Season 2 - Winter

The scoundrels are greeted by the low sound of ominous chanting from the large circular chamber beyond the corridor.

A quick glance through the door reveals that there are about 8 people inside speaking in some unrecognizable tongue in a ritualistic fashion.

By your best guess, they are preparing for some sort of black magic ceremony...but it doesn't appear to be kicking off just yet. Every one of these individuals is dressed in the same plain robes, and it's reasonable to assume that "the magus" they spoke of previously would probably hold some special position standing in the room or be dressed more unusually.

Regardless, sneaking back out will be much more difficult than sneaking in...

The glug glug glug of the busted pumps continues behind you. Water starts to seep out from the pump room into the corridor.

The Phantoms were outnumbered 2-to-1. Bad odds in the best of circumstances. Rake wasn't sure Echo could fight, so their odds were potentially even worse. He signed "sneak" to Ash, then "Me Hide Group". His sister looked at him curiously. Oh, right. I haven't showed her this trick yet. He winked at her, then turned back to look at the room ahead.

He extended his arms, felt the air on his face, listened to the sound of the water flowing between his feet. He exhaled slowly, pulling energy from the ghost field to cool the air. Ice crystals began to form on his sleeves and gloves. The air escaping his lips began to mist. He took a deep breath, then exhaled quickly, blowing a thick, dense fog into the room ahead.

Pete saw Rake start doing something strange and knew the Whisper had something up his sleeve for the escape - then he heard footsteps coming towards them, he grimaced drawing his cutless and planting his feet and that door

"I'll try and hold them back long enough for Rake to finish whatever he is doing."

When Rake started a Whisper's cantrip to secure their escape and Pete took up position to hold off any cultists that might threaten her cousin, Echo was quietly pleased with their new crew mate. Because of him, Ash and Rake were able to take advantage of the cover, wisps of fog still leaving Rake's lips on exhalation.  

Now it was matter redirecting as many of the ritualists as possible so that she and Pete could start moving as well.   As the blanket of fog spread, she stood next to Pete and mimed what she was going to do.

With a smooth, oft practiced motion, she tossed a stray dust covered bauble into the mist well away from the Phantoms. Society picnic games had obliged her to spend innumerable hours learning the most genteel way to accurately lob any number of bric-a-brac; hopefully the noise would be enough to draw their would be pursuers away.

The scoundrels manage to escape through the foggy room, and the bauble distracts your enemies - for a time. As soon as you've made it 10 or 20 feet down the tunnel, someone peaks their head in and shouts. You hear the noise of others clambering into the tunnel, then the deafening sound of a gunshot ringing through the hallway...

The tone was unmistakable - the Phantom's had been seen.  Over the din of their pursuers, Echo picked up a metallic click that she recognized and did not like.
"Get down!!!" She hissed violently moments before flinching as the deafening sound of a gunshot echoed around them.  Spirits wept - was anyone hurt? Did she react quickly enough? What if?...
Her crewmates were already on the move, Ash winking at Echo as she caught up - everyone was fine!.

Ash took advantage of the moment she went down with Cadence to activate her hidden trap.
They will be surprised at all the dark silhouettes falling from the ceiling making it look like they were a bigger crew.

She gives her cousin a wink and a thumbs up. Nicely done. She means to say with the gesture.

The marionettes swiftly from the rafters above with perfect timing. The scoundrels heard a cry of alarm and a crash behind them, presumably from a cultist abruptly stopping with others hot on their heels.

The party has delayed their pursuers - for the time being. Surely they will discover that the figures in the dark were just a ruse sooner or later...

Rake bolted down the aqueduct, rushing for their entry point. Ash's distraction wouldn't hold the Children of the Fang for long. The faster they were out, the better.

He scrambled down the iron rungs, nearly slipping once or twice on the thin ice coating them. He kept waiting to hear the sound of gunfire, but the crackling of the lightning barrier and his heavy breathing were the only sounds that accompanied his climb down.

Finally, his boots crunched down on the frozen ground. His heart pounding, he hurried to their gondola and started pulling the line to draw it closer to the shore as the rest of the crew finished their descent.

The scoundrels shove off in the small boat, the island quickly vanishing in the darkness behind them. They can hear a few frustrated cries from the cultists, but the saboteurs appear to be out of the Fang's reach.

Unfortunately, the scoundrels only make it a few hundred meters down the canal when a thick, soupy fog rolls in. The acrid fumes wafting under their noses are a dead giveaway: fog mixed with smoke and soot blowing over from coalridge.

Visibility drops to one, two meters max. Even the lightning barrier to your left is little more than a vague bright haze, it's impossible to tell whether it's 10 meters or 10 kilometers away.

Navigation will be difficult, let alone identifying threats...

Ash is taking back a breather, that had been new, and now she remembered all the nights Marius had gone out to get some "fresh air."

"That was a neat trick, brother" She says while slowing down the boat when the fog and smoke appeared. "Ill handle the boat, think you can handle dangers lurking in the fog?"

Rake gave a small, embarrassed chuckle. "The Whisper arts are the pathway to many abilities some consider to be... unnatural," he said in an exaggerated drawl. Using his normal voice, he added: "At least, that's what my tutor used to say." He wasn't sure Ash would remember the old, sinister man their parents had hired to hone Marius' budding sensitivity to the ghost field. He'd been an odd fellow, but quite skilled and a good pedagogue.

"I'll keep an ear out for any potential trouble." He turned, focusing his attention on the soup that surrounded them.

Maneuvering is difficult in the fog, to say the least. In the distance through the fog and smoke, you can hear a steady chugging noise that gets louder and louder. Unfortunately, between the piss poor visibility, the crackle of the lightning barrier beside you and the din of the city to starboard, it's rather difficult to pinpoint where exactly the noises are coming from...

A low, ear-splitting horn blasts through the air just before the prow of a steamship nudges into view in the fog - the scoundrels have about 20 seconds before their small boat is overrun and crushed beneath the bow. Compared to your skiff, the oncoming steamer might as well be a leviathan.

Rake's stomach sunk as he saw the looming bow of the steamship cut through the heavy fog. Their gondola was right in its path and would be crushed beneath it's mass unless they acted quickly, but what could they do? They didn't have a bunch of paddles and even if they did, could they even get out of its way in time?

"Listen up!" Pete's voice boomed from behind him. Rake's head snapped around to look up at the pirate. The man was like a mythical hero's statue, hands on his hips, staring up at the steamship with a glint in his eye. "We're going to push our way around that ship. Ash! Echo! Rake! Get to the port side of the skiff and be ready to push against the ship's hull." Pete moved to take Ash's place at the helm.

Ash, Echo and Rake got into position and waited. The steamship came at them fast. Pete managed to steer their skiff a bit to the side, so that the point of the steamship's bow would miss them. As the ship drew near, the scoundrels reached out, putting their hands on its hull and trying to guide their skiff around the larger boat. Rake pushed with all his strength as their gondola started to rock in the waves, trying to ignore the churning of his stomach.

This was nuts! But it might work, using the steam ship's strength to move them away, they just had to redirect it to the boat.
"Come on! We are almost done here guys. Let's give one last shove to push this score to success."

The three scoundrels strain and push with all their might against the ship while Pete steers deftly at the helm. Mercifully, the pushing scoundrels feel the ship starting to glide away across the churning water and out of the steamer's path. The skiff bobs plenty in the steamer's wake, and they earn more than a few choice words from some crewman aboard the ship who curse and yell in irritation as the larger vessel chugs past.

As the skiff sails onward, the fog dissipates enough for much greater visibility. It appears the scoundrels are in the clear and ready to return home, though a circuitous path to lose any tails would still be wise.

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

The hounds burst forth from their enclosures like bullets. Their breath misted in the cold, winter air as they raced down the track after the tracked lure. A deafening cheer rose from the crowd, born out of hope, greed, and desperation.

Marius had never been much of a gambler. He preferred games of strategy. Letting go of the reins of fate to leave them to chance made him feel uncomfortable. To put money on such was a madness he'd never understood.

Still, he had to admit that Vreen's Hound Races, in Nightmarket, made for a useful meeting place. Between the press of bodies and the noise, one could hide in plain sight while making it rather hard for curious ears to listen in.

It was a few days after the Phantoms had returned to Redfog Tower to fix the pumps in its bowels. Marius had reached out to Mr. Gaunt and had asked for a meeting, hoping to offer the crew's services and how they might suit his employer's needs. They now stood together, craning their necks to watch half a dozen slobbering canines chase a prey they would never catch for the crowd's amusement. Marius hoped he and his colleagues would be more successful.

He leaned towards the agent of the Circle and continued his pitch. "So, you see, with our route, your cargo would avoid the pesky shoals that has been troubling it lately. Your couriers simply have to leave it at the spot we'll indicate and we can then deliver it to a location of your choosing."

Unlike her brother, Ash enjoys gambling, the rush that comes when she is locked in a bad situation and then turning the tables by ability and chance alone is the reason she is a member of the Phantoms. She loved playing on the edge, feeling slightly out of control but having enough say in it to affect the outcome, here she couldn't do anything but someone had to seem like they were actually here to watch so she kept shouting and gasping when the rest did. Calling attention to herself so people cant hear the conversation with their possible client.

Rake and Ash get a slightly better look at Mr. Gaunt than they did at Mistshore Park, but only slightly. He indeed wears the same gray top hat, same fine noble clothes, all grays and blacks and subdued reds. His attire indicates he is a man of means, but otherwise he blends into a crowd all the same. His face is creased with wrinkles, and his resting expression is one of a slight frown. His nose and eyes are shrouded in darkness under the hat in the dim light of Nightmarket, making it difficult to read him otherwise...though a gleam from under the hat now and then leads Rake to suspect one of his eyes is actually not an eye at all, but glass.

He passively listens as Rake describes the tower and smuggling route, appearing to watch the dog race with great interest.

"May I presume your acquisition of this route was more...discreet than the operations of your associates, the Grinders...?"

His lip twitches slightly, hands resting on his fine walking cane.

By your best guess, he is proceeding with caution...but certainly interested.

Marius smiled weakly. Their 'friends', the Grinders, were certainly a rowdy bunch of scoundrels. It would difficult to be less discreet than them.

"Certainly. The transaction was handled with all due discretion," he said, reassuringly. This deal had to come through if they were to make their expenses worthwhile. Still, he didn't want to mislead a potential client and ally. "The previous owners might not have been entirely happy with its terms, but I'm certain we can placate them again, if they are unwise enough to try to reopen negotiations."

"We have our ways." Ash smirks supporting her brother's words. "The route will be ours as long as we have a say in the matter. You know how this business is, if someone is giving you a 100% guarantee they are either lying or don't know what they're doing. "

Mr. Gaunt tilted his chin slightly upwards, as if to get himself a better line of sight at a hound circling the far end of the arena.

"I like your crew." The tone didn't make it sound like much of a compliment.

"But truthfully I don't care whether the route remains yours or not."

Darker tone indeed.

"My concern begins and ends with me getting my product without a single soul in Doskvol knowing about it...beyond my associates and your outfit, that is."

Mr. Gaunt leans toward the two scoundrels.

"Which begs the question...what's your plan for tying up the loose ends? The former residents."

”We have it under control.” Ashlyn saysnwhile pretending to be watching the dog in first place. ”As for the plan in question we are looking at our options to avoid unnecessary bloodshed but we will do whatever is necessary to silence them.”

Mr. Gaunt offers a perfunctory nod.

"Very well. You may expect packages from my associates shortly. I believe our business here is concluded. I bid you good night."

He rose slowly, tipped his hat, and in the blink of an eye had disappeared into the crowd.

===================================
After leaving the race hound tracks there next stop was Nyelle's stall, the spirit traffickers disappearances made everyone antsy but more to Ash. She trembled at the idea that the dimmer sisters could be planning something out. Was it a trap carefully laid for them or was it just occupational hazards?

We will discover soon enough. She thinks when they walk into the market.

Nyelle's staff were usually all smiles and courtesy. It was obvious the recent disappearance of other spirit traffickers had them on edge. They were tense. Their smiles were stretched a bit taut and their demeanor seemed forced somehow. Marius couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he was certain his father would have rebuked servants who had acted this way.

Being known quantities, the Phantoms were quickly ushered to Nyelle's cramped office. The small space was even smaller, thanks to the presence of a large, sinister, armed man. The man stood from his stool and threw a glance at Nyelle. She shook her head at him and he sat back down.

"Ah, the Backwater Phantoms," said Mordis from Nyelle's mouth.

Nyelle must be making sure she can't be possessed, thought Marius. A wise precaution.

Nyelle's body stiffened, like she was struck with nausea. She inhaled sharply, then relaxed and exhaled slowly. She was reasserting control. Even with Mordis cooperation, it never seemed a pleasant experience.

Nyelle opened her eyes and turned them to the Phantoms. They had dark circles under them. She must not have slept much these past few nights. "Nice of you to check up on dear old me," she said with a smirk. Much like her staff's, her smile seemed pasted on.

Marius shrugged. "We owe you that much and more," he said, matter-of-fact. Nyelle rolled her eyes at Marius' stiff response, but some of the tension seemed to leave her body. She sat back in her chair. Marius continued: "I'm sure you don't mind the competition disappearing, but if you want to do something about it, we can help. If not..." He sighed. "I'd offer you protection, but the fact is, we don't have the manpower for it. I know some people who could help, though. I know you're attached to your independent status, but it won't be worth much if you're dead."

Nyelle lights a cigarette and takes a drag.

The smirk dissolves from her face like cheap ink in the rain.

"That obvious, I'm in trouble huh? I'm sure you have friends who could help, I certainly appreciate the offer. Problem is, not sure I can afford much more. This gentleman, kind as he is, does cost a pretty penny."

She gestures toward the muscle on the stool, who grunts in the affirmative.

"Surely you didn't come all this way just to offer me a pat on the back?"

You catch a ghost of a tremble in her fingers as she pulls the cigarette to her lips again, eyes glancing toward the door.

"Not just," Marius said. "These disappearances have created some opportunities. Those who have gone missing my have left behind some things worth picking up. You may have some..." he glanced at the muscle, "contingencies, but stopping these disappearances might be worth something to someone. Maybe there's some space that needs someone to occupy it."

He paused and sighed. "I also don't like have this hanging over you and, by extension, us. Long story short, I want to know what's going and I suspect you might have an idea of where to look."

Nyelle leaned back and exchanged glances with the muscle again as the two spoke.

Her face contorted into an unnatural scowl a moment later.

"Pretty fucking good idea who's doing the whacking."

Nyelle regained composure and stared down at the desk in front of her.

"Not now, Mordis. These are business associates."

She rested her thumb on her forehead, eyes closed, then took a deep breath and fixed her gaze on the scoundrels across from her.

"We have it on good word that it's those withered old crones in Six Towers. The Sisters. All the spirit traders who do their bidding are conspicuously untouched. The ones who sell to their friends and turn shoulders to their enemies."

Nyelle said the last bit with no small hint of disdain.

"The pieces fit otherwise. Every time someone's gone missing or turned up dead, things have been a big strange. Ole Craig Treadway's wife said he woke up screaming about rivers of blood just before his heart gave out. Meanwhile, Bonnie Bates's friends said they were drinkin' and playin' cards when she went upstairs and poof, never saw her again. All the windows and doors locked from the inside, mind you. You do the math."

Nyelle let out an exasperated sigh.

"I think the only reason I'm still here is I've been in business long enough to make some powerful allies and built strong relationships with some wealthy clients. The Sisters know they'll have hell to pay from more than a few outfits if they mess with me...but they get more and more powerful the more their grip tightens on this particular business. Might only be a matter of time 'till I slip out of the city some quiet midnight hour..."

Her expression was wrought with bitter resentment.

Ash crosses her arms thinking out loud what their next move might be. ”Mmm we will have to hit the streets, find friend, enemies, if we are lucky an operation about to go forward”

She smirks, no time like the present to brush up on her investigative skills. ” Any tips or hints to acquire this info?”

Nyelle stubs out her cigarette with a little more force than required. She smiles at Ash wryly.

"You really think you scrappy lot can go toe-to-toe with the Sisters eh?"

She laughs mirthlessly.

"Bold...but I can respect it. There is one man you might want to get in touch with. But he's a noble, doesn't consort with just any old scoundrel off the street. One Titus Strangford. We've been in touch recently. He's bought some of my wares from time to time, and currently he's...exploring options to slow down the Sisters from gaining a full monopoly on the trade. I could try to broker an introduction, but truth be told I'm wary of scaring him off. A man of his stature can hardly afford to be seen associating with our kind."

Ash smirks. "You won't know until you try" She says, the rush of the challenge making her excited. She tilts her head thinking about what to do then look at Marius.

"Sounds like a work for Echo, what do you think?"

Marius bristled at Nyelle's words. He was of noble birth, devil's blood! He had been taught by the best tutors money could afford! He had been to balls, salons, and soirées! He had been an officer in the Skovlan Armed Forces! His family used to employ an army of servants!

... "Used to"... "had been"...

He sighed inwardly. How far his fortunes had fallen.

NightingaleJ wrote:

"Sounds like a work for Echo, what do you think?"

His sister's words cut through the dark cloud that had been forming in his mind. He nodded. The truth was, even in his best days, he had shunned social events. Those he had attended, he'd spent mostly by himself, perusing is host's library or observing the echoes in the ghost field. Nobles' mansions were always full of strange and fascinating specters.

"Yes, she would be better suited for it," he said resignedly.

Ash turns to look at Nyelle."Think he will want to play if we agree to do it on his court?" She is worried about letting their cousin go alone, you can't never be too careful with does meetings. Maybe one or two of us could act as her bodyguard. She thinks.

Nyelle's face wrinkles as she thinks it over.

"I gotta say, he's a very secretive individual. In truth, I've only met with him in person on one occasion, and that was very briefly. Otherwise I have dealt with one of his servants."

She shrugs.

"I could try to broker a meeting, but you would have to make a compelling argument as to why you're worth the time of day for him. Might be better to pass along a message, something-something about how I have a crew who would be willing to do any dirty work that hurts the sisters....?"

Nyelle looks at Ash and Rake expectantly.

Ash smirks, "And this is why we come to you Nyelle, that is a brilliant idea. Please do."

Echo and Ash make their way back to the Phantom's Well after their meeting with Keel. The night was cold and wet, thick with fog.

Something seems...off at the docks. Pete and Rake were supposed to be in at the Well tonight, and with the night off, you'd think they'd be enjoying themselves, but it's awfully quiet. A figure looms in the dark some 15 meters down the pier...a strange glint shines from their shoulder. But they write it off as another scoundrel up to no good...

Rake and Peter are sitting at a table in the common area of the well...and across from them is none other than Bear, the second-in-command of the Foghounds. He has a pistol on the table in front of him and a rather menacing look on his face. He has a quite large thug behind him with a nasty mace resting on his shoulder, who takes the liberty of spitting tobacco juices on the floor right as Echo and Ash enter.

Rake shoots Echo and Ash a glance. Bear must have lied in wait for him and Peter to get back, then held him at gunpoint for a chat...

Ash naturally reaches for a weapon, which causes everyone in the room to tense up.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Bear chuckles, grabbing the pistol in front of him.

"You might have noticed our new hull right outside. One yell from me and he will barge inside and bash you lot to pieces. Hands off the weapons, yeah?"

Bear leans back and gestures toward the newcomers.

"Now I am quite grateful you two could join us. See, I was just telling your friends here about how we will be relieving you of Redfog Tower. Quite a lot to manage for a crew like yours, don't you think? The heat you're catching, it'll be with the bluecoats before Mendar if nobody steps in. And that would just be such a waste...ohh, don't look so glum about it." He flashes a toothy grin. "We'll let you keep the boat."

Echo looks beatific as she approaches Bear.  When she speaks, her cousins recognise the cloying tone that she reserves for those who have gotten on her last nerve while in polite company, like powdered glass stirred into honey.

"Oh Bear, what a positively adequate set of terms!  I do appreciate how transparent you have been in presenting your initial offer; it will make negotiating much easier." She raises a hand to cut him off when Bear inevitably tries to object to this being a negotiation.  

"Of course it is a negotiation dear heart, don't be thick: you've given us terms and are awaiting our response.  Since you purpote to have a Hull as leverage, Rake here shall confirm that there is a hull and then we will continue this conversation.  If he tries to interrupt or object, she gives him the pitying look of an educator who is trying to not lose hope.

You can hardly expect us to take that on faith now can you?  We must be sure that you aren't shaking us down with naught but a gun and your cruel decision to deprive a village of its idiot.  Take it as a compliment: we're assuming that the Foghounds could possibly conceive of such a cunning stunt.  So, unless you are afraid of having us call your bluff, Rake will be taking a look outside. "

Bear offers Echo a saccharine smile that gives her a run for her money.

"Oh, I won't make him go back out into the cold, as you can see he's already quite comfortable at home. Please, sit down."

He turns his head over his shoulder in the direction of the shadow you saw on the pier.

"Antonio - do come join us inside."

There is a loud, rhythmic thudding noise before the hull and another thug enter the doorway to the Phantom's Well. The hull is quite solidly built - certainly beat for bruising rather than fooling anyone into thinking it's an actual person.

Over 2 meters tall, it's hulking frame appears to be wrought iron covered loosely by tattered commoner's clothing. It's face comprises of large, gleaming black eyes over a grill twisted into a frown. It's every movement whirs with machinery. In one of it's bulky hands is a truncheon that looks an awful lot like those carried by the bluecoats.

The thug is wiry yet muscular, and carries a small rapier. He chuckles at the looks on the Phantom's expressions.

Rake breathed a sigh of relief when Ash and Echo walked in. He'd been worried sick since he and Pete had been ambushed by the Fog Hounds, but seeing his family safe and sound soothed his nerves.

The odds were still stacked against them, though. Three goons and a hull, whereas the Phantoms counted three fighters and Echo, who seemed to prefer to avoid a fight. Sure, he and Pete had taken a hull down, but in these tight quarters and with back up? It would be a desperate fight. Better to try and get them to back down. If that didn't work, well... he still had options.

He glanced at the hull, putting on a disdainful air. He turned back to Bear, throwing him the bored look of a blasé socialite. Echo would have been proud had she been on the other side of the table.

"Please, you're embarrassing yourselves." He heard Echo snicker behind him. There was a manic edge to it, but to someone who didn't know her, it would have sounded like eagerness. "This pile of junk your two-bit crew managed to scrounge together doesn't frighten us. If your intel was half as good as you pretend it is, you'd know we took one of these things apart to get Redfog Tower."

He leaned back in his chair. Behind his nonchalance, he was tense, ready to whirl around and throw everything he had at the Hounds' tin man. Unleashing his newfound power inside the Well would probably blow a hole the size of a cart in their lair, but it was better than letting these villains bully his crew. With all the confidence he could muster, he said: "Now, run back to your boss and tell her we're not playing nice. Or stay, and watch us break your toy."

Bear leans back and folds his arms, eyes narrowing to dagger points.

He tilts his head to the side, addressing the thug behind him while keeping his eyes on Rake.

"Can you believe these clowns?"

Bear stands up, holstering his pistol and staring contemptuously at the Phantoms.

"You got two days. Two days to give up Redfog before we take it by force...and we'll be collecting interest."

He gestures nonchalantly around the room.

"That means this floating piece of garbage too." He takes in a deep breath and nods to the thugs.

"Let's go, boys."

The hull's heavy foosteps slowly fade into the background din of the city, and the phantoms are left alone aboard the Well...

Rake kept his poker face until he heard the sound of the Fog Hounds footsteps fade. His long, slow exhale broke the silence inside the Well. He braced himself against the table, fighting off the urge to throw up. The Hounds meaning was clear: This meant War. He had put the last of his family in mortal danger. Should they have just given in? No, to give in now would mean to always be under the Hounds' boot. They had to fight.

His mind raced as he tried to see all the angles. The Hounds had the numbers on them, as well as a fucking hull. They knew about the Well, Redfog Tower, and Devils knew what else. Meanwhile, the Phantoms knew very little. They were going to need help.

"We should move the ship. Close to Redfog Tower, ideally. And we'll need to talk to the Grinders. We have two days. Let's make sure we're ready for them."

"I'll get to it, brother." War meant things will get dangerous, most likely physical too, even with Pete around they will need more muscle still, maybe it was time for her to convert her hobby in training.

"And just when we were trying to patch things up with the gondoliers. We will have to be careful when meeting some of our contacts, we might end up getting them into trouble."

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

It was much less convenient to get to the Grinders' warehouse from the Well's new location in Six Towers. The Phantoms had laid anchor near Redfog Tower, hoping to consolidate their holdings and make them easier to defend from the Fog Hounds.

Getting to the Docks had been a tense experience. The Fog Hound shad given them two days, but Marius wasn't sure they could be trusted to respect their word. The Phantoms had kept their eyes peeled for their enemies, as if every corner was hiding an ambush.

Thankfully, they got to their destination unharmed. After exchange greetings with sentries, Marius had requested a meeting with Hutton and the Phantoms had been ushered in to the dark confines of the Grinders' HQ. Marius absentmindedly flexed his left hand as they waited. He had been unsuccessful in shaking the nervous tic, despite it no longer giving him the sweet distraction of pain.

He stopped when he heard a door slam shut in the distance, followed by the heavy footsteps of a few people.

Hutton stepped into the light of a hanging electroplasmic light, flanked by two of his goons. He pulled the cigar from his mouth and blew out a cloud of smoke. A smile cracked his face, exposing his tobacco-stained teeth.

"Well, if it ain't my good friends, the Phantoms. What brings you sorry lot to my door?" he asked, letting out a wheezing chuckle.

"We're at war and we'd like your help," said Rake, getting straight to business.

Hutton's face goes stern rather quickly.

He chews his lower lip while fidgeting with the cigar, exchanging uneasy glances with one of his goons.

"War? What are you talking about? Didn't your mother tell you to play nice?"

"Ever hear of the Fog Hounds? They see us as competition, and they don't like it." Rake started pacing, his hands tucked behind his back. "They tried to shake us down. We didn't go looking for trouble, but they're being completely unreasonable."

He stopped and sighed, then turned to look at Hutton again. "So, since you operate out of the docks, we were hoping you'd have some intel. Maybe a bit of muscle to spare, once we've got a plan to deal with them."

Hutton nods, exhaling a long puff of smoke that twirls in the dim light. His face breaks into a wide, sardonic grin as he spreads his arms wide.

"Welcome to Doskvol, my friend. On these streets, everyone and their grandma has a dagger up their sleeve for ya."

He holds his hands up and adopts a more serious expression.

"Think of it this way. It's an opportunity. You ARE their competition, and vice versa...good excuse as any to wipe 'em out and gain some more market share for yourselves, eh? You win this...you're on your way to the top of the smuggling game."

"Now as for the matter of our assistance, we're lying low at present. Got plenty of heat on us as is after the Abourkir...but we might be able to lend a cutter or two, provided you keep it hush-hush. What do you wanna know about the Hounds?"

"Mum's the word on the cutters. It simply would not do to bring heat down on you when you are being so gallant." She is being a bit cheeky but her tone is sincere - it is very reassuring to know that they have allies and that they can count on more muscle.  Echo takes a quick centering breath and continues matter of factly.

 "We would like to know about their numbers, where their leader spends time and who else they may have rubbed the wrong way... In earnest, any information that could help us to make them deeply and even permanently regret their odious behaviour would be most welcome". Her smile at those last words is predatory, but when she turns to the crew to see if they have anything to add, she gives them an interrogatory nod, as if to ask That is what we want, right?  
She did not want to seem foolish.

Rake nodded back to Echo. She had hit the nail on the head.

He had to admit, he was surprised to how well she'd taken to the scoundrel's life. She had brought skills and a perspective that had greatly benefited the crew. As they grew, diplomacy would become all the more important, and neither him nor Ash could take point on that front. Having her around made him... hopeful? Well, at least more confident about their chances.