The Strings of the Puppets Become Visible

[Nirov]

A thick wheezing filled the air; muffled coughs escaped from the dirty glove that tried to contain them. Nirov; recently arrived, had caught a cold on the ship. He seemed to be the only passenger on the vessel to fall ill; strange considering he was dressed the warmest. The carriage ride to Knife's Edge had been trying to say the least. Between his dry throat and the inebriated driver, the hunter felt dazed and worn.

The streets of the city were warmed by a calm afternoon sun, hanging lazily in the air; taunting Nirov with sickening heat. The man never expected anywhere in Salvar to be this warm. Underneath his long woolen coat and layers of thick clothing, stood a sticky barrier of fresh sweat, driving him wild to no end. This was not the frozen land he imagined, nor was it as barbaric as some in Corone would claim.

The city itself was a massive testament to those who had built it. The masterfully kept ramparts were ominous and filled the mercenary with dread; their high statue and manned walls were a constant reminder of danger.

And, truly, danger is what Nirov sought. Somewhere in this city was information he vitally needed. He thought it best to continue inwards, thinking it both the best place to find a few informants, and wanting to put as much space as he could between himself and those defenses.

Even in the afternoon, the mercenary eyed those around him wearily. Big cities were notorious for crime, and he doubted that even such present guards could stop every minor theft. But walking was the only option he had, as passage on ship and carriage left him with only a meager sum of money; money he should have paid to the one he was in debt to. It was gamble, but if he could find this man first, than perhaps his debt could be cleared in a more satisfactory manner.

The bounty hunter finally stumbled upon a more promising section of town. It was by no means a slum, but it was unkempt and rather seedy; paint peeled off the closely spaced apartments and scraps of waste were clearly visible on the street. A nearby bar; full of a smoky air all too familiar to Nirov. Taverns were wonderful spots for information; though he found the inside of them too cramped and dilapidated. Those gathered in front and behind the brown building would have to do.

Desperation and fear were his motivators. He needed to find his master, Cratos Horaes, and he would ask the devil himself to find out.

[Rayse Valentino]

At this point, Rayse had all but given up on finding any leads. This affair was very trifling, it was as if all the informants had been paid to keep their mouths shut. It didn't help that the man he was after was in hiding.

There's one thing you don't do in Knife's Edge, and that's messing with The Contractor. In fact, it all stemmed from his infamous act of putting out his cigarette on a forehead of a man who was trying to con him. Some time later, the man appealed to a friend of his to ruin Rayse, and while his first attempt at sending goons failed, the second of sabotaging one of Rayse's shipments was successful. This infuriated Rayse, and he scrounged up whatever he could on the guy who did this, but got nothing beyond his name. It was odd that he would hide simply because of Rayse, and The Contractor's ego was more than willing to accommodate this notion, but common sense dictated otherwise. It was pure coincidence. So by pure coincidence, Rayse wandered toward the tavern, ready to drown his frustrations in booze.

As he was going in, he heard it: "Cratos Horaes," uttered by someone who clearly did not know about the weathermages.

He took a few steps back and listened more intently. The man asking the questions was clearly a foreigner by his attire, and of course all the responses were negative. Rayse knew he had to approach this man, he may hold the key he needed, but there were eyes and ears everywhere. He decided to put on his best act.

He waited until the foreigner finished an inquiry and then stumbled over to him, his eyes looking merry and a grin sprawled across his face, "Hey friend! You new to town? I'm in a pretty good mood tonight, so let me give you the deal of the century: You, me, and two drinks in this fine establishment. So how about it?" He leaned closer and whispered, "It's not safe out here," but immediately backed off, talking again in a big voice, "Hooboy you smell! Do all foreigners smell like you? Let's get to it, I'm thirsty as all hell."

[Nirov]

Another failed inquiry. It seemed like every step he took was a step in the wrong direction, blocked by walls of ignorance; or fear. None knew, or were willing, to talk about Cratos. It seemed like an eternity of asking the strangest patrons, but all the hunter had was the scrap of information he began with. "A small, Salvic lord with an estate outside the city." The thought was saddening, as it narrowed his search to hundreds of people. He simply did not have the time.

As Nirov slumped in stance, warm droplets of sweat seeping from his coat, a strange young man approached him. Whether drunk or insane, or some blessed combination of the two, he swung his words about in a way that left the bounty hunter dizzy. Before Nirov new was was going on, the two had entered the bar together; breathing in the smell of neglect and stale urine, and sitting at a table that had seen better days. Despite it all, however, the establishment managed to keep a rather well-lit atmosphere that allowed its patrons to watch wisps of smoke encircle everything in site.

Drinks were quickly brought by a balding man with a thick mustache. Slammed upon the table and seeping with foam, the mercenary could hope for only one thing. "I hope this strange man's paying for it."

It seemed to take forever, but finally the thought entered his mind. "A method to the madness." It seemed so obvious that Nirov cursed himself for being slow-witted enough to to have thought of it before. This man knew something, and he had overheard the debter speaking his "master's" name rather loudly. "You know of Cratos, the great Salvic lord with ties to the underworld?" He tried to sound both pompous and inquisitive, yet managed to come off drunken in the act. With an unsettled mind and stomach, Nirov knew he could not reveal all his chips just yet. The man before him now could be an assassin or spy, led on by the whip of Cratos himself.

"Or are you simply mad?" The long pause added some emphasis his dull voice needed.

[Rayse Valentino]

Rayse debated whether or not to tell this man the truth while drinking his ale. One one hand, the man could simply not know enough, and to declare his intentions to him would be pointless. On the other hand, if what he said proved valuable, he could be withholding important information from Rayse to serve his own needs. After all, anyone who would be asking around for Cratos without already knowing where he is... can't possibly have any good intentions. He wasn't entirely sure how to go about this, and he could see that his companion was agitated. For now, he decided to play along.

"'Course I know him," He started, pausing to ponder his next words, "Actually, I was thinking of visiting him myself."

The man referred to Cratos as a Salvic Lord. It wasn't unusual for those sort of people to have hideouts in The States, but Rayse knew that the man had to be currently in the city. The idea that he actually owned a state was well considered, but Rayse had nothing to substantiate such a hypothesis. This couldn't be all that the man knew, he was holding back. Rayse's usual self would be very suspicious to this stranger in this situation, but he still saw no reason to tell Nirov why he wanted Cratos.

"There's this one teency problem: He doesn't exactly want to be visited. How about we make a deal? I'm a businessman, and I never go back on my word."

He illustrated his point by dropping some coins on the table, between his drink and Nirov's. He knew Nirov had a lead, and he couldn't outright ask for it. Could he make Nirov say it himself?

"You tell me what I need to know, and I'll take you to him. Why trust me?" He asked, taking out a pack of cigarettes and lighter in one hand and sliding one into his mouth in one motion, lighting it with a conditioned move from his thumb on the lighter. He continued, "Because I'm not exactly on good terms with him. He has something I want."

Rayse tried to pile reasons into Nirov's head to trust him. For one thing, he brought him into this tavern, where their voices were muffled under the conversations of others. If he wanted to lead him into a trap, why the ruse? It would've been as simple to lead him astray where Cratos would hear of it. The second point was entirely a guess of Rayse's. He guessed that this man might want something from Cratos as well, and with 'something' being so ambiguous, a similarity could easily click in his head. It was also an insurance against Nirov actually being a friend of Cratos. The last point was his pack of cigarettes, which he was holding out to Nirov with one sticking out as an offer. The Contractor found himself a rather convincing man, but in this particular situation he was hoping to get lucky. His gut instinct was guiding him towards his goal. There was also something of his air that interested Rayse. His radiant blue eyes, his perfect pale skin, his black hair, it was all very suspect, but he couldn't quite determine why.

[Nirov]

"No thank you," hissed Nirov as he shook his head at the offered cigarette. "I've had a terrible pain in my chest since I arrived. I'd rather not aggravate it." He gently pushed the pack back towards its owner, his eyes never leaving the man's face. "In truth, I'd rather not start out a negotiation indebted by kindness." He only hoped this stranger could not read minds.

"You make an interesting offer," he whispered to make it barely audible above the murmurs of the crowd. The rough smell of sea salt that covered him rushed into his nostrils and overpowered the smell of stale alcohol, as he leaned back as nonchalant as possible. "However, I have a rule about deals."

Within an instant he stiffened up, conjuring a frown that could inspire melancholy in the most chipper of individuals. He slowly rose from the chair, ignoring any aches or cracks caused by the poorly maintained chair. The mercenary leaned over, gripping the wobbly table he had sat at firmly as he looked down at man. It was a tactic; a foolish bluff he hoped would pay off. He needed more security than a few gold coins to pay for a drink.

"I need a name." It was a firm tone filled with the slightest bit of venom that dripped from his pale lips. He was as serious as death itself come to claim another soul. "Without a name, I can't seal a deal. And if I can't seal a deal, I cannot trust the dealer." He stretched the last sentence out as much as possible, intending to sound as imposing as humanly possible.

Nirov sat back down without another word, stroking his chin softly and waiting for a response. "Take the bait."

[Rayse Valentino]

Rayse pulled back his pack of cigarettes, not sure whether to be pleased at the thought of saving a smoke or annoyed at his creepy stare. The man before him stood up and leaned uncomfortably close to Rayse, his serious words coming from a deadpan expression. The Contractor's expression was slightly confused, his mouth slightly open with the cigarette leaning out. As the man sat back down, Rayse smiled and looked at his drink. This guy...

"I too have a rule... to not make deals anonymously."

He couldn't of asked for a better reply from the man. He looked back at Nirov with a confident expression and extended his hand to the man, "Rayse Valentino, Knife's--- No, Salvar's best Contractor. I believe we share the same ideals of trust, the same professionalism of our craft."

He was not intimidated by Nirov's act in the least. In fact, he reveled in it. A mercenary that wasn't tainted by the backstabbing and corruption of this city. Rayse felt like he could really work with this guy.

[Nirov]

Devilishly clever.

The man in front of Nirov, Rayes Valentino, had a certain slacker's charm that set ablaze any web of deceit. As a mercenary, he felt strangely at ease gazing into those pools, despite being taken aback by a rather brash insistence on being called Salvar's best contractor.

"Nirov," a rather curt hand was extended with a sly smile, betraying a just a bit of the bounty hunter's amusement at the other man's antics. "I'm glad to make your acquaintance, Rayes. But you'll understand if I'm still a bit reserved. It's only our first date after all."

He sat back down, stretching out a bit before returning to a more reserved pose. There was a short but awkward silences poorly masked by the constant chatter of those around him, making Nirov a bit edgy. It was true that there conversation was not a top priority amongst other mindless bits of gossip, but the bounty hunter could not help but to suspect the worst.

"I'm not sure how well you know Mr. Horaes, but I know he has enough friends." Nirov's eyes wearily darted about, trying to keep the conversation low key. "Are you sure it's safe here?"

[Rayse Valentino]

Rayse could tell that the atmosphere in here irked his new accomplice. He felt that he question didn't stem from the lack of security, but rather the man's discomfort of this place. That was fine with The Contractor, he knew of other places to discuss this.

"I know someone who works here. Let's go out back."

Rayse lead Nirov behind the counter, through the kitchen, and after waving to his friend that worked there, out the back into an alley. There were several bags of trash to their sides, but it was relatively quiet and it didn't smell so bad once they walked into the middle of the dead-end alley. The walls of the buildings around them were damp and some even had moss growing on them. The cemented ground beneath them was cracked and littered with trash. Rayse checked the exit and looked around for a few moments before determining that it was probably safe to continue, albeit quietly. He took another drag of his cigarette, the tip of it flashing yellow as he breathed in and turned back into a red ember as he breathed out. His exhale was mixed with smoke and the steam from the cool air.

Rayse decided he'd better get down to business already, "Let's lay all our cards on the table here. What do you know about him?"

[Nirov]

Rayse played a good game, but Nirov knew better than to show his full hand or let his pokerface fade. Still, the mercenary generally liked Rayse and felt he could share his story, albeit with a few minor alterations. It was a crisp air, and he could feel his digits freeze a little. He cracked his knuckles with little tact and stuffed them in his pockets, feeling around in a pool of torn papers and shredded notes to himself.

"Mr. Horaes has something very valuable to me." He paused for only a moment to let the emphasis in. "I'm only telling you that because I think you're the kind of man that trusts an honest motivation put up front. I can also tell you I want this item back. You could say I cannot live without it. His mind snickered at the grim joke with a punchline that would spoil the entire masque he wore. He had a history he wished kept hidden, and though he trusted Rayse, Nirov still thought it much more pleasant to bury a dagger in his back rather than explain the situation in morbid detail.

The mercenary paused again, if only to rock a little on his heels, hearing small rocks and pebbles tremble underfoot. Warmth seemed a memory long since dead.

"He's been using this item as a bargaining chip with me, threatening to destroy it if I don't comply. The tasks he sent me on have been below me at best; grunt work to kill, but more often, simply to whore out my services as a killer and hunt bounty." He grinned while looking into Rayse's eyes. "You can imagine how degrading it all is."

The wind kicked up and caught Nirov's hair, fluttering it around like shafts of poisoned black wheat.

"I know a few things about the man from hearsay and rumors, and I've met the man in person a few times, though most of our transactions were done with a third party. I know he enjoys to gamble on the fights between slaves; underground of course because he considers them far more brutal. I would've gone there first, but I trust dolts and drunkards more than I do gamblers."

The light from the alley, what little there was, hit Nirov just right as to almost make his pale skin a specter.

"I also know he has a surprising number of contacts in the medical field, hospitals and sanctuaries run by all types. Rumors are plenty as to why, but I couldn't pin down a concrete reason for this." He took a breathe, slow and methodical to make his pace seem less rushed. "The last thing I know is he lives near the city, despite owning a fiefdom elsewhere in Salvar. He has a villa, either in or around the area. Many nobles do, of course, to stay up to date on the court. But I know he lives around here more than anywhere else."

It was a lot of information, and with a little more investigation into an unfamiliar land, Nirov was sure he could pin Cratos down. A direct contact would be a bit too foolish, not without help from an outside source. Perhaps this strange friend he had found could be the missing piece in a dangerous puzzle.

[Rayse Valentino]

As Nirov spoke, Rayse had taken a keen interest in what sort of object could make a slave of a man. There weren't very many possibilities... an antidote to a slow-acting poison, perhaps? Maybe something of extreme sentimental value? No, that would be silly. Although, he thought about the necklace beneath his shirt. Maybe back then, I would've done anything for that thing. Rayse doubted that Nirov was that immature, however. So what was it? Maybe it wasn't even an object at all, and this talk was just a ruse to give Rayse some believable intentions. I suppose if we're after the same guy, I don't particularly need to know about his reasons. He decided to drop the matter for now.

The man proceeded to dole out vague information about Horaes that didn't impress or intrigue Rayse. Honestly, he expected something a little more solid. Enjoys gambling? Contacts in the medical field? Out-of-town hideaway? How was any of this distinguishing? These all sounded like things that described some spoiled brat who didn't know his place. Maybe talking to this guy was a bad idea after all.

Wait. Wait wait wait wait.

Spoiled brat? There was something he dismissed earlier: "You know of Cratos, the great Salvic lord with ties to the underworld?"

He was a lord first, and a criminal second? Why did this seem odd to Rayse? What was it about that sentence that was unique?

...

"Kisler," Rayse said profoundly. "Henry Kisler."

The name Rayse uttered was one of a man who acted as an access point between nobles and criminals. If a rich, spoiled noble wanted to dip into the underground from the higher ground, he was the one you talked to. Master of money laundering and expert extortionist, he could set you up or leave you penniless. He wasn't the only means for someone to start a new life as a lowlife, but he was certainly the biggest. Someone as arrogant as Cratos would be a likely candidate for his services. It would also explain why he thought he had the power to mess with Rayse in the first place: he simply didn't know any better.

"I once heard that to get on someone's trail, you gotta start at the beginning of the path. If Cratos was a noble first, asshole second, then Henry Kisler is where the path begins. He's a middle-man and most importantly, a connector of contacts."

This was all he got, so Rayse didn't bother sticking any maybes in there. If he was wrong about this, this little investigation ends and Rayse becomes enemies with this man. Although he didn't believe that he was wrong, he plans contingencies that generally end up unused.

"There are only two words important to criminals when dealing with people: Name and place. I believe that Kisler has one of these. His office is near Rathaxea Square, which is fitting considering his craft and the proximity to the city guard. I gotta admit, having one office for both legitimate and illegitimate business is pretty bold."

At this point, he didn't know what Kisler knew. This could be a red herring. In fact if Cratos was smart enough, he would've tied up any loose ends by now. The Contractor spit out his cigarette and stamped it out before walking to the end of the alley. The torch lamps of the street before him stretched his shadow all the way to Nirov.

He grinned and looked back, "It's up to you. I'm going there anyway, but I'm a man of my word. If you want to see Horaes' body with your own eyes, I'll take you to him."

Not to mention I want to know what exactly this object he can't live without is...

[Nirov]

He was a stranger in a strange land, at the mercy of every wilily individual who thought themselves a con artist. Nirov was not about to stay in the midst of an alleyway used as a whore's feeding ground. Though his movements seemed labored, he caught up to Rayse so quickly that the sound of his boot clicks seemed like war drums. The taste of ale was still on his tongue and the smell of the street was repugnantly defiant despite whatever attempts Nirov used to banish it.

"Lets go." The mercenary spoke with a low and brooding tone; Nirov did not want to spend one more damned minute in the city than he had to. With melancholy hopes that Rayse knew what he was talking about, the two left the torchlight and the saloon behind in a quiet precession through the streets.

It was an afternoon as empty as the grave. The two men were left alone with nary a word between them. They strode cobblestone streets that gleamed with glittering sunlight, lighting their way in the shadowy backdrops of Knife's Edge. Theirs was an uncomfortable silence, and Nirov almost prayed that a mugger would creep from the shadows and hack at their limbs, if only to break the monotony.

Finally, the man had tired of the silence. Through his haphazard footfalls and haggard voice, he attempted to lighten the mood.

"So," he began, painting a cheerful expression on his face. It was a mask, but it would be less unsettling than the grimace he naturally tended towards. "I should have asked this before, but what ties you to the underworld?"

Not waiting for an verbal answer or even nod, he plowed forward. "You don't seem like the type to rape or kill where it's unwarranted." Nirov stopped for a second and grinned a genuine grin. "What is your field in skullduggery? Contractor seems such a vague term."

It wasn't hard to guess the kind of activities the title contractor would entail in Salvar. At the very least, Nirov sought to shake a few interesting stories out of his newly found partner.

[Rayse Valentino]

Rayse was getting fairly annoyed with this guy. What kind of mercenary was he, anyway? Wasn't the first rule always 'don't ask questions'? First he was extremely suspicious, then intimidating, and now he was friendly. The Contractor wondered what kind of profession this fellow was in before he was forced into his unfortunate predicament. He didn't want to aggravate anyone that he worked with, but he had to lay the law down.

Rayse continued walking with his hands in his pockets, but he looked at Nirov out of the corner of his eyes, "You worry about yourself. Too many questions isn't good for your health."

He wasn't a particularly disagreeable person, and Nirov may just be overjoyed to finally have a lead on Cratos, but Rayse wasn't about to drop his standards for anyone. Not only that, but admittedly he did harbor a bias for the man. Something was off about him, and it coated everything he did and said with an air of mystery. Rayse didn't like mysteries, but he had no reason to pry into the personal affairs of others. This was the same opinion that felt that Nirov had no business in his. Nonetheless, right as he said that they had reached a large stone building with no windows between the ground and fifth floors. Many people were going in and out of it. Appeared to be some business district. Rayse was never inside personally, but he knew of what went on in here. He was somewhat proud of his network of information, actually.

"If I'm right, this won't take long," he assured Nirov. "So stay out here and don't draw any unwanted attention. I doubt I can convince the guy to see two people, after all."

He figured Nirov would succumb to this, although the possibility of Rayse running off after getting the information existed. At this point, having someone to watch his back was a good thing, so he wasn't about to do that. Plus, there existed another problem-- Rayse didn't know what this Cratos fellow looked like. In short, he still needed Nirov.

He walked inside the building and made his way to the front desk. There were scores of people sitting on the limited seats, some standing around, some pacing about uncomfortably. Everyone had an appointment with someone or other, it seemed. Rayse wasn't about to wait around however.

"I need to see Kisler," he said.

"Do you have an appointment?" the lady behind the desk asked.

Kisler had a thing for beautiful secretaries, and it showed. She was a brown-haired number with sparkling green eyes. The way she hovered that quill over the notebook was almost suggestive. Rayse wasn't about to be distracted by this beauty, however. He had a very sharp line between business and pleasure, more than he could say for others.

"He's expecting me. Look under Rayse Valentino."

The beauty flipped through her book, and after shaking her head she stated, "I'm sorry sir, Mr. Kisler does not appear to have any appointments with a Mr. 'Rayse Valentino'."

How formal and professional. Things sure operated differently on the north side of the city. It was almost... dignified.

Rayse sighed, shrugging and putting his hand to his forehead, "This must be a mistake. Kisler is expecting me, after all." He leaned in closer to her. "If the affair leaks out, it'll be bad for both of us."

The secretary blinked a few times. Her cheeks turned red and she immediately told Rayse to wait a moment and ran upstairs. Rayse was left dumbfounded. He was fishing around, but had he just hit the nail on the head that easily? He was going to use one of Kisler's laundering operations, and if that failed he was just going to sneak in under the guise of going to the bathroom. What the hell was going through her head when he said affair?

She returned shortly and told Rayse that Mr. Kisler was expecting him. He walked up, still a bit shaken from the simplicity of all that, and got to the door of Kisler's office. Two guards were standing around it, and they shook Rayse down and confiscated his knife and pack of cigarettes. He didn't like it, but he endured it for now.

He warned the guards, "If I see a single smoke missing, I'm coming for both of you."

He walked inside, and Kisler was waiting for him.

"How much do you want?" Kisler offered, a bead of sweat running down his face.

He was a man well into his 40's with a sweet tongue for the young and pretty females of the city, apparently. He was also a married man. The humor of this situation just caught up with Rayse and he couldn't hold back his smile. He had a gruff appearance with a stubble and double-chin, his brown suit looking pressed and professional. He was sitting at his desk, his elbows touching the top of the desk, with his hands clamped together.

Although the offer was tempting, he wanted to get what he really wanted out of this guy first, "Where is Cratos Horaes?"

Kisler blinked. One thought ran through his mind: Who?!

"He has his own fief. You hooked him up with the underground, correct?"

"What is this?" Kisler asked, confused as to what was going on exactly.

"This is an interrogation. It's simple: I ask you a question, and you answer it."

"Don't be coy with me," Kisler warned, annoyed at the audacity of this young man. "Is this why you came here? What about the affair?"

"I don't know and don't care what you do for fun, what I do care is getting at the guy who messed with my business. Just tell me where he is and I'll be on my way."

Relief passed over Kisler's face as he relaxed in his chair. This was all a misunderstanding. A new expression came over his face: One of control and power.

"He's probably at Old Quarter's, right at the edge of the city. He would never shut up, ever, I thought I was rid of him when I threatened to kill him if he didn't leave me alone."

Rayse was surprised, once again, at how easy this was.

"Didn't you set him up with his business?" he asked quizzically.

"Yes... and it was the biggest mistake of my life. No amount of money is worth the heart attacks I almost suffered from dealing with that man. If you're aiming to kill him, go for it."

Poor Cratos. Looks like he had no friends in the world.

"Well, I..." Rayse was finding it hard to think up something to say. He usually enjoyed the challenge of getting through peoples' lies, but this seemed legit. He could usually tell if someone was lying. "I guess I'll be on my way." Wait. There was something. His last chance to get rid of Nirov. "You know what he looks like nowadays?"

"Can't help you there. Haven't seen the man in nearly ten years and I blocked his horrible image out of my mind."

"Damn."

"Promise me you'll off him for good."

"Words are something. Words backed by money are another thing."

"You don't need to worry about that, he's loaded."

Rayse didn't know what he meant at first. Did he mean to imply that he kept his fortune at his hideout?

"You better be right about this, old man."

"I'll personally treat you to a beer if I'm not."

How friendly. Maybe this guy would get along with that happy-go-lucky Nirov down there. Although, it's more likely that both of them would stab Rayse in the back given the chance. As Rayse walked out the door, he looked back as if to say something, but decided not to. Maybe it was better that Kisler thought that Rayse didn't know about his affair with the secretary.

When he got outside, he said to Nirov, "We're going to Old Quarter. There's all sorts of bandit dens, hideouts, and whatnot there. I guess his approach was 'hiding in plain sight', hence such a lockdown in informants. The actual name of the place is 'The Quarters', with Old Quarter being the worst part of them, nestled right between East and West Quarter."

Rayse wanted a smoke at this point, but he didn't dare to retrieve his pack of cigarettes from his pocket. If those guards had taken even a single one, The Contractor would find himself in the midst of a murder scene and having to go into hiding for a while. He wanted to hold that off until after finding Cratos.

[Philomel]

Name of Thread: The Strings of the Puppets Become Visible (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?8675-The-Strings-of-the-Puppets-Become-Visible/page2)
Type of Judgement: No Judgement
Participants: Nirov and Rayse Valentino

Rewards:
Nirov (http://www.althanas.com/world/member.php?4848-Nirov) receives:
440 EXP
66 GP

Rayse Valentino (http://www.althanas.com/world/member.php?4242-Rayse-Valentino) receives:
925 EXP
66 GP

[Lye]

EXP & GP Added!