Drazek mutters something under his breath. Those standing near him hear something about better ways to spends a rainy night than talking.
An older gentleman appears at Karrin's side. He moves very quietly, and has a seamed face and a greying head of hair. ALthough Ekuur would guess him long past 40, he seems to be in excellent shape. His clothes are well made, but servicable. He carries a slender sword on his hip. He looks at Ekuur.
"Ser, I am Renkar. I did indeed have some bills posted. In fact you have come at a very opportune time. "
Renkar pauses
"Now according to the Rule of Threes, we will meet one more applicant. Come inside ser, and we shall palaver about your prospective employment."
Renkar gestures for Ekuur to enter.
"May I ask your name? You seem to be a recent arrival to our city, yes?"
Ekuur enters and grasps Renkar's forearm with his hand in greeting. "I am Ekuur; some call me 'the Everburning'. And yes, I have not been here long. Perhaps a half year; it is hard to tell with no sun in your sky. And it is always cold. Very different from my home!"
He sets his trikal, a long weapon with three wicked-looking blades on the end, on the floor and raises his hand in greeting to the rest of the group.
"It looks like you already have work going on. I hope I do not ... what is the word ... interrupt?"
The half-elf nods and pulls out a leather pouch of tobacco and starts rolling himself a cigarette, his long fingers gracefully twisting the thin parchment.
"A fair antipeak to you, cutter. Cool yer heels, but mind the cross-trader: ain't got a name yet, far as we know and even a bariaur's uncle knows not to turn his back on a spiv without a name. My own name's Isaac, by the by."
He lights his cigarette in a nearby candle and takes a puff. He motions to Drazek.
"We were just rattlin' the old boneboxes since Drazek here opened up to us and said that when he ain't keepin' up a menacing glower, he likes to pet bunny rabbits and sip herbal tea. Needless to say, we support his every endeavor wholeheartedly and look forward to meeting the kinder, gentler Drazek Darkholme."
He smiles broadly, smoke curling from his nostrils.
The half-elf nods and pulls out a leather pouch of tobacco and starts rolling himself a cigarette, his long fingers gracefully twisting the thin parchment.
"A fair antipeak to you, cutter. Cool yer heels, but mind the cross-trader: ain't got a name yet, far as we know and even a bariaur's uncle knows not to turn his back on a spiv without a name. My own name's Isaac, by the by."
"Oh where are my manners? Mr Swire's the name, Swire if that's too official for you."
Nari eyes the newcomers warily from behind Justin where she is hiding, hoping they won't notice her.
Drazek mutters something under his breath. Those standing near him hear something about better ways to spends a rainy night than talking.
Bethany grins at Drazek's just heard words.
She takes in the newcomer, narrowing her eyes. "He has the look of a Reptilian Harpy about him," she thinks to herself. "He will bear watching."
The half-elf nods and pulls out a leather pouch of tobacco and starts rolling himself a cigarette, his long fingers gracefully twisting the thin parchment.
"A fair antipeak to you, cutter. Cool yer heels, but mind the cross-trader: ain't got a name yet, far as we know and even a bariaur's uncle knows not to turn his back on a spiv without a name. My own name's Isaac, by the by."
He lights his cigarette in a nearby candle and takes a puff. He motions to Drazek.
"We were just rattlin' the old boneboxes since Drazek here opened up to us and said that when he ain't keepin' up a menacing glower, he likes to pet bunny rabbits and sip herbal tea. Needless to say, we support his every endeavor wholeheartedly and look forward to meeting the kinder, gentler Drazek Darkholme."
He smiles broadly, smoke curling from his nostrils.
Drazek looks at Isaac with the expression of someone who's just seen rain fall upwards. A sort of puzzled dibelief.
"Isaac, remind me to share as Word with ya later."
Drazek looks at Isaac with the expression of someone who's just seen rain fall upwards. A sort of puzzled dibelief."Isaac, remind me to share as Word with ya later."
Isaac's grin subsides into a look of mock-seriousness. He places a hand on his chest as if swearing an oath.
"Of course, mate. In all things, I'm your close confidant. Yes, Drazek and Isaac: bosom chums 'til the end!"The half-elf's roguish smile returns. He winks at the warlock before returning to Ekuur and Swire.
"Well, Swire, Ekuur: give us some chant, eh, old sons? We know Mr. Swire's a top shelf knight of the post, but where do your talents lie, Ekuur? You've the look of a basher to my addled wits, but I may be wrong. Where're you coves from? Trouble on yer heels or just need some trusty sellswords to watch yer back while yeh earn some jink?"
Nari eyes the newcomers warily from behind Justin where she is hiding, hoping they won't notice her.
Ksrrin returns to the room and sits down beside Naridre.
"How you holding out?" Karrin asks, "does your wound hurt or anything?"
"Well, Swire, Ekuur: give us some chant, eh, old sons? We know Mr. Swire's a top shelf knight of the post, but where do your talents lie, Ekuur? You've the look of a basher to my addled wits, but I may be wrong. Where're you coves from? Trouble on yer heels or just need some trusty sellswords to watch yer back while yeh earn some jink?"
Renkar nods
"Yes, please stae your talents, and anything else we should know about you."
He glances at Swire
"Especially any entanglements you might be involved in that would affect the company."
Ekuur stares for a moment at Isaac, the look of child-like bewilderment on the face of the big man almost comical. Once Renkar speaks up, however, a flash of understanding crosses his face.
“I’m sorry, I still have trouble with your language, and I do not yet know all of the … ‘Cant’, is it? But you want to know what I do.
“Yes, I can swing my trikal and alhulak well, as many templars of Kalak and elven raiders of the wastes have discovered through the years. But …” Ekuur reaches under the breastplate of his armor, and withdraws a smallish obsidian orb on a thin chain seemingly made of scorched bone. At his touch, flames seem to lick up around the orb, but they do not seem to burn him, nor does it shed any significant amount of light. Despite that, the temperature of the room noticeably goes up a few degrees, and Ekuur’s bronze-plated armor seems to shine more than before.
“I am a cleric of elemental Flame. Fire, the cleanser of the dead and decayed, the bringer of new life, and doom of the careless.” Ekuur stares at the holy symbol for a few moments, seemingly lost in its flames. Looking back up at the group, he adds, with all seriousness, “I also make a fairly good mekillot stew, but not much else.”
Nari eyes the newcomers warily from behind Justin where she is hiding, hoping they won't notice her.Ksrrin returns to the room and sits down beside Naridre.
"How you holding out?" Karrin asks, "does your wound hurt or anything?"
"I'm fine," she whispered, still eying the newcomers warily. "All healed."
Normally at this point her psicrystal would become irritating until she behaved somewhat like a normal person, but after the night she'd had already it was giving her a little bit of a break. It climbed down off her shoulder and went to get a closer look on its own.
Renkar nods
"Yes, please state your talents, and anything else we should know about you."
He glances at Swire
"Especially any entanglements you might be involved in that would affect the company."
"Oh, I'm skilled in all the standard skills of the cross-trade. Picking pockets, picking locks, you get the idea. This sword's not for show either."
"Well, let's just say me and the Hardheads don't see eye to eye, if you catch my meaning. I am with the Fated, if you care about that sort of stuff."
"Was that your first one?" Karrin asks, knowing that Naridre will know what she's asking.
"Was that your first one?" Karrin asks, knowing that Naridre will know what she's asking.
Nari looks confused for a moment before she understands what Karrin is asking. She goes pale again.
"Yes. I haven't been in many fights before, and they always backed down before things got that bad."
She shrinks in on herself even more and her psicrystal stops its progress across the floor, deciding that it should skitter back to her instead.
Merle looks over the new comers with narrowed eyes
"First is always hard," Karrin says, "and it really doesn't get any easier after that. Torreen once told me that if it ever gets easy or fun then it's time to get out of the business, but I think the fact that you feel bad is a good sign, and maybe tomorrow we'll go to the temple some where and ask for forgiveness. It helps a bit. You can't do much to take it back but you can do your best to see that it didn't happen in vain."
Merle looks back at Karrin and her face softens a bit. Maybe she had been a bit hard on Karrin the tiefling was actually pretty nice even if she wasn't entirely there all the time.
"First is always hard," Karrin says, "and it really doesn't get any easier after that. Torreen once told me that if it ever gets easy or fun then it's time to get out of the business, but I think the fact that you feel bad is a good sign, and maybe tomorrow we'll go to the temple some where and ask for forgiveness. It helps a bit. You can't do much to take it back but you can do your best to see that it didn't happen in vain."
"I'd like that. Thanks, Karrin. Does it matter that I don't have any particular power that I follow? It's always seemed to me that they've got bigger things to worry about than me."
"Well, let's just say me and the Hardheads don't see eye to eye, if you catch my meaning. I am with the Fated, if you care about that sort of stuff."
Renkar nods
"Well, I have friends in the Harmonium, I can possibly put the word out you've come under my patronage should you do so. I know many of the Fated, my family has been involved with them and the Fraternity of Order for many years. I prefer my faction politics simple. I am a businessman with a speciality in troubleshooting. That's why I am building this team."
Renkar searches the two newcomer's eyes
"We are a adventuring company, and that's a bit of a different matter out here in the Outlands. You have to have a flexible mindset to stay off the deadbook's pages. You also have to learn to work with others."
Renkar pauses
"If you are interested, we offer free room and board at the Copper Cauldron, all treasures awarded or looted split evenly, and a commitment to retreiving your body and reviving you if at all possible. Does that interest you?"
Renkar reaches into a box on a shelf and removes two silver rose-shaped cloak broochs.
"This is our company's sigul."
He clasps both their hands as he hands them their rose.
"Welcome to the Silver Rose Company."
"I'd like that. Thanks, Karrin. Does it matter that I don't have any particular power that I follow? It's always seemed to me that they've got bigger things to worry about than me."
"Well," Karrin says, pointing to her heart, "I think it needs to come from in here, after that I don't think it really matters who you pray too. Father taught me that, also he taught me that you can't be insincere because then you're just going threw the motions, but if you really mean it then someone will hear your prayers and help absolve you of your sins. That doesn't always make the pain go away but I think it helps lighten your soul and that's the most important part."
"Well, I have friends in the Harmonium, I can possibly put the word out you've come under my patronage should you do so. I know many of the Fated, my family has been involved with them and the Fraternity of Order for many years. I prefer my faction politics simple. I am a businessman with a speciality in troubleshooting. That's why I am building this team."
"Oh, where's the fun in that? Besides, I doubt they'll listen. Anyway, you got yourself a deal."
Swire slips the brooch into his pocket.
"Well," Karrin says, pointing to her heart, "I think it needs to come from in here, after that I don't think it really matters who you pray too. Father taught me that, also he taught me that you can't be insincere because then you're just going threw the motions, but if you really mean it then someone will hear your prayers and help absolve you of your sins. That doesn't always make the pain go away but I think it helps lighten your soul and that's the most important part."
"I'd like that. Thanks, Karrin. Does it matter that I don't have any particular power that I follow? It's always seemed to me that they've got bigger things to worry about than me."
Nari looks thoughtful. "That makes sense. Thank you, Karrin. That does help. You're a good friend," she added with a small smile.
Renkar reaches into a box on a shelf and removes two silver rose-shaped cloak broochs."This is our company's sigul."
He clasps both their hands as he hands them their rose.
"Welcome to the Silver Rose Company."
Ekuur clasps Renkar's hand, and says "That is a fine deal. My thanks." He closely inspects the silver brooch, chuckles a bit, and removes his own bone clasp on his existing cloak. Replacing it with the silver one, he says, "I still cannot get past how much metal is used here. On my world, this brooch would command more ceramic pieces than I could spend in a month!"
Nari looks thoughtful. "That makes sense. Thank you, Karrin. That does help. You're a good friend," she added with a small smile.
Karrin gives Naridre's shoulder a slight squeeze then move on to Merle.
"Hey Merle," Karrin says as she moves over to the catfolk spellcaster, "look I'm sorry about letting those get past me, I really didn't mean for Nari or you to get hurt, but I thought I could end the fight quick before anything else bad happened. I'll try to take better care of you guys next time."
"Aw fer the luva,..." Justin mutters as the door is knocked on twice in about as many minutes. He watches, jaw slack, as as large muscular and strangely garbed man is allowed inside.
"RUle of Three, Shards and shells, I can;t wait to see the last one!" He mumbles aside to Isaac as he looks with undisguised envy on the muscles of the newcomer who gives the impression of towering over his own 6' height!
Justin also develops a sudden fit of coughing as Isaac describes Drazek's newfound hobby.
"Well, Rule of Three or not, We really need to get a move on! Toranna ain't gonna buy this act if we show up at dawn! Er,... Pre-peak,... aw,... whatever it's called." He grumbles, obviously frustrated.
Merle nods to Karrin before responding to Justin "He's right lets get moving."
Bethany does little to hide her snort of amusement as she lays eyes and ears on Ekuur.
"Yes, lets be off," she says, moving towards the exit with the others on their way to pay a visit to Toranna.
"Finally, action."
Drazek spares another good natured glare at Isaac and gives Justin the "not one word" look as he rises from his seat.
Meanwhile...
A tall, thin man wearing a wide-brimmed hat in a Hive alleyway lights up a thin cigar before contemplating his next move.
Meanwhile...
A tall, thin man wearing a wide-brimmed hat in a Hive alleyway lights up a thin cigar before contemplating his next move.
Ishmael:
Ishmael reflected on the encounter he had witnessed between Mordrigaarz and Clawboy earlier in the evening. Clawboy was primed to try and wrest control of Mordrigaarz's gang from him, and constantly tested the large man's patience. The recent palaver with the snoopy Clueless in the Madhouse District had just exacerbated the tensions. Ish knew there'd be a drawdown eventually, he just wasn't sure how he'd jump. But, being a Xaos boy, being uncertain of things was just part of life.
Mordrigaarz's posse was drinking at Quake's Place tonight. Mordrigaarz was fuming about the barmy killer, and he wanted to talk to some other hende Xaositects about the situation. Having Clawboy harping on his 'weakness' in front of the others hadn't improved the seven-foot-tall leader's disposition anyway.
After downing a shot of bathtub gin, Mordrigaarz had excused himself to go use the alley. He really didn't have a big need to relieve himself, just that sometimes he needed to smell the Hive and center his thoughts a bit, letting randomness guide his hand.
Should he back Clawboy when push came to shove? Mordrigaarz was already what other factions would call a 'factotum' in respect, but Clawboy was ambitious. Clawboy was also berzerker crazy, an unfortunate trait in many Xaos bashers. Mordrigaarz was a good body to have at your spine in a fight, but he sometimes drifted into the lawful side of things, more that a purist like Ishmael liked. Still, they had pulled off a lot of good capers under Mord, and Ish had the gear and scars to prove it. Mord also had the respect of Karan, the 'leader' of the Xaos boys, and that did mean something, if less than it would if they were in another faction.
Ishmael finishes his cigar and breathes in the fetid Antipeak air. Perhaps he was overthinking the whole thing. Mayhap leaving both options open was the chaotic thing to do, and just trust his gut when the throwdown happened.
...
"Yes, lets be off," ...
Renkar nods
"Excellent. I will wait in the Copper Cauldron for your return."
The party dons their damp cloaks and exit the Silver Rose into the fog-shrouded darkness.
The torrential rains have eased into a thick fog as Antipeak approaches. The group enters Copperman's Way, heading for the Great Bazaar.
The wide boulevard is crowded, as it is every moment of the day, but the fog seems to wrap everything in a mantle of privacy. Strange folks come out of the grey at random intervals: A centauroid mantis colored vibrant reds and purples, a floating kobold in a blue robe, a female drow dressed in scanty leather with a large whip.
The Great Bazaar is rollicking with the more darkness-loving bodies of the Cage. Night Hags haggle with Hezrou over larvae, Drow and Duergar hawk their finely-crafted arms and armor, necromancers extol the wonders of zombie and skeleton servitors. The party is accosted by a bevy of beggars, jinkskirts and hucksters:
"Spare a Green for a veteran of a thousand psychic wars.."
"Mercy gentlefolk! The vrocks took me peepers!"
"Six Stingers an' I'll show you the Pandemonium Pogo love!"
"Hurry hurry! Be the first to try Marvolo's Mysterious Elixir! Distilled from a secret Daemonic receipe, guaranteed to boost stamina!"
A few hard stares and the crowds thin a bit, sensing the purposefullness of the group. The tents of the Great Bazaar fall to their backs as they take Duskgate Road into the Gymnasium District.
The Ciphers are quiet in the Antipeak, a few out and about, visiting the many massage parlors and training classes. The Great Gymnasium rears above the district, it's windows shining in the thick fog like distant ship lights.
Passing into the Worker's District, the party sees the many tenements of the folks who run the shops of the Guild and Market Wards. Several taverns spill light into the foggy gloom, as small merchants and workers wash their cares down with a pint. Walking down Hull Road, Karrin spots Hell Court, the road that the devil Veria's shop is located on. She shivers as they pass. Hull road leads them to the largest building in the Cage: The Civic Festhall.
The Sensates are having a ball, as they are wont to do once Peaklight fades. Sensations run more to the sensual in the Antipeak around the Civic Festhall. Flyers and signs attempt to draw attention to a thousand different pleasures that can be experienced by the eager. Crowds of riotous Sensates and curious Clueless throng the street. The group is startled as a whole crowd of naked folk of many races come dashing down the street hooting and hollering. Crowds swarm around the 1,000 foot-plus Festhall, drinking, smoking, fighting, loving and laughing.
The Sensates and their Festhall fall behind the party as they turn onto Crystal Dew lane and head Downward towards the chaotic neon birthday-cake looking building that is the Lazz's School of Vivid Unpleasantness. The area looks much as it did a few hours ago when some of the company had seached for darks about Eliath at his kip. Students in Bleaker, Xaositect and Doomguard colors roam the street, swaggering about looking for fun. Cheap bubhouses and low-rent coffeeshops line the streets around the art school.
The party walks softly through the Records District. The Fated are mostly sleeping the sleep of the well-fed, but there were always Hardhead patrols out and about, keeping the streets quiet. One patrol stops them briefly, but they let them pass with a warning not to loiter.
The group passes the Crooked Sword Tavern that they had seen the mysterious revived redhead barmy at. The party then takes Tea Street out of the Records District, the long road slowly dirtying and becoming shabbier as they head out of the Clerk's Ward and into the Hive proper.
Lanterns and lights become scarcer as they walk on. The last activity they had seen besides taverns and bordellos had been the huge hackney rental and cab service called the Tea Street Transit. Most of the Arcadian pony cabs had been turned to the safer streets of the Clerk's Ward though as they clopped out of the yard. Now the potholed street begins to be choked with bully boys and mad bubbers.
Tea Street peters out into Darkwell Court, a large plaza of half-torn up buildings and vagabond tents. Various folks approach the party, but the bully boys seem sense the party's leashed prowess like wary dogs and leave them be. After skirting a dozen offers for services material and carnal, the party enters Whisper Way and heads for the Hive proper.
The Hive was not the Hive Ward, rather it was the Hive District, a nonsensical distinction to the Clueless, but an important one to the Cagers. The Hive Ward was bad enough, but the Hive District was the concentration of all things that constituted the Hive: The madness, the chaos, the poverty. It was like the slimy pit in the rotten peach of the ward.
Trash fires appear on the streetcorners as the homeless population swells. Sniffling bubbers pass homebrew about the burning bunches of razorvine and watch the group pass with hard eyes. The walls begin to blossom with a riotous snake dance of grafitti, much of it incomprehensible, but strangely beautiful. They turn on Laughing Cat Alley, the road darkening as the tenements begin to close over their heads. Some buildings totter seven stories high, often looking like they are leaning on one another for support. Rubble-strewn lots show where some haven't won the fight to stay vertical. Xaositect faction symbols become more prevalent, and the street dwellers begin to look more and more multi-colored in dress and hairstyle.
Down the way, a large warehouse-looking building seems to have been converted into a tavern. Large sloppily-painted letters on the crumbling brick write out QUAKE'S PLACE. Crowds of young Xaositects hoot and holler, swigging down various beverages. A loud group of musicians pepper the dark fog with asymetrical drum beats and discordant violins and guitars.
Meanwhile...
A tall, thin man wearing a wide-brimmed hat in a Hive alleyway lights up a thin cigar before contemplating his next move.
Ishmael:
The wheels clicked over in Ish's mind as he realized that Lady Chaos was giving him the laugh for trying to pin down how he felt about Mordrigaarz and Clawboy. Chances were, this lot showing up was going to settle the issue once and for all...
A tall, thin man in a broad-brimmed hat with seemingly ineradicatable 2 day stubble approaches the group. When he speaks, his voice is like warm gravel (yes, warm gravel).
"Stare. It's the way to educate your eyes. Stare, pry, listen, eavesdrop. Die knowing something. You are not here long." " he says to whoever seems to be the leader of the group,
"I done a lot of staring. Seems to me I stared at you bloods before. So I need to know in my brief span, what you're wanting here."
"We got some information for Mordrigaarz," Karrin says, "we're working on that problem he had earlier and we thought he'd appreciate the head's up."
Ekuur takes in the sights and sounds of the city as the group walks, not having visited the Hive District or Hive Ward before. To an extent, the Hive isn't much different than the slums of Tyr. Of course, even the lowly residents of the Hive seemed better fed ... and hydrated ... than those in Tyr's poorest area. As tempted as he was to partake in some of the offerings, both chemical and carnal, that would have to wait. Ekuur honored his responsibilities, and his was with his new companions.
He had eyed Justin for a while, and had finally come to the conclusion that he was a wizard. He was determined to keep an eye on him until he had figured out whether he was a defiler or a preserver. For now, he was keeping silent, and letting the natives do most of the talking. Though Ekuur figured most had pegged him as 'Clueless', he didn't want to advertise the fact.
"Finally, action."
Drazek spares another good natured glare at Isaac and gives Justin the "not one word" look as he rises from his seat.
Justin looks to Drazek with a 'Who, ME?!?' look. And quickly pulls up his hood to hide his smirk as they head out the door.
As they walk the sordid streets of the bizarre circle, Justin notices the stare of the large newcomer, and returns it with a quizzical expression and a raised eyebrow. He can tell the large man has come to some sort of a decision involving him, but he'd be a pickled dragon;s egg if he could tell what it was about! With a shrug to himself, he relegates that little conundrum to his 'later' pile. Meaning that he'd most likely try to deal with it before it exploded in his face.
Justin eyes the newcomer warily, his eyes flicking over the man's appearance and wardrobe and jumping to several conclusions.
-The man was member of the Xaos group, one of the easiest to spot,
-The man was more dangerous than he first appeared, don't let him get within arm's reach if you can help it,
-And most importantly, he had a decent taste in fashion. 'I could trade in the hood for one of those hats, it's not a bad look.' He mused as he mentally reviewed his remaining spells as the man boldly approached them. Mentally breathing a sigh of relief as it appeared that he simply wanted to talk. 'I have few enough useful spells left as it is. I'd rather not waste them on a worthless street brawl.'
Justin's eyes widen just a bit as he realizes something.
"Shards and shells. Rule of Three. This just keeps getting better!" He mutters just loud enough for those standing next to him to hear.
As you venture deeper into the Hives, Swire continues to have that smug smirk on his face. Still, his hands don't lie, he's getting tenser. His right hand remains beneath his cloak, but his left hand keeps edging closer and closer to the hilt of his rapier as you get deeper and deeper into Xaotisect territory. He nearly drew it when the thin man stepped out, but stopped once it became obvious he was being peaceful. Still, the smirk is gone now, only a harsh scowl remains.
"We got some information for Mordrigaarz," Karrin says, "we're working on that problem he had earlier and we thought he'd appreciate the head's up."
"A bird in the hand is worth two in the nuthouse. Well, happen Mordrigaarz has been a bobcull when it comes to you coves. We could have ourselves quite the niffy-naffy situ, you looking for the barmy-killer. Wait here, keep it secret, keep it safe." he says and winks.
He approaches Mordrigaarz and looks over the crew, "The Clueless're here. They want help. I'm gonna give it to 'em." he says simply to his fellow Xaosman.
"Tha hell was he babblin' about"
He approaches Mordrigaarz and looks over the crew, "The Clueless're here. They want help. I'm gonna give it to 'em." he says simply to his fellow Xaosman.
Ishmael:
"The Clueless like that jack-in-the-box tiefling bint? Right. I'll come out and palaver with them."
Clawboy, sipping a mug of fermented something, looks up, his ugly pocked face scowling. His rusty iron mask stares up from the scarred table
"Yeh don't treat with Clueless, yeh fillet them and use their guts for garters. We're Xaosboys, born an' bred, we don't kissy face wif' strangers."
Mordrigaarz's face flushes, and he grabs Clawboy by his ragged lapel.
"Yeh tellin' me there's RULES now, Clawboy? Yeh tellin' me I'm breakin' some LAW? I do what I feels like, when I feels like it an' I feels like palavering with the Clueless. If yeh don't like it I suggests yeh plug up yer bonebox, sod off to the nearest sewer grate an' jump in."
Clawboy's crated visage darkens with hate as Mordrigaarz shoves him back in his seat. He pops up and grabs his mask and claws.
"Well, I FEEL like yeh're a puling milksop for hangin' 'bout those Clueless and licking their boots, so I FEEL like taking meself somewhere where the cutters ain't so blunt."
Clawboy stalks off. Several of Mordrigaarz's crew follow after him. Mordrigaarz scowls and nods to Ish.
"Let's see what the Clueless have to say. Yeh want to help them, that's fine by me, just keep me posted as to what's going down."
Mordrigaarz motions to the crew left at the table and they all begin following Ishmael to the party.
After a few minutes, Ishmael reeemerges from the large boisterous warehouse/tavern with Mordrigaarz and several other Xaos boys in tow. They walk up to the party. Mordrigaarz is an imposing figure, fully seven feet tall, and he doesn't look particularly happy at this moment.
The large Xaositect nods to Karrin and the others he met before.
"Ishmael says yeh lot have summat to palaver about. I'm listening."
Bethany follows the group from the air, finally starting to get the hang of maneuvering through the skies above the choked streets. As she sees them nearing the Xaos hangout, she slows and lands on a balcony overlooking the others, waiting and watching the proceedings, but still within earshot of the conversation going down.
Ishmael lights up another cigarillo as Mordrigaarz talks to the Clueless.
He regards the departure of Clawboy et al with an impassive, narrow-eyed frown. Secretely he thinks this will be better for Mordrigaarz and his gang, and on a more philosophical level more in keeping with their faction.
As Mordrigaarz stands waiting the party notices that a lot of the milling Xaos boys are checking them out surreptitiously. No one advances, but the party is definitely being watched.
Bethany is staring intently at Mordrigaarz and the Xaosboy who talked to them earlier, almost oblivious to anything else.
Isaac surveys Quake's Place with a sour look. He mutters as much to himself as anyone else.
"Reliable bunch of cutters, those Chaosmen. Exactly the berks we need to get us all penned in the deadbook. Aye, all we need's a subtle touch, so let's bang around with the ravin' barmies."