The sprawl of Rynnmoth hunkers down under the unrelenting assault of an early spring storm. Water pours from the sky, runs off the peaked roofs of houses and chapels as well as the flat-fronts of factories, making the darkened cobbled streets slick to the step. Thunder rolls across the dark skyline… from the open architecture and wide avenues of the Lassaiz-styled east side of the river, across the iconic Twin Bridges of the mighty Rynn River, and washing over the various districts in the Dunhaven-side of the trade city. Many of the town's gas street-lanterns are out - the city's lantern-lighters apparently staying inside to avoid the downpour - and the little bit of illumination reaching the cobbled streets spills weakly through windows of businesses and homes.
Only a few unlucky (or possibly stupid) individuals are seen rushing through the rain, their over coats and umbrellas offering little actual protection from the deluge.
But even before you can form the thought, your fingers touch on the neatly folded note in your pocket. The note Jones handed you while you enjoyed dinner in his parlor. The note that could be the next step in finding another of your former students.
The note read:
- Mr. Rhens,
It's been a while. Last time I saw you we were both running like mad from a wall of Tzin shocktroops… ah, good times. Hope the time since has been less exciting.
I hear you're in the market for some information. Just so happens I have a guy who might have some for you. Sounds like there's been some scuff-ups in a dusty frontier town or two, and a certain few names came up I think you'll want to hear.
Thursday night I'll be joining said friend down at the Paper Street Press. Around 9 on the clock. I'd say don't be late, but I'm thinking no one's really gonna notice.
See ya there,
Rabbit
"Rabbit…" you mutter, the name bringing up images of a kid somehow both short and lanky. A kid whose ability to get himself and everyone around him into trouble only seemed to be surpassed by his talent at getting himself out of it. You'd laugh if you hadn't been caught up in his shenanigans a time or two more than you'd like.
The sounds of hooves reach you through the thundering rain just in time for you to dodge back from an on-coming carriage, pulling you from your brooding. Despite your speed, street runoff flies up in a wave and splashes across your legs. Cold, soaked, and pissed, you continue your trudge. Why didn't I hire a carriage? The comfort of that thing would far out-weigh the cost…
Another few minutes find you at the un-locked entrance gate to a large factory building from which you can just hear the sounds of an army of printing presses running. You hurry through the gate and across the small brick courtyard. As you reach out for the door, two bruisers who had been huddling out of the rain step up, one hand held palm up expectantly while the other grips a two foot club in the folds of his long coat.
You hand him the requisite coin. He grunts, "Been 'ere 'afore?" His accent clearly marks him for a Dunnishman, while his thick arms, crooked nose, missing teeth, and sunken knuckles mark him as some kind of tough. When you shake your head 'no' he throws out a memorized list of rules as he looks you over. "No guns. No blades. No cheatin'. No stealin'. A lady says 'no'… then that's a 'no'. No fightin' less yer in the ring." He stops for a second, giving you a chance to volunteer any weapons. The thought crosses your mind that this list of things is actually exactly what you're most likely to run into in this place, at least from what you've heard from Jones. But, not wanting any trouble, you slide the military pistol out of your hip holster followed by the long knife in your boot. His friend pats you down, missing the holdout single-shot up your sleeve along with the small blade you sometimes keep hanging between your shoulder blades. The second man steps back, satisfied. As you begin to step towards the door the big man places a meaty hand on your chest. "Oh, and no collars…" the local slang for the town's peacekeepers. "You ain't a collar, right?" You shake your head no as you pass through the door, replacing the roaring sound of the rain with the rhythmic clacks and whirs of two stories of printing presses spinning out tomorrow's paper.
The sound is somehow similar yet alien, sharing some qualities to the gunsmithing floors of back home but in an altogether new way. You don't have time to dwell on the thought, however, as you are drawn by the light and even stronger, haphazard sounds of the Fight Night gathering. You've only been to a few events like this, but one thing comes to mind. As much as these things are always unique, they're also always the same. The sounds. Shouting. Laughing. Arguing. The club on meat sounds of a bare knuckle fight in progress in the ring. By the hour and looks of the fighters, this is definitely not one of the main fights. Some guy who looks like he could be a barber is hammering a bigger man. You watch as a CRACK sounds the final blow that takes the round man out. Shoulda held his high guard better, you think as you watch the big man's head hit the mat of sawdust and commandeered papers hot off the spinning presses. RIVERSIDE RIPPER CLAIMS NINTH VICTIM, the headline reads.
Even having been in town only a few weeks, it's not the first time you've heard of the killings. What kind of sicko hunts down women and ravages their bodies? And the bite-marks? You shake your head as you wander away from the ring to get the lay of the place.
Military instincts are hard to kick. Know your enemy. Know the lay of the land. Well, there's no enemy here that you know of, but still… old instincts.
You're snapped out of your reverie by the roar of the crowd, and the thin middle-aged victor laughs good-naturedly as he takes a slow spin in the ring. His fingertips are bluish-black. So he's a printer. Not a barber. Maybe he works in this joint, you think as you wander the floor, watching the people of Rynnmoth mix. Well, not just the people of Rynnmoth. Factory workers, merchants, dockmen, sailors, prostitutes (most of them on the job), train workers… you even spot a few street-rat cutpurses making the rounds. Dour Dunhaveners gamble in a corner with fine-clothed Lassaizens who laugh at a handful of dark-eyed Iss'Laani arguing at the impromptu bar with a pair of red-headed, tattooed 'Diori brothers.
So you check your wallet again, along with your pocket watch and hidden weapons, find a stout drink, and wait. Rabbit has got to be here somewhere…
Over the constant wash of rain-water and the occasional boom of thunder is heard the distant cry of a train-whistle as it leaves town. That and the rhythmic squeaking and KLIP-KLOP of a lonely carriage curiously rolling down a darkened Lower Rynnmoth street…
Your thought is cut off by a question from your carriage companion, and you turn to regard the skinny young man, "Pardon? What was that, Rabbit?"
He sits there casually, stretched out across the short separation between the two opposing seats, somehow not spilling the flask despite the rocking of this ridiculous box-on-wheels. His lively green eyes mirror the smirk that rests on his lips, both seem perpetually ready to make a joke… usually at everyone else's expense. Does he ever take anything seriously? you wonder again.
"I was just sayin', dear Reiko, that you can't fool me. Though it's most intriguin' that you always try." He casually takes a sip then offers you the flask. Whiskey. It's definitely cheap whiskey in there. How can these easterners drink the stuff? "No? Your loss. Anyway, we've spent far too much time together. You and me. So you can sit there all passive and proper. Those beautiful eyes of your lookin' at all this eastern crap like it's some slightly smelly puzzle. But Rabbit knows the truth." He coils up into a forward-sitting position; he always did move much quicker than one could expect, "I know deep down ya love me. Or at least like me. Plus, I think I can make us rich tonight…" With an air of bravado he pats his fine black over-coat, "Well, rich-er anyway."
Here it comes, you think. His newest plan. You'd be more annoyed, but somehow most of his schemes actually work.
"Follow my lead tonight and we'll both swim outta here with more cash than you've seen since… well… probably since that time in the governor's place."
He would bring that up.
"I'll treat you to some o'that high-falutin' Lassaiz wine, I tell ya that." His eyes unfocus, re-running his plans for the evening if you had to guess, and you take the opportunity to look back out the window.
The carriage continues rolling down the street, passing through a short tunnel and into the Stacks - the district easily recognized by its towering smokestacks and large factories. In the tunnel the thundering of the rain is replaced by an echoey splashy hiss, and you look out the window to see a few street dwellers huddling in out of the rain. Then the rainy roar returns as you pass back out of the tunnel again. Rabbit assures you that you'll be at your destination soon, though he calls it "the party". He just has to make a few stops soon. A few times the carriage pulls to a halt in front of a house or a building or a parlor, and each time Rabbit takes in one object or bag to come out with another. Finally he hops back into the carriage with a small non-descript brown satchel and sets his coat aside. "Ah… now that's better. We'll be there soon."
Within a minute your carriage has pulled to a stop in front of a large factory building from which you can just hear the sounds of an army of printing presses running.
Rabbit pops on a bowler hat with a smart red feather stuck in the band and swings a dark umbrella up as he steps from the carriage… the same umbrella he got at one of the earlier stops. You can't help but notice that it really is a nice hat. Maybe I should get one like it, you think as you unconsciously adjust your own hat, a beautiful work of art reminiscent of a colorful bird taking flight from atop your head. The hat, in the current Lassaiz-style is a perfect compliment to your silk Tzin gown.
Rabbit takes a quick look at the factory-front, noting the two bruisers lounging all-too-casually by the door, then turns, slings the bag over his shoulder, and offers you his arm. You keep yourself from rolling your eyes, though you can't help but smile at his antics as you take his arm. Stepping down, you take a moment to check your blade.
"I can't believe you brought that." he mutters. "Don't know how I'm gonna get them to let you take it in." But you can tell he's already forming a plan for that… if he doesn't have one already.
The two of you step forward, and a quick exchange of information takes place (along with a quicker exchange of coin). The bigger of the two men eyes your blade and rattles off a series of 'rules' from memory. "No guns. No blades. No cheatin'. No stealin'. A lady says 'no'…" his dark eyes shift to you. "Well, anyway. No fightin' less yer in the ring. No collars." He stands expectantly, a meaningful look at your katana, but Rabbit jumps in without missing a beat.
"No, no. We can't be giving this up. It's a work of art, mate. And you and I will both be in more than a heap a'hurt if a certain arms dealer doesn't get'is hands on it." He gives the meat-head a very serious look. "You know who I'm talkin' about. Tell ya what… I'm makin' enough cash on this deal, anyway… might as well cut you in, eh?" You almost miss the exchange of cash-slips from Rabbit to the man, and after a few moments thought, the big man smiles - showing a few missing teeth.
"Good ta see ya, Mr. Giles. Enjoy yer evenin'." He reaches out and slips a yellow tag on the hilt of your blade, then dips his rain-soaked hat to you, "Ma'am." And opens the door. You shake your head as you enter, wondering at the yellow paper.
"It says to everyone to keep their bloody mitts off the blade. Anyone would be a fool to steal something with one'a those yellow slips."
The roaring sound of the rain is replaced with the rhythmic clacks and whirs of two stories of printing presses spinning out tomorrow's paper as you venture deeper into the darkened factory towards the sights and sounds of some type of… well… impromptu gambling hall is your best guess. You look over out of curiosity to catch the paper's headline.
[b]RIVERSIDE RIPPER CLAIMS NINTH VICTIM. It's not the first time you've heard the name, and Rabbit apparently saw it as well. "Creepy as hell, right? I mean, killin's no surprise down in Riverside, but seriously." You haven't heard much of the killings, but you've heard enough. Young women's bodies found naked, ravaged, torn, and --
The thought is cut off by a skinny, middle-aged, and shirtless man who steps up to Rabbit from out of the crowd. He's sweating, red-faced, and sporting the beginnings of a shiner along with a half a dozen other bruises on his face and torso. None-the-less, he steps up with a spring in his step and offers a knuckle-wrapped hand to Rabbit, "You just lucked out. Your usual habit of betting against me would have just cost you big'time. Some Riverside meat-hawker just bought me a short vacation with the misses."
Rabbit laughs, "Well, then I'm happy to be fashionably late… again. Meet my friend, Reiko. Reiko, this is Hobbs." He sweeps his arm out in a grand flourish to the printing presses, "He manages this fine set of machinery. Oh yah, and he midnights as an aspiring underground Fight Club coordinator and amateur bare-knuckle boxer."
The man extends his hand to you, his fingers stained a bluish-black at the ends.
Rynnmoth itself is actually made up of two towns, grown together over the years. On the west (and Dunnish) side is the original Rynnmoth, a large, sprawling city that holds the bulk of the area's population. It was founded and has grown on the back of the native Dunnish people, and its efficient and simply layout reflects that. There are a number of different districts in the town, such as Little Haventon (a middle-to-upper class residential area), the Square (governmental offices and high-end trade-houses as well as some high-end food establishments), the Stacks (factory district that also holds the train-yard), Lower Rynnmoth (a mish-mash of Dunnish and non-Dunnish neighborhoods, most of them middle to lower class), and Riverside (a large, shady, and often dangerous river-and-dock-side poor neighborhood). These are some, but not all of the major areas.
Moving east across the Rynn River - across the well-known Twin Bridges of Rynnmoth, the northern one being recently converted to carry the trains that carry many trade goods into and away from the town - you move into the Lassaiz side of the metropolitan city. While there has been much cultural meshing over the years, the east side is still distinctively Lassaizan, with it's open architecture and wide avenues. Other than having its own (if much smaller) governmental and office buildings, the main points of interest are the Market area, the lumber mill, the University, the lighter-than-air shiptowers, the Horse Racing tracks, and the two dueling gyms. This side of town has far less of an eclectic look.
The two sides share most city resources, though they have independent policing agencies (who try to work hand-in-hand, but there is some overlap and some gaps).
Excita-dot.
As the crowds' attention focuses on the next fighters to enter the ring, the Callum takes the opportunity to order a drink.
"Dark ale - the good stuff, mind."
Standing just over six feet, moves through the group of spectators with an air of confidence. While smaller men make way, and larger bluster and shove through the cluster of folk, he just moves about as if expecting the crowd to part before him.
His clothes are simple cotton and wool, but of fine cut and well-tailored. What appears to be buttons of onyx and moonstone run up the garments, and a bit of silver shines here and there, but they are otherwise free of adornment or embroidery. His overcoat is good quality leather, well treated and tailored to fit him, and the bottom tapered back for quick access to the currently empty gun holster strapped to his thigh.
He gives the fights in the ring a cursory glance, but the current match is apparently not holding his interest.
Reiko smiles at Hobbs as prettily as she is able, which isn't of particular note. Give them what they expect and they'll never look any deeper. She takes his hand lightly and turns the back of her hand up to him, as if he were a gentleman and she a lady who would expect her hand to be kissed. She gives Hobbs a demure, if reserved, curtsy. "A pleasure, Master Hobbs." Though it never registers on her face, she wonders about his skill as a brawler. He can take a beating, but can he deliver a better one?
She looks around the den of vice "Your venture is impressive."
Reiko takes a moment to see and be seen. Below her elaborate and attention-getting millinery achievement is the jet black hair, tan skin, and epicanthic eyes of a Tzin'Xhia woman. Her tan skin continues down her slender neck and disappears below the multiple layers of her elaborate kimono - rich, midnight blue silk with a large dragon embroidered in silver down the left side. She smooths the wide azure sash and red woven belt with a long-fingered hand as a distraction while gauging the eyes gauging her. There is little peace between the Empire and these Easterners; Reiko has seen more than her share of discrimination while roaming these foreign lands. She marks the attendees whose looks or manners say 'trouble'.
"Dark ale - the good stuff, mind."
The bar-man pauses in wiping the inside of a glass with a surprisingly clean rag (given your surroundings) and adjusts the white self-rolled smoke in his mouth as he eyes your clothes and bearing, "Four strips," he says, giving the common slang term for the cash slip known for its gray strip down one edge… the lowest denomination of cash money (worth about 10 copper chits). His uncanny bar-keeping senses must catch onto your surprise at the high amount. "What? he shrugs. "You want the good stuff, right?"
You slide the strips over and are given a pint of a stout northern Dunnish ale. It's almost worth the price. Drink in hand, you scan the noisy din for Rabbit. After a few minutes you catch sight of him. He's dressed far finer than you remember him, not surprising given that the last time was indeed on the front and behind enemy lines, but how much better does surprise you. His dark long-coat looks to be of somewhat fine cut, if a little ill-fitting on his long-limbed body, and his neat black bowler hat even has a smart red feather stuck in the band. More surprising, however, is his company. Seeming to tower over his short frame is a woman you would have thought to run into anywhere but here. Reiko… the Tzin bladeswoman. Though her clothes are also much finer than you've seen her in, if still in the Tzin style. And chatting amiably with both of them is the victor from the fight that was ending when you came in… the middle-aged printer.
It doesn't take one of keen eyesight to see the reactions you're receiving. People who notice you (and that's quite a lot given your clothing, hair, and blade) have reactions ranging from curiosity to disdain to out-right yet restrained hostility. Any acclaim you might have garnered in the dueling gyms across the river has apparently not made its way here.
"Your venture is impressive."
The middle-aged printer, however, surprises you with a fatherly smile. He takes the turn of your wrist good-naturedly and gives Rabbit only a quick look before he kisses the back of your hand. "The pleasure is mine, Miss Reiko. It's not often that a man has the pleasure of meeting someone so unique as yourself in Rynnmoth." You're surprised that he seems genuine. His eyes flash down to your yellow-tagged blade and he looks questioningly at Rabbit as you all turn to walk into the noise. "I thought you didn't deal with the man anymore, Rabbit."
Rabbit grins, "I don't. A man's likely to lose a finger tryin' to get her to leave it behind, so I needed no one else to think they could get away with grabbin' it from her, either. Wouldn't want to get blood all over yer nice shiny floor here."
"I appreciate that." he chuckles as he pulls on a white under-shirt. They talk of happenings in town. Business deals and acquaintances. People, places, and going-ons that you've never heard of. All the while walking towards the impromptu bar. You watch as two more ham-fisted but unskilled fighters slug it out in the fighting area. The three of you stop and Hobbs turns to you, "Can I get you a drink, Miss Reiko? And what do you think of the gathering? Most ladies won't even consider coming to these things… if they know what they're walking into, that is."
It doesn't take one of keen eyesight to see the reactions you're receiving. People who notice you (and that's quite a lot given your clothing, hair, and blade) have reactions ranging from curiosity to disdain to out-right yet restrained hostility.
Rabbit grins, "I don't. A man's likely to lose a finger tryin' to get her to leave it behind, so..."
Reiko raises one slender eyebrow a hair's breadth. Just a finger? Either Rabbit is understating it or he doesn't recall what happened to the last man who tried to take my katana.
His eyes flash down to your yellow-tagged blade and he looks questioningly at Rabbit... The three of you stop and Hobbs turns to you, "Can I get you a drink, Miss Reiko? And what do you think of the gathering? Most ladies won't even consider coming to these things... if they know what they're walking into, that is."
Liking Hobbs for no obvious reason, Reiko lets her mask slip a bit and takes the opportunity to send a message to several people. She gives him a genuine smile as she answers his question. She also makes brief eye contact with the most hostile patrons. Reiko lifts her blade, presumably to emphasize a point to Hobbs, making sure the tag is apparent to her audience and tapping the tsuba with a dainty finger as a warning.
"You are a gracious host, Master Hobbs. Whatever you are drinking will suit me... and if you think that inappropriate, wine. As for the gathering... I'm not 'most ladies'. And fighting only bothers me when I'm on the losing side." Another disarming smile graces her face.
You slide the strips over and are given a pint of a stout northern Dunnish ale. It's almost worth the price. Drink in hand, you scan the noisy din for Rabbit. After a few minutes you catch sight of him. He's dressed far finer than you remember him, not surprising given that the last time was indeed on the front and behind enemy lines, but how much better does surprise you. ~ More surprising, however, is his company. Seeming to tower over his short frame is a woman you would have thought to run into anywhere but here. Reiko… the Tzin bladeswoman. ~ And chatting amiably with both of them is the victor from the fight that was ending when you came in… the middle-aged printer.
What in blazes is Rabbit up to? What's she doing here? This was supposed to be an intel swap, not some soldier's reunion. The woman herself not withstanding, her presence is a surprise - I'm not in the mood surprises.
He approaches the trio carefully, ready for anything. "Rabbit ~ you should have told me the lady was coming. I would have dressed for the occasion." Glancing at her sword, he makes the slightest of gestures toward his empty holster with a smirk.
Reiko is equally surprised at the reunion, though not displeased. Her bearing slips from 'lady-like' to 'military' only briefly, when she nods to respectfully acknowledge her former comrade-in-arms. "Rabbit neglected to mention you'd be here as well, otherwise I would have worn a bigger hat... in your honor, of course."
She notes his barren holster with a smile. "Nothing changes, eh? As I recall, your holster was often empty. Your weapon spent more time in your hand than anywhere else."
As Hobbs orders a pair of (free-of-charge) dark stout ales that mirror Callum's and hands one to Reiko, Rabbit gets a smug look, "We still talkin' about his pistol?" He raises his hands defensively, "And by that I of course mean 'good to see you' Captain. Hobbs, meet Captain Callum Rhen, formerly of the 103rd Lassaiz Light Cavalry Unit. Another old friend of mine. Soon to be business partner." He says with a sly wink at Callum.
Hobbs gets an expression of realization as he looks over Callum, "Oh, so this is your surprise fighter for the last-man-standing fights tonight, huh? He does look right-proper for a ringer."
Hobbs, meet Captain Callum Rhen, formerly of the 103rd Lassaiz Light Cavalry Unit. Another old friend of mine. Soon to be business partner."[/b] He says with a sly wink at Callum.
Hobbs gets an expression of realization as he looks over Callum, "Oh, so this is your surprise fighter for the last-man-standing fights tonight, huh? He does look right-proper for a ringer."
"Still getting other people into the muck, eh, Rabbit?" Callum makes a show of examining Rabbit's fancy clothes - "Or is it Mister Rabbit, now? What have you volunteered us for this time?"
"HA! No no no… ya got it all wrong. Reiko's my ringer." he says off-handedly without even looking at her. Hobb's reaction is to spray his ale out onto the floor, wiping his mouth with a look of disbelief. Rabbit continues while numbering his points on his fingers while dabbing spewed ale from his overcoat, "She's a girl… er… woman. She's Tzin. And she's an unknown. So the odds will be stacked so far against her that even if she makes it halfway through the night we'll make a killin'."
He elbows Reiko in the ribs, "Can you just imagine our shiny captain here in the ring?"
"Still getting other people in the muck, eh, Rabbit?" Callum makes a show of examining Rabbit's fancy clothes - "Or is it Mister Rabbit, now? What have you volunteered us for this time?"
"Now you know good an' well that I'm always good to help my friends out. Well… usually."
Reiko continues sipping her drink, pointedly ignoring Hobbs' reaction. "So the other shoe drops... Rabbit, I'm not sure if I should take your 'halfway through' comment as an insult regarding my skills or a prudent consideration." She eyes the red plume on his bowler hat as if debating whether she ought to remove the hat along with his head.
"Is this 'game' open-hand or bladed? You know fighting unarmed has a limited appeal for me."
Reiko continues sipping her drink, pointedly ignoring Hobbs' reaction. "So the other shoe drops... Rabbit, I'm not sure if I should take your 'halfway through' comment as an insult regarding my skills or a prudent consideration." She eyes the red plume on his bowler hat as if debating whether she ought to remove the hat along with his head.
"Definitely prudent consideration. I'm a business-man first, Reiko. And like I said earlier… I'll make us rich on this one. I'm counting on your skills to drive our winnings up, actually."
"Is this 'game' open-hand or bladed? You know fighting unarmed has a limited appeal for me."
Hobbs recovers from his shock enough to give a sputtering answer, "Open-handed. *cough* *wheeze* Rabbit, this is crazy." He continues to fight to regain his composure after the choking episode, "No offense to any skill you might have, Miss Reiko. But… Rabbit, fighters are only allowed to walk into the ring in their pants…" The fatherly man seems to be thinking of Reiko's propriety... in a conversation about her having to fight men twice her size in bare-knuckle fights.
Reiko chooses to miss his point. She nods, "Going topless would give me an unfair advantage. Those boys would be staring at my chest instead of worrying about the beating I was giving them. Perhaps they'd be kind enough to waive that rule for me. I have a thin robe beneath this 'get-up'. It should be sheer enough that it will be obvious I'm not illegally armed. However... topless is acceptable as well."
Reiko turns a calculating look on Rabbit. "Naturally, if this becomes a topless brawl for me, then there will be some people who will enjoy it for prurient reasons not as a battle spectacle... My cut will have to go up in that case. I am not a burlesque dancer but I will be compensated if I'm required to act as one."
Hobbs is speechless as Reiko takes up Rabbit's suggestion, "Come on, Rabbit. You can't be serious. I mean, you've come up with some schemes lately but this--"
Rabbit cuts him off with a look at Reiko, "Oh, she'll be fine. And she'll be decently clothed." He pats the brown satchel he picked up at one of the stops on the ride over. "I made sure to go through the proper channels on this one."
His eyes cut over to Callum, "I dont' remember you as being much of a gamblin' type, Captain, but you're welcome to toss in some cash on our girl here if you're up for it. Just please do keep a lid on what she's capable of until after she's made us some money." He leans in closer to Callum, lowering his voice, "And I ain't seen the friend I wrote you about yet. Once we find him, I'm guessing he'll be eager to discuss the price of his information first."
Rabbit cuts him off with a look at Reiko, "Oh, she'll be fine. And she'll be decently clothed."
Reiko raises an eyebrow, "I've seen the women you cat around with, Rabbit. 'Decently clothed' isn't in your repertoire... despite your fine hat." She attempts to peek into the satchel to see exactly what he expects her to wear...
Rabbit looks around, "I'm pretty sure I seen a coupl'a them around here tonight, actually." He looks around in an exaggerated manner, waving to a few women, some of whom actually wave back. "Yep." He doesn't do anything to stop Reiko from peeking into the satchel, where she finds a rough pair of charcoal gray trousers and a white undershirt.
After glancing in the satchel, the tall Tzin woman looks almost disappointed. "I half-expected to find a leather bustier in here. Sadly, this is decent attire. Pity - I was looking forward to taking you for at least another 10% of the winnings."
His eyes cut over to Callum, "I dont' remember you as being much of a gamblin' type, Captain, but you're welcome to toss in some cash on our girl here if you're up for it. Just please do keep a lid on what she's capable of until after she's made us some money."
"I don't make a career of gambling, but I enjoy a good wager every now and then. Besides, putting money on Reiko hardly seems like a long shot."
Reiko chuckles. "That, Rabbit, is why Callum is an Officer. He's got enough charm to motivate his troops."
"Oh. I thought it was his fatal lack of a decent sense of self-preservation."
"Actually, I'm pretty sure they promoted me because everyone else was dead, at the time."
"Process of elimination!" he raises his glass. "That gives me confidence!"
Hobbs shakes his head at your groups banter, though he can't help but smile.
Reiko raises her glass, "Here's to making the other stupid bastard die for his country before you have to die for yours!"
Reiko raises her glass, "Here's to making the other stupid bastard die for his country before you have to die for yours!"
"...or whichever country you happen to be fighting for..." Callum mumbles under his breath.
Reiko silently signals her agreement with his amendment by lifting her cup again. She's fought on both sides of one particular war, as Rhen well knows.
She sidles over to Hobbs, curiosity getting the best of her. "So Master Hobbs, you run these presses, yes? You don't happen to have any editor friends, do you? I'm a poet by profession, and it is surprisingly difficult for Tzin to get published here." The notion that she may be a piss-poor poet never crosses Reiko's mind.
Before he can answer, she changes direction to a more pressing subject, "Are there rules to this fight aside from 'leave them breathing'? Blood and bones only? Kicking? Anything goes?"
Hobbs grins at the sudden shift in conversation topics, "Well, there aren't really any official rules. Just a handful of unspoken ones. The fight ends at a knockout or when one of the fighters gives up… usually through saying so or tapping out. There's been a few gents who thought they could get smart and fake a tap out then sucker-punch their opponent… I'll just say it didn't go well for those guys, and they certainly didn't get any winnings. Anyone obviously trying for crippling, deadly, or bone-breaking maneuvers gets kicked out of the ring for good.. not to mention waking up bruised and bound up in front of the court-house with some 'confession' about how they were involved in some recent robbery or somesuch. This is an honest fight, and the backers want a fun environment." He laughs, "Not many gents try much in the way of kicking. Only a few random Iss'Laani have been any kind of effective at it, but it's not really discouraged at all… just unused." He pats you on the shoulder, "I have a feeling you'll be fine as long as you don't fight dirty." You can tell he's still not comfortable with the idea of you in the ring, but he's polite enough to keep it to himself.
Rabbit seems about to make a joke when a roar from the crowd around the ring announces another amateur fighter down, and a nasally voice cuts through the sounds. "ARRIGHT! ARRIGHT! NUFF A'DIS AMATEUR BRUISER HOUR SH!T!" The crowd goes crazy, and Rabbit grins at your little group, as this definitely means the main series of fights is coming up. "TONIGHT'S MAIN EVENT IS SOMETHIN' NEW… A WINNER-TAKES ALL SURVIVAL NIGHT! THAT'S RIGHT, ALL FIGHTERS ARE WELCOME, BUT ONLY ONE WILL WALK OUT A WINNER. HELL! ONLY ONE WILL WALK OUT, RIGHT?!" The roar re-doubles as laughter, jeering, and excitement grows, and Rabbit is forced to lean in and shout to be heard from only a foot away.
"Okay! Now we're about to see some fun…" He leans forward as a band spins up in the corner, two local boys on some drums and a strange, lap-sized stringed instrument play a frenetic ditty to the enjoyment of the drinking crowd. Tapping the end of his umbrella on the saw-dust-strewn floor, Rabbit looks at you as he waits to hear your thoughts about the evening.
"Okay! Now we're about to see some fun..." He leans forward as a band spins up in the corner, two local boys on some drums and a strange, lap-sized stringed instrument play a frenetic ditty to the enjoyment of the drinking crowd. Tapping the end of his umbrella on the saw-dust-strewn floor, Rabbit looks at you as he waits to hear your thoughts about the evening.
Reiko casts a glance at the sign-up table and then gives Rabbit a small, feral, smile. "You haven't mentioned the split, Rabbit... My cut is what? And before you try to low-ball me... I'm having a very pleasant evening drinking Hobbs' booze and flirting him up. The number you quote better be generous enough for me to turn that down in favor of getting bruised."
Rabbit frowns, "Did I not?" He sounds honest, but it is Rabbit. "I wouldn't dream of low-ballin' you, sweetheart. It's business as usual. A seventy - thirty split. And you keep the winner's pot if you win."
Reiko admires Rabbit's hat. "If '70' is my cut then you are being generous. Otherwise, see my comment about low-balling." She wraps an arm around Hobbs' bicep. "Master Hobbs, it looks like you'll have the opportunity of wining and dining me this eve, if you so wish. Is there a Madam Hobbs, I'll have to battle for your attention?" She adds a little pressure on Rabbit. "How long do you take sign-ups for? I imagine it doesn't take long to get all the names down..."
Reiko admires Rabbit's hat. "If '70' is my cut then you are being generous. Otherwise, see my comment about low-balling."
Callum smiles at the haggling between Reikpo and Rabbit. "If 70 is too rich, I'll shave off 20% or so for myself - that should make everyone happy, right?"
"If you are willing to keep an eye on my sword and, more particularly, my hat while I'm off making money for Rabbit, then I'm willing to cut you in for 20% taken from Rabbit's 70% share... AND give myself another 10% over that paltry 30% he offered. I'm generous with other people's money." She glances over at the sign-up table briefly, seeing that only stragglers remain, "But we best conclude this negotiation before the opportunity to play is past. Tick Tock, Rabbit. You are already down money just getting me in the door. You've got to spend money to make it. I think 40% is fair for my sweat, effort, and possible bruises."
Rabbit's laughing expression turns sour quickly, and you're reminded that Rabbit is closer to his schemes than any person. He scowls over at Callum, "You want in on this deal, you have to front some cash. And you'll be cut in for the amount of the winnings as your cash adds into the bet, not a chit more."
When his eyes swing to Reiko who is currently hanging on an uncomfortable-looking Hobb's arm, they become calculating (and he fights a grin), "And I think thirty percent is plenty generous given that all you had to show up with was your fists. Granted, they are highly talented fists that I plan on makin' a buck off of. I been workin' this deal for over two weeks. Greasin' palms, settin' up capital backin', gatherin' intel, and spreadin' just the right information." He pauses while he thinks, "When have I ever pulled you into somethin' and not taken care of ya, sweetie? And don't you dare bring up that time in the Horse-back Saloon. That weren't my fault and no way I could'a seen it comin'." He pauses again, clearly frustrated, tapping his umbrella on the floor in a staccato beat. "Tell ya what. Since you make such a compellin' argument, I'll see yer share up to that 40%, but you owe me on the cut. 'Specially when you see what else is in that bag.. don't forget to check the back pants pocket."
Just that quickly, he splits back into a grin, "Now, Hobbs, why don't you take our little business-woman here to sign up before she does actually get locked outta the fights. You'll lend her some credibility at the sign-up table. Callum, you have anything you want to partake of here while we keep our eyes open for my friend?" His lecherous grin at one of the passing women leaves no uncertainty as to the intent of the question. "We should have ten or twenty minutes before the betting will begin."
The money Rabbit provided is enough to cover your entry, and you see that there is a list of eleven other names by the time the entries are finished. Hobbs leans in when he sees you eye the names, "We'll have a few minutes while they make sure all the fighters are legit, then you all will meet in the ring to pull fight numbers. That's when you'll find out who you fight first." Condescending and hostile eyes follow you as Hobbs leads you away from the table carrying the brown satchel.
Reiko pulls out her own ink-brush and a small ink well then signs her name with an elaborate calligraphic touch. Her course chosen, Reiko relaxes in the moment.
"So, Hobbs, where do I change? Or are you boys expecting a free show for my 40%?" She laughs, clearly kidding.
Rabbit scowls over at Callum, "You want in on this deal, you have to front some cash. And you'll be cut in for the amount of the winnings as your cash adds into the bet, not a chit more."
"Callum, you have anything you want to partake of here while we keep our eyes open for my friend? We should have ten or twenty minutes before the betting will begin."
"Fine - I'll go in for half of the wager, for half of the winnings, after Reiko's 40%. As for the rest, I hardly think 10 minutes is time to do a proper job of it - besides, we've business, first. Where is this contact of yours?"
ooc]Sense Motive:[/ooc] 1d20+3
As you continue conversing, he leads you away into a series of what look like long side-offices along one of the walls. You are forced to walk back through the dark and very noisy army of presses to arrive there. A few times the two of you nearly walk up on a few couples… well.. coupling in the dark. Apparently this is a busy night for the prostitutes, who use every dark nook and cranny to make a buck. Every time Hobbs has the decency to blush and apologize. "I wouldn't allow it on the premises usually," he explains with a shake of his balding head, "but it comes with hosting the Fight Night. If I want to get paid, I have to turn a blind eye… not that my boss wouldn't fire me either way if he found out."
Finally he opens a door to what looks like a factory changing room, and at this distance from the fight night festivities, the roar of the presses and the rain from outside are your constant companion. "This is my changing room. There's a bench along the wall. You should be able to change here in some peace, as well as use this room to rest between fights."
After asking if there is anything else he can get you, he wishes you good luck and exits, leaving you to change. So you slip out of your clothes, changing into the simple dark pants and white shirt in the bag. True to his word, hiding in the back pocket is a piece of paper. There are fifteen names on the paper, eleven of which you saw on the signup sheet. The other fighters… so Rabbit had been doing some scouting for you. Next to each name is a short series of words. One reads, 'Too big for his own good. Watch the right hook and work his left knee.' Another says, 'He's a saucer… go for the gut.' So on and so forth they read.. Rabbit really did his homework.
As you put the piece of paper back in the satchel, something catches your attention. Just above the rhythmic pounding of the rain and presses you can hear a low, sporadic gasping…. accentuated every now and then with a weak moan and a scuffling. Through the open door you can see a woman's unclothed torso on the floor, her coal-black ringlets spread out behind her head and a grimy dock worker on top of her in the climactic throws of their activities. She must sense you there because her eyes meet yours, and she looks down at her client and mouths, Almost done.
Rabbit just grins at your joke, surprising you with a bit of self-deprication, "Quick in; quick out. They don't call me Rabbit for nothin', right?" The subject switch is sudden, but he's on to your bet, "Damn the percentages. I'm gettin' paid on this gig already, so whatever you wanna bet, you'll get a straight return on." He pauses to consider. "Though, if you're intersted in makin' even more money, do me a solid and circulate the floor spreadin' some national pride? Want to push the bets as far in Reiko's dis-favor as possible, right?"
The two of you begin a slow circuit of the floor and he whispers to you, "Now I don't actually know who we're lookin' for. My 'friend' isn't so much someone I actually know, but he said he'd find me when he's ready to talk to ya. So keep an eye out, will ya. This hat was delivered to me two days past, so I'm assumin' anyone that takes an interest in my keen red feather may be our man."
Twenty minutes later you find yourself at another table with Rabbit, both drinking another round of the dark ale, this time on Rabbit's purse. Then the fighters make their way out onto the floor to have the fight-matchups decided.
Winner!
Winner!
Winner!
fight 2 - opponent lvl ; class ; culture ; handed-ness .<-- ouch, even tougher. :(
fight 3 - opponent lvl ; class ; culture ; handed-ness .<-- Should be good if you can survive to this one, though. :)
fight 4 - opponent lvl ; class ; culture ; handed-ness .
AND STOP LOOKING AT MY SPOILERS!
"My 'friend' isn't so much someone I actually know, but he said he'd find me when he's ready to talk to ya. So keep an eye out, will ya. This hat was delivered to me two days past, so I'm assumin' anyone that takes an interest in my keen red feather may be our man."
"And where did you pick up this contact?"
"Now you know I don't kiss and tell, Captain Rhens." He takes another sip of his ale, "Information is one of the many things I deal in. As much as I'd love to say I'm passing this along out of my deep and abiding respect for you, it was actually a lucrative venture for me as well."
He looks up, "Ah! It's starting."
The same nasally-voiced shouter brings the crowd back to the ring, where there is much jostling for position. From various places around the Fight-Night area men begin entering the ring. Some are obviously local regulars and enter to crowd-roars of their own. Some are obviously out-of-towners, including a small Iss'Laani man and a towering Appawo with his copper skin and black eyes and mohawk. All of them are dressed in similar fashion… shoeless, shirtless, and simple pants.
Reiko makes her way from getting changed towards the ring, still carrying her blade and hat. She has changed out of her Tzin formal-wear into a similar fighter's garb, adding a simple white undershirt for propriety. She stops by the table to hand the blade and hat to Callum for safe-keeping.
Rabbit winks, "Bit of light readin', love?"
Nasally-voice announces each fighter as they enter the ring, giving their name and nation to an escalating roar of the crowd. When Reiko marches in last - and her name and nation are read out - the crowd turns sour. The cheers and jeers turns ugly and grows in intensity. For a few tense moments, you're not sure they'll let her compete.
Nasally-voice then pulls off his hat and tosses in twelve slips of paper. One at a time the fighters draw them out, ending - once again - with Reiko. When the slips are revealed, first up is Reiko. Against a massive brick of a man who was introduced as "Steams from Riverside".
The other fighters file out, all eyeing each other like dogs in a too-small-pen. And Reiko is left alone with Steams. He cracks his knuckles with a smile on his lips, and all Reiko can think of is… Damn… what did the paper say about Steams?!
Reiko stretches lightly, loosening up her muscles, trying to reveal as little as possible about herself while gauging the skill level of her opponent. Her stance is anything but aggressive.
When the bout starts, she holds up a placating hand for moment. "Do you wish to be the first to hit a woman? Leave the ring and you will be praised for being an honorable gentleman."
Reiko doesn't expect the man to walk away from a cash prize but still - some people are slaves to their consciences - and Reiko has no hesitation about taking advantage of that.