Season 1 - Fall

Ash was struggling with the lock and the man's looming wasn't helping. Rake walked into the room, glaring at the unknown scoundrel. "Stop breathing down her neck and give her room to work," he whispered harshly, "we're doing you a favor here."

He nodded at Ash, giving her a quick, reassuring smile. He turned his attention back on the stranger, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

Ash got back to her tools, and after a few more tense seconds, the lock made a satisfying clicking sound.

The door swings open on a hinge. The man exiting breathes a big sigh of relief.

"Thank fuck. I thought he was going to have to use that thing." He gestures toward the bomb in the other man's bag.

Not a moment later you hear some noise on the deck above.

"Hey - did any of yous hear somethin'?"

You can hear a muffled sound of agreement.

"Right, I thought it wasn' just me...lesee who's foolin' about."

Footsteps approach the ladder leading to the room just outside the brig.

You probably have about 10 seconds tops before someone pokes their head down the hole and sees you...

Rake moved swiftly to close the door to the brig so that they wouldn't be seen by the guards about to come down. He signaled to the others to be ready for the Owl's Swoop. This time, he doubted they'd be lucky enough to avoid it.

He leaned against the wall next to the door and pulled out a long, single-edged knife, figuring a sword would be unwieldy in these tight quarters. He missed the heft of his old Skovlander knife, but this Akorosian blade would do just fine for the grim work ahead.

Tekahionwake took the vial as it was offered to him. They seemed to know the score instinctively. The time for him to earn his pay was near. He drank quickly, feeling his feet become lighter, his breath become silent, his body meld almost into the shadows.

As they approached, he pulled the sword from its place on his back. The long curved blade seemed to dull as well, eager for the kill as he stood shock still against a far wall.

He envisioned his days on the plains of Severos. A mere shadow of a memory of a life that seemed so far away. The tribes rode swiftly as their warriors clashed. Tekahionwake felled one after another from their horses before his mount was shot down. Still, he stood challenging whomever dropped to meet him.

They fell too.

In the end, all would fall. He gripped the sword and waited.

Whitepaws waits patiently while the first man descends the stares and looks about into the dark room. Not too soon...not too soon...but when the 2nd man was on the ladder, it was time for bloodletting. The party leaps into action at Whitepaws signal. The blade slices clean through the first man, sending him collapsing to the floor in silence - it looks like he's gurgling, but the potion quiets all.

Ash leaps in close to strangle the man on the ladder, and while she manages to put him out of his misery, it's not without cost. The man pulls a dagger out of a scabbard, stabbing wildly backwards and leaving a gash on Ash's side. His ragged breath comes to a stop and while there was nothing to hear in the first place, Ash can tell he's dead when he goes limp.

It's strange, witnessing two people die and not hearing the spirit bells...but you know better than to believe the quiet would hide anything from the spirit wardens.

"Aagh" Ash had to muffle a groan when the blade touched her skin, fresh blood started to flow out and she rapidly took out a bandage to stop the blood from leaking. Her clothes would have been ruined had they been a different color. That was why you wore black to the jobs.

She signals Marius and the gang that everything is under control, better kept going before anyone showed up.

The duo of scoundrels stands and watches impassively in the aftermath of the fight. The man who came to break open the lock looks on with bored amusement.

He mutters something as the two saunter off to the next room.

"Guess yous can handle your own. Well, good luck with...whatever it is you're here for."

The party dumps the two bodies in the brig before descending the stairs to a narrow, cramped room with a door that opens into the boiler room. The floor is metal, painted red, and the walls are covered by the big black metal boilers, each with its own door for shoveling in coal.

A few large containers sit on the floor, half-filled with coal.

hint:

Rake moves closer to one of the boilers and examines it for a place to hide the idol. They needed to be quick, as being discovered down here wouldn't leave them many avenues for escape. However, if they hid the item poorly, it would all have been for naught. A dark grin crosses his features as he thinks about accomplishing their goal. The bastards on this ship had drawn blood from Ash, they deserved whatever ills the strange statuette would bring upon them.

Rake quickly finds a good hiding spot in a nook above one of the boilers. It might get hot, but it shouldn't burn or anything. He feels a chill run down his spine, and then a sense of relief as the totem leaves his possession...

The object has been planted - now just for your escape...

The boiler room was a fitting place for such a hateful little trinket. The heat in this place must have felt like the breath of a Leviathan. Rake signals the other Phantoms that the deed is done and they start heading back up the stairs. If they could just make it out unseen, the only sign of their trespass would be the two dead bodies in the brig, which would hopefully be attributed to the two scoundrels they had met. Even if it was traced back to them, the true reason of their infiltration would still be obfuscated.

Rake smiled, what fool had said that no good deed goes unpunished?

The crew sneaks back up the way they came to a set of stairs leading right up to the gun deck. The boat creaks and sways slightly, seems the wind might be picking up outside.

It sounds like some sailors are still hanging out and playing cards or drinking above - although this time it sounds like there may be more than 4 or 5.

"Yeah, I said what I said, it was a fuckin' egg! I don't know how else to explain it to ya."

There's the sound of someone snorting in derision.

"What's in the bottle, anyway? Absinthe?"

Tekahionwake sighed as the last body was felled. It was necessary, but he hated how good he had felt after the deed was done. It was the sword, of course. Killing was necessary, but it should never be relished. That was not how he was raised, and it was not what he believed.

But the bastard sword believed it. Alas, for now the thing had drank deeply and would keep quiet.

He too kept quiet as they planted the totem and made their escape. In the confusion, he had not noticed that Ash had been injured, but she seemed fine enough. He silently cursed himself for not being more attentive.

Hearing the voices above, he motioned to the others upward quizzically. He then held up five digits.

At least five this way.

The group creeps up the stairs to the gun deck. As you peek across the deck, you see the remains of a bloody, nasty brawl where the players had their card game. A few men are slumped on the floor or against beds nearby, and broken glass is scattered on the floor. One man appears to be whimpering in bed and cradling his arm.

One man, a muscular, bald figure with shaggy long hair, sits panting on a bed with his arms resting on his knees. He looks around him in mild shock...

Meta:

Rake takes in the scene, feeling something in between triumph and horror. He remembered a similar scene he'd seen in Skovlan. He and his unit has pursued a particularly dangerous rogue spirit all the way to enemy lines. They'd found a bunker, it's door smashed to bits, with a similar scene of carnage inside. One traumatized soldier, the only one alive, still with the trace of the possessing spirit on him, clutching his bloodied fists to his chest...

He shook his head to clear it. They didn't have time for this. He looked around for a gun port that wasn't in proximity to any of the sailors hanging on to consciousness. The faster they were out of this hell, the better.

Ash zeroed in on a porthole more focused on getting everyone out of the ship, especially Marius, she didn´t want him getting triggered again because of the scene. The path was mostly free except for the man that was sitting on the bed but when she saw the emptiness in his eyes she sighed in relief.

"Come on, the guy won't be a problem he isn't here right now." She whispered. The man was lost inside a waking nightmare so they only needed to walk calmly and silently and jump out through the hole.

Tekahionwake surveyed the scene with a trained eye. He had seen this before. He was well versed in the immediate trauma just after a battle. A brawl of this intensity was no different. His essence of rage vial had done the trick, extremely well in fact.

This was how his tribe had looked after his honor loss. Broken, battered, taken against their will. Sadly, they were a reflection of himself. His had to immediately temper his shame, and his desire to return home and enact vengeance on all who wronged him. A time would come.

I need to procure another as soon as I can. He noted the thought absently, looking for their exfiltraiton point.

He covered his comrades' backs as they made their way out.

The group darts quickly across the gun deck, moving quiet and low. Despite a few stumbles and some awkward maneuvering from Marius and Whitepaws, Ash is able to guide them with hand motions toward and through a porthole. The group clambers through one by one, moving quietly and slowly down the outside of the ship's hull. The wind tossles your hair and flaps your clothes as you exit the warship and ink-black waves slosh below you.

But where to from here?

Hanging from the side of the Abourkir, Rake peers into the darkness looking for a familiar profile. "Where is it," he mutters.

Flashback wrote:

The crew sat at the end of the long table in the Well's common room poring over maps of the docks.

"There are guard stations here and here," said Rake, pointing at the map. "Sneaking out on foot won't work."

Spooks walked around the group, handing bowls of stew to the scoundrels. "Um... Maybe I can 'elp?" he said softly, but the crew kept on talking

"Then we fight our way through," said Whitepaws, brimming with confidence.

Rake glanced at Ash, then flexed his hand. He looked back at Whitepaws. "I know you're quite formidable, but we're talking a lot of guards. Even if we get through... that's a lot of witnesses, or a lot of bodies. Too many."

Spooks had made his way around. "I could do somethin'," he said, a bit louder than before.

"If we had any money, we could have paid off the guards. Or someone to distract them," said Stev, looking concerned.

"HEY!" yelled Spooks. The scoundrels turned to look at him as one. "Oh. Erm... maybe I can help?" he added sheepishly.

Rake looks to the rest of the crew, who each shrugged or otherwise gave their assent. The Whisper kneeled to bring himself to eye level with the guttersnipe. "Think you can steer the canal boat?"

Spooks' eyes lit up and he nodded vigorously.

"Good, take a seat." Once Spooks got settled in, Rake continued. "You'll drop us off and then move here. There's a rocky inlet that should hide you from view. When we make our way out, we'll signal you with a light. Two quick flashes, then one long one. That's when you'll come back and pick us up. Got it?"

"Yes, Mr. Rake, sir. I won't let you down!"

Rake finally spots the inlet. Rummaging through his satchel, he pulls out an electroplasmic lantern. He aims it at the rocky outcropping. He flashes it quickly twice, and then gives a longer flash. He sighs. Their fate now hung in the hands of a child.

Tekahionwake hung onto the side of the ship with iron fists. They were almost home free, and now two more bodies lay in his wake. He knew he needed to get rid of the sword, but the thought of slicing his enemies of the Dog and Snake clan in half.

Had the idea always been to kill them, or simply drive them out of your lands? In truth, his vision of the future was becoming clouded in a red haze that hadn't been there before. He had a momentary lapse of clarity where he saw himself throwing the sword into the water, so that it and its malice would sink to the bottom of the sea. But the moment was just that, and it fled as the endorphins filled his mind, riding on fantasies of restored honor.

The group hangs on the side of the ship. Everyone is waiting...waiting...arms start to get sore and someone fidgets, readjusting their grip. Perhaps someone curses under their breath. A few uncomfortable moments later, you hear the soft splash of oars in water and see the canal boat cruise into view. Man, spooks is coming in awful fast...

CLUNK.

The boat hits the hull with force, and while it appears to be undamaged, the impact was noisy. Next thing you know, Spooks is looking up at the party eagerly and apologetically. A few shouts ring out from the deck above, and you hear the quick rhythm of boots marching to investigate...

Rake drops onto the small boat with a dull thud. He makes his way to the boats' stern, nodding at Spooks as he passes him. He settles in and pulls out the slingshot and a few pellets, getting ready to snipe the Abourkir's searchlights when the sailor turn them on.

Ash thanks spook. "Good job kid, don't sweat it, the controls need some getting used to." She gets ready to speed away as soon as Marius gives her the signal.

Tekahionwake dropped down as quickly as he could.

"Let's get the hell out of here. Now."

Rake nods at Ash. "You heard the man. Let's ghost before the Wardens arrive."

The crew hastily shoves off from the boat, hurriedly rowing across the ink black sea toward a canal opening. Unfortunately, some crew member or another spots you as you are moving away from the boat and starts yelling. A spotlight starts waving back and forth, and before you know it you can see the vague outline of another dinghy boat in hot pursuit behind you, sailors rowing frantically under the hoarse, barked orders of some taskmaster naval officer.

They're about 50 meters behind you as you enter the mouth of the canal south of the bridge to whitecrown from brightstone - and gaining fast.

Ashlyn can feel more than see the lights trying to mark them for the sailors to follow. The situation had a similar feeling to that first score they made. Running from the enemy and trying to lose them inside the labyrinthic canals of the city.

Come on Helker, use your head, Stev made you navigate of these canals for weeks. Find the best route to lose those sailors! Ash thinks. She lets her muscle memory do the job, only focusing on not crashing with any other boat.

Tekahionwake looked back seeing the enemy vessel closing on them. He didn't need to state the obvious, and trusted Ash to work the boat. Looking to the streets of the canals near them gave him an idea.

He uncoiled the whip he kept on his belt and looked to Rake. It was an unusual tool, not very common in these parts. His uncle had gifted it to him when he had mastered riding bareback. He told him that riding was important, but a true mounted warrior need not kill everyone they intended to dismount. A simple thing made out of leather, in the right hands, could disarm, dismount, and damage with the grace expected of the Bear Clan.

"Let's slow them down, Rake. There." He pointed to a horse drawn carriage that sat on the side of the canal. It wasn't yoked or connected to any horses. Given its size, it would really make trouble for anyone following them to get around. The wheels would make it easier to pull its weight into the canal, but he had to get it right.

Gods above, ancestors around, spirit of the Great Bear, guide my hand. Give me the strength to elude my enemies as we have done for thousands of years...

Rake looks at the carriage, then back at Whitepaws. He couldn't be serious. The huge vehicle was meant to be drawn by two large horses or Akorosian goats. It would take a 6 people to move it, and that was with proper leverage on solid ground. They were on a moving boat and the Severosi thought they could pull it down using a whip?

But Whitepaws was serious. Rake could see it on his face. The determination, the confidence. He sighs, then gets up and tosses the slingshot to Spooks. He quickly stretches his arms and shoulders. "Alright, when you're ready."

He took in a deep breath. Once. Twice. A third time. Each one pumping himself up more and more. The others could see the muscles in his back and neck tense and flex, looking as though they were growing before their very eyes.

But they couldn't be. Could they?

He took in a deep fourth breath and shot out his whip hand. The leather end wrapped around the axle. Tekahionwake's delts, traps, and arms bulged with exertion and he heaved as hard as he could as they were passing by...

Rake grabs the whip and pulls alongside Whitepaws. His feet slip and he catches himself, bracing against the side of the boat. He grunts with effort through clenched teeth, his injured hand sending stabs of pain up his arm. Just as he begins to lose hope, his eyes grow wide as he sees the carriage's wheels begin to turn.

As the two scoundrels tug on the cart, it seems to be barely moving at first. Rake may have a moment of doubt, and then something gives and the whole thing starts rolling toward the canal - and it's picking up speed. By the time it reaches the lip of the canal, it's moving like a battering ram. You feel a whoosh of air as it crashes into the water behind you, missing your boat by only a few feet and splashing you with briny seawater. Your pursuers, not anticipating such a tactic, cry out in disarray, cursing and yelling to turn out immediately in a futile attempt to cut you off elsewhere. That's all you'll be seeing of them this evening...

It's only when you look ahead and see the small crowd pointing and talking on a overhead bridge that it sinks in just how much attention you've drawn. A drunken sailor leans off the stone bridge cackling maniacally as you approach.

"It's okay mates, 'ere in the docks we're not too fond of donkeys and carts anyways!" He busts a gut laughing at his own joke.

meta:

The Phantoms take a circuitous route through The Docks' canals, making sure they'd lost their tail, before sailing back to the Well.

Leaning back in the dinghy, Rake smiled at the rest of the crew. "Good job, everyone. We should lay low for a day or two and then we can see to our payment. After that, well, I don't know about you, but I could use a bit of rest."

Episode 3 Downtime

The group lays low for a few days before meeting up with Hutton and a few of his hench men in a shipping warehouse that's conveniently empty of anyone else - perhaps the grinders have a deal with the merchants who own it, or they own it themselves to store contraband and weapons?

Hutton offers a gleaming smile. It's only in the fairly well-lit space inside the warehouse that you notice one of his eyes is rather larger than the other - his face is a little disturbing to look at. The large eye leers at you - you know he likes your crew, but it almost looks like he's looking at a steak he's about to eat.

"Well, 'twas a bit noisy, but you got the job done and that's what counts. For that we want to reward you handsomely..."

He gestures toward a chest full of coins resting on a shipping crate.

As you collect your payment, he chuckles, revealing a set of crooked teeth. It looks like a shark's maw.

"Pretty good trick, that thing with the cart. Look forward to working with you lot again soon."

Not long afterwards a woman stops one of you on the street. She is rather strong and has a shaved head - clearly an experienced brawler.

"Come see Hutton when you have a moment in the next few days. He's got something important to discuss."

They slap you on the shoulder before leaving and calling something over their shoulder.

"Good to have friends in this town, ain't it?"

"The backwater phantoms will be with Hutton once things calm down a bit." Says Ash with a node. "Thank you for your business."

Ash keeps her eyes on the people until they are out of the warehouse, never turn your back on anyone, that is when they will mostly attack if they are out to get you.

================================

A few days later, the Phantoms make their way back to the Grinders' warehouse. They travel on foot, as it wouldn't do for their small boat to be seen again after making such a splash during their last score. They're careful to avoid the Bluecoats as well, as the deaths on the Abourkir and their flashy escape drew a lot of attention. Marius wondered if they would see Inspector Vale again soon.

The Phantoms file into the alley leading to the warehouse's side door, squeezing in between crates piled up as haphazard fortifications. A crew looking to take on the Grinders this way would either have to warn them by taking down the crates, or come one at a time through the small opening. Simple and clever, much like the Grinders themselves.

A Grinder in a long coat is standing watch near the door. When he sees Marius emerge, he drops his cigarette and quickly tucks his hand into his sleeve, but the Whisper has time enough to notice it only has three wide fingers.

"We're here to see Hutton," says Marius, trying to sound as neutral as possible.

The grinder nods respectfully and greets them, leading them through the warehouse to a closed off office room where Hutton waits. He welcomes you gregariously and asks if anyone wants a drink, pulling a bottle of fine liquor out of the desk he sits behind.

Sercy sits in the corner, smiling darkly while his boss speaks.

Hutton doesn't beat around the bush and gets right to the point after exchanging greetings and passing drinks to anyone who wants one.

"By now you've heard of this "Ghoul" fellow, yes? Mr. Billy Morris? Sentenced to death - they're saying he's gonna hang right off Salt Bridge. Make an example of him for anyone sailing past." He takes a gulp of whiskey. "Well...we can't have that. He knows about a ghost door that we need access to - and he's the only one who may know where to find it."

He leans over the desk with a devilish smile.

"Don't worry - you'll be compensated very generously."

Marius accepts the offered drink with a grateful smile. He takes the time to swirl it in its glass and inhale its aroma before take a sip, rolling the amber liquid on his tongue before swallowing it. The base was rye and the yeast had added a subtle apple flavor, a fruit which Marius and Ash's parents had acquired on a few special occasions. Fruits had been rare and expensive since the Cataclysm, a privilege reserved for the rich and powerful. The whiskey had a bit of a sweet finish. It must have been aged in a cask of petrified maple, thinks Marius. He closes his eyes and enjoys the momentary, almost forgotten, taste of luxury.

He opens his eyes abruptly at the mention of the "Ghoul", his thoughts snapping back to the dingy warehouse. He listens attentively to Hutton's request, then nods.

"Yes, we've heard of him. I believe it's something we can help you with." Marius stops and thinks for a moment. "Do you need him alive, or simply able to answer questions?"

moarhair wrote:

"Yes, we've heard of him. I believe it's something we can help you with." Marius stops and thinks for a moment. "Do you need him alive, or simply able to answer questions?"

Hutton nods in approval - odds are, he is impressed that you agreed to the job with little hesitation. The grinders always have embraced a "shoot first, ask questions later" attitude.

He laughs heartily at your question.

"Well, I'm sure he'd prefer the former, and I probably would as well. Likely easier to deal with a man alive and grateful than dead and angry. But at the end of the day, if he's able to give us the rundown on that ghost door, I couldn't care whether he's right as rain or swinging."

Sercy leans forward, baring a few ugly teeth.

"We're not the type for takin' tea with corpses, but I'm sure we'll make do in a pinch. Tell ya what, we'll toss in a bit more coin if he's alive - and in one piece. Drinks on me if I don't have to get an earful from some pissed off rottin' bastard."

Marius nods seriously. "Alive, then."

"We are professionals, be assured we will deliver as long as it is within our capabilities."

================================

They were late, of course. The State moved at its own pace, even when doling out Justice, it seemed. Marius pulled his collar up against the chill. He was starting to get nervous. He'd been waiting for over an hour in this disgusting alley of the Dunslough ghetto. Already he'd had to chase away a couple of pickpockets and a handful of beggars. It was only a matter of time before he was noticed by the guards rounding up the destitute wretches calling this sagging ruin home into work gangs.

He started looking for other options. Coalridge had a few good spots on the other side of Blindfold Bridge, but would they take the prisoner that way? Getting around the old rail yard would be difficult and the neighborhood was usually bustling with activity, even this early. He could find a spot in Charhollow, across Jailor's Bridge, but it wouldn't be long until someone approached him. The community who lived there were tightly knit and didn't take kindly to scoundrels. Marius had never been the best at fitting in with common folk. Ash would have been right at home, there. So would... he flexed his hand, but wasn't met with the expected stab of pain. Quellyn had done too good a job.

He sighed, trying to focus instead of thinking of her. If the guards took Jailor's Bridge, they'd have to go through Crow's Foot. A dangerous proposition at the best of times. Would they go around through Silkshore? That seemed unlikely. People enjoying the hedonistic pleasures of its establishments wouldn't want to be reminded of the crime and filth that infested the bowels of Doskvol.

As he considered his options, the doors to Ironhook opened with a groan. Finally. A handful of guards stepped out, followed by a carriage that was but a cab and an iron cage. The filthy woman inside shook her chains and bared her teeth, hissing. A guard rapped his nightstick on the bars. "Quiet you, unless you want to be hanged bruised and bloodied."

The convoy got under way, and Marius observed, waiting for the right moment to follow.

Marius follows the convoy as it snakes over the bridge to Coalridge and up through Charterhall. The convoy itself is an armored carriage, with about six bluecoats accompanying it on foot. They are armed and armored well with fine equipment, but not more so than your usual bluecoat patrol in a rough part of town.

The convoy stops at Cinder Bridge between Crow's Foot and Charterhall, moving slowly but calmly to hang their captive with great efficiency. A noble steps out of the front of the bridge and starts speaking to a growing crowd about the wickedness of crime in the city and how the watchful government never sleeps.

The captive is dragged out of the rear of the carriage, hardly protesting, with a black bag tied over his head and dropped to swing above the river.

There's a wet crack sound, a few twitches from his leg, and then the bluecoats and the noble are on their way as if it were any other dull, menial gig in Doskvol. Then again, to them it probably is.

Marius is hardly surprised to see they hung him here. In hindsight, the idea that someone would hang off Salt Bridge is a little absurd, clearly no more than street rumors...right? Certainly even the bluecoats wouldn't be dense enough to leave a body hanging right near the genteel folk of Brightstone?

After the hanging, Marius checks out Salt Bridge and sees no sign or evidence that hangings ever take place there. It's safe to assume that the hanging won't happen here, probably at Cinder bridge or another bridge between Crow's Foot and Charterhall.

================================

Marius sat with Ash at the small metal table in one of The Broken Anchor's chambers. He had been sitting in silence for a while now, slowly turning the glass of ale in his hands. The cozy room felt large and empty with the absence of their comrades.

Over the past couple of days, both Stev and Whitepaws had announced their departure from the crew. Whitepaws had only been willing to say that he had "personal business" to take care of, and that he would return when he had concluded it. He had refused all offers of assistance. Could it have been the cursed sword's influence? Maybe it had been a mistake to keep it. Stev, meanwhile, had decided to try and live an honest life. He had manufactured a fake identity for himself and found a job. Marius couldn't fault him. He wasn't a young man and the scoundrel life was a stressful one.

Now, the Helkers, and Spooks, were all that was left of the Phantoms. Marius couldn't help but wonder if it was his fault. He had thought that the crew was finally hitting its stride. Had he been too pushy? Or too concerned with his own problems? His old unit had always made fun of him for being stuck up and less than charming, dubbing him Rake as a jest. Had his bad habits been too much without the structure of the military to enforce some cohesion?

He considered their situation. Could the two Helkers successfully rescue the Ghoul for the Grinders? He had counted on Whitepaws' brawn and Stev's strategic mind in his initial planning. Their options had now been cut down dramatically.

He sighed, all gloom and doom.

"Come on guys, there is no use mopping over spilled milk. We should be making sure there is a crew Whitepaws and Steve can come back to."

She looks at her brother with some suspicion. "Dont you even think of blaming yourself." She points her finger at him, then moves it to Spooks. "Don't get impatient boy, you need to grow a few years more before thinking of having more field duties as part of this crew."

She takes a gulp of her tankard, then smirks. "Gues the backwater phantoms are now open for recruitment."

Marius smiles weakly. Ash had always been able to see right through him.

"I appreciate your optimism, Ash, but we have a big job coming and we find ourselves rather short-handed and on a tight timetable." He took a sip from his drink, finally shaken loose from his brooding. "Maybe we can hire some extra muscle for this one, but eventually we'll need a solid core for our crew. We need to find people we can trust. People who'll stick around," he added, matter-of-fact. "We haven't exactly been lucky with that so far..."

Spooks looks up from his snack, which appears to be a small loaf of bread. He wipes his mouth hurriedly to speak, brushing away a few crumbs.

"I...I can help. Run faster than bluecoats. You know I do. Couldn't catch me when I snagged this!"

He holds up a small, bronze watch that could probably fetch a good sack of coin at the right fence...his eyes still dazzle when he looks at it, before he pockets it sheepishly to await their answer.

From a nearby chamber, what was initially an indistinct mess of voices becomes louder and more readily understood.


♪♪ You're the one who makes me come runnin' /
You're the light who makes me shiiiiiiiiiine♪♪


What those folks lacked in talent they were making up for in enthusiasm.


♪♪A fool could see just how much I adore you /
I'd get down on my knees, I'd do anything for yooooooou ♪♪


To be fair, everyone and their grandparents knew a version of that old tavern song, and it was easy to get swept up once someone got it started.

♪♪Ooooooooooooooooooooh♪♪
As seemed to be tradition, the lead up to the chorus was dragged out for as long as possible, and in the scant moment where the singers paused to draw a breath, it is possible to make out the sound of the string instrument that had apparently been accompanying the rendition.

♪♪I don't want anybody else /
When I think about you, I touch myself♪♪


The singing gives way to calls for the next round of drinks, and the sound of fists being slammed on tables, and Cadence bounds into the Phantom's chamber with a mandolin that had definitely seen better days slung over her shoulder.  


"What a lively bunch!  I understand why you come here!"
She pauses, taking in the mood of the group, her smile becoming more solicitous.

"I was kinda expecting you all to be celebrating. What's going on, and would a round of drinks and some more food help?"