>>1319885

The tight knot of silent observers – every one of them draped in white cloaks, the edges frayed to resemble feathers – offers no reaction as you sweep past them, hurrying down the street. Once, the Ministry arrested people like them, but those days are long past. The Ministry doesn't have the time or manpower to throw every cultist and lunatic into the dungeons. So long as they're content to stand and stare at people, the Ministry leaves them be. The first sign of trouble, though...

Manpower. The Ministry always needs more of it – men and women who wear the uniform, and others who don't. The latter, inevitably, end up with the dirty jobs, the sort of business not talked about in polite company. It was all Berdan Loch's idea, to work with “independent contractors” when the situation called for it. You met him once, a few weeks before his death. A withered husk, eaten away from within, his eyes had still been very sharp.

“Eliza Hanson?” he had repeated, seeing through the old lie in an instant, “Very well – take whatever name you choose. All that matters is this - are you prepared to serve the League?”

Gravely, you gave him a simple nod – the only answer he needed from you.

-

These days, it's not uncommon to see people wearing weapons openly, even in the heart of Thar Dreyse. The slender sword you wear at your hip doesn't attract much attention, but the dagger – a magnificent piece, with a basket hilt swelling at the base – does draw a few eyes. It tends to, although the people you've asked can never explain why. You have a few theories of your own, but nothing that you'd ever share.

Ignoring the way that the secretary glances at your weapon, you wait for him to send you through to the old man. It takes rather longer than you'd like – more wasted time, more uneasy waiting – but eventually the moment comes. Before he's finished speaking, you're up and moving into the discrete office. Closing the door behind you, you adjust the sword belt and settle into a seat. Behind the desk, Sokolov – your immediate superior, as much as you “officially” have one – adjusts his narrow spectacles and speaks.

“To begin,” he starts, age lending his voice a coarseness, “What do you know about a group calling themselves the “Bastards of the Free States”? Have you heard the name before?”

Briefly, you reply in a clipped voice, they're an anarchist group. Kidnappings, a number of killings, even a bombing... correct?

“All correct, although their links with the bombing you spoke of are disputed,” Sokolov adjusts his spectacles again, “Many things, in fact, remain disputed.”

Frustration in his voice. They have a lot of questions, and damn few answers. Everyone does, these days.

[2/3]

>>1319887

Sighing heavily, Sokolov reaches into his desk and produces a photograph, passing it across to you. Taking it, you study the man shown – lean and handsome enough, in a haughty sort of way, but with the kind of moustache that he'd look better without. Glancing up from the photograph, you look at Sokolov with a question in your eyes.

“Alexei Kasun,” Sokolov explains, “One of the senior researchers at Solberg Laboratories. Early yesterday, he was kidnapped from his home in Port Daud. Several of his household staff were murdered in the process, and the perpetrators were careful not to leave a trail behind them.”

There were storms that night, you recall, the sort of storms that can cover a multitude of sins.

“However,” the old man continues, “We have reason to believe that the Bastards are responsible. Demands have yet to be issued, although we believe that they will come in due time. Your assignment is to track Kasun down, or – failing that – gather whatever information on these Bastards you can.”

His voice is stern, and the grave look in Sokolov's eyes reveals something to you, something he didn't wish to say aloud – they know next to nothing, and they'd be willing to sacrifice Kasun to learn more. That's why you're here, after all. If you retrieve Kasun alive and well, the Ministry will take the credit. If the job turns dirty, and sacrifices have to be made... their hands are clean.

What a shit job, you think to yourself, although the pay is more than a fair compensation.

“You will have assistance with this operation,” Sokolov adds, oblivious to your thoughts, “He is waiting for you in Port Daud. I'm told that you'll know each other on sight - I suggest you make contact with him as soon as possible. However, if you have any questions, now is the time to ask them.”

>I'm done here. Time to go to work
>How do you know that the Bastards are involved?
>What else can you tell me about these “Bastards”?
>I need details on Kasun
>I had some other questions to ask... (Write in)
>Other

>>1319889
>>What else can you tell me about these “Bastards”?
>>I need details on Kasun

>>1319889
>What else can you tell me about these “Bastards”?
>I need details on Kasun

>>1319889
>What else can you tell me about these “Bastards”?
>I need details on Kasun
>How do you know that the Bastards are involved?

In order of importance

>>1319889
>>I need details on Kasun
"Any reason he'd be singled out?"

>How do you know that the Bastards are involved?
>What else can you tell me about these “Bastards”?

>I'm done here. Time to go to work

>>1319889
>How do you know that the Bastards are involved?
>What else can you tell me about these “Bastards”?
>I need details on Kasun

>>1319889
>What else can you tell me about these “Bastards”?
>>I need details on Kasun

>>1319889
>How do you know that the Bastards are involved?
>What else can you tell me about these “Bastards”?
>I need details on Kasun
I bet it's gonna be that noble hunter guy

File: Sokolov.png (896 KB, 990x1067)

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Frowning, you consider the situation. Details first, you need to know more about what you're going to be dealing with. What else, you ask Sokolov, can he tell you about these “Bastards”? You'll admit, you don't have much more than a passing knowledge of them. Probably no more than the average man in the street might learn from the newspapers and the radio... which isn't much.

“Unfortunately, there isn't a great deal more that I can tell you. The group is very careful with their secrets, and capturing members of it has proven, so far, to be difficult. Most favour suicide over capture, while the few members we have been able to arrest were of little value. The lowest ranking members, with little more than propaganda to offer us,” Sokolov mirrors your frown, although his is a far wearier version, “Their numbers are uncertain, but considerable, and they have access to modern weapons. If the group has a single leader, they have yet to reveal themselves.”

They sound more like a military force than an anarchist group, you point out, what are their aims?

“Unclear and inconsistent. They have been known to broadcast their propaganda over the radio, in which they speak of themselves as being champions of the people – of a people abandoned and ignored by the League. The members that we have captured claim these same things,” slowly drumming his fingers on the desk, Sokolov picks his next words carefully, “However, their actions have shown a tendency towards Panacea – attempts to hijack shipments, for example. We believe that kidnapping Kasun is part of this secondary agenda.”

Kasun, you repeat with a nod, you'll need details on him. Is there any reason why he, in particular, would be singled out as a target?

“Alexei Kasun is an important man. I mentioned that he was a senior researcher at the Sokolov Laboratories – in fact, he is one of the three top members of the group. He knows everything there is to know about Panacea, and he has a crucial role in further studies. Without him, the Laboratories will find much of their progress stalled,” again, Sokolov has to decide what to tell you, “We believe that he was targeted because he was vulnerable during his visit to Port Daud, and because his importance would give him high value.”

More of a ransom, you guess, right?

“Correct. Although this is not something that should be publicly known, the League would pay a high price for his safe return,” Sokolov meets your gaze, his eyes like cold flints, “Publicly bowing to any demands could be seen as... a show of weakness.”

So he wants the matter handled quietly. Of course he does.

[1/2]

>>1319912

One issue bothers you. If the Bastards operate in secret, you ask, how can they be sure that the group is responsible? As he said, they haven't issued any demands yet – until that happens, do they have any other proof?

“One item – a fragment of a radio broadcast, intercepted before the kidnapping,” reaching into his desk, Sokolov draws out a slip of paper and hands it across to you, “By itself, it says nothing incriminating. However, the wording used has been linked with previous intercepted messages – typically related with kidnap plots.”

“Our friend arrives in Port Daud today,” the note reads, “Meet him at home and pick him up, if you please.”

Meet him at home and pick him up, you read aloud, that certainly fits the description of what happened – albeit in a more polite form.

“Quite,” Sokolov agrees, offering you a humourless smile.

Well then, you decide, that seems to be everything. It's about time that you got to work.

“Before you go, you may want to speak with Naumov. He is something of an expert in matters related to the Bastards, and he would be happy to expand on what I've told you. It may not have any bearing on this present case, but you may appreciate the additional context,” Sokolov scratches a few short sentences on a slip of paper and pushes it across to you, “He has an office here, on the floor below. This note will instruct him to cooperate fully. There is one thing, however, that I have to warn you about.”

And what, you ask, is that?

“His judgement cannot be considered unbiased,” Sokolov warns, “And he has a habit of excessive speculation. Listen carefully to his facts, but humour his... wilder theories.”

Naumov, you consider, sounds like a throwback – a relic from a time where paranoia stalked members of the Ministry. Panacea might have smoothed out the worst of such things, but apparently it couldn't eliminate it all. Likely, nothing ever could. Taking the slip with a firm nod, you rise and depart. As you're leaving, you take out your pocket watch and give it a close look. Plenty of time before the next northbound train, enough to do whatever preparations are needed. Maybe you could check one of your “unofficial” sources, see what else you can dig up...

>Head to the station early
>See what Naumov has to tell you – a bit of context can't hurt
>Visit your other source, see what rumours are flying about
>Other

>>1319920
>>Visit your other source, see what rumours are flying about
Time to hit up the bar?

>>1319920
>>Visit your other source, see what rumours are flying about

>>1319920
>See what Naumov has to tell you – a bit of context can't hurt
>Visit your other source, see what rumours are flying about

>Hang around the train's cargo bay, maybe you'll pick up a hint about suspiciously body-shaped luggage.

>>1319920
>Visit your other source, see what rumours are flying about

>>1319920
>>See what Naumov has to tell you – a bit of context can't hurt
>>Visit your other source, see what rumours are flying about
Why not both? One after the other.

>>1319920
>See what Naumov has to tell you – a bit of context can't hurt
>Visit your other source, see what rumours are flying about

Chances are, you'll find out more interesting information by checking in with your other sources and seeing what rumours are going about – it might not all be true information, but it'll certainly be more interesting – but that doesn't mean that Naumov can't help you. If nothing else, you'll be able to compare the two, see how the official and unofficial versions of events match up. Often, the two are like night and day.

So, after descending one level, you search out the man's discrete, windowless office and knock firmly, listening to the muffled curse from within. The door opens to reveal something approaching a face, albeit one put together by a rank amateur. Naumov, you realise, has had an interesting history – possibly one that involved something trying to eat him.

“Oh, you're one of THOSE, are you?” he replies as you pass Sokolov's note across, “Well, I don't have a lot of time, I'm very busy.”

The short version then, you ask, how short can he make it?

“The short history of the Bastards, right,” furrowing his brow and running his hand across the numerous scars on his face, Naumov thinks for a moment, “First thing you should know – they came out of bloody nowhere. Usually with these groups, you get a build-up, they need to get some momentum going before they can really do some damage. The Bastards, not so – the first thing we knew about them, they were causing trouble all across the Free States. Then, the Dunajski Incident happened.”

You remember that one, you think to yourself, a bombing up in Port Isten. It was bad, damn bad – the governor himself was killed, along with a great many Ministry soldiers and nearby northerners. For a lot of people, that was the real sign that the League's short period of glory days had passed. Were the Bastards responsible for that, you ask, you thought it had been the final work of desperate northern resistance?

“Yeah, but the Bastards claim to have provided the bombs for it,” scowling immensely, Naumov touches his scar again, “I believe it. Those weren't improvised things, those were some serious pieces of kit – I had a close enough look.”

Right, you agree slowly, that's... bad luck.

“I survived. A lot of people didn't,” shaking his head, Naumov glances down at his own watch, “Hell, looks like I'll have to cut this even shorter than I thought. Lesson you should learn from all this, the Bastards don't mess around. I don't know what your sort deal with, but these are no amateurs. Be careful, and gut a few of them for me. Better than scum like that deserves, if I'm being honest.”

As the conversation turns to violence, a worryingly dreamy look enters Naumov's eyes. After seeing that, you're glad to be leaving.

[1/2]

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>>1319955

The Medicine Melancholy hasn't changed much over the years. The faces of the regular patrons have changed, and some of the staff have come and gone, but the bar itself? It's just the same as ever, and you can't imagine it changing at all.

Hana is serving behind the bar when you arrive, doing business with the absolute minimum number of words. You remember a time when she was totally mute – by choice, to lull people into a false sense of security. Silence is no longer a luxury she can afford these days, when she tends to the majority of business. Iosefka, by contrast, has taken to the more leisurely life of playing music for the patrons. She's up there on stage now, teasing an elegant tune out of her piano. Taking a seat, you wait for her song to end. When it does, she sits opposite you and studies you with amused eyes.

“Eliza Hanson,” she begins, with that usual cool humour, “You're looking very professional today. This isn't a social call, is it?”

Pure business, you admit, sorry.

“Hmm, well let me take a guess,” sitting back, Iosefka taps a slender finger against her lips, “Something to do with the storm, is it? I hear a few buildings got broken into – perhaps something important got stolen, and you're looking for anyone selling stolen goods?”

A surprisingly close guess, you consider, almost too close to be a coincidence. Then again, looting during storms is no rarity...

>I hear an important person went missing up in Port Daud. Heard anything about it?
>What do you know about anarchist groups? One group in specific...
>What sort of rumours are going about theses days?
>I've got a question for you... (Write in)
>Other

>>1319964
>I hear an important person went missing up in Port Daud. Heard anything about it?
>What do you know about anarchist groups? One group in specific...

>>1319964
>I hear an important person went missing up in Port Daud. Heard anything about it?
>What do you know about anarchist groups? One group in specific...
>What sort of rumours are going about theses days?

>>1319964
I was afraid the 'other source' would turn out to be Camilla. Henryk would be such a swine, leaving her and vanishing.

>>1319964
>I hear an important person went missing up in Port Daud. Heard anything about it?
>What do you know about anarchist groups? One group in specific...
>What sort of rumours are going about theses days?

>>1319968
On one hand I can see her going with him on whatever adventure he's on. On the other I can see her stubbornly staying at her job.

Though it would be funny if the League went to shit because Camilla resigned.

>>1319964
>>I hear an important person went missing up in Port Daud. Heard anything about it?
>>What do you know about anarchist groups? One group in specific...
>>What sort of rumours are going about theses days?

It was a pretty close guess, you admit, but she got a few of the details wrong. It's not stolen goods you're investigating, you explain, but a missing person. An important missing person, from up in Port Daud – she heard anything about it?

“A missing person?” the humour drops away from Iosefka's eyes, “Well, that's an entirely different matter. That's no laughing matter. Can you give me a name, or is this a matter of some secrecy?”

You'd rather not deal in names, you admit, not yet.

“Understandable,” nodding slowly, Iosefka toys with her long braid, “No, I have to admit, I've not heard anything about that sort of business in Port Daud... which implies a few things, in itself. Namely, this is definitely a serious matter – if we're talking about kidnapping, it's a professional job. Amateurs would brag and boast, word would get around. It takes a lot of skill to disappear someone without leaving a trace. May I take another guess?”

Go ahead, you tell her, you always like hearing her guesses. Maybe it's the Scholar in her, but they often cut straight to the truth.

“Is that so? Well, let me think...” meeting your eyes, Iosefka purses her lips, “You're not treating this like a petty sort of crime, are you? This is... political.”

And there it is, you reply with a smile, another one of her uncannily accurate guesses. Since she's brought up politics, you won't beat around the bush – what does she know about anarchist groups? One group in particular, you add, called-

“The Bastards of the Free States,” Iosefka guesses, “Another good guess?” As you nod, she laughs humourlessly. “So, the Bastards. Most people would be slow to admit it, but they're pretty well known. There's a lot of anger these days, and the Bastards are tapping right into it – I think they have rather more popular support than the Ministry might think. Just because people aren't picking up weapons in their name doesn't mean they oppose them. It's a quiet kind of support, covering up evidence and refusing to answer questions. Word of advice – be careful about asking about them. You might end up with more than you bargained for.”

They might show up, you guess, and start asking a few questions of their own.

“You got it,” nodding slowly, Iosefka gestures over to the bar, “Now, what else... They like to deal with other groups or so I've heard, giving them support and resources, although those “allies” are considered disposable – to be dropped at the first sign of trouble.”

Like the northerners, you muse, after the Dunajski Incident. Overhearing your low murmur, Iosefka nods her confirmation.

[1/2]

>>1320001

Putting them aside for now, you decide, what other rumours has she heard? Anything else interesting going about these days?

“Oh, the usual,” Iosefka shrugs, “Whales are getting scarce, apparently. Just a few weeks ago, the first of the Wehrlain ships launched – did you read about it in the papers? They made a big deal out of it, praising League science in rather lavish terms.”

You only really skim the papers, you reply with a shrug, if nothing catches your eye...

“Well, they're saying that whales are staying in the north, so the ships need special equipment to chase after them. I don't envy the crews, if what I've heard about those side-effects are true...” sighing, Iosefka rests her chin in her hands, “I'm glad Vas has the good sense to stay away from that business. He spends most of his time fishing these days, if you can believe that. Fishing!”

Sure, you laugh, that's what he calls it. He's probably up to no good somewhere.

“Oh, certainly,” murmuring her thanks to Hana as the girl brings across two cups of hot tea, Iosefka thinks for a moment longer, “Rumours, though... I can't think of anything else, unless you're interested in a bit of noble gossip?”

Nope, you reply firmly, not even slightly.

-

After saying your goodbyes, you head back home to make a few last preparations for the trip. Throw a change of clothes into a bag, get a few spare magazines for your pistol, maybe pack a book for the train – the usual sort of things. As you walk, though, you find yourself slinking back into your memories. Ten years is a long time, and a lot happened in that time. Not much of it was good.

In the end, it was duty that split apart your little world. Henryk had a duty to his various friends and allies, travelling all across the Free States with gifts of Giant's blood. Camilla travelled with him for as long as she could, but eventually her own duty – duty to the Ministry – took priority. For your own part, you had a duty to your family. When your father finally woke from his long madness, you had a lot of catching up to do. For a while, you had little choice but to return to the noble life.

If only it hadn't been such an intolerable bore! After the brief taste of adventure you'd been given, a safe and sedate life seemed more like punishment than a well-deserved reward. When talk of a political marriage started, you knew that you had to do something before it was too late. That something took you to Loch's deathbed, and the Ministry's service.

Needless to say, your parents hadn't approved. You don't talk much, these days.

Frowning, you shake yourself from your memories. It's the first of a new month, you remind yourself, that means one thing – time to take your medicine.

[2/3]

>>1320029
>Sitting all day long in Henryk's apartment listening to radio
>Still more exciting than home
Poor girl.

>>1320029

The metal tin rattles when you shake it, the contents stirring. Opening the lid, you take out one of the red, glossy pills and examine it closely. Panacea, brewed up in the Solberg Laboratories... wherever they are. One pill, once a month – that's the current dose given to all League members. “To promote good health and clean blood”, or so you're told. What goes into those little pills is a mystery to most people. Solberg himself knows, along with this Kasun and a few other top scientists. At the opposite end of things, you know the truth.

Artificial Giant's blood, cooked up in some secret laboratory somewhere. You couldn't even begin to guess how they did it, how they finally managed it, but they did. It's not a limitless supply – the common man goes without – but it's renewable. Future generations won't grow up with the same doom you had looming over you.

Shrugging to yourself, you swallow the pill and push the tin back into your closet. As you do, your gaze falls upon another box – this one wooden and ornate. Sighing wistfully, you take it out and lift the lid. Inside, cushioned in velvet, you see a beautifully engraved pistol. A birthday gift from the Custodian of the North herself, you recall. Never fired, of course – this isn't the sort of gun that you shoot people with. Camilla knew that much, sending you a simple steel pistol as well. That one never leaves your side.

-

You don't linger in the apartment for long – you've got one last thing to check out, and that calls for you to arrive at the station early. This is the first train arriving from Port Daud, so if the culprits are foolish enough to travel by rail, they'll be coming in on this train. Arriving in good time, you find a good spot to watch from and wait.

The train slowly pulls into the station, opening its doors and disgorging its living cargo. You're not so interested in the people – there's too many of them to watch – but the back end of the train, spilling cargo, is your goal. Mainly coarse sacks of mail, too small to hide a body... well, an intact body.

When the last of the cargo has been taken away, you abandon the search. Worth a try, certainly, but unfortunately fruitless. Shrugging it off, you hurry down and hop onto the train. A few moments later, it grinds into motion and leaves the station, taking the first steps along the slog northwards.

[3/4]

>Sorry, lost connection for a bit. Next post coming in a moment

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>>1320134

Before the train has stopped moving, you've spotted your contact through the greasy window. Sokolov said you'd recognise them, and he wasn't kidding. Seems like they've given you a Wolf as a partner, someone to help sniff out any leads. Another one of Loch's old lessons, as you recall, Wolves are wasted on beasts alone. With their various talents, they make excellent hunters of men as well.

Slipping out through the open doors, you approach the man and call his name. Damien Hyde turns and smiles, nodding to greet you.

He's changed. The last time you saw him had been just over a year ago, when he had returned from a long holiday in the north. At his side, Alyssia had given you a glowing smile, her hand resting against the slight bump at her stomach. She wore a pin on her coat lapel, shaped like a feather and crafted from white porcelain. Hyde looked happy then, as if he couldn't believe his luck.

He wrote you a letter a few months later. Twins, apparently.

He still looks happy, but now there's a new scar decorating his shaven scalp – a long trench that furrows his temple and the side of his head. You notice it, and then immediately pretend not to have done so. You have some tact, after all.

“Looks like we'll be working together again,” Hyde says, by way of greeting, “Good to hear it. Ready to get started? I can show you to Kasun's home if you like.”

>Sure, lead the way
>Hey Hyde. How are the kids?
>What are your impressions of all this?
>Other

>>1320138
>Hey Hyde. How are the kids?
>What are your impressions of all this?

>>1320138
>>Hey Hyde. How are the kids?
>>What are your impressions of all this?

Did Hyde ever learn that Lize was a noble and not really Henryk's sister?

>>1320138
>>Hey Hyde. How are the kids?
>>What are your impressions of all this?

>>1320138
>>Hey Hyde. How are the kids?
>>What are your impressions of all this?
Just like old times, eh?

>>1320146

>The truth ended up coming to light after Lize returned home. I'll mention it briefly IC, since it deserves a little explanation

Business, you decide, can wait for a little. You've got some catching up to do first.

Hey Hyde, you remark with a smile, how are the kids doing?

“Well,” he grimaces slightly, “Look at it this way. There's a pretty good chance that we might end up getting shot at on this job.”

...And?

“And I'm more likely to get some peace and quiet like this,” he concludes with a weary smile, gesturing for you to follow him, “But really, they're good kids. Noisy and messy, but what else do should you expect at their age?” Pausing, he rummages in his pocket and produces a leather wallet. From the wallet emerges a folded photograph – Hyde and Alyssia, both looking considerably worn out, each holding an infant boy. “Dima and Felix,” Hyde continues, pointing to each in turn, before lowering his voice slightly, “Felix was born with two teeth already showing – Alyssia think he's got a touch of the Wolf's blood in him. We'll have to wait and see.”

Huh, you laugh faintly, that should keep the family business going. What about Alyssia herself, how's she doing?

“Well enough, I'd say. She's happy, and moving back up north suited her. Homes are cheap up in Port Isten these days, I wager you could afford a place there – especially in this line of work,” this time, Hyde laughs, “You could be neighbours again!”

Yeah, you murmur, maybe. Despite your words, you know that it would never happen. You're not ready to leave that bleak little apartment behind, not yet. Reading your expression, Hyde offers a more sympathetic smile.

“You know, when I read about you in the papers – about the missing Alkaev child returning at last – I was amazed. I couldn't understand why you'd leave behind a comfortable manor to live in a place like that,” Hyde glances across, “And now you're still set on staying there. It must have some hold on you, huh?”

What about him, you ask in reply, why is he still doing this dirty business when he has a family waiting for him? He doesn't need the money, surely, so why?

“I get it,” shaking his head, Hyde offers a rough attempt at a smile, “Some questions aren't easy to answer. I won't pry, then.”

Immediately, you regret the harsh response. Frowning at yourself – you've still got that quick tongue, quicker than your thoughts most of the time – you hasten the conversation onto safer grounds. So, you ask, what's his impression of all this?

“I think it's trouble,” he answers plainly, “Bad trouble, probably.”

Just like old times then, you agree, right?

“Not quite like old times,” Hyde touches the pocket which holds his wallet, “But sure, it's close.”

[1/2]

>>1320186

“My impressions of all this...” he muses as you walk the filthy streets, “I wonder. You won't report me to the Ministry for being honest, will you?”

Not unless he's going to confess to a crime, you joke, then he might have something to worry about.

“Huh, well, it's nothing like that,” Hyde laughs, “Alright, being honest? These people, these anarchists, I can see their point of view. We're both on Panacea, right, and we've never been healthier – but they don't get any of that. The distance between us and then has never been wider. Hell, have you heard some of the rumours about Panacea? People talk like it makes you immortal, that you never age while you're taking it!”

Well that's wrong, you counter, you've certainly aged. You grew up, you filled out... a little bit.

“What I'm saying is, is it any wonder that people are angry?” shrugging, Hyde steers you down a cleaner street, “I'm not excusing the kidnappings and killings, of course, but I don't think we're entirely blameless in all this either.”

Despite your assurance, this conversation is creeping into dangerous territory. Clearing your throat, you nod at the higher class of buildings around you. This must be the nicer part of Port Daud, you begin, you didn't know it was like this. From what you've seen, you thought the whole place was docks and factories.

“Hmm? Oh, right. Yes, most of these homes belong to the factory owners, or some of the wealthier captains. People with money, but responsibilities here. Kasun has a home here,” Hyde points up ahead, “That one, in fact. I've not checked it out yet, but I asked the Ministry a few questions. They've sealed it up tight, kept it ready for us. There are a few bodies inside, members of Kasun's staff who got in the way of the attack. No shots were fired – they were killed with blades, and quickly.”

Frowning, you hasten your step a little. The manor, with its shattered door standing ajar, is surrounded by a ring of Ministry soldiers. Hyde shows a letter to the leader and murmurs a few things, causing the gathered men to ease a little. Nothing to see here, you think, just a pair of “independent contractors” doing their duty.

“The man in charge here is called Cato. Strange name, if you ask me, but... well, either way,” Hyde shrugs, gesturing to a vaguely southern looking officer, “That's him there. He's been asking questions, doing legwork and talking to the locals. So, it's your call - how should we play this?”

>I'm going to take a look around. I want to see the house for myself
>Best speak with this Cato, see what the locals are talking about
>Can you take a sniff around, see if there are any trails to pick up?
>I had an idea... (Write in)
>Other

>>1320215
>>Best speak with this Cato, see what the locals are talking about
>>Can you take a sniff around, see if there are any trails to pick up?

>>1320215
>>Can you take a sniff around, see if there are any trails to pick up?

>>1320215
>>Best speak with this Cato, see what the locals are talking about
afterward
>Can you take a sniff around, see if there are any trails to pick up?
>I'm going to take a look around. I want to see the house for myself

The same Cato? Or am I mixing names?

>>1320215
>>1320232
This

>>1320235

>I don't think I've used the name Cato before, but I could be forgetting something. Either way, if I have used the name previously, I didn't intend for him to be a character we've seen before.

Best speak with this Cato first, you decide, you want to hear what the locals have been talking about. Once you know that, you can plan your next move.

“Well, that works with me. I should warn you, though, I don't think he's had much luck. Between the storm and people being strangely quiet about this, he's got a lot working against him,” a bitter look crossed Hyde's face, “If you don't mind, I'll sit this one out. He doesn't like me much, I don't think – he feels like I'm challenging his authority.”

Great, you mutter, so you're going to have to deal with his sulking instead. If he's going to be staying here, you tell Hyde, can he take a sniff around and see if he can find any trails? Put that Wolf's blood to good use.

“Sure, I can try,” Hyde nods, “Might take a little moment, though. Give you plenty of time to talk.”

Great, you repeat sullenly.

-

Like a lot of southerners, Cato has a faintly lazy look to his features, although his eyes are sharp and hard. Sizing you up for a moment, he offers a shrug of pure resignation. “You're the specialist, then? Alright...” sighing, Cato shoves a cigarette in one corner of his mouth, “During the storm, we lost power to this area. Most of the locals claim to have seen and heard nothing, since they were too busy looking out for themselves. Standard storm behaviour – dig in and wait for it to pass.”

Nobody saw anything, you ask, not a single thing?

“I didn't say that. Some of the locals did report seeing movement, but they all described the same thing – a beast, one of those common wolf types. It was prowling, but that's what happens during storms. I checked my reports later, and a beast matching its description was shot not too far from here,” Cato vaguely indicates a direction, “I've got no reason to suspect they're lying.”

And there's no chance that the beast broke in and did this, you guess, no chance at all?

“None at all. See for yourself, those folk in there were killed with knives, not claws or fangs,” this time, Cato gestures to the manor, “I left the bodies in place, just touched them enough to confirm their deaths. Once you're finished, we can clean up. Should have done that a long time ago. Leaving bodies like this...”

The League thanks him for his cooperation in this matter, you tell him smoothly, and the Ministry will take no issue with this minor lapse in protocol. You're about to head away when the snow crunching underfoot prompts one last question occurs to you. That beast, you ask, did it leave a trail?

“None,” Cato shakes his head bluntly, “Storm covered any tracks right back up again. Anyway, you take a look around – I'll be here if you have any questions.”

[1/2]

>>1320302

You pass Hyde as you approach the entrance, and ask about his progress. Any luck with finding a trail?

“Too much luck, if anything,” he grumbles, “I'm getting a lot of different scents – mostly human, but with something beastly mixed in. Picking out something specific in all this... Are you heading inside?”

Yeah, you tell him, that was your next stop.

“Get me something of Kasun's, will you? Clothing would be best, but even bedsheets would work. It'll help me narrow things down and find his scent,” frowning, his eyes narrowed with that familiar feral trace, Hyde turns back to tasting the air. When you realise that he's not going to say anything else, you leave him to his work and head into the manor. Stepping around the broken boor, lock burst from a strong kick, you almost tread on a darkly stained section of carpet. A few paces away, the first body – a butler, his throat slit.

Stepping around the body, you move further into the house. The scent of blood has long since faded, but it's almost as if it left a more ephemeral stain behind – something that causes your instincts to sit up and take notice. It's nothing you can put into words, but it's certainly something.

Cato was definitely right about this being the work of men – the bodies you pass have all been slain with a calculated brutality, a balance between efficiency and cruelty. A bodyguard stabbed repeatedly through the guts, or a servant with several deep wounds in their back – wasteful, pointless deaths. They all have one thing in common, though, they form a path straight to Kasun's bedroom.

-

Stepping through the broken bedroom door, you glance around the room and think, waiting for anything significant to jump out at you. It takes a moment, but then your gaze falls upon the desk. The pair of drawers are uneven, as though someone searched them hastily. Frowning, you approach and cautiously open both drawers in turn. The first one is empty, other than a few scattered sheets of blank paper, while the other has a pistol resting inside. As your scowl deepens, you lift out the pistol and examine it. Fully loaded, and ready to use.

Kasun was woken in the night by a sudden attack on his home, you imagine, but he doesn't go for his gun. He searched his drawers, but he didn't bother with the pistol – why? Did he think that resistance would just prove fatal, or was there-

Something catches your eye. Scattered across the plush carpet, you spot a few spilled matches. Some of them, you note with growing interest, are blackened and spent.

[2/3]

>>1320353

Reaching under the desk, you find a battered metal bin and pull it out. Inside, just as you suspected, a litter of charred remains cover the bottom. Hastily burned papers, reduced to unreadable ashes.

Mostly unreadable, you correct yourself as you fish out an intact fragment, not completely destroyed. With great care, you hold the fragment up to the light and peer at the writing. Most of it is lost, the paper too blackened to make anything out, but you can make out a few words... none of which make sense. What, you wonder, is the “Kozlak Project” supposed to be?

Dropping the fragment back into the bin, you copy the term down in your notepad for later research. A quick search of the ashes reveals nothing else that you can use, so you turn your attention back to Hyde's request. A silk tie, not too flashy, from Kasun's closet should do the trick. Even you can smell a faint ghost of a scent on it, so it should be perfect for Hyde. Nodding to yourself, you take it back outside.

-

“This is ideal,” Hyde murmurs to himself, holding the tie up to his nose and sniffing deeply, “Ah, yes. Definitely.”

It always looks pretty creepy when he does that, you point out, it's a good thing that he never has to track a woman that way.

“Huh?” glancing up at you, Hyde laughs awkwardly, “Right, yeah. I see what you mean. Well, the good news is, I'm fairly sure that I've got a lead on Kasun. I'll be able to follow his trail, see where he went after the attack. Got a pretty strong lead on it, actually. Want to get started?”

>Lead the way, Hyde
>Hold on, I need to check a few things with Cato first... (Write in)
>Other

>>1320387
>Lead the way, Hyde

>>1320387
>>Lead the way, Hyde

>>1320387
>Lead the way, Hyde

>>1320387
>Trace once more the path from the front door to Kasun's room and look for any source of noise that could've alerted him.Try to guess how much time it took for the invaders to reach their target.
It's really strange he had time to burn the papers.

>Check with Cato if there were any survivors. Did everyone just happen on the invaders' way? Or did they deliberately hunted everyone down?

>>1320402
>Did everyone just happen on the invaders' way?

>>1320353
>They all have one thing in common, though, they form a path straight to Kasun's bedroom.

Hold on, you tell Hyde, you need to check a few things first. You're a little... curious about the chain of events here.

“Sure, this trail isn't going anywhere,” Hyde gestures to the snow underfoot, “I've told Cato not to light that cigarette of his, just in case. If he didn't like me before, he definitely dislikes me now...”

Smiling faintly – although you don't feel like smiling much – you return to the manor. This time, you take your time going through the building, following the trail of carnage. The attackers were not subtle, smashing the front door open hard enough that it left a mark on the opposing wall. That alone would have raised a hell of a racket, probably enough to wake the whole house. The bodyguard next, stabbed in the gut – he would have been able to cry out, either screaming in pain or calling out a warning. The servant too, she was able to drag herself forwards a little. She could have raised the alarm, although it might have been the last thing she did.

Kasun was warned, he would have known the attackers were coming for him... and he chose to burn some documents. It was a rush job, certainly, but there would have been enough time. Even when you close your eyes and imagine him fumbling with matches, you guess that the timing works out.

But still, it doesn't add up. None of this sits right with you.

-

On your way out, you stop at Cato with a few questions. Were there any survivors, you ask, any of Kasun's staff who hid or escaped?

“We have a list of his household staff,” Cato explains, “Most of them were sent home for the evening, with just a skeleton staff retained for the storm. I couldn't say why – maybe Kasun didn't want the burden of taking care of them. Either way, we've identified all the bodies as the members of staff present that night. The attackers hit hard and fast, but they didn't leave any survivors. From what I could tell, the noise of the door breaking must have drawn them all out, and the attackers...”

Cut them all down, you mutter, there was no need to hunt down any witnesses – they were all there, ready and waiting. Swallowing back a wave of anger, you nod your thanks to Cato and return to Hyde.

Come on, you tell Hyde, you're done here. This trail might be your only lead to go on.

“Got it. Follow me, and I'll explain as much as I can,” Hyde touches your arm lightly, nodding up the street, “It's a strange one, this. Kasun wasn't alone, obviously – by my count, he was “escorted” by four attackers. A while later, they were followed.”

Followed, you ask sharply, by who?

“By what,” Hyde corrects you, “A beast had their scent.”

[1/2]

>>1320445
Hello Henryk and or Artemis.

>>1320445

“If my guess is correct, they would have been heading for the docks,” Hyde explains as he leads you through the street, occasionally pausing to close his eyes and concentrate for a moment, “They would have had a ship waiting. Dangerous work, sailing in a storm, but it would have given them a clean getaway. This was all planned well, except for one thing.”

There's always something that goes wrong, you agree grimly, they didn't plan on having a beast follow them... did they?

“No, I can't imagine they did. It was following their scent – the men probably reeked of blood by that point – and quickly gaining on them. It would-” stopping suddenly, Hyde's expression goes blank, “Wait, this is... wait. They split up here. Three of them, with Kasun, kept on going towards the docks. One of them, with the beast following, went... this way. Into these alleys.” Pointing, Hyde indicates a tight street between two blocky buildings. Wide enough for a man to push through, but a beast?

“I don't think so,” Hyde shakes his head, “But... I don't know, I'm getting a scent of blood. I think he was wounded by this point, badly wounded. Here, see?” As you squeeze into the alley, Hyde points to a smear of blood on one wall – a smudged handprint. Silence falls over both of you as you turn and look at the far end of the alley, at the dark and crumpled shape that lies there – a shape that could only be a body.

Meeting Hyde's eyes, you hurry down to the body and bend down to examine it. The man is dead, obviously, and in poor shape. The beast's claws had raked across his back, splitting open his thick clothes and the flesh beneath. You're about to roll the body over when Hyde stops you.

“Wait, there on his shoulder – a tattoo, you see?” reaching down, Hyde pushes the man's clothes aside, “Three hooks, the sort you'd hang meat on. I know this mark, it's used by a gang down in Melnick.”

A pause as you consider this. So, you ask slowly, what would a Melnick gang member be doing here? As soon as the question has left your lips, you correct yourself – because the Bastards like to get others to do their dirty work for them.

“You know,” Hyde adds in a thoughtful tone, “Melnick has ports as well – if they took a ship from here...”

Yeah, you agree, looks like you've got your next stop.

>I'm going to pause here for now, and pick this up tomorrow
>Thanks to everyone who contributed today!

>>1320510
Thanks for running.

>>1320510
This could practically be a sequel. A buddy cop quest.

This thread is not what I expected but I heartily approve

Hyde is the first one to ask THE question, the question that has been hovering between the two of you ever since you met up. He does so in a low voice, feigning casualness, while you're looking out the train window. For a moment you let the rattle of the train's engines fill in the empty silence, and then Hyde tries again.

“So,” he presses, “Have you heard from him?”

Not for a while, you sigh, more than a year. Even then, you didn't exactly hear from Henryk – it was a very indirect way of learning about him. When Hyde simply waits for you to explain, you haul out your notepad and gingerly take out an old sheet of newspaper. A page from the Southern Bulletin, a crude newsletter that brings word from the colonies, with a lurid headline – White Worm Struck Dead!

The picture, blurry and slightly out of focus, shows the corpse of a vast worm, surrounded by various people. At the edge of the picture, you point to a shock of white hair and a small face, half turned away from the camera. Henryk's face, unmistakable despite the awful picture quality. The white hair next to him, then, can only belong to... her.

Hyde studies the page for a long time, his expression unreadable. “Well,” he says eventually, “At least he's keeping busy.”

A snort of crude laughter escapes you, the sort of unexpectedly genuine laughter that you don't get enough of these days. Yeah right, you agree, busy working on his tan more like. Bloody Henryk, leaving all the hard work to honest folks like yourselves.

“Bloody Henryk,” Hyde agrees with a solemn nod, “So... did you just happen to have that article on hand?”

Don't start, you warn him, don't even ask.

-

So, you begin after a long pause, Melnick.

“Melnick,” Hyde repeats, “Ever been?”

Can't say that you have, you reply with a shake of your head, you don't even know much about the place. It's not really famous for anything, is it?

“Not really. It's pretty obsolete these days, to be honest. It's industrial, not not as much as Port Daud and without any of the history. It's used for shipping, but not so much as Odyss, and it's nowhere near as scenic. It's a pretty big place, full of absolutely nothing,” Hyde shrugs, “No, that's not right. They moved a pretty significant amount of meat processing to Melnick a few years back – converted a few old factories into slaughterhouses and the like.”

Lovely, you mutter, sounds like a charming place.

“Got a pretty bad gang problem,” the Hunter adds after a moment, “I suppose that's what happens when you get a lot of angry kids with nothing to do. They know better than to cause any real trouble, so the Ministry doesn't really come down hard on them. They usually just fight amongst themselves, waging their petty little wars.”

Kids these days, you sigh.

[1/3]

>>1323545

So how come he knows so much about this, you ask suddenly, about these gangs down in Melnick?

“Not sure if I should say,” Hyde offers a sly smile, “I don't ask what sort of work you're doing, do I?”

It's not really a secret, you reply with a shrug before correcting yourself, except it sort of is. Whatever – what are a few state secrets between friends? You've been doing a bit of work around the College, you tell him in a low voice, checking on a few ongoing projects. Making sure that everything is following proper procedure and such, making sure that nobody decides to take things a little too far. That sort of thing, you finish with another shrug, it's all very discrete. It helps that you've got a few friends in the College, people you can press for information.

“Sounds nice, playing at being student,” with a short laugh, Hyde thinks for a moment, “But really, I was down in Melnick on official business a while back. Made a few contacts with the local Ministry, and we talked a while about the situation down there. It's quite fascinating really, I think the College is missing out by turning a blind eye to it all. They can't stick it under a microscope, of course, so they're not interested.”

Nodding your acknowledgement, you let your attention wander for a while. After finding the body, you reported it back to Cato and his men. It's probably ash by now, with careful photographs as the only remaining trace of the life. He was pretty young, you murmur softly, that dead man. A boy, really.

“They start young, down in Melnick,” Hyde's answer is blunt, almost to the point of seeming callous, “For a lot of them, running with a gang is the only way they can have someone at their back. You make enemies, sure, but it's better than being alone.”

Yeah, you mutter, it's not much fun being alone these days.

-

You don't linger in Thar Dreyse when you arrive, just pausing long enough to get the latest information before hopping on the next southbound train. There isn't even much news to hear – Kasun's disappearance is yet to be made public knowledge, and no ransom demand has been made. Adding another foreboding note to the mix are the weather patterns, with signs indicating that another storm could be coming. Perfect news, you think wearily, because this job wasn't bad enough already.

Snatching a few hours of sleep on the train, you wake to a slate grey sky – growing darker with each passing moment – and gathering wisps of snow cast about by the wind. The train is slowing, pulling into Melnick, and your first impressions are not positive. This is a city without art, beauty or history, everything constructed in the same brutally modern style.

Someone who liked concrete, you mutter as you exit the train, would feel right at home here.

[2/3]

>>1323547

The more you see of Melnick, the more you feel as though you've stepped into a completely new world – a version of the Free States that have fallen into ruin and disrepair. Other than the station, which is built more like a fortress, the buildings around you are mostly abandoned and decrepit. Broken windows, empty doorways and other dismal sights catch your eye, all suggesting the same thing – this is not a good place to be.

“It's not so bad further in,” Hyde explains, offering you a faint attempt at a smile, “The outskirts are bad, I won't deny that, but it's not all... quite as bad as this.”

The inner city is nice, you ask grimly, right?

“Well,” a pause, “I didn't say it was nice. I said it wasn't as bad.”

Great.

-

Just like the train station, the local Ministry outpost looks more like a bunker than anything else. The guards you pass seem to recognise Hyde, sometimes swapping a few words of greeting with him, but other than that there is little warmth or welcome here. The faces look tense and haunted, burdened by fatigue and overwork. Everyone carries weapons, and most of the people you see wear thickly padded coats – thick enough to offer some protection against knives, you suspect.

Hyde takes you through to a small side office, knocking firmly on the door before entering. Behind the desk, desperately trying to look as though she hasn't just woken up, a young woman straightens up and greets you.

“You're looking alert as usual,” Hyde remarks, “Hope we're not interrupting anything.”

“Uh, not really. Katya Romanov,” squinting, she pushes back a tangle of dark hair, “Hey Hyde, how can I help the pair of you?”

You're looking for some information about a gang, you begin, their mark is a group of meat hooks.

“Ah, them. The Hooks,” Katya nods, “Not the most imaginative name, is it? They're one of the bigger gangs around here though, so they must be doing something right. You're... interested in them, are you?”

“Katya has the unenviable job of keeping track of the gangs,” Hyde explains, “It's not easy, but she's our best source for information.”

“Uh,” Katya doesn't look particularly happy about this, perhaps worrying about living up to expectations, but she hides it well enough, “Right. So... what do you need?”

>Where can I find the Hooks?
>We're investigating links between the Hooks, and an anarchist group. Do you know anything?
>What's the general situation with the local gangs?
>I had a question to ask you... (Write in)
>Other

>>1323551
>>What's the general situation with the local gangs?
>What's the general situation with the local gangs?

>>1323551
>>Where can I find the Hooks?
>>We're investigating links between the Hooks, and an anarchist group. Do you know anything?
>>What's the general situation with the local gangs?

>>1323551
>>What's the general situation with the local gangs?
>Where can I find the Hooks?

First of all, you ask, you'd like to know where you can find these Hooks. Do they keep to specific territory?

“Yeah, uh, most of the gangs have their own areas. There's overlap, of course, and things change hands now and again, but...” rubbing her tired eyes, Katya waves a hand at a large city map mounted on one wall, “That should have the latest information. Go ahead, study it. I've got to... uh...” Faltering here, she rises from her desk and shuffles across to the door. “I'll be back in a few minutes,” she assures you, slinking out before she's even finished talking.

She's a strange one, you mention to Hyde as you check the map, is she reliable?

“I'd say so, yes,” Hyde promises, “But there's only so much you can do on a few hours of sleep a night. Anyway, let's see what we've got here.”

Nodding agreement, you take a long look at the city map. Most of it is grey – almost the exact shade of grey as the concrete buildings – but various boundaries have been painted in with different colours. The Hooks territory is marked out in blue, centred around a group of three long buildings – slaughterhouses, you'd guess.

“One and two are still active,” Katya explains, returning with a tray of teacups, “But warehouse three is empty. Most of the Hooks lurk there, when they choose to gather. I have no idea what they DO in there – just sit around and... I don't know.” Shrugging, she dumps the tray down on her desk and sits. A little more awake now, she clears her throat. “So, why are you asking about the Hooks, anyway?”

You're investigating a link between the Hooks and an anarchist group, you explain, has she heard anything about that?

“That's... that seems unlikely,” Katya frowns, “Everything I've learned suggests that the gangs here are very independent. They don't like working with outside groups, especially when politics get involved. That's serious trouble for them. What sort of link is this?”

You pause, trading a glance with Hyde. “A man with Hooks gang tattoos was assisting a group of suspected anarchists,” Hyde offers after a moment, “We suspected that the gang had allied themselves with the group. Are you suggesting something else?”

“A runaway maybe, someone deserting the gang?” shaking her head, Katya offers you a helpless gesture, “An outsider like myself could only tell you so much. If you really want to know more, you'd have to ask someone inside the Hooks. Of course, that... isn't really what I'd call a “safe” option. They probably wouldn't pick a fight with you on sight, but they wouldn't exactly roll out a warm welcome either.”

Of course not.

[1/2]

>>1323602

Well, you'll deal with that later. What's the general situation with the local gangs, you ask, anything you should know?

“Well let me think...” Katya begins, scratching at her tangle of hair, “Just lately, the gangs have been better armed than normal. Military grade weapons – although older, a bit outdated – and plenty of ammunition. Before, they mostly had pistols at best. Someone's been sharing their toys, and they've not been picky – all the gangs have benefited, not just one. If one gang got a serious advantage like this, they would have pushed out the others.”

“So it's still a stalemate?” Hyde asks.

“Yeah, only now we've got to be more careful than ever,” wincing, Katya lowers her voice slightly, “I don't mean to be defeatist, but we're pretty impotent here. If the gangs all joined forces, they could probably throw us out.”

But they're not that foolish, you guess, because something that overt would draw down the full force of the Ministry.

“You're right, thankfully,” Katya hides her bleak look behind her teacup, drinking deeply, “They just stick to causing trouble for each other, pushing back if we try and break things up. We're not exactly successful here, but we do what we can. I will tell you this, though – we keep a very careful watch for any of those anarchist groups you mentioned. We've not had any serious activity from them here. A few attempts at rabble rousing, but nothing organised.”

That they know of, you add privately, the Bastards could still be here – operating discretely, taking care not to show themselves. Sighing, thanking Katya for her information, you draw Hyde aside for a quiet word.

-

“I know what you're thinking,” he begins, before you can say anything, “But they're doing their best here. It's a mess, but they don't have the manpower to spare. The League mostly forgets this place, I think.”

Whatever, you mutter, never mind that now. You're going to need to try and see what else you can learn. Any suggestions?

“It's a risk, but we could try speaking directly with the Hooks,” Hyde shrugs, “Maybe we can cut a deal with them for information, or maybe the threat of Ministry action would loosen their tongues. I don't know, I'm not much of a leader - how do you want to play this?”

>Risky is fine with me. Let's see if we can speak with the Hooks
>Why don't we try and find one of the Hooks on their own, press them for answers?
>I want to explore a little first, see if I can get a feel for things here
>Other

>>1323637
>>Why don't we try and find one of the Hooks on their own, press them for answers?
Not just jumping into the deep end since the got some decent guns and we can probably have a look around as we look for the kid.

>>1323637
>I want to explore a little first, see if I can get a feel for things here

Who are the rivals to the Hooks? Any gang they've been able to suddenly pressure?

If we're going to take them on, it might be worth it to get some self interest backing us up. Hyde should know who we can work with, and who we should work with to not make the city worse.

>>1323637
>>Why don't we try and find one of the Hooks on their own, press them for answers?
>>I want to explore a little first, see if I can get a feel for things here

>>1323637
>>Why don't we try and find one of the Hooks on their own, press them for answers?
>>I want to explore a little first, see if I can get a feel for things here
Implied threats of telling the ministry that the Anarchist are recruiting from here and/or arming them are double edged blade.

>>1323664
Why not outright state that the Ministry thinks Anarchists are recruiting from here, and that this is a chance to resolve things quietly and letting them resolve their own issues vs having the heavy hand come down and probably end up wrecking what little life people in this town are eking out already.

Yeah it's a shithole, but it's still home to these Gangs.

Stabilize it a little by aiding one gang, let them get strong enough to get some respectability and sell them on it being better for the town as the ministry already turns a blind eye more or less, and the difference between crime and respectability is if you're buying off cops or politicians.

>>1323664
Depends how we phrase it. Something along the lines of:

"One of the men killed in recent anarchist activity had a Hook tattoo. I don't think I need to tell you how bad the Ministry linking your gang to anarchists is. Cooperate and help us get to bottom of this so your name gets cleared."

Would go over okay.

>>1323677
>>1323680
It really depends on how easy to silence we should seem to them and how deep the anarchists are in the gangs.

>>1323693
Our mere presence means the Ministry is involved.

If we go silent, the Ministry goes loud. Disappearing agents are pretty much confirmation of both shenanigans as well as more force being required.

Like. They need us to go back and say "Problem is solved, no anarchists here."

Gangs are often loyalists. First to their hood, then to their city, finally their country. We make it look like these Anarchists from somewhere else are using the city and propping up the Hooks, we're probably good.

>>1323699
But what if they aren't propping up the Hooks? What if this was just a runaway looking for work?

I feel that we should at least ask a Hook about the situation and get a feel from his response. Also I don't think we have the time to start a gang war since this is an investigation.

>>1323699
We'll have to remind them of this as some gang members might not realize that.
>>1323706
The conclusion some would come to after that update is that the Anarchists are providing weapons for all the gangs who are for now acting divided.

>>1323714
>The conclusion some would come to after that update is that the Anarchists are providing weapons for all the gangs who are for now acting divided.

So yeah, shouldn't we lean on the Hooks more since we have actual leverage on them? If they are all getting supplied by the Bastards none of them would cooperate with us except the Hooks.

>>1323706
Fair enough. But just a random Hook might not know. A rival could point out a good target for us.

>>1323714
Gangs aren't really known for being great at working together.

>>1323721
Given the lack of Ministry presence, the Gangs would be using their weapons against each other.

We could always grab a different gang member and interrogate THEM about who to grab from the Hooks. They should know who the higher ups are.

You'd like to explore the area for a while, you tell Hyde, get a feel for the situation on the ground. There's only so much you can learn from maps and such – you really need to see the place with your own two eyes to get the full story. Once you reach their territory, you'll see about finding one of the Hooks on their own – maybe you could press them for answers.

“Yeah, they might be a lot more willing to talk if they're isolated,” Hyde nods, “Although I feel like wandering the streets might be just as dangerous. Ready to go?”

In a little bit, you tell him, you've got a few questions that need clearing up. Context, that sort of thing. Looking over to Katya, you raise your voice to normal levels. Do the Hooks have any particular rivals, you ask, anyone who they've been able to pressure lately?

“Uh, their main enemies are the... Blackfoot gang, I believe. Their territories are right next to each other, so there's always a bit of conflict between the two of them. The Blackfoot are based out of an old apartment block,” Katya taps an area in the map, bordered in black, “I'd stay away, if I were you. The Blackfoot are pretty erratic - they take ground pretty often, but never hold it for long. You should be able to recognise them easily enough, they tend to paint their faces. Dark stripes, you see, like...”

Before she can launch into a full and in-depth explanation, you cut Katya off with your thanks. If push comes to shove, you're not likely to find many allies among the Blackfoot. Hardly ideal, but that's just the hand you've been given. Thanking her again, you nod to Hyde and head out into the city streets.

-

The cold wind has taken on a new edge now, cutting through your exposed face until you pull a scarf up over your nose and mouth. Hyde pulls a thick fur hat down over his shaven scalp, grimacing as he quickly shoves his hands back inside his pockets.

“I don't think we'll find many people out on the streets tonight,” he says, “Although that might play to our advantage. If we find someone on the move, we could catch them on their own. You think this is that storm they mentioned?”

Could be, you agree, but you hope not. The last thing you need right now is a den of beasts being stirred up. Pulling your coat a little tighter, you shrug and march ahead through the snow. With no particular direction in mind, but keeping the memory of the map in your thoughts, you head deeper into the city. Conversation is kept at a minimum, with your concentration devoted to studying the dismal streets and bleak structures.

Observation like this is a useful skill in your line of work, and you've learned it well over the past few years.

[1/2]

>>1323736

The Hooks are not subtle with marking their territory, painting great scrawls of their chosen markings across various buildings. Hooks, of course – their namesake – but also cattle bones, likely a tribute to their slaughterhouse lair. Your route towards their territory had been a winding one, definitely not the most direct route you could have taken. That was the whole point – to see the city, to feel it.

What you've learned is, it's a miserable pit. The streets are all laid out in orderly blocks, without a single bit of flair to be seen. You wouldn't stumble across any interesting secrets in a city like this, you think sadly, not like in the capital. There's always something new – or, to be more accurate, something old – to find there. At least, that was what you thought at first, before you stumbled across the mural.

Three skeletons, crudely painted but only slightly smaller than life-sized, with the skulls replaced by black slashes of paint. The skeletons are painted high up on a building, high enough for all to see. It's a curious sight, primal and strangely haunting. You find yourself staring at it for a long time before Hyde explains.

“It's like a memorial of sorts,” he begins, “Although I'm not sure who painted it. Probably the Blackfoot – it's representing some of their number, after all. Three of them died here, if I'm reading this right. There are all sorts of symbols and markings used, kind of like a whole new language. As I said before, there's a lot to learn here in Melnick, only-” Cutting himself short, Hyde grabs you by the arm and pulls you away, practically dragging you back into a shadowy alley.

You know better than to cry out or protest, of course, and so you go play along. A few moments later, and you see why. Coming from around the corner, you spot a single figure hurrying along. His pace – unsteady enough to suggest that he's been drinking - slows as he approaches the memorial, and he pauses when he reaches it. His coat, you note, is adorned with several meat hooks, making his alliances as plain as day. You're about to move from the alley when Hyde stops you again, shaking his head and pointing to the opposite street. A pair of swaggering young men are also approaching the memorial, their faces marked with smudges of black paint.

When the two Blackfoot spot their rival from the Hooks, they shout out in fury and charge, closing the distance and taking the young man by surprise. Within a few moments, he's been thrown up against the wall and struck, bent double by a fist to the gut. As he slides to the ground, the Blackfoot men start to kick and stomp. Left alone, you have little doubt that they would beat their enemy to death.

>Rescue the Hooks member
>Assist the Blackfoot with their attack
>Leave them be – you shouldn't get involved
>Other

>>1323826
>Rescue the Hooks member
We save his life, he might be more in the mood to spill his guts.

>>1323826
>>Rescue the Hooks member
Other anon got the right idea.

>>1323826
>>Rescue the Hooks member

>>1323826
>Rescue the Hooks member

>>1323826
>Rescue the Hooks member

Here's our in.

>>1323826
>Take one from both sides

Meeting Hyde's eyes, you exchange a firm nod – both of you, it seems, have reached the same conclusion. Hurrying out from the alleyway, you raise your voice and call out to the pair of Blackfoot thugs, ordering them to stop. They do stop, which is something, although their ire is merely turned upon you and Hyde instead. Offering identical grins, the pair of thugs reach into their coats and produce weapons – a knife for one, a crude length of pipe for the other.

The fight is short and brutal, with the odds stacked against the Blackfoot thugs... although they don't seem to realise that. The gang members are vicious, hardened by a life of violence, but you're no stranger to a fight either. When the knife wielding thug sneers laughter at you and slashes out, you easily slip around the attack and throw a hard into his side. As he reels, you draw your dagger and punch with the protective basket hilt, flattening his nose with a crunch and dropping him.

Hyde, meanwhile, is just as efficient. With a few simple motions, he pulls the pipe from his opponent's grip and throws the man back a few paces. Before the thug can recover, Hyde has whipped the pipe around and smashed it into the back of the man's head. The sound of bone breaking reaches you, and you wince in response.

Stillness and silence, cold and harsh, falls over the scene once the fight is over. Hyde reaches down to check his opponent, shaking his head grimly when you give him a curious look. You follow suit, touching your fingers to the thug's neck and feeling a faint pulse. He's alive, you announce, but he'll be out for a while. Before you can say anything else, the Hooks member groans aloud.

Rolling the wounded man over, you grimace at the sight of his swollen, bloodied face. His broken lips part, and another rattling gasp of breath spills from him. “You saved me,” he rasps, “Sure as sure, you saved me.”

“You need help,” Hyde says firmly, helping the man upright, “Come on, we can take you to a doctor. The Ministry has-”

“No way,” shaking his head hastily, the injured man winces, “Not the Ministry. I don't need a doctor, I can... I just need a rest. Let me go, man, I can make it home from here.”

Now hold on, you tell him carefully, you saved his life – that's earned you a little bit of cooperation, hasn't it? You won't take him to the Ministry if he doesn't want that, but you do want to ask him a few questions – does he know about any nice private spots?

“I guess,” he admits, “Hell, alright then. Follow me.”

“I'll take the other one,” Hyde says, heaving the unconscious man up onto his shoulders.

What about his friend, you ask, just leave him here?

“Just leave him here,” Hyde agrees, “They pick bodies off the street all the time here. One more won't make any difference.”

[1/2]

>Having some connection problems today. Sorry if I vanish without warning

>>1323935

Rat, as the member of the Hooks introduces himself, leads you though the streets to what looks like an abandoned shop. A pawnshop once, if the faded sign above the door is any indication. There is no front door, but a short flight of stairs leads you up to a reinforced door – too strong to be casually broken down. Intact doors, you've noticed, seem to be a luxury in these parts

His den – the word “home” doesn't really seem appropriate here – is surprisingly clean, although you suspect that Rat simply doesn't own enough for there to be any clutter. It's barely warmer than the outside streets, but at least you're sheltered from the wind here. Rat indicates a closet, and Hyde dumps the unconscious man inside, holding the door shut with a chair. You'll deal with HIM later.

“Can't offer to feed you,” Rat snorts out a pained laugh, “Don't always have enough to eat myself, see? Best I can do is offer you a seat... assuming you don't mind sitting on the floor.”

Hyde chuckles as he sits, with Rat easing himself down afterwards. You remain standing, leaning against the wall with your arms folded. So, you state, he's with the Hooks.

“Sure as sure,” Rat nods, “What tipped you off?” Coughing out another laugh, Rat reaches into his jacket and takes out a dented metal flask. A few sips of whatever is inside seems to numb his pain a little, and he continues. “So what, you with the Ministry or something?”

You're just looking to learn a few things, you answer calmly, just looking to get a few answers.

“Yeah? Well I might have to disappoint you there,” Rat shrugs, “I ain't what you'd call a big deal, see? Hardly a mover or a shaker, me, so I don't know how much I can tell you – and that's assuming I'm eager to tell you anything at all.”

>I'll keep it simple, then. Anything strange been going on lately? Anything out of the ordinary?
>You ever deal with any anarchists, Rat?
>So if I wanted some real answers, who would I need to talk to?
>I just a need a few answers, that's all... (Write in)
>Other

>>1324005
>>So if I wanted some real answers, who would I need to talk to?
>I'll keep it simple, then. Anything strange been going on lately? Anything out of the ordinary?
Nice and easy.

>>1324005
>I'll keep it simple, then. Anything strange been going on lately? Anything out of the ordinary?
>So if I wanted some real answers, who would I need to talk to?

>>1324005
>>I'll keep it simple, then. Anything strange been going on lately? Anything out of the ordinary?
>So if I wanted some real answers, who would I need to talk to?

You'll keep it simple then, you tell him casually, anything strange been going on in town lately? Anything he might call out of the ordinary?

“Yeah, there's a thing. Bunch of folks – Hooks, Blackfoot, Whalebone, all kinds of gangs – getting together and NOT kicking the shit out of each other,” another swig from the flask, another pained laugh, “See, I'm thinking that folks not trying to kill each other is your idea of normal, but it's pretty damn unusual in Mel. So yeah, when I heard about it, I wasn't sure if I believed it or not. Still haven't made up my mind, really.”

“So members of all the gangs are gathering, but not to fight,” Hyde muses, “What are they doing, then?”

“Hell if I know, anyone who actually goes there learns to keep their mouth shut pretty quick. All I get are second hand rumours,” shrugging, Rat looks between the pair of you and makes up his mind about something, “They don't invite small fish like me, they only bring along cold killers – three or more. I've only got one notch in my belt, so...” His words have the note of a guilty confession to them, as if he was embarrassed to have “only” killed one man. “Before you even ask,” he continues, “I don't know as such where they meet either. Some place down at the docks, but there's a whole mess of warehouses and shit down there. Lotta places to hide, sure as sure.”

You swap another glance with Hyde, giving him a small nod of satisfaction before turning back to Rat. So if someone wanted some real answers, you ask, who would they want to talk to?

“A big fish, see? My boss, Seth, he'd be a good place to start. Course, you'd need to do him some serious favours before expecting any answers...” Rat grins, exposing dirty teeth, “But you know, I wager I could put in a few good words for you. Get you halfway, sure as sure.”

Halfway, you ask lightly, he'd still expect more?

“You want the good stuff, don't you? Doesn't come cheap. I got a few ideas, though. Seth, he-” Rat is cut off by a loud banging, the now awake Blackfoot thug hammering his fists against the closet door, “Say, you got anything you want to do with that Black? Only, I'm thinking he might make a nice present for Seth – like paying tribute, see? Might be, that would get you the other half of the way.”

As if on cue, the sound of the Blackfoot's fists gets louder and more desperate.

“Hey, c'mon, we wouldn't kill him,” Rat stresses, “Just... send a bit less of him back to his buddies. It's sending a message, sure as sure.”

>Hell, we'll bring him with us. Can you take us to Seth?
>He's all yours, we're heading to the docks to take a look around
>We're not sending him to be mutilated. We're taking him to the Ministry
>Just let us ask him a few questions first... (Write in)
>Other

>>1324129
>We're not sending him to be mutilated. We're taking him to the Ministry

The other half can be acquired with a 'Help me help you' ala >>1323680

>>1324129
>>1324148
This

>>1324148
This right here

>>1324129
>Hell, we'll bring him with us. Can you take us to Seth?

You're not sending him to be mutilated, you reply sharply, you're taking him back to the Ministry.

“Huh, so you ARE with them,” Rat sniffs, narrowing his eyes, “And here I am, having let a few dirty secrets slip. See, this puts me in a pretty awkward position...”

“I'd call it more than awkward,” Hyde cuts in, putting a firm hand on Rat's shoulder, “I'd say it's a dangerous position for you to be in. Hell, for your entire gang to be in. You see, there are some big things going down at the moment, and we're all caught up in the middle of them. Doing anything... rash... would be very foolish indeed.” His grip tightens for a moment, and he gives Rat a cold smile.

“See... I actually believe you,” Rat decides after a moment, “I don't know if Seth will or not, but man, that's his business. I'll make the introductions, sure as sure, but don't ask me for a single damn thing more – and if this is a trick, neither of you are gonna walk out of it. So you take the Black to jail, whatever, and you come here when you're ready.” Putting away his flask, Rat reveals the grip of a knife tucked into his belt – quite deliberately of course. “Just remember what I said,” he warns, “No tricks, no traps. Deal?”

Deal, you reply firmly.

-

“I wasn't sure what you'd do with him,” Hyde admits quietly as you're dragging the sullen, silent Blackfoot back to the Ministry outpost, “I thought you might be willing to turn him over. The mission comes first, that sort of thing.”

You considered it, you confess, but it was just... too far. It was a line that you weren't prepared to cross.

“I'm proud of you,” the Hunter murmurs after a while, “I hope you never cross that line. This line of work, it takes a lot to stay as a good person. We can't all manage it. I just hope it doesn't come back around to hit us where it hurts later on. Dealing with Seth...”

You'll handle that, you assure Hyde, you've been thinking about how best to approach the man. The way you see it, it's not in his interest to have the Bastards bringing the Ministry's attention down onto Melnick. If they're here, he might be persuaded to give them up... to save his people, his own skin, if nothing else. That's how you've read the situation, at least – has he got a different idea?

“No, I think you're onto something with this,” nodding slowly, Hyde quickly warms to the idea, “Push comes to shove, men like Seth look after their own... usually.”

Usually, you agree glumly.

[1/2]

Could we have done something like let him take credit for the dead Blackfoot and this tied up guy? That would put him at 3 kills and he'd be able to get into that big meet up thing. Then use him as a mole. Or is that too much? Probably a bit late for it anyway.

>>1324250

Handing the Blackfoot thug over to the Ministry is greeted only by a weary sigh from the guards who take him in, as if they resent the extra work you've given them. The thug never gives you any trouble, and you get the impression that he's quietly relieved – surprised to be alive and in one piece. Compared with an ugly death on the street, or mutilation at the hands of his rivals, a little time in the dungeons must seem like a lucky escape.

Leaving him in the hands of the professionals, you return to Rat's den and knock heavily on the door. He answers it warily, with a small pistol at the ready, but he lowers the gun when he sees your face. “So you really showed up, huh?” he grunts, “Sure as sure, let's get moving.”

-

The heart of Hooks territory has a faint smell to it, the echo of old blood from the active slaughterhouses. It doesn't bother you much, but it leaves Hyde restless and uneasy. Either it's the smell, you correct yourself, or it's the young fighters watching you from every street corner. The youngest, burdened down by a rifle that they would struggle to use, couldn't be older than fourteen.

Hyde was right, they start young in Melnick.

Even Rat doesn't look particularly happy about things, constantly touching his bruised face or smoothing out his clothes as he leads you on. Gesturing for you to back off a few paces, he speaks quietly with a pair of older men, flanking a heavy door. He waves back to you and Hyde a few times, then points to his face and shrugs. A few more gestures, and the guards are convinced. When the door is open, Rat beckons you over.

“Stay close now,” he mutters to you, “And don't talk until Seth asks you something. Got a hierarchy to uphold, see?”

Sure, you reply as you walk through the former slaughterhouse, got to show the appropriate respect. At first, you take the walls for being badly painted black, but then you realise that it's a tangled mass of graffiti, years of paint overlapping until barely any of the original walls are left visible. Suffice to say, it doesn't make for a particularly cheerful atmosphere. Overhead, dull electric lights guide you into a wider chamber. This, you realise, was once a killing floor. Now, it looks more like a throne room.

A really shitty throne room, with a large pile of trash and rubble serving as the throne. At least Seth bothered to throw a chair on the top, to give it some slight pretence of majesty. Seth himself is old, with a long mane of steel grey hair and almost a dozen piercings shot through his face. He wears thick furs, but you can still spot the first signs of a paunch.

“Boss,” Rat announces, raising his voice and trying to hide his unease, “Got a pair of visitors for you. They pulled my ass out of a fire, and I, uh, I think you'll want to talk to them.”

[2/3]

>>1324400
thses guys got nathing on the bone yeard

>>1324400

Seth leans back on his throne and regards you both with lazy eyes, before offering a leisurely shrug. “Go on then,” he says, his voice deep and sardonic, “Explain.”

Swallowing nervously, Rat quickly relays... a version of events. Not exactly a true version of events, but close enough. “So after these fine folk distracted him,” he explains, “I pulled the pipe right out of his hands and brained him with it, dead in one! After seeing that, well, his buddy lost his nerve and ran. Still, I owe these two my life. When they asked to see you, I figure it was the least I could do.”

Having said this, Rat looks back to you and gives you a broad grin. That sly little worm...

“I see,” Seth decides after a while, “A fine story. I appreciate those who look out for my people... so I won't have you thrown out. Don't presume, however, that you're entitled to anything more. If you want to make a deal, however... perhaps we can talk. What do you have to offer?”

A dead man in Port Daud, you reply simply, with tattoos linking him with this gang. He kept interesting company, and the Ministry is very interested in tracking down some of those companions. Having the authorities banging on his door, making arrests or shooting any who resist, would be pretty bad for him... right?

Some of the lingering Hooks raise their guns to cover you as you say this, but Seth holds up a hand to stop them. Slowly, they lower their weapons. “This dead man,” he asks calmly, “Young? A tattoo on his shoulder?”

That's the one, you agree, that's him. He was operating with a group of anarchists, committing some very serious crimes. The Ministry would not hold back if they learn about this connection... but they don't have to learn about it.

“So,” Seth thinks aloud, “You really do want to make a deal – your silence for my cooperation.” He considers this for a moment before nodding once, firmly. “Your dead man, Locust, was one of ours – but he was not operating under my orders. He had passed into another's service,” the gang leader explains, “We do not bear responsibility for his crimes. The blame lies with these anarchists.”

You'd like to believe that, you tell him, you really would. Without anything else to go on, though...

“Very well,” leaning forwards on his throne, Seth studies you with new intensity, “What DO you want?”

Information, you begin.

>I've heard about meetings between rival gangs down at the docks. What happens there?
>How did Locust pass into another's service?
>Do you have dealings with any anarchists? With the Bastards, specifically?
>Here's what I want to know... (Write in)
>Other

>>1324578
>I've heard about meetings between rival gangs down at the docks. What happens there?
>How did Locust pass into another's service?

>>1324578
>I've heard about meetings between rival gangs down at the docks. What happens there?

>>1324578
>I've heard about meetings between rival gangs down at the docks. What happens there?
>How did Locust pass into another's service?
>Do you have dealings with any anarchists? With the Bastards, specifically?
>Where do you get the guns from?
>Or, if you don't want to answer this, how do you pay for them?
>There might have been people trafficking a kidnapped mam here not long ago. Do you know anything about this?

>>1324578
>>I've heard about meetings between rival gangs down at the docks. What happens there?
>>How did Locust pass into another's service?

>Here's what I want to know... (Write in)
"I've heard that the gangs here have started packing some serious firepower. Know anything about that?"

>>1324578
>>Do you have dealings with any anarchists? With the Bastards, specifically?
we might beivle you and you might know the truf of that but i dont think the nistry woud care enugh to really look into it

>>1324578
>>I've heard about meetings between rival gangs down at the docks. What happens there?
>Do you have dealings with any anarchists? With the Bastards, specifically?

>>1324578
>How did Locust pass into another's service?

We have to be able to let the ministry know that he wasn't with you anymore after all.

>I've heard about meetings between rival gangs down at the docks. What happens there?

We're not interested in hunting down gangs. Point us in the direction of the Bastards and it can all be handled quietly.

> Best if everyone else is quiet about this too.

We're the tip of the ministries knife. It would be a shame if the Bastards heard about us and decided to slow us down by throwing the people here at us and forcing the Ministry to make it a military mess. Probably the best outcome for the Bastards though. Tie down Ministry forces, drum up support for all the people sacrificed. No second guess for who the sacrifices would probably be, by the way.

You've heard rumours about meetings between rival gangs down at the docks, you ask first, what happens there? Only killers are welcome there, or so you've been told. You're not interested in hunting down the gangs or shutting down any meetings – you just want an explanation, first off.

“Men gather there after dark. They fight to prove themselves, to prove their strength,” Seth explains, “You're right, only killers are allowed to attend. It sets a certain... standard. There would be little point to it if just anyone could walk in.” Rising from his throne, Seth leaps down to the floor with more grace than you had been expecting. “They fight with knives, to first blood or to the death” he continues, “Others place wagers, or watch the sport. Others still... they have their own reasons to attend.”

When Seth refuses to elaborate on that, you frown and move onto your next question. How did this man of his, Locust, pass into another's service? And why did he give the man up? This information could prove vital in proving his innocence – relatively speaking - to the Ministry.

“I sold him,” Seth answers simply, “Locust had proved himself to be a killer of no small skill, and so he fetched a high price. It was not an unwilling sale either – like many people here, Locust wished for better things, a life outside this city. Once the desire to leave has taken root in a man, holding him close can be dangerous. Better to profit by his departure.”

An idea forms suddenly, taking shape in your mind. He isn't the only one to sell a trained killer, you ask, is he? No, the other gangs have been doing it as well – that's how they've been getting the money for new weapons, isn't it?

“Correct. I wish I had been the only one to sell my best men – I could have driven out the Blackfoot and the Whalebone, if not for their own deals,” smiling bitterly, Seth looks you up and down, “There's something fitting about our deals. We trade weapons for each other – hardened men exchanged for rifles and ammunition.”

The next question to come to your lips is the obvious one. They must be getting their guns from someone, after all. Does he have any dealings with anarchists, you ask openly, with the Bastards in particular?

“Not directly, but they are involved,” Seth shrugs, “I don't care about their politics, but they have coin. We deal through an intermediary, a man who runs many deals – not just with anarchists and gangs. He does not use his real name, of course, he goes by “Talon”. Nicknames are all too common here.”

And you thought that Rat and Locust were born with those names...

[1/2]

>>1324707

Since his dealings with the Bastards are done indirectly, this might be something of a long shot, but it's worth asking to be sure. There might have been people moving a kidnapped man through the area not long ago, you ask, does he know anything about that?

“Such a man would be help under duress, correct?” Seth thinks aloud, “Then no, I have neither seen nor heard anything about this. I have many eyes and ears, so this man is likely not in my city. Unless he has been very carefully hidden away, he is being held elsewhere. This man... is he related to whatever has the Ministry so riled up?”

You can neither confirm nor deny that, you reply blandly, it was a matter of personal curiosity.

“Of course,” not believing you for an instant, Seth nods curtly, “Then I believe I have given you more than enough to prove my innocence. If you need further evidence, search the docks yourself. Warehouse Seventeen, this will grant you passage.” Reaching into his furs, Seth produces a string of worn bones – human finger bones, if you had to guess. “Rat, you can show them the way, can't you?” the gang leader replies, “Why not see the sport for yourself? A little... preview.”

“Sure as sure,” Rat whispers, “I can do that for you.”

“Then I think we're finished here,” Seth starts to turn away, but then you call his name.

Not quite, you tell him, there's one last matter. It might be best for everyone involved if he keeps quite about this, you explain, pretend this conversation never happened. You're at the tip of the Ministry's knife, and right now he hasn't felt any more than that – but that could change. If the Bastards came to hear about this and started to cause trouble, the Ministry would have to get involved. If that happened, he could easily get pulled in as well. Neither of you want any more trouble from any of this, you finish, right?

“Oh yes, very clever of you,” Seth laughs bluntly, waving lazily for his men to completely stand at ease, “I have no intention of getting dragged into your little war. Whatever business you have with these people, I want no part of it. Now then...” Before he climbs back up to his throne, Seth turns and looks back at you. “Do not come here again.”

Before you can say anything else, Rat takes your sleeve and tugs, pulling you away from the makeshift throne room. As you're leaving, Seth calls out to the young gang member.

“Rat,” he announces, “You still need two lives to earn your place among the fighters. Do not forget that.”

A soft whine of disappointment escapes the man, but he offers no rebuttal.

>I think I'm going to have to pause here. Sunday is looking busy for me, so I'll continue this on Monday
>Thanks to everyone who contributed today!

>>1324815
Thanks for running!

I'm personally excited to play as a Dragon. Who learned from Wolves how to fight in addition to theusual training.

I expect Liz to fight very dirty.

>>1324815
thanks

>>1324815
Thanks for running.

>>1324834
You ever see a Peacekeeper from For Honor? I imagine it's something like that.

Rat's still complaining as he leads you though the darkened streets to the docks. You leave him to his grumbling, slowing your pace until the young gang member has a good lead on you. Not so far that you could lose him, but far enough that you can talk in private.

“You did good in there,” Hyde mentions quietly, “I never was much for talking, not like that. I like things to be simple, for people to speak as equals and say what they really mean. Maybe it's because I'm getting old – I don't have time to pretty up my words.”

Funny, you reply with a smile, you've always found that older people are most likely to talk fancy.

“Those are Ministry types like Loch, they don't count,” shaking his head, Hyde taps one temple, “They get all coiled up inside, like they've got a maze in their minds. They say that Panacea stops the worst of it, but the lifestyle is just as bad. A whole life spent dealing with liars, criminals and the worst kinds of scum... they don't make medicine for that, do they?”

Sure they do, you joke, they call it alcohol.

-

The men standing outside Warehouse Seventeen are trying very hard to look innocuous, harmless and innocent, but it just isn't working. What other reason would they have to wear their coats open, if not to offer quick access to weapons? It's certainly not because the weather has improved – if anything it's grown worse, with great clumps of snow carried on fierce winds. The guards are crowded around a barrel fire, warming themselves as best they can, and Rat hurries to join them. Once again, he has introductions to make.

He doesn't have an easy time of it, that's for sure. The guards take a long time to take him seriously, and when you draw a little closer you occasionally catch bursts of harsh, mocking laughter.

When you produce that string of old bones, the laughter abruptly stops.

-

You hadn't been expecting anything grand inside – why the hell would there be anything nice in Melnick? - but you still manage to be disappointed by what you find. Empty crates, heavy containers, have been stacked up in a rough ring, with a mess of ladders propped up around them so that observers can climb up and look down upon the fighters. Already, there are a great many people inside the warehouse, shouting and stamping their feet. You're quite the outsiders here, your outfits austere in comparison with the gang symbols and gaudy adornments they wear. For now, at least, most of them seem more interested in glaring at rivals and enemies. This might be neutral ground, but that doesn't mean they like each other.

Fine by you. The more they focus on posturing and preening, the less they'll bother you.

[1/2]

>>1332555

“Look here,” Hyde mutters, leaning down so that he can speak right into your ear, “Those look like the best seats of the house.” Nodding carefully, he gestures up to a high and unlit balcony looming overhead. With the flickering electrical lights strung up below it, there's nothing to give you a good look up onto the balcony. All you can see are a few dull embers, the tips of lit cigarettes marking out unseen observers.

Talon, you guess, if he's here tonight...

“That's where he'll be,” Hyde agrees grimly, “But it doesn't look like we can just stroll up and introduce ourselves, unfortunately.”

You'll think of something, you assure him, just gotta wait for your chance.

“You're on your own there, sure as sure,” Rat tells you, a thin tongue slipping out to lick his split, scabbed lips, “You're inside, best for me that I don't get caught helping you. Might be, I'm in enough trouble being seen with you.”

Whatever, you reply with a humourless smile, he's probably right – safer for him, this way.

-

Sitting up high on one of those makeshift seats, watching one of the crude and graceless fights, you feel something stirring within yourself – something that you've not felt in a very long time. A vague and shapeless thrill, excitement that bubbles up from some deep part of your mind. The smell of fresh blood and sour sweat, the cheers and roars, they all combine to set your heart racing. When the fight comes to a bloody end, one man's face reduced to an unrecognisable smear by a rival wielding a pair of brass knuckles, you can't help but cheer along with the rest of the crowd.

Sorry, you mutter a moment later as Hyde gives you a sharp look, just trying to blend in.

“Good show, isn't it?” a voice asks from behind you, followed by a clatter of metal as the man hauls himself up next to you, “Your first time?” His eyes, when you meet them, are as dark and flat as pools of oil. Unlike most of the people you've seen so far, he wears no gang markings – not openly, at least.

“Yeah,” Hyde nods slowly, “Our first time. It sure is something – I bet you've gone a few rounds down there, right?”

“You could say that,” the killer shows pointed teeth, offering you a cold smile. His face is marked with old blade wounds, but they seem more like medals than scars. “In here, I go by Fume,” he continues, “What brings you two here?”

A pause, with Hyde glancing across and meeting your gaze. When he doesn't reply, you step up and offer an answer.

>We're looking for Talon. Got some business to discuss with him
>I'm here to fight, plain and simple
>Just here to watch a little sport, that's all
>Other

>>1332557
>We're looking for Talon. Got some business to discuss with him

>>1332557
>We're looking for Talon. Got some business to discuss with him

>>1332557
>We're looking for Talon. Got some business to discuss with him

You're looking for Talon, you state simply, you've got some business to discuss with him. You hold Fume's gaze as you say this, raising your voice just enough so that he can hear you over the background hum. It's a little trick you've picked up over the years – to make things sound as unremarkable as possible, as if your requests are the only sensible course of action. Fume's crooked smile fades a little as he weighs your words, considering them carefully.

“Well now,” he says at long last, “This IS interesting. Not everyone who strolls in off the street knows that name, especially not on their first time. Business, you say?”

Private business, you correct him, for Talon's ears only.

“Indeed?” there is another long pause as Fume considers this, “Well perhaps you might just get that wish. I'll tell you what – I'll speak with Talon, tell him that he's got visitors. Maybe he'll agree to talk with you, maybe he won't... it's his call, not mine or yours. You wait here, strangers, I'll find you once I've got your answers.” Sizing you up one last time, Fume starts to turn away before pausing. “Oh yes,” he adds, “Don't cause any trouble while you're here, yes?”

“We wouldn't dream of it,” Hyde assures the man.

-

“I don't like him much,” the Hunter mutters later, once Fume has sidled away, “We've got no way of knowing just what he's going to tell Talon. If we do get invited up, we might be walking straight into a trap.”

It's a distinct possibility, you agree, it'll be a particularly dangerous trap if it is. There are a lot of killers in here tonight, and you don't have any friends here to fall back on. Rat made that quite clear when he left. Still, you ask with a shrug, what choice do you have? If this is a trap, it means you're heading in the right direction.

“Just so you're aware of the risks,” Hyde murmurs. Down below, another fight starts with an explosive roar, the sudden noise of the crowd cutting off any other conversation you might hope to have.

-

Two more fights go by, one of them ending in another bloody death, before Fume returns with your answer. Taking his time to study you both before speaking, he offers a gesture of insincere apology.

“Talon is willing – eager, even – to meet with you,” Fume begins, “But it will not be a private meeting, not at first. He is... unwilling to leave quite so soon, while the night is still young. Make your offer – if he likes what you have to say, perhaps you can continue to negotiate in private. If these terms do not please you...”

“We can walk out the door,” Hyde guesses, “So who else is up there?”

“The great and the good of Melnick's rank underbelly,” Fume answers, “You will be in esteemed company, I promise you that!”

You glance back to the balcony, with the dim cigarette lights, and you nod.

[1/2]

>>1332595

With Fume leading the way, the guards blocking access to the balcony slink away like beaten dogs, leaving you with the illusion of freedom. That impression is short lived, with the guards forming back up to cut off your retreat. Pretending not to notice, you rest a hand on the grip of your sword and continue up the stairs. Just as your eyes are starting to adjust to the gloom up here, the soft glow of a gas lantern lights up the balcony and reveals four figures.

The first man is obese, draped in shapeless linen and festooned with charms or trinkets carved from whalebone. An opium pipe hangs from one paw, while his eyes have a glassy and uncaring look to them. Seated a few paces away, the second man is rail thin and painfully alert, looking quickly between you and the fighting down below. His eyes are very white, his pupils very black, and the looping scrawl of black paint he wears across his face lends him a mad look.

Gang leaders, you presume, from the Whalebones and the Blackfoot.

The third man, you almost take for a nobleman, judging him by the fine coat draped over his shoulders like a cape. A second glance is enough to disprove that, with the shabby condition of his garb enough to deny any true nobility. His face – almost everything about him, in fact – is forgettable, but his eyes are hard. You've seen eyes like those before, staring out from Camilla's face when she's trying to sense a lie. That realisation comes with a thrill of fear and unease – you'll need to watch your tongue around this one.

The glint of lantern light off metal finally brings your eye to the fourth man, his cold and loveless smile. His front teeth are silver, or perhaps steel, while a similar glint at his hand – not gaudy rings, as you first thought, but prosthetic fingers – draws your eye away from his face. Forcing yourself to look back up, you catch a glimpse of bone charms around his neck. Not the same crude imitations that the obese man wears, but things of great age and careful craftsmanship. Northern trinkets, joined by a number of other – more exotic – tokens.

“Well well,” he says slowly, tapping a long cane against the metal plating underfoot, “I hear that you wanted to talk business with me. Here, I call myself Talon – we all have these rather tedious nicknames here. This is Orlock of the Whalebone, and this is Noir of the Blackfoot. My good friend here is the Duke. Don't mind him – he doesn't talk much, but he's a very good listener.” Rising to his feet, Talon offers you his intact hand to shake.

Behind you, you sense Fume tensing. Preparing himself for... what?

[2/3]

>>1332645
Christ I don't even know what we are supposed to do here.

Talon is our connection to the Bastards but I don't think he'd just give that information away. Not without leverage or intimidation and he is surrounded by goons.

Try to negotiate in private? Much harder sell with a Bull here.

I'm stumped.

>>1332645
Huh, it's Gore. I guess Henryk never told Lize what happened in the North.

>>1332673
Oh shit I didn't pick up on that.

So much for intimidation. With that spirit he might be able to take both Lize and Hyde at once.

>>1332673
pretty sure henryk did tell her, just nog explicitly written

>>1332645

Hyde is the one to break the cold stalemate, reaching forwards to shake Talon's hand. “A pleasure to meet you,” he says, in a deliberately clipped tone quite unlike his normal voice, “My name is Ursa, and this is Blackbird. Nicknames of our own, of course. People in our line of work ought to be careful with our real names, after all.”

Which is technically true, you think with a fleeting smile, although perhaps not in the same way that Talon might think.

“Quite right,” Talon nods, releasing Hyde's hand and brusquely shaking yours as well. Then, with a sigh, he nods again. “Don't be so rude, Fume,” he orders, “Put it away.”

You don't look around, but you hear the faint sound of a pistol being returned to its holster. Noir giggles softly, the sound uneven and irritating. Orlock has finally taken notice of you, but it's not clear what he thinks of you... or how much he cares. Talon waves to some of the plush seats, and you sit carefully, shifting your weapons so that they're within reach. Strange, you consider, that you were allowed to keep them. Talon must be very confident – and rightly so, with his minions surrounding you.

“Business, then,” Talon begins, “I have several lines of work, and this is just one of many. You knew my name, so I presume you know what I can offer you. So... make your case.”

Does it have to be here, you ask, is there anywhere more private?

“Oh certainly, we can thrash out the specifics later... if I like what you have to say,” baring his fangs at you, Talon slouches back in his seat, “Until then, I'm not leaving. I wouldn't want to miss the show, now would I?”

Down below, a roar of bloodlust punctuates Talon's words. The Duke, you realise, has yet to take his eyes away from you. Fighting back a grimace, you think of a good way to reel him in.

>My real business is with the Bastards. I want to meet with them
>I might be interested in buying some guns. Is that something you can help me with?
>The Ministry has people close to you, Talon. I really think we need to talk privately
>Other

>>1332695
Well the second one is a lie which will get sniffed out.

Don't know if the third one would go over well.

Maybe we should try
>My real business is with the Bastards. I want to meet with them

>>1332695
>There's some people we're looking for, and the trail led us to a transaction you made. I want to meet them.

>>1332695
>>My real business is with the Bastards. I want to meet with them
Seems best to be straight up unless someone can come up with a sneaky plan. I was thinking maybe mention southern spirits maybe, make it seem like we're interested and if he can tell us about them or something.

>>1332716
Don't know if Lize ever met Revelle.

Though shit, I was Henryk I would have given her Revelle after we had Artemis to protect us. Should of mentioned that last thread. 20/20 hindsight.

There are some people that you're looking for, you reply carefully, and their trail led you here – to Talon, and this place. What you really want is to meet these people for yourself.

“I see...” Talon toys with his cane for a moment, tightening his grip around it as if it was the throat of some luckless rival. For a faint moment, his eyes flick to the side, towards the Duke. The Bull gives a miniscule nod, barely a twitch, and Talon looks back to you, his smile widening. “I'm hurt,” he protests, “I truly am – I feel like I'm playing second best all of a sudden! Perhaps you can take the sting out of my wounds by telling me a little more. Who exactly are you hoping to meet?”

He's got you on the spot here, you think grimly to yourself, you don't have a whole lot of options. A lie now would end in disaster, plain and simple, but a vague and evasive answer wouldn't be much better. Refusing to answer is no good either, which leaves you with one simple option – telling the truth.

You're looking for the Bastards, you tell him firmly, the Bastards of the Free States.

Another short pause, another tiny nod from the Duke, and then Talon laughs aloud. “Of course it would be THEM!” he laughs, “They are a rather interesting little mob, I think. Not really the sort of people who just welcome in guests, but well, when someone comes around asking about them...” Talon grins broadly, and you start to mirror his smile. Before it can form fully, you feel cold metal pressing into the back of your neck. It could be a lot of things, that touch of steel, but you know exactly what it is – the barrel of a pistol.

“That seems like the sort of thing that they might be interested in,” Talon finishes, “I shouldn't need to say this, but don't move. Not an inch, not until I say so... okay?”

You almost nod, but then you stop yourself.

“Good girl,” the gloating fiend says, showing one last flash of polished teeth before a heavy sack is pulled down over your head.

>I'm going to have to pause here, I have some family business to take care of. With luck, I should be back in an hour or so, although it might be a little longer. Sorry about this.

>>1332766
Thanks for running!

>>1332766

Thanks.
Hmm looks like we are going to have to fight to get picked to join the basted

This isn't the worst thing that could be happening, you try to convince yourself as you shuffle along, you're still alive. Talon could have easily ordered his minion to put a bullet through the back of your neck, dumping your body into the nearby ocean. Instead, he seems to be taking you somewhere – to meet with the Bastards, perhaps. If so, he's taking you exactly where you were hoping to go. Just... not quite in the way you were hoping.

“Careful now,” Fume mutters as he pushes you forwards a few steps, up onto an uneven surface. A ramp, perhaps? Yes, definitely a ramp, one that leads up onto a ship. As your pace slows Fume twists your arm up behind your back, hard enough that you have to bite your lip to hold back a cry of pain, and forces you to move again. “Stairs now, down you go,” he growls, “Slowly, wouldn't want to break your neck, now would you? Not before we've had the chance to ask you a few questions, at least...”

Something for you to look forwards to, then.

-

When the hood is pulled free, you have a brief glimpse of a bland, featureless room before Fume pushes you inside. Still disorientated, you fall badly and sprawl on the floor as Hyde is thrown in to join you. The door slams shut with a loud clang of metal, and then the sound of Fume's footsteps vanish beneath the rising growl of an engine.

“Damn,” Hyde groans, “They nearly twisted my arm right out of its socket. Are you okay?”

“Okay” might be stretching it, you reply, but you're alive and in one piece. For now, that's something to cherish. Rising unsteadily to your feet, you take a long look around the room and note the absence of anything. Not just anything useful, anything at all. Most likely, the room was used for storage once. It still has a faint musty smell to it, a damp scent like the basement of a long-abandoned building. The smell doesn't really bother you, and neither does the rough treatment. No, what really bothers you is the feeling of being unarmed, separated from your weapons for the first time in... you're not sure how long.

“I had a thought,” Hyde says a moment later, his voice low, “Maybe this is nothing abnormal. Maybe this how the Bastards normally deal with people who get close to them. Hell, considering how badly the Ministry wants to wipe them out, all this starts to seem like sensible precautions.”

So what's his point, you ask with a humourless smile, that everything is fine and you're not in any trouble?

“Well, I wouldn't put it that way,” a hollow laugh escapes Hyde, “I'm just saying, things might not be as bad they seem.”

Sure, you agree, they could be worse. Before either of you can say anything else, the door bangs open again, and a pistol is lowered in your direction.

“You,” Fume says, gesturing to you, “Boss wants to talk with you. Come with me.”

Look at that, you mutter, they just got worse.

[1/2]

>>1332967

Fume leads you, at gunpoint, up to the helm of the ship. It's almost deserted, with Talon alone at the controls. Barely looking around, the captain dismisses Fume with a nod. The door slams shut, leaving you alone with the taller man.

“Little Blackbird,” he muses, his lips twisting in distaste, “Bah, nicknames! I hate them, I really do – I only tolerate them because of the Bastards. Personally, I'd welcome the infamy, revel in it even, but they insist on hiding behind codes and subtle words.” Snorting with contempt, Talon looks around at you, his eyes piercing you. “Our friend arrives in Port Daud today,” he quotes in a snide tone, “Meet him at home and pick him up, if you please.”

You can't help it, hearing those words thrown back at you causes your eyes to widen a little. Talon laughs, dismissing your surprise with an indifferent wave. As he turns away, you risk studying him. His cane sits nearby, leaning against the controls, but he isn't unarmed – a viciously serrated blade hangs from his belt. No, you couldn't fight him like this, not without a weapon of your own...

“Little shits, you'd think they invented snatching someone like that,” he says, more to himself, “I suppose that's why you're here, that man we grabbed. Are you here to rescue him, or keep him from talking?” His head snaps around as he asks that question, shooting it at you in a hard tone.

Grimacing, fighting back the urge to flinch, you offer no answer. The Duke is nowhere to be seen, and that absence puts you on edge. Perhaps, you think suddenly, the Duke isn't exactly the “good friend” that Talon introduced him as. That might be useful later, perhaps. Certainly, you'll take whatever you can get.

“You know, Blackbird, they say that birds always know where they are,” Talon chuckles, “Where do you think we are now? Go on, take a look...”

Frowning, you tentatively show your back to Talon as you peer out the windows. In the distance, you can make out an approaching island – a haze of fog covering much of it. That's Haveer, you guess, so he must be heading south.

“That's right,” Talon nods, his expression strangely proud, “We're on a southbound course now.”

He isn't taking you to the colonies, you ask sharply, is he?

“We're not going that far,” he laughs, “Plenty of quiet islands around these parts, without needing to go to the colonies. We're going just far enough that...”

That what?

“That nobody will be coming to help you,” Talon finishes, a cold grin showing you those metal teeth once more.

>I'm going to finish things a little early, and continue things tomorrow. Sorry again about this
>In either case, thank you for your patience today!

>>1333023
Aw man, we in deep shit now. Thanks for running Moloch.

>>1333023
I think we would have had better odds if just ID'd Talon/Gore then jumped him when he left the warehouse or something.

But it's also fucking Gore.

Thanks for running.

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>>1333023
Thanks for the run.
Also Gores face when Henryk appears from the local jungle with Arty.

We'll look at it this way. If this is the same place they took the scientist then we are on the right track. Just not in favorable circumstances.

>>1333023
I'm really waiting for Henryk to show up out of the blue at some point. Hopefully, in time to kick Gore's ass.

>>1333404
Same. It might be more appropriate for Lize to handle this herself, but I'd be disappointed if we didn't get a chance to be ascended Henryk.

>>1333404
I think Lize can take Gore 1v1, specially since she is in her prime with Ifox as a trump card and he has gotten old and needs a cane. Can't underestimate him though, he probably still has that spirit.

“Something I've learned,” Talon says suddenly, not looking around at you, “You need every friend you can get, out here.”

His voice causes you to look around in surprise. After leaving you with that cold threat Talon had simply ignored you, devoting all of his attention to steering his ship south. Not quite sure what to make of him, of any of this, you had spent a while pacing about and waiting for... something. For Talon to have you thrown back in the cell, or for the real questioning to begin. Of all the things you had been predicting, this mildly worded piece of advice had been pretty low down on the list.

“Another thing I've learned,” he continues, “You need to recognise when to cut your losses. Good business can turn bad quickly.”

Sounds like he's speaking from experience, you remark, bitter experience. It's a risk, speaking bluntly like this, but what the hell. He seems to be in a talkative mood, the least you can do is return in kind. Finally glancing around, Talon sizes you up for a long moment before letting out a harsh laugh.

“More bitter than you might think, little Blackbird,” he sneers, “Now go – it's time you were returned to your cage.”

Taking his cane in hand – but not leaning on it, not showing any sign that he needs it – Talon starts towards the door. Before he can open it, you speak a question aloud. He's told you what you need, you ask quietly, but what does HE need?

“Hah!” Talon smirks, touching one of the trinkets he wears around his neck, “I already have everything I need, right here.”

-

The Duke is waiting for you when Talon leads you back to the makeshift cell, leaning against the door with his arms folded. At the sight of him, Talon makes a soft, disgusted note in the back of his throat before forcing a broad and insincere smile.

“I was hoping to run into you,” he says, still giving the Duke that leering smile, “This little Blackbird might be able to sing us a fine little tune, with the appropriate... coaxing.”

The Duke doesn't seem amused by this, not at all. “I hope so,” he says at last, finally breaking his silence, “The man is refusing to talk.”

“Well, that could change,” Talon mutters, touching the dagger at his belt.

-

At least this new cell has a chair, a hideously uncomfortable thing fixed to the floor. Talon pushes you down into it, then slouches back against the sealed door. Whenever your wandering gaze meets his, he gives you a smile – not exactly a reassuring one.

“You're looking for the Bastards,” the Duke says quietly, fixing you with his piercing gaze, “Why?”

Simple curiosity, you reply in an innocent tone, that's all.

“Funny,” frowning slightly, the Duke takes out a pistol – your pistol, you note with irritation – and points it at your gut, “Why?”

>I'm not telling you anything
>Alexei Kasun, his trail led me this far
>The Ministry wants to find them
>Other

>>1335813
"You already know why dumbass. Talon guessed it the moment I asked to find them. Let's not waste each other's time.

...unless you two aren't sharing notes. Then you might have something else to worry about than two prisoners. Go ask him."

>>1335822
Wait Talon's in the room.

Scratch the
>Then you might have something else to worry about than two prisoners.
part

>>1335827
>>1335822
>>1335813
I'll second this. Little sass from Lize is fitting.

>>1335822
This seems like the kinda thing that gets you shot. Bit scared to go for it.

>>1335841
At most smacked. A gut shot would just kill us and we'd be of no use. Besides we are still answering the question in a sense.

He should know that already, you sneer, Talon guessed why the moment you mentioned it. Keeping you here, asking these stupid questions, he's just wasting everyone's time. Unless, you add, they've not been sharing notes? Those last words, you spit out in the tone of an accusation, with as much venom as you can muster dripping from the words.

Talon, in the background, snorts with what might be muffled laughter, while the Duke's mild frown deepens a little. He studied you for a while longer, probing carefully and weighing your words, but he doesn't get the chance to reach his conclusion. Before he's finished, Talon speaks.

“I told you it was trouble,” Talon sneers, “Bad business, snatching Kasun. The Ministry was never going to take it lying down. My guess is, one of those two – maybe both – are taking Ministry coin.”

Straightening up, the Duke looks away from you and focuses on Talon. For a moment, you can practically feel the tension – a mutual distrust and dislike – crackling between them. “You knew about this?” the Duke asks eventually, the question directed at his dubious ally.

“Like she said,” shrugging, Talon gestures across to you, “I guessed.”

“Of course you did,” the bland-faced man murmurs, “And when exactly were you going to TELL me?” For a moment, it seems as though the Duke is about to say something else, but then he stops himself. Pressing his lips into a flat line, he grabs Talon by the arm and tugs the captain away from the door. “Outside,” he hisses, before glancing back to you, “We'll deal with you later.”

With slow, careful motions, Talon pulls the Duke's hand away and glares at the man. Then, still without a word, he opens the door and both men exit. As soon as the door is sealed once more, you hear the muffled sound of raised voices – too muffled to make out the words, but the irritation is plain to hear. Slouching back in that uncomfortable chair, you allow yourself a little smile.

Looks like your little gambit paid off. It was a risk, and you suspect that the Duke will be far less polite when he next sees you, but it paid off. Not only have you won yourself a little time, but you've widened the rift between Talon and his “good friend”. Disagreements like those, you might be able to exploit later.

You'll just have to wait and see.

-

Talon and the Duke leave you alone after that, taking their discussion elsewhere and leaving you to pace the empty room. Sighing, you close your eyes and try to ignore the pangs of hunger gnawing at you. When was the last time you had a proper meal, you wonder, or a decent rest? There's not much you can do about food now, but you can try to sleep at least. Better to go into this with a fresh mind.

Stretching out on the cold metal floor, you find yourself growing drowsy before too long. Sleep follows soon after, but...

It doesn't last.

[1/2]

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>>1335874

A different kind of cold greets you when you wake up, and your first thoughts are scattered, disorientated. You were heading south, weren't you? Then why are you here, in what seems to be a dismal northern wasteland? Not just dismal, you correct yourself, but utterly unlike any...

No, you realise, not unlike anything you've ever seen before. This place... you've visited it a few rare times, always in your dreams, but not for a great many years. Henryk spoke about this place, Nihilo, but that was a very long time ago. After ten years, you had almost forgotten about it. The place feels forgotten about, in fact, with an uncanny stillness and silence hanging heavily over your surroundings. Swallowing nervously, you look around for any trace of life. Could SHE be here again, after all this time?

But no, there are no signs of life, nothing to answer your budding hopes. Disappointment comes crashing down around you as you realise how alone you are here. Slumping back down, you stare up at the empty sky for a few moments before rolling over and curling up. Huddling close to yourself, you feel a desperate, furious shout swelling within your chest. The urge to cry out, no matter how pointless it might be, grows and grows until-

-

Until you jolt awake, the sound of the door being unlocked causing you to sit bolt upright in shock. Traces of the dream – or whatever it was – still cling to your thoughts, but something pierces the fog. Quiet, the lack of any background noise. The ship has come to a stop. Before you can do anything with this information, the door swings open to reveal Fume, a sour look upon the man's scarred face. He has a pistol in his hand, but it's not pointed at you... yet.

“We're here,” he says slowly, “On your feet, slowly now.”

Forcing aside the lingering confusion left by your uncanny dream, you sneak careful glances at the man as you're rising to your feet. Even unarmed, you'd give yourself good odds for taking him out. Just get close before he can raise the pistol, and...

“Wait,” Fume warns you, “No sudden moves. The captain wants to speak to you before you leave. He's got an... offer for you. I can take you to HIM, or I can hand you over to the Bastards. Your choice.” He gives you a nasty grin as he says this, as if it isn't much of a choice at all.

>Accept his offer, speak with the captain
>Refuse his offer, take your chances with the Bastards
>Attack now, while he's on his own
>Other

>>1335914
>Other
"What kind of offer?"

Then
>>Attack now, while he's on his own
While he's thinking about answering.

>>1335914
Fucking A

Tough call.

Fuck it.
>Attack now, while he's on his own
Try and keep it quiet.

>>1335921
This but move closer while talking

Frowning, you banish the last traces of doubt from your mind. Carefully shifting your weight, you ask a quick question to distract the man. What is it, you ask as you prepare yourself, what kind of offer?

“What?” Fume replies, your question taking putting him on the wrong foot, “How should I-”

Launching yourself into motion, you strike. Lunging forwards, one of your hands slashes out to grab Fume's wrist, twisting it away and to the side before he can raise the pistol. The man's eyes widen in shock, a cry of warning starting to form on his lips before you slam a quick punch into his throat. The cry is stifled instantly, reduced to a choking gasp as Fume reels. Twisting again as he falters, you rip the pistol from his hand and slam it into the side of his head. The light goes out in his eyes, and he slumps down to the ground.

Still breathing heavily, you peer carefully out of the ajar door and look up and down the corridor. No screaming alarms and no reinforcements rushing to his aid... you might just have gotten away with it.

Returning to Fume, you pat him down for anything you can use. Your search results in a set of keys, but nothing else – no other weapons, nothing like that. Before you leave, you check his pulse – shallow, but steady. Grimacing, you briefly consider finishing him off with the pistol before dismissing the idea – too loud, you might as well shout about your escape. Instead, you heave the door shut and lock it behind you. It would be waste, after all, to let a good cell go empty.

-

Hyde's eyes widen in surprise and his jaw drops when you open the door to his cell, although he's smart enough not to make a sound. Pressing his lips together, he nods firmly and rises to meet you.

“Have you got any idea what's going on here?” he asks quietly, “Those two – Talon and that Duke - haven't shown their faces for hours. I don't think things are going quite as they planned.”

Shame, you mutter as you check the pistol, they must have had an argument.

“Some argument,” Hyde laughs softly, “So what now? I assume we've reached land, since the engine stopped a while ago, but that doesn't help us much. Somehow, I don't think we're in friendly territory...”

What about the ship, you ask, can he drive one of these things?

“You don't “drive” a ship,” Hyde corrects you, “But... maybe. I know enough to get us back home, although I don't think they'll just let us stroll up and take the controls. It's risky, but what other choice do we have?”

>We don't. We've got to take the helm
>We head ashore, see what we can find out
>Talon had an offer for me. It might be worth hearing him out, now that we're armed
>Other

>>1335993
>Talon had an offer for me. It might be worth hearing him out, now that we're armed

We can also get him to tell us where Kasun is. He wanted a way to cut his losses, we might be it.

>>1335993
We should look outside to see where we are. If we are docked on some island with no apparent civilization we would get nowhere fast.

In which case getting information from Gore would have to be our priority.

First things first, you tell Hyde, you need to find out where the hell you've stopped at. Until you know about that...

“We can't plan much,” Hyde agrees, “Right, I get you. We should be able to know more if we can get up on deck. You take point – you've got the gun, after all - and I'll watch behind us. We move quickly and quietly, and we should be fine.”

He sounds more like he's trying to reassure himself than anyone else, but you decide against mentioning that. Nodding firmly and raising the gun, you lead him out into the corridor. Moving as quickly as you can while still remaining silent, you prowl the corridors and reach the stairs leading up towards the deck. Pausing for a moment, you listen carefully. Some distant sounds, hard to define or describe, but nothing close. Waving for Hyde to stick close, you ascend the stairs and glance about.

-

“Where are we, do you think?” Hyde mutters, crouching low enough that the ship's railings hide him from sight, “An island, obviously, but...”

You're in the southern Free States, you tell him, one of the nothing little islands around those parts. It probably doesn't even have a name, or any reason for people to come here – the perfect place to hide, really. Can he see anything up there, you ask, any signs of civilisation?

“Seems that way,” he agrees grimly, raising himself up slightly and peering ashore, “Got a few signs of movement out there, a few buildings. Old though, pretty damn ruined. Calling it “civilisation” might be stretching it...”

Grimacing, you raise your head above the railings and take a look for yourself. Just as Hyde said, there are a few crumbling buildings on the bleak island – certainly nothing that looks lived in – and a couple of distant figures, armed with rifles, pacing about. Guards, patrolling the grounds of their little fortress. Lowering yourself back down, you look around and point up at the blocky ship. That's where the captain's cabin is found, you ask Hyde, right?

“Usually, yes,” Hyde answers you, “It used to be tradition to have it above deck, above the common sailors. Why do you ask?”

Because Talon made you an offer, you reply, and it's about time you heard him out. After all, you add as you raise the pistol, you've got something to haggle with now.

-

Nobody crosses your path as you slip up the stairs, past the helm and up to the captain's quarters. So far, you've not seen another man since knocking out Fume, and that leaves you feeling faintly uneasy. Just what happened while you were asleep?

Raising the pistol, you steady yourself and open the door to Talon's quarters.

[1/2]

>>1336061

The first thing that catches your eye is your sword, resting on a long desk. Sitting behind that desk, idly toying with your dagger – YOUR dagger – Talon gives you a sardonic smile. “I'm glad to see you,” he remarks drily, “But isn't Raime with you? Or Fume, I suppose, but those nicknames are just worn out their welcome.” Causally tossing your dagger back down – the sight causes your hands to tighten into fists – Talon laughs. “Captain Titus Gore, at your service,” he spreads his hands in a welcoming gesture, “Shall we get down to business?”

Titus Gore... the name is a familiar one. Henryk mentioned him once, and that fleeting mention had been reluctant enough – as if Henryk resented even having to think about the man. Still, the name stuck. A dangerous man, you had been told, dangerous and erratic. Taking your hard scowl as an answer, Talon – Gore – rises to his feet.

“Don't try anything rash,” Hyde warns, approaching and taking the weapons away from Gore's reach as you keep the pistol aimed at the man. “Now,” Hyde continues, “How about some answers – where are we?”

“The Bastards' lair,” Gore shrugs, “Their den. It used to be a prison once, I think, back in some dismal age. It's forgotten now, more or less, but it serves well enough.”

And Alexei Kasun is here, you ask, locked away somewhere?

“I believe so,” Gore makes a vague gesture, causing you to tighten your grip on the pistol, “Somewhere down below. The upper levels are quite ruined now, I'm afraid. Everything worth investigating is below the surface – the dungeons, the living quarters, the supply rooms...” Pausing, ignoring the gun, he gives you a wolfish grin. “And,” he finishes, “Their little treasury.”

“Treasury?” Hyde repeats, “They have a treasury?”

“Of course! They have to keep their funds somewhere, after all. Not exactly poor and destitute, this lot...” the talk of money causes a hungry light to flare in Gore''s eyes, “Quite interesting, really. The kidnapping business pays well – I should know – but not that well. They must be getting their coin from somewhere else.” Dismissing the point with a shrug, Gore moves on. “Which brings me back to my offer,” he says lightly, “I want that treasury. You want... Kasun, I presume? Well, I think we can help each other...”

“Wait a minute,” holding up a hand, Hyde urges you to wait a moment, “You're awfully willing to betray your allies.”

“Because they're not my bloody allies!” Gore snaps, his temper flaring for a moment, “Business partners at BEST, and that was before... this mess. I warned them that Kasun was too far, but they wouldn't listen!”

So, you guess, he wants...

“To cut my losses,” he finishes with a grin, “And make it out of this with a tidy profit.”

[2/3]

>>1336092
Hyde has blades now correct? Just checking before I start making demands.

>>1336103

>Yes, he's currently got our sword and dagger on hand. Gore still has his own blade, but that's sheathed right now.

>>1336103
>has blades
has our blades*

>>1336092

So what exactly is he proposing, you ask, what's his plan?

“It's simple, as all the best plans are,” still seemingly oblivious to the gun pointing at him, Gore taps his fingers against the desk, “I gather my men and hit their treasury, while you fight through to the dungeons. A two-pronged attack, fast enough that they won't be able to stop us. Anyone tries, we kill them. My men are good at that... as you might well know. I imagine you're no slouch in that department either.”

His faintly gloating tone irks you, but you don't attempt to deny his insinuation. So he gets the treasure and you get Kasun, you finish, then what?

“Then we sail out of here. You take your prize back to the Ministry, and I disappear,” Gore shrugs, “I have no interest in being dragged down with the rest of those anarchist fools, and you need a ship out of here. A mutually beneficial arrangement, wouldn't you agree?”

“We could take one of their ships,” Hyde points out, “I can sail it out of here, if I have to.”

“Oh by all means, take a look outside!” Gore insists, “Do you see any other ships? I certainly didn't, when I was taking us in. They must be out running some errands somewhere.”

Sure, you grunt, just a quick trip down to the shops. So what if you refuse this offer of his?

“Then we're both in a rather precarious situation, and I don't think either of us wants that. I suppose I'd have to consider abandoning the treasury, and simply leaving without you... or killing you and throwing your bodies overboard. I'd prefer not to do that, though,” Gore shrugs, resting a hand on the dagger in his belt, “There's no profit in it. So, little Blackbird... what do you say?”

>Fine. Like you said, we both benefit this way
>No thanks, I can't make a deal with a man like you
>Other

>>1336125
>Fine. Like you said, we both benefit this way
>but I am taking my gear back, all of it.

>>1336125
>>1336134
This
And a sincere apology for being a dick.

>>1336125
>>Fine. Like you said, we both benefit this way
He sure knows how to make a deal sound good.

>>1336125
Agree but we would really like to know where their income is coming from if Gore knows or can find out while down there. Documents and what not.

Glancing across, you meet Hyde's gaze with a question in your eyes. His reply is a slight shrug, leaving the decision in your hands. No rousing agreement, but no damning condemnation either. A kind of shrug that says “I'll go along with whatever you decide”. Not a very helpful shrug, in other words.

Fine, you decide after a moment more, it's like he said – you both benefit this way. You've just got one condition. You want your stuff back, all of it.

“The blades? Help yourself, they're yours. The pistol, though? Can't help you there,” Gore gives you a regretful smile, one that almost looks genuine, “The Duke – Rubin, that slime – took a fancy to it. I figure you'll need to pry it from his cold dead grasp, but... I don't think that would a problem, would it?”

No, you agree slowly, not really. There's just one last thing you wanted to say. Earlier, you tell him with a cool smile, when he was questioning you with this Rubin... sorry for being so rude. Just business, nothing against him.

“Oh certainly. It was worth it, just to see his face,” Gore chuckles, “I was tired of that little bastard anyway. I'll get my men ready, and I'll meet you out on dry land.”

Right, you tell him. Oh, and you left Raime in your cell – he might have a bit of a headache.

-

“You really think we can trust him?” Hyde asks quietly as you're waiting on the island, long grass brushing around your knees, “His sort is all too willing to turn traitor when the situation demands.”

You're certainly not considering him an ally, you agree, but he knows how to spin a tempting deal. The way he put it, there's no way you could lose out. If he lives up to half of it, you're better off compared with going it alone. All you need to do is watch out and stay prepared for the worst. Until then, you've got enough enemies ahead of you without making any more.

“True enough,” Hyde grunts, “No way of knowing how many of them are down there, or how well they're armed. Hell, we know hardly anything – what really bothers me is...”

Where they get their funding from, you agree, maybe you can find something below. Documents, records, anything that the Ministry can trace back to the source. Maybe Gore will find something in the treasury, you joke, and he'll share it with you.

“Hmm,” a deeply sceptical look passes across Hyde's face, “He doesn't strike me as the sharing type.”

“Talking about anyone in particular?” Gore asks in a mocking tone, arriving with almost no sound at all preceding him. “Now then, let's get a move on. Remember – we're hitting them hard and fast, and we're taking no prisoners. Here-” giving Hyde a leering smile, Gore passes across an old military rifle, “I do share my toys... sometimes.”

Giving you an uneasy look, Hyde takes the rifle with faint reluctance.

[1/2]

I just can't figure out any reason why he wouldn't betray us the instant he and his men get into the treasury and carry the loot onboard

>>1336180
Loot is going to take a lot longer to move than a single dude. We'll be on the ship before he is done.

>>1336195
I don't see any reason to believe that, and frankly he could condemn the door when we come back and abandon us (there aren't any boats other than his as stated previously) or just shoot us since he has an overwhelming numerical superiority on us (not even mentioning the spirit protecting him)

>>1336203

He's scum but as players we're at least aware that as long as he gets what he wants he's not likely to stab us in the back. He profited from our trip to the north, and Henryk got safe passage back.

>>1336175

Swiping at the long grass with his cane, Gore leads your loose group towards the derelict building ahead. The men barely spare you passing glances, although Raime often shoots you dark and fleeting looks, resentment smouldering in his eyes. You'll have to keep an eye on him, you think to yourself, in case he takes a little break from looting the place to sink a dagger into your back.

Seeing your group approach, the patrolling Bastards draw close to the entrance and form up, their weapons held at the ready. “You there!” the leader barks, half raising his rifle at Gore, “You were supposed to bring the prisoners-”

Before he can finish his sentence, almost too fast for your eye to follow, Gore's blade has found the man's throat, cutting so deeply that the guard is almost beheaded. Following their captain's cue, Gore's men fall upon the Bastards with knives and hatchets of their own. Before you can draw your weapons, the bloody act is over. Reaching down, Gore dips his fingers in the blood and does something, smearing some of the blood on one of his trinkets. As if sensing your scrutiny, he turns and gives you a ghoulish smile.

“Yes?” he asks, his eyes growing bright and his voice lilting in a strange way, “Is there a problem?”

The dungeons, you ask as you turn away, where are they?

“Right at the bottom, of course,” Gore answers, “Right at the very bottom...”

Of course.

-

The upper layer of the building is little more than a path towards the stairs downwards, a path cleared through the rubble of countless long and neglectful years. Standing aside for a moment, Gore waves you down into the bowels of the building. Feeling rather like you're being sent in to check for traps or ambushes, you take out a pistol – an old piece borrowed from Gore's arsenal to replace your usual piece – and draw your dagger. Trading an unspoken look with Hyde, making sure that he'll be watching your back, you start to descend.

The sound of your boots echoing against the stone steps seems very loud indeed, marking your approach like alarm bells. Pausing as the first flight of stairs comes to an end, your eyes fall upon a tarnished brass plate screwed onto the fall. Reading it quickly, you file away the information. The first basement level is devoted to living quarters, while the second level is the vault. The third level is simply marked “cells”.

“Watch out!” Hyde yells suddenly, pushing you down as the deafening crack of a gunshot pierces the still air. Crying out in alarm, you fire a wildly aimed shot with your pistol and back away, retreating down into the next set of stairs. As Hyde follows you down, the sounds of gunfire swell to a pounding crash.

Down, just keep heading down.

[2/3]

>>1336257

With your feet clattering on the stone steps, you run straight past the second level – leave the vault to Gore, that's his job – and take the final flight of stairs down. The air here smells damp and stagnant, so heavy that the sounds of gunfire drifting down from above feel strangely muffled and muted. It seems so distant that you pause for a moment, just to get your breath back.

A mistake, with a gunshot shattering your false sense of security. Snarling at yourself, you duck back and flatten yourself against the wall. With Hyde opposite you, hugging cover, you risk a peep out into the long corridor beyond. Rusting cells line both sides of it, with a solid iron door confronting you at the far end. Flanking that door, a pair of guards turn their aim and fire at you, forcing you back into cover. As their attention is locked on you, Hyde leans around and squeezes off a pair of quick shots. A cry of pain rises above the ringing in your ears, one of the guards dropping. His companion pauses, caught between firing at you again and helping his friend. While he pauses, you lean around the wall and fire, your shot putting a sharp end to his indecision.

Glancing back to check your rear, you run down the length of the corridor and reach the heavy iron door. It's locked, but one of the guards has a set of keys hanging from his belt, fumbling them into the lock, you throw the door open and hurry through.

-

“I told you to take care of it!” the Duke, Rubin, snaps angrily as he turns, “I was not to be disturbed by-” When you realises who he is facing, he falls silent. Slowly lifting his hands above his head, he steps away from his bloody work. Sitting slumped in a chair, his wrists bound to the armrests, you recognise – just barely – the haunted face of Alexei Kasun. Blood pours softly from the man's mouth, and he sobs quietly to himself.

In Rubin's hand is a pair of pliers, a bloodied tooth still held within their jaws.

>Drop it Rubin, you're under arrest
>Why are you torturing him?
>If you want to live, I need answers – who's funding you?
>Make yourself valuable, Rubin, and tell me something... (Write in)
>Other

>>1336306
>>Drop it Rubin, you're under arrest
>>Why are you torturing him?
I might have gotten the Duke and Fum mixed up at some point, was really confused here for a second. Raime is Fume and the guy we knocked out. Duke is Rubin and the Bull that was sniffing us out. Am I good?

>>1336306
>>Drop it Rubin, you're under arrest
>>Why are you torturing him?
>>If you want to live, I need answers – who's funding you?

>>1336306
>If you want to live, I need answers – who's funding you and why do you need this man?

>>1336306
>Drop it Rubin, you're under arrest

>>1336320

>Yes, that's correct. Sorry for any confusion

>>1336306
I won't bullshit you, if I arrest you and bring you with me you'll be interrogated and tortured just like this guy before you talk, and you know you'll talk. When they'll get all they need out of you they'll kill you.

Talk to me now, and I'll spare you the torture part. You won't escape this island alive, Bull.

Drop it, you tell Rubin coldly, he's under arrest. Find something to bind his wrists, you tell Hyde as an aside, anything will do.

Faint surprise flickers across Rubin's face as he glances up at the pair of pliers, as if he had forgotten what he had been doing, but then he lets them drop from his grip. His hands, you note with sickly amusement, are protected by linen gloves – the surgical kind, to be used during bloody work. League regulations are very strict about that.

“So was this all part of your plan?” Rubin asks quietly, a mask of apparent calm dropping over his features, “Talon, was he in on this from the start?”

He's in no position to be asking questions, you point out, but he could certainly answer a few of them. First of all, why do they need Kasun so badly? Why torture him like this?

“I... we need to know what he knows. He burned his notes, so we've been forced to be... strict with our questioning,” Rubin answers simply, as if this was the most natural thing in the world, “He possesses the secrets of Panacea, its manufacture and its full properties. Surely you understand the value of that? The people deserve that boon as much as anyone else the League deems worthy. How can you disagree?”

“Because you're lying,” Hyde remarks calmly as he hands you a long spool of rope, “I don't need to be a Bull to know that. You're not in this for the good of the people, are you?” As you keep Rubin covered with your pistol, Hyde gets to work binding his wrists, leaving enough rope free to form a crude leash. “No, I've got my own ideas about you,” the Hunter continues, “I don't know why, but you don't get any pills from the League. What happened, did you screw up and get kicked out?”

The ghost of a scowl passes across Rubin's face as Hyde's words bite into him, but he offers no answer, no argument or rebuttal. “My condition is none of your business,” he says eventually, his voice strained but calm, “And I refuse to say anything more on the matter. On any matter, in fact.”

That's no good, you argue, you're not finished questioning him. What you really need to know is simple – a matter of their funding. Other than his little line in kidnapping, how do the Bastards fund their operations? Who is funding them?

“I will not answer,” Rubin insists, “You cannot make me answer.”

See, you sigh, he might be right there. You can't... but the League has people who can. People just like him, who can be very strict with their questioning. They'll take him apart, piece by piece, until they get what they want to know. When they're done, they'll kill him. You'll offer him a deal. If he gives you what you want to know, you'll skip painlessly to the last part. A clean death... it's about the best possibility he has ahead of him. He doesn't have to leave this island alive.

[1/2]

>>1336361

Rubin holds your gaze for a long time, weighing up his options and gauging the truth of your words. You weren't lying, and he can sense that – he can't deny it, no matter how much he might want to. “I know all about the Ministry, and how it extracts information,” he replies at long last, “Everyone breaks in the end. I've seen enough to know that.”

So, you ask, how about it?

“The Bastards have... allies within the League,” Rubin says slowly, “Men and women willing to divert shipments of weapons or hard currency, even gold at times. Some willingly, because they sympathise with our goals, others because we have leverage over them. They held to destroy records to keep us hidden, and to direct the Ministry's attention elsewhere. Their names are written down, with a record of all their... donations.”

“Very neat,” Hyde mutters, “Very convenient.”

“An insurance policy,” the fallen Bull answers, “And additional leverage, when needed. The dossier is stored in the vault, everything you need is there.”

The vault, you think as you trade a glance with Hyde, that might mean dealing with Gore. On the subject of leverage, if Gore realises the value of that dossier...

“I've fulfilled my side of the bargain,” Rubin says, his voice flat and steady, “Now you fulfil yours.” Looking slowly between you and Hyde, Rubin lowers himself to his knees and closes his eyes. “Get it over with,” he says after a moment, a trace of impatience creeping into his tone, “I'm ready, so do it quickly. A clean death, that's what you promised.”

With a soft noise of disgust, you check your pistol one last time and press it up against the back of Rubin's skull, tilting his head ever so slightly forwards. Hyde makes no move to stop you, but he does you the courtesy of looking away. You're glad of that, although you couldn't really explain why. Before you can lose your nerve, you swallow back the last of your revulsion and pull the trigger. The pistol jumps in your hand, a hard bark punching at your ears, and then it's all over. Rubin slumps softly to the side, and then all is silent.

The silence doesn't last. It's broken by the crisp sound of snide applause, and a cruel laugh.

-

“Very good, very good indeed,” Gore says softly, entering the torture chamber, “That saves me one little job. My thanks.”

One job, you ask, what?

“Rubin knew that I was involved in all this, quite heavily involved in fact,” Gore has his knife drawn, you notice, that jagged and terrible blade. He taps it against the side of his hip as he walks, his cane tapping softly on the stone floor. “A witness, I suppose you'd call him. If he fell into the Ministry's hands, well...” he pauses, leaning down to examine the corpse, “It might have made my future a little less bright. Well, no matter – he's dead now.”

[2/3]

>>1336415
Gore is totally going to betray us now.

File: Look At Me.jpg (27 KB, 650x366)

27 KB JPG

>>1336420
It's happening.
Captain Eliza 'Blackbird' Hanson.

>>1336420
Naaaaah, maybe he just has the knife out cause he was coming to kill Rubin. We cool, he totally won't fight us.

>>1336415

As Gore dips his fingers in Rubin's blood, you shift your weight a little and holster your pistol, replacing it with your sword. The torture chamber isn't a large room, but there's enough space that a long blade could prove useful, if the situation happens to... escalate. Opposite you, on Gore's other side, you see Hyde backing off a little as well, shifting his grip on the rifle so that he could use it as a club.

“Only, the problem is...” Gore whispers to himself as he smears blood on his favourite trinket, “We've got two more witnesses here, don't we old friend?”

“Hey,” Hyde says, “Who are you talking-”

When Gore moves, it's almost too fast for you to follow. He seems to twist, his serrated dagger cutting a wide circle through the air and forcing both you and Hyde pack a pace. Something – his cane – clatters to the ground as he rises, the concealed blade revealed for what it really is. That thin, needle of a blade is streaking towards your heart before you've fully processed what you're looking at, but a ringing of steel chimes out as it is turned aside.

You moved to defend yourself without thinking... although it doesn't feel like “you” did anything at all. The blood boils within your veins, every single iota of your heritage, your Dragon's blood, rising up to the challenge. Snarling at him, you push his sword up and away, following it up with a thrust at his stomach with your dagger. Twisting again, like a thin tree in a gale, Gore slips around your blow and steps smoothly backwards, dodging as Hyde jabs with the butt of his rifle.

“Oh, I've been waiting for a fight like this,” he jeers, baring his fangs in a broad smile, “Now come, Khanjar thirsts!”

>Please suggest a plan of attack
>I'll give this ten minutes, and I'll try to keep this quick

>>1336477
Catch that cane needle blade with the dagger and break it.

>>1336477
We don't have much in the supernatural kit to rely on.

Could we trap the needleblade within Eliza's daggerguard and snap it? A bit less length would open up our options, even better if it just bends and becomes awkward to swing.

I also think we should separate him from his talismans. Aim for his collar rather than his chest. Really, I don't think we're going to do much against his supernatural side without setting him on fire or something.

>>1336496
I mean if we can hit his talismans we might as well just hit his jugular too.

>>1336503
fair enough

>>1336477
I agree with breaking the cane blade. Once we do that we'll have the advantage of range that we can exploit with our sword.

Focus on parrying with our sword breaker and look for openings.

>>1336477
And yeah let Ifox come out and partner up to take Gore out if that isn't already happening though it seems it is.

>>1336477
Feint with our sword, get him to counter our feint, trap his blade and break it.

You have no idea who – or what – Khanjar might be, but you have no intention of slaking its thirst with your blood. To that end, you've got to disarm Gore as quickly as you can. Even getting one of his blades away from him would be a good start. Fortunately, you've got a damn good tool for the job...

Hyde grunts out a curse as Gore slashes his shorter blade low, the tip of it skimming lightly across the Hunter's hip and parting the flesh. It's not a deep cut, but it's enough to make Hyde hesitate for a moment. Sensing weakness, Gore thrusts forwards with his thin sword – first aiming Hyde's heart before flicking up, a strangely playful flick, and scoring a red line up he Hunter's chin. A breath hisses from between Hyde's lips, and Gore barks out a harsh laugh.

Calling out his name, your eyes flick to Hyde's injury, leaving Gore's blades for a split second. Trailing blood behind it, that needle swishes your way, cutting at face level. A shudder passes up your arm as you block the blade with your parrying dagger, sparks flying as Gore's blade grinds down the length of yours. Thrusting forwards, you lock the sword into the notch and pull down, nearly tearing the blade out of Gore's hand. He stumbles, then the sword falls from his hands.

A ruse, a feint to draw your eye. As the sword falls, he rises sharply with the dagger and forces you back a few paces.

“Never did like a longer blade,” he spits, fury in his eyes as he hacks at you with his wicked dagger. As he lashes out, you catch a faint but foul scent – like rotting meat and boiling blood. From around Gore's throat, from one of those trinkets of his, a wisp of smoke seems to rise up. Laughing aloud, he throws himself into a furious attack, slashing and cutting at you, the sheer intensity of it pushing you back towards the wall. Even with two blades, you can just barely keep his onslaught at bay

You need something to turn the tide, to blunt his attack. Until then...

>What is your next move?
>Again, ten minutes for this

>>1336477
Hopefully Hyde will be able to pop a shot while we defend against Gore, try to turn the guy around or give Hyde enough room for a real good shot.
Maybe even stabbing the guy in the legs to slow him down or gore him to bleed him out.

>>1336535
Maybe mentioning Henryk will distract him for a fraction of a millisecond.

>>1336535
We are going to have to cut his talismans off after all.

Catch his dagger and do your best to hold it as you use the sword to go for the necklace.

Best thing would be to take a hit on the shoulder and at the same time use the lul in his assault to eviscerate him.

That or try to have him strike something that will get his knife stuck for a second.

Gritting your teeth, you hold out against the next wave of attacks and, for a few mad seconds, look past Gore. Hyde has fallen back, watching you and Gore fight with helpless dismay. The expression on his face, one of honest confusion, would almost be comical, if not for the fact that you could really use his help.

Hyde, you yell out, just shoot the bastard!

Your call seems to snap Hyde out of his confusion, and all life rushes back into his eyes. Cursing aloud, he fumbles with the rifle and throws it against his shoulder. “I can't!” he protests, “I don't have a clear shot!”

Just shoot him, you shout as Gore's blade lashes out again. Punishing you for that brief lapse in concentration, the jagged blade skims across the knuckles of your sword hand, cutting right down to the bone. It's all you can do to hold onto the weapon, with a strength that is not your own flooding in to tighten your grip. Even so, the pain is immense, bad enough that you almost freeze in place. Almost – the deafening crack of Hyde's rifle drags you back to reality. The shot misses you both, bursting against the wall behind you and spraying you with chips of stone. Silver flashes in Gore's mouth as he laughs... and then you laugh along with him.

“Go ahead and laugh,” the monster snarls, grabbing your bloodied hand and squeezing until the pain is too much for you and the sword falls from your grip.

Henryk said he was... you gasp... he said Gore was dangerous. You never realised...

At the sound of that name, Gore's grip on your wounded hand loosens slightly. Something human seems to return to Gore's eyes, something that looks absurdly like... delight. Delight at what, you couldn't say, but it's just the chance you needed. Slipping away, you duck to the side and yell Hyde's name. He fires again, and this shot skims across Gore's flank. Howling like a beast, that brief pleasure shattering like glass, Gore starts to turn to Hyde. As he does, you lunge forwards and grab the tangled mess of trinkets and totems he wears around his neck, your bloodied fist closing around something warm and squirming. Crying out in revulsion, you rip your hand away.

“Khanjar!” Gore screams, a brittle edge to his voice as he drops the dagger and reaches for your prize, “Give him ba-”

Your dagger, the full length of it, silences him as it sinks into his throat. Dull incomprehension slowly fills his eyes, replacing the madness and the bloodlust, before Gore slowly slides back. He falls, crumbling to the ground and growing still. Only then, and not a moment too soon, can you hurl that sickly trinket into the furthest corner of the room.

It felt like holding a fistful of maggots.

[1/2]

>>1336605
Kasun must have been pissing himself the whole time.

>>1336605

Later, when you've scavenged enough supplies from the living quarters to bandage the various wounds that you and Hyde sustained, you prepare yourself for the worst and head out into the cold outside air. Compared with the squalid air in the prison, heavy not only with age but with the scent of recent death, the salt smell carried on the wind seems like a rare treat. Gore's men had left a lot of bodies in their wake, and an empty vault. No sign of any dossier, of course.

Kasun stirred only briefly, rousing himself from the fugue of horror just long enough for you to assure him of his safety before sinking into a more restful unconsciousness. Sharing his meagre weight between you and Hyde, you carried him with you. Upon reaching the surface, the sight of a distant ship greets you, figures waiting up on the deck. Waiting for their captain, for a man who won't be coming.

As you approach, Hyde eases Kasun onto you and holds the rifle with both hands – not brandished at anyone, but ready for use. The crew study you in silence for a long time before one of their number, perhaps the tallest man you've ever seen.

“Captain not with you?” he asks simply, his voice blunt and uncomplicated.

Nope, you tell him, he's dead. You could have lied or softened your words, of course, but it seemed pointless. He wouldn't have believed you, for one thing, and besides... you're too damn tired to lie. Let him deal with the truth however he likes.

“I figured,” the looming man says with a nod, “One of these days, he was always going to pick a fight he couldn't win. I'm Vendrick, get aboard. We've got a doc on board, he'll see to your friend.”

“Wait,” Hyde asks, incredulous, “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Vendrick shrugs, “Stay here if you like, won't force you to come with us.”

Shaking his head in bemusement, Hyde just follows you up the boarding ramp and slumps down onto the deck. If not for Vendrick taking Kasun off your hands, you fear that you might have done the same, passing out there and then. As it is, you just about manage to stagger down below deck, following Vendrick to whatever passes for a doctor on this ship.

-

When he recovers enough of his wits to talk, Kasun also recovers enough of his sense to stay quiet. Your attempts at conversation go unanswered for a long time, and when the answers do finally come, they are short and hollow. Not a man who gives up his secrets very easily, Alexei Kasun, although you've seen evidence enough of that already. Still, you persist in talking with him – chatting about any old nonsense, for your benefit as much as his.

If nothing else, he's a good listener.

[2/3]

>>1336690

Eventually, and perhaps just to shut you up, Kasun finds his tongue. He falteringly talks about the night his home was attacked, his slurred words painting a nightmarish picture. His reasons for burning his notes were simple, and just as Rubin suggested – without any written documents, his thoughts became priceless. What he knew was just too important for him to be casually killed. When you mention that one word, “Kozlak”, Kasun returned to his stubborn silence.

Some secrets, apparently, are not to be shared – with anyone.

Leaving him to rest, you head off to find Hyde. As you're leaving, you're sure that you hear a faint sigh of relief coming from the wounded scientist.

-

Hyde's new room is certainly an upgrade over his old cell, with some actual furniture in it. A chair, a desk... and a bed. You could do with a rest, you realise, a long and luxurious sleep. Time for that later, you tell yourself with regret, there's still business to take care. That business takes the form of a slender book, one that Hyde is busy flicking through.

“The dossier,” he explains, meeting your gaze and guessing the question before you can ask it, “A lot of names, a lot of transactions. This is going to keep the Ministry – or, more likely, folk like us – busy for a long time to come.”

No kidding, you remark as you peer over his shoulder and skim down the spidery text, anyone he recognises in there?

“Don't joke about that,” he warns you, “Most of these people pretty low level, just useful idiots who were threatened into burning a few files or running some other tiny errand. Others... I don't know. This is all above my pay grade. Sokolov isn't listed in here, at least, so he can sort this all out. When this is all over, I'm taking a well-deserved break, even if I have to flee to the far north to get it. Now go on, I want to get some rest – go find your own cabin to sleep in.”

Fine, you sigh, you'll see if there's an empty bed anywhere...

-

It's not what you'd call comfortable, but the bed you're shown to is far better than the floor you slept on last time. Lying back, you close your eyes and listen to the sound of the engine. Vendrick – apparently the acting captain – told you that the ship was heading for Odyss, where you could take Kasun into Ministry custody. You don't expect they'll be sticking around for long, though, with their plans taking them far away from the law.

Let them run, you think as you drift off to sleep, it's not your job to chase them... yet. Pushing the thoughts of work as far from your thoughts as possible, you sink deeper into sleep.

And then you wake, once more, in Nihilo.

But this time, you're not alone.

[3/4]

>>1336742
Khanjar, I presume?

>>1336742
>Henryk got dismemebered by 12 people
>He needs Lise to go and hunt them down so he can come back.

>>1336749
>tfw we are the waifu

>>1336750
>Chooses Camilla best girl
>settles for Artemis
>Stuck with Daughteru

>>1336759
Not gonna lie, I'm a tiny bit disappointed Henryk didn't marry Camilla. It was pretty clear she was willing to start a life with him.

Of course, it's entirely understandable why he chose the life he did.

>>1336792
I am too.
It's guess it's the vote that won though. Wish I was there for it.

>>1336792
It can still happen, like Ira and Howa. Both Henryk and Camilla are still young, and with Henryk's blood cured he can still live a long and eventful life.

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>>1336742

From across what feels like a great distance, Artemis regards you with flat and curiously empty eyes. It's strange, she looks exactly like you remember her looking, as if it had been only yesterday when you saw her last. The amazement you feel at seeing her is soon blasted away by a flare of anger, a raw fury that sees you marching towards her with clenched fists.

Hey, you yell out to her, she's got a lot of nerve showing her face like this!

“I... excuse me?” taken aback, Artemis tilts her head at you, “Oh, I almost didn't recognise you there. You've changed, you've gotten tough since-”

Where is he, you snap, where's Henryk?

“Right now, you mean?” Artemis thinks for a moment, “Well, I can't give you a precise location, but... he's on a ship, we're both on a ship heading northwards. I know, I know, we've been gone for a while but...” Pausing again, the ethereal woman studies you. “Are you... crying?”

No, you blurt out as you wipe away the tears that had been misting your vision, shut up!

-

“I never thought I'd see this place again, you know,” Artemis says softly, after a short while has passed, “I did wonder what happened to it. Someone's cleaned up since I was last here, taken away the bodies...”

You were here once before, you tell her quietly, but you were alone. It was totally empty.

“Stress,” her reply is vague, “Henryk mentions it, every so often. Stress, trauma, violence... any strong feeling can bring him – and you, I suppose, anyone who's been here before – here again. I don't know why I'M here though. Maybe you reached out and-”

Who cares about that, you cut in, is he okay? Is Henryk okay?

“Of course he is, but we've both been very busy down south,” Artemis begins to prowl restlessly back and forth, showing sharp teeth as she grins, “We killed a giant worm!”

You saw that, you tell her with a nod, in the newspaper. They had a picture of him...

“What? Oh no. Oh no no no,” shaking her head, Artemis laughs lightly, “That was one of of the babies! The adult one was, well... it's sort of a long story. You see-”

Don't, you interrupt again, you don't want to hear it. Not yet. If there's a long story to be told, you want Henryk to be one to tell it, just like old times. You want to sit down and listen to him sharing his hunting stories... only this time, you've got a story of your own to tell him.

A long story of your own.

>Well, I think I'm going to draw this to a close here. I'd planned this as a little self-contained story, and this feels like a decent note to end on.
>Thanks to everyone who contributed, and for your continued patience!

>>1336810
Thanks for running Moloch, this was fun.

>>1336810
So are we going to be seeing a sequel?

>>1336838

In all honesty, I doubt it. Overall, I feel a little burnt out on the setting and such, to the point where I'm not sure if there's anything "new" to explore. I wouldn't say "never ever", but I'm probably going to look into running a completely new project next - although I'm probably going to take some time off before thinking too hard about that sort of thing.


In either case, I'll answer any other questions that anyone might have tomorrow. Now, it's getting a little late for me. Thank you again to everyone who has stuck with Northern Beasts Quest!

>>1336810
Thanks for running, Moloch! The quest's been great.

>>1336867
Thanks for the quest, Moloch! I look forward to your future writings!
How and when will Lize reunite with Henryk?

>>1336810
Good way to end. Thanks for the ride, always looking forward to more from you.

>>1336867
Did the Hunter's league suffer from some split before/during/after the quest?

We've seen renegade Bulls and being a Snake means that you are expected to be a dick and do things that would be hard to justify as being good for the whole organisation. Dragons are their own thing and would make the College dickishness look stale.

>>1336867
How are wolves now viewed? How often does Henryk visit Carmilla? Lise ever find a man she was interested in romantically? Are Artemis and Henryk just going around killing big things? They never knock boots? Is Artemis at risk for more corruption now? How are Iosefka and Vas doing? Still "freinds" or will they get married?

>>1336867
It's been a ride Moloch, but it was fun. You're a hell of a writer.

>>1336797
You could've been there for it, but transcending the hunt pretty much won by a landslide. I liked Camilla but that choice seemed most appropriate, especially since our wish was for power in thread 1. Not that that couldn't change with everything he's been through but it was pretty consistent.

>>1336867
Does Artemis retain any of her spooky powers or desire to eat adorable southern spirits?

>>1337046
I hadn't realized that vote was for choosing the waifu. Otherwise I'd vote differently.

>>1338581
By the way, how's Revelle doing?

>>1338648
m8 everyone knows Arty was best waifu

>>1339077
Why would you do that? Go onto the Internet and lie?

>>1339182
kys camillapleb

>>1339207
Such agressiveness. It's like you know your choice is inferior.

>>1336952

Without blood corruption to consider Wolves are better regarded in society, although there is still a lingering stigma. Hunting is still seen as "unclean" work by some, although that view is very much a minority. Generally, Henryk visited Camilla as often as possible for a while, although his visits grew less frequent with time. Regardless, the pair are very much still on good terms - Camilla is the sort of person that understands duty all too well.
Lize and romance, I didn't actually consider very much. Personally, I don't imagine her having many "serious" partnerships, but having the occasional relationship. Ships passing in the night, that sort of thing.
During their time down south, I imagined Henryk and Artemis focusing on killing monsters and getting in trouble. Ultimately, I viewed their relationship as very much a platonic one, more based out of mutual respect than anything else. In terms of corruption, Artemis has the potential to slide back into risky territory, but it's unlikely. Her supernatural abilities allow her a degree of control over her blood, so she can purify herself as long as she wishes to - in order to remain part of civilised society, for example.
Iosefka and Vas, I don't really see them as settling down in the traditional sense, although they're very much an inseperable couple. They have their own system, giving each other enough space, and it works out pretty well.

>>1338648

For what it's worth, I didn't intend for the final decision to be romantic exactly, although it did sort of work out that way. I more imagined it as deciding on a way of life, as a matter of personal interpretation

>>1338581
>>1338653

Artemis does have some supernatural abilities, such as the influence over blood mentioned above, but they have faded as she becomes a little more human, a little less wild. Given the chance, she can force her will onto certain beasts although it's quite draining. Mostly, her strength just comes from being a vicious fighter - fast and strong, compared to a regular human. So far, she hasn't eaten any spirits, although she makes threats every now and again. She's probably joking!
Revelle is still sticking around, more or less unchanged. I like to think that Henryk took part in a few rites praising her while he was down south, and that kept Revelle sweet.

>>1336905

The Hunters didn't have any specific split or organised schism, but they've always been a little more prone to desertion than other groups, abandoning civilisation and the League in favour of living in the wilderness. Going north was a relatively popular choice, especially compared with the other bloodlines.

Thanks for this quest, Moloch. It had a good ending and this prologue was very fitting. I'm going to miss the setting and the characters, but then that happened for your other quests as well.

I'm looking forward to your next project

>>1339246
Are the nobles going to try and reclaim their lost power? has anyone been to the Giant's garden since Henryk? What would transcendence on a snake, bull or dragon look like?