's more hesitation she raised her hand thought about knocking quietly but simply slammed it against the door rudely and repeatedly.

"Hey! Open up!" she bellowed.

---

Peer's door opened remotely, and Bavish was waiting for the man and woman expectantly, having been summoned shortly beforehand. Standing to the side in the hall so they could slip out, he watched Peer closely the whole time, knowing the 'man' was doing the same. When the door closed again, Bavish spoke to them directly, leading the way down the corridor at an easy pace.

"Well, it looks like you two are still in one piece. Judging by the fact that he called for me and not someone else, I'm assuming you agreed to whatever he offered you?"

It was a couple moments before they heard the telltale shuffle of a person inside approaching the door. At the noise, Rua moved aside from the door, just out of visual range of whoever would open it. And open it did, just a crack--enough for half of a pale face to look out from the darkened interior, with one brown eye peering out from unkempt black hair.

The man eyed Terrel suspiciously, his eye looking up and down her form without any noticeable appreciation for her figure or clothing. He was wary, and in Rogueport, rightfully so.

"Whaddaya want?" he demanded roughly. His accent clearly marked him as another outsider in Rogueport, just like Rua and Terrel. "Whatever it is, I ain't buyin' it."

"Over here!" came Fille's voice, just across from where they were at. The other people passing through paid the two women no mind. She was leaning against a wall, lifting up an arm to wave Sera over to her. Her other hand held another arrow in it, ready to stick anyone who got too close or too grabby.

Terrel collected herself, trying to think of the best way to approach. After a moment, she took a calculated look over her shoulder and leaned forward into the door frame to speak closely with the man.

"Not selling. Buying. Heard you broker information, from time to time?"

If anything, the half a face Terrel could see became even more guarded in expression. His eye swept past Terrel's shoulder, looking for anyone else like she had, and found nothing. "Don't know who told you that load of bull, but if you can afford it..."

Slowly, the door opened, revealing a man who was not terribly tall, in a shabby brown coat that stood out amongst the colorful fashions of Rogueport's denizens. Like the coat, his shirt and trousers had seen better days. The man's eyes watched Terrel's hands of all things, likely making sure she wasn't going to suddenly attack him.

So he almost missed it when Rua pivoted around the wall, standing behind Terrel. When his shadow covered Terrel and the man, he looked up and his eyes went wide, and he went to slam the door shut on them both.

Rua's hand struck the door with a bang, leaving it well open for he and Terrel to enter. "Hey, Droge," the player greeted amicably.

"Aw, man," the other guy--Droge?--groaned, shaking his head in frustration. "Shoulda known you were around when that bitch found me..."

Rua gestured for Terrel to enter as Droge stepped back to allow them entry.

Terrel scowled at the man at that, stepping inside the door and pointing an accusing finger at him. "A word of advice, 'Droge.' Just because it's a game, doesn't mean I can't cut it off, so watch your tongue. Come to think of it, that might not be bad to cut off either..."

"Relax, Terrel," Rua said placatingly, as he entered the room and shut the door behind him. "He wasn't talking about you."

Like most houses in Rogueport, Droge's hideaway was another one-room affair. An old cot was jammed up at the far end of the house, next to an equally old-looking chest. There was an uneven-legged table up against another wall, with two uncomfortable chairs pulled out from it. Clothes and paper littered the floor. A corner counter provided a makeshift kitchen of sorts. The blinds of the only window were pulled down, meaning the only lighting in the room came from the morning sun peeking through the slats and whatever holds and gaps were in the walls and roof. Everything about the room, and about his appearance, told the two players that Droge was a small-time criminal.

Rua opted to lean against one of the walls as Droge moved towards one of the chairs in a nervous stride. "Whaddaya want, Rua?" he demanded, throwing himself into one of the chairs and glaring at the swordsman.

"I'm sorry I had to con my way in, but I needed your services again," Rua told him.

"Ohhhh no, not this time. Seriously, man, every time you or that bitch make me do something I end up getting beaten or shot. Go find someone else," he spat, shooing away with the two of them with a wave of his hands.

"Oh. Okay then," Rua said, and he pushed himself up off the wall, moving towards the door.

"What, really?" Droge asked, surprised at the swordsman's willingness to leave him alone.

"Hey, I can't make you do anything you don't want to do," Rua confirmed, pausing at the door. He looked back at the crook, shrugging his shoulders. "Of course, since I can't find anyone else to help me with this, me and my friend will have to find something else to do in the meantime. Maybe we'll find someone interested in those stolen Tsuminar goods, eh Terrel? I'm sure you know a few people who'd love 'em."

Edited by RisingDragon on June 22, 2014 at 22:43:34

"Tsuminar goods?" Terrel said, confused, "I mean, maybe, not in Rogueport, but..." she looked up and glanced between the two of them, but then the reality hit her, and she grimaced. "Ohh, you were trying to blackm--" she shut her mouth before she went any further, her cheeks growing yet warmer. Signals weren't her strong suit.

Rua shot the girl a flat look, then shrugged, going back into his act. He was sure Droge caught it--he wasn't an idiot--but the two men both knew that there wasn't anything Droge could actually do about it. Rua's knowing about it was telling enough.

The criminal palmed his face and groaned again. "How'd you two even find out about that too?" he asked, then shook his head. "Alright, whatever. Just tell me what the hell you two want and leave me alone."

Sera quirked a curious eyebrow at Fille's arrow in her hand. She'd yet to see the woman actually wield a bow. Perhaps it was in her inventory? She herself didn't make use of the inventory. Using the setting that disallowed it in favor of being able to carry only what she physically could in the game.

On the other hand, being able to have an invisible inventory would come in blasted handy. But the setting was on the outside of the game, and not something she could change from inside. A bit late now to worry about such things.

She made her way through the sparse crowd, keeping an eye on one of two of the quieter ones. In her experience, they were always the most dangerous. The loud-mouths were mostly bluffers, the ones that didn't talk much and listened always . . they were far more dangerous. "So, if you're mad enough to help me still, I believe the main bazaar is---"she glanced down the street, gauging where the smell of fish was strongest from, and then nodding in the opposite direction. "That way. If I recall, they keep it and the fish markets separate."

______


"Me Ma would chew him up and spit him out." Bekka said with a shrug. Her voice confident, her eyes more so. Inside she wasn't quite so sure of her words. But never let them see weakness. As a rule, mercenaries were jackals. It just so happened that her brothers and sisters were nice Jackals. Or so she liked to tell herself.

"Apparently he's gonna subcontract us out." She finally added on, moving past Bavish, "and you're to take care of the details. So, how does that work?"