Changing Face.

[Dirge]

The Dying Jackal was a dirty tavern filled with the sort that most would force themselves to forget, but have dreams of when night fell. It was the sort of tavern that had quickly become common in the slums of Radasanth, and, unfortunately, was spreading further into the city. Degradation spurred its creation, strife and distrust fueled the growth of more taverns like it. Corone was quickly falling into a broken state, cast aside by the government and on the brink of a civil war.

Groups were slowly rising, calling (screaming) for fair taxes and the support of the government. These groups rallied around the need for state sponsored charities and filled with people who opposed the current regime who controlled Corone. Amongst these was the Iunia of Radasanth, a group devoted to the advancement of themselves before others. What could come of this group was unknown, and yet very interesting. They were quickly rising through the ranks, advancing in leaps and bounds through the underground of Radasanth.

Vigo sat back, tipping his chair and leaning against the wall behind him. He was, by no means, oblivious to the women that were dancing on the stage. Other things were simply absorbing his interests, such as the talk to two men that were sitting at a table adjacent to his own. The half-elf, dressed in a common set of traveler’s clothes, allowed his peeked ears to twitch and dance as he listened.

“The damned captain is getting in the way of things,” one of the two said. His voice was muted and quiet. Despite his attempt at secrecy the sorcerer was listening. “We need to be rid of him somehow… just so that we can continue with what we have planned.”

“Agreed,” the second said. He was much smaller, but his voice commanded attention. “But we cannot risk being exposed.”

Vigo shifted in his seat. It sounded like a job. The half-elf looked across the table, staring over the drinks at his companion. The boy, as he seemed to be, was eager to do anything. Samuel Oliver Logan, a half-imp of Salvar, was an interesting kid. His eyes were different colors, which had originally attracted the sorcerer. Within little time the two had hit it off, and quickly they had bonded.

“What do you think? Should we intervene in their little talks?” Vigo asked Samuel. “They’re talking about dealing with some captain…”

[{Kid disasteR}]

Solo sat arms crossed in the uncomfortably creaky chair. This place was certainly a drastic change of scenery for him. The long crystallized corridors of his youth had been replaced by the stench of beer, sweat and sex. It was all his father's fault.

That bastard of an old man. If it weren't for him I never would have been driven out of my own home...

Solo's trance was interrupted by a soft hand on his shoulder. One of the dancing girls whispered lightly in his ear.

" Oooh baby. You're freezing. What do you say you and I go some place. For the right price...I can warm up that perfect body of your's. "

Solo merely raised his eye brow in annoyance. Without opening his mouth or making any motion at all he spoke to the naive young girl's mind.

" I'm afraid it'll take more than that to warm me up sweet heart...Now, if you please, take your hand off of me, before I take it off of you... "

The girl snatched her hand away and backed up. A portrayal of both fear and confusion was painted across her ivory face. She paced away quickly, returning to her rounds.

Solo shook his head and turned back to his new companion. Vigo was an interesting man. He gave of the vibe of an intellectual. This was possibly the only reason Solo felt any connection with him. the man was smart, very smart. He had plans, ideas, theories, all with substantiated facts to back them. Solo could learn much from this man.

Vigo spoke, and Solo listened. It seemed that Vigo had found a prospective candidate.

" I'll try and get a clearer message. " said Solo, leaning up in his seat and closing his eyes. He listened carefully, intently. he had to pinpoint their thoughts, match them with their voices.

" ....I-.....if he......shou-......-elp........"

" ...-no what the f-.........-ing of doi-.........."

Solo listened hard, his head pounding, fists clenched. He began to get warm. He had gotten enough, it was time to let their minds go. Solo sat back suddenly in his chair, panting. he slowly caught his breath, and spoke to Vigo's mind.

" Their names are Geoffrey and Thell. They wish to seek the aid of an outsider but are unsure of what the other will think of the proposal. It is safe for us to proceed."

[Dirge]

Vigo allowed his eyes to wander as he waited for his companion to speak. By speak, of course, the half-elf was waiting for his partner to send his telepathic messages. While waiting the sorcerer took a shot of whatever hard alcohol was passing around. It apparently was for putting the patrons ‘in the mood’. It was bitter, causing the half-elf to wince, and burnt as it went down the back of his throat. The sorcerer sighed and took a large gulp of the sweet, honey-like drink that was non-alcoholic.

He twitched as the words of Samuel burst into his head. It was always a shock, and somewhat disheartening to know that his mind could be touched so easily. Uncomfortably, Vigo scratched his dark brown hair and let his jade eyes stray from the dancing women. Whatever defenses the sorcerer would have, he feared those that could touch other’s minds would always be able to attack him.

“If you say so,” Vigo mumbled to the boy. He trusted him, but was not quite sure how powerful he was and whether or not he would truly be able to touch people’s minds that were not willing. The sorcerer shifted in his seat as the hard alcohol began to set in. His stomach rolled.

“Sirs,” Vigo said as he slid towards the two men who were muttering their conversation. The two snapped their attention towards the sorcerer, their eyes filled with confusion. The two men gave the half-elf a quick look over, examining his garb and items. As soon as they were prepared, the two nodded towards him. “We could not help but overhear your conversation. It sounds as if you have a problem on your hands, one that outsiders could easily take care of for you.”

“That we do,” the first responded. His eyes were a heavy brown, but in the faded light and from beneath his hood, his eyes appeared to be heavily shadowed. His face was scruffy and rough, he was obviously lacking hours of sleep. “How do we know that you would not betray us and turn us in? You don’t have enough information yet, but if we open up you will know too much…”

“Trust is fundamental,” Vigo responded. He opened his hand, calling the sweet nectar drink to his hands. The frosted glass hovered over the worn table; it was little more than a parlor trick but often got the point across. “However, you seem to be against the government and as far as I can tell… you have no other options.”

“Well, well,” the second one responded. “What’s wrong with your friend?”

[{Kid disasteR}]

Solo watched intently as his mysterious companion began his negotiations with the hooded strangers. It was strange, although Vigo's appearance was farely normal, Solo always felt a sense of foreboding when in the company of this half-elf. Still, he had thus far proven himself trustworthy. Perhaps it was not evil that Solo felt emanating from this man, perhaps he was sensing a great misfortune weighing heavily on Vigo's heart. He had no way of knowing either way, for Solo had once before attempted to read Vigo's thoughts, on the eve of their meeting. At this time, Solo was untrusting of the half-elf and felt it necessary to try and understand his true motives. But when Solo attempted to read Vigo's mind, he heard nothing. It was as if Vigo had no thoughts at all. Since that day Solo never tried to read Vigo's mind again. The feeling of losing his telepathy was...too discomforting.

Solo sat uncomfortably in his chair.

I truly hope all is well. The last thing we need is to be on the bad side of an underground cult.

" What's wrong with your friend? " asked one of the hooded men. It seemed as though Solo owed them an explanation. However, in past experiences Solo had learned that telepathically starting a conversation doesn't always produce beneficial results. Although he rather detested speaking aloud, it was for the best. He stood to his feet and made his way next to Vigo.

" My appologies gentlemen, I meant not to stare. My name is Samuel, it is a pleasure to make your aquaintance. " said Solo, nodding his head in respect.

" Save the formalities kid. " said the man known as Thell. " This isn't some dinner party. We're discussing legally sensitive matters here. Not exactly the best time for perfume and table manners. "

Solo took a deep breath, trying to hide his annoyance with the oafish man. " Indeed. Well in that case perhaps it is better we end this discussion quickly, lest any foreign ears learn of your intentions. "

The man known as Thell grumbled at the arrogance of the young snow imp. Yes, Solo had roused the man's anger, but his point had been heard loud and clear. " Are you in need of our assistance or are you not? "

[Dirge]

The sorcerer barely sighed his muted laughter. The boy, solo, had quite a way with words, and his manners were not always the most becoming. The half-elf, on the other hand, would have cut straight to the point had the two not asked unnecessary questions. The one known as Thell gave him a shifty glance. Dark green eyes of the impassive sorcerer met the man’s blank eyes, both remained stolid and silent.

“Alright,” Geoffrey finally cut the tension, “You can help us, but only under one condition. Once this is over, you are part of the Iunia of Radasanth and have to abide by our rules. You two can continue whatever relationship that you have, and may continue doing what mercenary work you both do. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Vigo said as he set his goblet on the worn table. A bead of sweat that had been forming since the initiation of the conversation slowly slid down the side of his angular face. This, he supposed, would be the duo’s unofficial ‘initiation’ into the Iunia. Unfortunately, the sorcerer did not see the group as anything more than a petty tool for personal advancement. “And I accept. How about you, Solo? Are you in as well?”