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The crowd at large cheers before going back to their drinks, and Jo motions for you to stand near the stage while he exchanges some words with the fiery bearded man.
The crowd quickly begins to murmur at the news and sight of a dead Devil.
Entering back into the Last Torch you find Johansen Mortimer upon the stage, standing next to the corpse of a man, and holding up his severed head.
The man is decapitated in front of the crowd who cheers to see the fight reach its conclusion.
"He was trying to extort us, would let us into Lightless for a cut of our profits, Haverus wasn't having it."
"Oh god!" cries the man as he falls to the ground. "Yeah, I'm sorry! I didn't want to hurt the guy I just had to go along with it."
The last man left standing looks around frantically, "Ok look, I can kill the girl, just let me go, I don't even know why I'm under attack."
The man finally succumbs to his wounds as his leg gives way and shatters.
Seeing Quinn'Del heal Jaahnby forces the other man to focus his attention on her as well.
The man's other arm is severely injured and nearly taken off.
The bolts crash into the man's shoulder, injuring his arm and causing him to drop his weapon. The man cries out in pain before drawing a dagger and stabbing at Delara with it.
But he misses horrifically.
The two men continue their attacks on Jaahnby while the other shifts his focus to Quinn'Del.
The man tries to dodge Tyr'El's attack, but fails.
At the sound of the commotion a handful of Last Torch patrons have made their way to the Tavern door to investigate. When they see the melee, they quickly show out to the Tavern, "FIGHT!!!!" As the streets quickly become lined with onlookers.
The man in charge moves to cut down Delara.
The Moon Clan members shout in surprise and anger and begin to ready their own weapons.
Two of the men move to Jaahnby with their swords drawn and strike at him, whilst the third moves for Tyr'El.
Arriving outside, the group of Moon Circle turn on Jaahnby, "What the hell gives with you!? Are you trying to get us all ---"
...But surprisingly, the group shrugs and stands, making their way to the door....
The people seated at the table, and everyone else in the tavern stare at Jaahnby as if he belongs in a mental hospital.
Tyr'El doesn't recognize any of the fighters sat at the table and assesses their combat experience couldn't outstrip his own.
Delara recognizes the man speaking to the group as Jo', a senior enforcer for the Eight Devils but is unable to feel out any motive he may have, nor can she glean any information about the group across the way. Tyr'El however sees small emblems hemmed into the tunics of the marked group, recognizing them as part of the Moon Circle. Each of the member of the group carries themselves warily and are clearly on guard, most of them seem to be veterans of at least a scrap or two.
The Last Torch is bustling with activity as you make your entrance into the tavern. While not the most luxurious tavern in all of Cilan'Rora, the Last Torch is of surprising quality and all of you have certainly been to worse. The current majority of patrons are sat at various tables around the establishment, many playing cards or otherwise wrapped up in conversation. At the far end of the tavern away from the bar is a small stage for entertaining that is currently unoccupied.
Before you make your way into the building proper, one of the few people sat at the bar gives you a whistle.
The locations that Delara is most familiar with in Lightless are: The Last Torch - The most "prestigious" of the Taverns of Lightless, the majority of drinking, gambling, and socializing is done here. The Broken Leg Theater - A small time theater that Delara knows is actually used for drug running. The Bazaar - The market place of Lightless. Darktown - One of the still dark areas of Lightless where many gangs have agreed upon to fight out there differences without affecting the populace at large. The Fair Lady - The most prestigious brothel in Lightless.
"Don't give me that look sweet heart, if you say they ain't clan then I'm saying they ain't. But the rat better ditch that sword if you want to convince anyone else besides me they ain't darling." "As for dinner, you just give me a time and a place." the man says with another grin and a slight nod.
Arriving at a checkpoint that looks far more ramshackle than the others you've passed, Dalara makes towards a man leaning against the stone structure. You become aware of how empty this section of street you are on truly is. The man bites at his nails absent-mindedly while resting his other arm along a sheathed Sabre. Without looking up at the four of you, he mechanically intones, "The light remains..." To which Delara responds, "Whilst the Devils sleep." The sound of Delara's voice seems to rouse the man as he looks up quickly, spotting Delara and smiling a toothy grin "Heyyy... Delia, right? When are you gonna let me buy you a drink down at the Last Torch?" The man's eyes however suddenly narrow when he spots the rest of you, "Who're yer friends here? You bringing clan scum down into Lightless, Delia?"
Delara knows that the Lightless district of Cilan'Rora is the base of operations of nearly all major gangs.
Set in the lowest portions of the city and in general disrepair and occupied by only the most unfortunate of residents, Lightless earned its name from the large portions of the district that hung in total darkness. However, a decade or two ago the major gangs began to form in Lightless, while being almost universally ruthless criminal organizations, a great many of them began to invest efforts to improve Lightless. These days while Lightless is still far from the most opulent of the districts, it is a functioning district with thriving trade and industry, just under the control of the major gangs, some of which like the Eight Devils have begun to amass almost as much influence as some clans. Indeed, many clans have begun to avoid Lightless as the populace there are fervently loyal to the gangs which helped to rebuild their communities. Some of the more legalistic of the clans such as the Dusk Wolves are often outright attacked once recognized. One of the only clans to avoid such a fate being the Obsidian Scorpions who are generally well liked and themselves value Lightless as a training ground and almost exclusively recruit from its population.
The woman immediately turns a violent shade of red,
Before nodding and whispering into Jaahnby's ear and quickly running off.
Tyr'El is able to amass an additional 14 gold from the sales of the men's equipment. Looking at the bounty board, most jobs have already been claimed, but three stand out. WANTED: Fir'Stadyne Yems - Murderer of two Obsidian Scorpion initiates and theft of clan officer's weapon. Last seen entering Clanhall of the Black Shields. Bounty: 1,500 gold. WANTED: Jillian Retos - Midwife suspected of murder of one Mrs. Laress and infant son. Wanted alive for questioning. Whereabouts unknown. Bounty: 200 gold. WANTED: Xilsa Fulweather - Yska Gang leader of The Tangle, accused of murder, larceny, robbery, kidnapping, extortion, and public indecency. Whereabouts unknown. Bounty: 750 gold.
On the corpses of the two men, Tyr'El finds 9 gold pieces, and the men's hatchet, longsword, and leather armors.
Digging through the pockets of the man Tyr'El finds a scribbled note. "To Thugs it May Concern," "You will come to know me as Recruiter Vraelick, and I am your salvation and your demise." "I've taken notice of your frequenting of outside Syndicate headquarters of late, I'm sure you expect to find an opportunity to make some sort of cash grab at our expense. Let me assure you, no such opportunity is coming." "However, the initiation into the Syndicate just so happens to be taking place at this exact moment. After my passing everyone else who leaves the building tonight will be carrying large sums of gold. Feel free to prey on them as you wish." "It is my hope you either weed out the weak, or get yourselves killed so I no longer have to see your degenerate faces every incessant day." "Best of luck to you gentlemen." "With Sincerity, Recruiter Vraelick."
Delara's stream of bolts rend the second arm from the injured gangster, whose mounting injuries prove too great and he collapses dead. Their leader dead and another dead while another gangster is injured so quickly proves too much for the men's resolve and they quickly break ranks and flee. "Holy shit, what is this!? RUN!"
A hulking monstrous creature bursts from the shadows of the streets and besets one of the gangers, knocking the hatchet from his hand before rending his arm from the shoulder.
Jaahnby cleaves through the Leader's entire lower torso, washing the street in blood and leaving the man very dead.
"Kill the woman!" cries the leader at the sight of magic before two bolts collide with him.
Delara's two bolts rip chunks of flesh from the leader's arm and shoulder, but he remains upright and capable.
One of the men steps forwards from the group of nine men, patting the sword at his side, "Saw you took out a little loan for us from the Syndicate...Only problem is you forgot to give it to us on your way by; no worries, you can square us up and be on your way now." says the man. "I'm thinking, 100 gold for each of you we let live?...Sound fair?"
As you begin to move Jaahnby and Quinn'Del both take notice that a gathering of people across from the Syndicate's clan hall took immediate notice of you as you exited and have begun to slowly move with your group.
"Magic. Yes. Only magic still do." says the man as he begins tracing symbols of energy into the air. "Once big wizard. Best maybe. Leader of Keys one day they say. Then head smashed in by mace. Healer save me, brain good. But words not working anymore. Symbols still working though." he concludes as an inky trail writhes it's way from the symbols and into each of your hands, leaving the mark of a black hollow triangle.
"Dumb ones all get same idea. Rob Syndicate to join Syndicate. Brand make nonsense impossible."
One servant steps forwards, "First to leave, always branded, insurance; untrustworthy, either too smart or too stupid." "Succeed, brand go away." states the man, whose eyes bely an intelligence not present in his speech.
The four of you make your way past several tables of your competitors, many of them still seated huddled together, much as yourselves were moments before, obviously forming their own plans in how best to proceed. Of the few who pry themselves away from talks to take notice of your passing gives the lot of you a dubious glare. Entering into the Syndicate's antechamber, you find Recruiter Vraelick once again in conversation with subordinate members of the Clan.
You find yourself one of several dozen grouped together in a massive gilded hall, adorned with precious gemstones and metals. The room shining with a blue hue as a massive chandelier hangs above made entirely from Sapphire. You were meticulously seated in pairings of four about the room by several servants and an odd looking man stands at a podium in the center of the room, speaking to two of the servants and looking nonplussed. Your table might be the strangest of the lot, as it seems the servants went to great lengths to separate the oddities of the masses into their own table. However, before any of you have the chance to introduce yourselves, the important man makes his way up the podium.
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