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Poker Face [FIN]; [P] Trapper
Topic Started: Thu Feb 7, 2013 10:14 pm (240 Views)
Lady Eko
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Arden van Sokolovsburg, listener and courier for the Orphan Prince, tried not to involve his friends in his work. Too dangerous, too secret. It came as a surprise to him when the most vocal opponent of the Orphan Prince in his group of friends insisted on helping him with tonight's job. Eko was a few years older than him, but was small in stature. Despite her size, the girl had the kind of eyes all the kids from the Beehive got when they reached a certain age: old, hard, wary. She was definitely the brains of their group. She always seemed like she was planning something, or just thinking really hard. The boy, walking alongside her and her massive blue-black dog Ansha, adjusted his formal clothing and double-checked to make sure he'd washed off the flecks of blood from the waistcoast. His suit didn't quite fit him, but it was better than the rags he usually wore. After his adjustments, Arden looked up and noticed Eko staring at him, expressionless except for intensity. "Will we be the only humans there?"

"No, there's a couple others." There was an awkward silence, or maybe Arden was the only one who thought it was awkward. Ansha bumped into his leg as they turned a corner into a narrow, dirty side-street. No lanterns down here except for a little glow-worm jar a few feet down near a step entrance. Inside that entrance, the pulse of music could be both heard and felt.

Eko grabbed Ansha by the collar. "She's coming in too."

"Suit yourself." He opened the door for her and the dog, releasing an overpowering stink of tobacco smoke and fairy dust outside. As Eko, unreacting, entered, Arden wondered if he should have put his friend at the tables instead of himself. That girl had a mean poker face. She probably wouldn't have agreed anyway. For some reason she was intent on protecting him tonight while he gathered intel for the Prince.

The den was hopping at this time of night. Smooth woodwind instruments and drums thrummed in the air, floor and walls courtesy of a large band, and the singer was a lady vampire with too much thigh showing. Arden squinted through the haze of smoke and near-darkness, only able to see the outline of Ansha's wagging tail. Eko weaved through the crowds with confidence, and Arden followed as quickly as he could. The bartender had three sets of grafted arms and was currently showing off his multitasking to some giggling drow girls in evening gowns. Eko stepped around a couple on a couch that were voraciously making out, which Ansha gave a passing sniff before moving along. They eventually reached the gambling tables, which were some of the only sources of light in the whole big room. They had to, in order for everyone to see their cards.

Time to gather dirt on some up-and-coming threats to Balefire, Arden supposed. He sat down at the table. Eko hung back. The girl stood out: a little black human with prying pale eyes, not even bothering to dress up for the occasion. He seriously wondered why she even wanted to be here.

"Arden van Sokolovsburg," welcomed a grinning dark elf. "Fancy seeing you here." At this table, he was one of the only humans. The other he'd never seen before and didn't look very friendly in any case. The hulking black werewolf sitting hunched next to the drow was well-dressed; he raised a white-gloved hand and tipped his bowler hat at Arden, but didn't say anything -- likely because there was a cigar clamped in his jaws.

"Sorry I'm late. We gonna start or waste time catching up?"

"Let's start," snarled an ugly vampire on the other side of the table. Sweet-smelling smoke trailed from the dealer's cigarette, who shuffled the cards and tossed them out in sequence.

Poker games were a popular way for independent members of Balefire's underbelly -- if it even had one -- to socialize. It was a great way to catch up on the news and pick up new blackmail leads. Arden had been visiting this particular den for a long time, but only started gambling there a few months ago. He was alright at poker, he guessed. Tonight would be a little more difficult, what with Eko's eyes burning into the back of his skull. "You brought a friend?" a wood elf with an ear missing asked him, nodding to the girl standing unmoving within line of sight of their table.

"She wanted to come," he admitted. Some of the other tablegoers chuckled.

"Like 'em young, eh? Heh heh," the dark elf sneered. "But I bet old Eduardo's more interested in her dog."

The werewolf growled down at him. "Hilarious." His voice sounded like shifting stone. Everyone took their cards.

"Arden, this is Trapper from Taras."

He met the other human's eyes. Arden hated outsiders. "How do you do."
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Trapper
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Balefire seemed like a city that had been purposely designed as a breeding ground for criminals. The perpetual lack of natural light, combined with the adhocratic government, meant that illicit businesses of every size and description could thrive here. The Lords and Ladies might believe that they controlled the city, but most of the citizens of the City of Lanterns would live their entire lives without laying eyes on those pompous, deluded fools. Marquise Karstoff and the Sheriff did their best to keep the seedier elements of the city under control, but it was mainly a useless effort. For every gang they managed to quash, three more seemed to appear out of nowhere.

Simmon Trapis was one such industrious lawbreaker. He was already a prominent criminal in Taras, the leader of a small but feared gang of criminals that had claimed several of the least desirable neighborhoods of the rebuilt metropolis as their own. In exchange for a modest fee, Simmon and his subordinates would keep your business safe… but fail to enlist their services and you might get an unpleasant visitor in the night. The City Watch had attempted to root them out three times to date, but always failed to find the evidence they needed to actually put Trapper behind bars.

However, their latest effort had gotten him thinking. If all of his business interests were collected in a single spot, it would be far too easy to destroy the foundations of his power base. So he had started putting out feelers, searching for places where he could spread his operations. Balefire had seemed like the obvious choice for expansion, and so Trapper had set about gaining a foothold in the City of Lanterns. It had been an arduous and slow process. He had been forced to wipe out several smaller gangs just to claim enough territory to set up his headquarters, and since then his organization had been under assault on every front.

Simmon had bribed officials and made alliances, committed arson and murder and fraud, all to make sure that he could not so easily be extricated from the shadowy city. It had taken months of work and the lives of a number of his men… but it had definitely been worth it. In Taras, he had always been forced to keep his illegal operations hidden from the authorities, but here he could set up much more substantial enterprises with little fear of repercussion. The increased revenue had allowed him to solidify his business interests in Taras as well, so now he was able to employ a much larger number of shady individuals in both cities to protect his interests.

Tonight, Simmon was gathering information so he could further cement his standing in the City of Lanterns. He had discovered that one of the organizations that were still trying to undermine his presence had a high-ranking member that was a dark elf who had a gambling habit. It had taken his men a few weeks of scouring the city to find which of its numerous establishments he frequented, but the search had finally paid off. Even better, Simmon was fairly certain that the drow had no idea who he was. Many of the established criminals in Balefire considered him a mere upstart and not a real threat. Trapper planned on proving them wrong, one at a time.

He arrived at the hole in question an hour after his target in order to avoid suspicion. To help stay incognito, he had only brought a single bodyguard as back-up. Largo was one of his oldest enforcers, a mute sniper whose loyalty he was sure of. Trapper himself was dressed quite differently from his normal attire. He wore a dark navy vest over a long-sleeved white shirt, with a heavy dark green overcoat and black trousers. The baggy garments helped hide any trace of the mythril chainmail he wore underneath his clothes or the various weapons scattered on his person.

Largo had his orders, and very carefully kept his distance from Simmon as they worked their way through the crowded establishment towards the poker tables. The ruffian’s eyes skimmed the dimly-lit games quickly, finding the dark elf easily enough. His target was sitting at a table with an eight-armed dealer, dapper werewolf, and annoyed-looking vampire. Trapper slid into one of the two open chairs at the table, nodding to the rest of the players with a small smile. “If ya’all don’ mind, I thought I’d join ya.’ Lookin’ fer a good game.” He spoke with a lazy drawl, slumping back in his chair, the epitome of nonchalance. “’Less this is a private affair?”

The dealer quickly assured him that it was not, and as soon as he slapped down the ante none of the other gamblers seemed to mind his presence. Instead of starting immediately, they waited for the last few spots at the table to fill up. Simmon took advantage of the time to chat with the glove-wearing werewolf while studying his target out of the corner of his eye. The final player was a young boy that slid into the seat opposite Simmon. He was greeted by name by the drow, a courtesy that had not been extended to any of the other players. Trapper flashed an unctuous grin at the youth, dark eyes unreadable. “’s my pleasure, I guarantee ya.’” He cupped the cards in one hand, eye flicking over the values. The slight, content smile remained firmly fixed in place the entire time, betraying not a hint of his reaction to the hand.
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Lady Eko
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The big, sweeping music paused between songs, and Arden scanned his hand, letting the muscles in his face relax. His hand was alright. Like usual, the dark elf Iksal Highbane had a big grin on his face. He hid his hands by seeming intensely pleased for simply being there. Arden suspected the dark elf had a gambling habit, for he was almost always here whenever he visited. They got to know each other better by simple proximity.

Iksal was some kind of middle-man in an operation of negotiable legality. He had remained remarkably quiet about what exactly his roles were in his business, but based on context and side-speak Arden could only guess he hustled women. Not too interesting. The vampire was a part-time dog-catcher, but mostly complained about being a menial paper-pusher in the bureaucratic machinations of Lord Kelok. Eduardo Gouveia gambled as a respite from the bloody pack wars of the Southern Quarter, but only trusted this den since these parts were where he grew up; any other and he had to bring too many packmates just to block off all the wolves that were out for his head and let him have a peaceful game.

See, Arden liked having all this background information on these dangerous people. He liked knowing their angle, what kind of risk they posed. And this smug human Tarasian, a man Arden had never seen or heard of in his entire life, was like a void to him. He hated that. The teen-ager slid his bet of coins forward, locking eyes with Trapper, trying to read past that idiot grin. Unfortunately, just looking at someone couldn't get much information that was actually useful; Arden turned his eyes to the other players in order to look like he wasn't too focused on the other human. The ugly vampire snarled at his hand and folded. Iksal raised Arden's bet.

The boy looked behind his shoulder and saw Eko's eyes burning into Trapper from the dark. She hadn't moved, but something about her had gotten a lot more intense compared to before the Tarasian was introduced. But there was no way she could know about this guy and he couldn't -- right? He did admit she was rather quick to judge. Maybe she just didn't like him being a foreigner.

"What's a Tarasian doing in the taint of Imythess anyway?" the vampire growled, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms. "Not enough scum in the backstreets of home?"

"Ah, but where there's scum, there's easy money," said Iksal edgewise. "Everyone likes money."
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Trapper
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Trapper casually watched his playing companions over his cards, dark eyes spending a few seconds on each of the other players. The dark elf was grinning widely, seemingly sincere, but he suspected that the mien was a ploy used to keep the strength of his hand secret. The vampire's face was literally as still as a statue's, betraying nothing of the undead's emotions. The werewolf was more expressive than anyone else at the table, but Simmon had absolutely no experience with reading the body language of lycanthropes and couldn't get a read on him. The youth named Arden was another matter entirely. Although the human boy was clearly trying to keep his expression bland and reserved, he wasn't even close to successful. It seemed as if he was not an avid gambler... or if he was he was rather fond of losing his money.

When the betting came around the table to him, Simmon matched the amount and doubled the amount, pushing a stack of coins across the slightly sticky surface of the table like it was pocket change. He exuded confidence, keeping a satisfied smile plastered on his features the entire while. The warm expression never quite met his eyes, although it was difficult to spot the coldness in his stare in the dim lighting. It didn't take long for some mid-game banter to start up, and as the newcomer most of the attention was focused in his direction. "Ah, ya' know... A lil' this, a lil' that." He waved one hand dismissively, as if he didn't want to discuss the nature of his business. The vampire didn't look satisfied with the answer, but the drow quickly provided him with a simple way to expand upon his answer.

"Yer friend here is correct. I have found this city to be quite amenable to a man with... unique business interests." That comment earned him a low chuckle from around the table. Everyone knew that he meant activities that were illegal in nature, but it was considered impolite to be so blunt. Trapper slowly tapped his fingertips on the top of his cards in a steady rhythm, a feigned tell that any astute player would pick up on almost immediately. His own hand was decent, but not nearly good enough to win the pot. He was hoping that the tell would help him get out of some nasty situations later, if the game laster that long. "I do indeed like money."

He raised his eyes from his cards and met the stare of the young woman that had entered the den with Ardent. She was staring at him with a quiet, direct intensity that set his instincts screaming. If he had met her on the street, the ruffian wouldn't have wasted any time with words; he would have assumed the worst and slit her throat before she could become a threat. Trapper met her stare for several long seconds before letting the corner of his mouth lift by a minuscule fraction. He turned away with a deliberate disdain, tapping his fingertips on his cards once more as the betting went around the remaining players. "The problem with Taras... there ain't no respect. Ya' can work day and night to earn yer rightful reward, and some upstart will just try to take it all away... No respect at all." He quite deliberately avoided looking at anyone in particular as he spoke, but he watched the drow in his peripheral vision.
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Lady Eko
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Eko didn't know which one was going to try to kill Arden, but she knew it was tonight.

Her eyes fell on the Trapper and stayed there. His met hers. She stood her ground, watching him watch her. Ansha pushed her head under Eko's hand, but she ignored it. Then his lips curled up just ever so slightly, and the girl was filled with such a basal sense of aversion that it made her gut clench. Even though her face didn't respond to the wordless exchange, Eko felt a mixture of angry, offended, and afraid. Arden didn't seem to notice. Her friend folded. The hand played out and the Trapper won. Iksal kept on grinning, but his eyes kept fixed on the Tarasian for just a little too long.

The girl took some time to wonder why it was Arden they were going for. Oftentimes the Orphan Prince had too many feelers out -- that is, too many innocent kid agents he intentionally tangled up in bad business -- to make any deep, real enemies. Besides the Marquise, of course, but no one cared about that old wench. No one wanted to waste their time attacking the Prince's forces and cutting off vital information flow they might require later. Unless, Eko theorized, the Orphan Prince himself hired a hit on Arden. Maybe the courier boy was outliving his usefulness. Maybe he was getting too old to be a member. Eko's heart thumped fast at the possibility of someone going for her friend's life at any moment. Sweat beaded at the edge of her hairline even though it was a little chilly in here. Ansha whined up at her, but Eko just absentmindedly ran her cloth-wrapped hand over the dog's head. Her other hand was buried in her layers of clothing, not sure whether to wrap around a wooden stake, a silver knife, or a steel dagger.

Another hand passed. The dark elf won there. Another came down to Arden, the one-eared wood elf, and the vampire. "Kid, your heart is beating a mile a minute," he said matter-of-factly before revealing his winning hand. "Sorry, kid. Humans just can't stack up."

"Let me play," Eko said over Arden's shoulder, making him jump. He must not have heard her walk up to him. Ansha greeted everyone at the table excitedly while the teen-aged boy gave his friend a surprised look. As he slid out of his chair, Eko slid into it, but grabbed Arden's arm when he started walking too far away. "Stay close."

She turned her attention to the gambling table and saw everyone looking at her. Iksal Highbane propped his cheek on his hand. "And you are?"

"Eko." She took her cards as they were handed out.

"I take it you're also from the Beehive, Eko?" asked the wood elf whose name she never caught. The girl looked at her hand. It was pretty good. Worth betting.

"Yes." She wished she wasn't. Eko locked eyes with Trapper who was sitting directly across from her. "I heard you talking about respect. How Taras doesn't have it. ...But Balefire has less. Every little gain you make here, you have to struggle to maintain. Is it money or masochism, then, that draws you here?"
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Trapper
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Surprisingly, he won the pot even with his mediocre hand. Trapper scooped up the winnings, stacking the coins neatly as the next set of cards was dealt out by the eight-armed man. He could feel the dark elf staring at him and suspected that it was in response to his earlier comments, but Simmon didn't mind. He just needed to keep the dark elf oblivious to his true intentions to a little bit longer while Largo made sure there weren't any bodyguards keeping watch over the man. Then again, it was possible that the drow was simply upset about losing the pot. It was hard to tell with gamblers.

The next round didn't go nearly as well. He was given absolutely nothing worthwhile in his original hand and folded immediately, content to sit back and watch the action. This time the young man stayed in the betting until the bitter end, but the vampire's preternatural senses made short work of Ardent's buff. Trapper raised his eyebrows slightly when the kid's diminutive friend took action, tapping him on the shoulder and switching spots. She did have a better poker face than Ardent; the entire time they had been in the gambling den her face had stayed an impassive mask. He had also noticed that she kept one hand hidden out of sight beneath her clothes, suggesting she was keeping a grip on a hidden weapon. Not very subtle, but he supposed in an environment with so many supernatural predators humans had to take any advantage they could.

The girl was introduced as Eko and cards were dealt out once more. Simmon glanced at his hand and saw that he had a full house, three tens and two queens. It was probably worth sticking this round out. He matched the original ante when it was his turn, but didn't raise so that he wouldn't look too eager. The girl, who had been introduced as Eko, continued the previous conversation topic by asking about his opinions on respect. He chuckled softly, shaking his head slightly from side to side. "Ah, lass, ya' don't understand. In Taras, there's no way to earn respect due to the prevalence of the authorities. Here, in Balefire... There ain't no limits." He glanced to one side, meeting the drow's eyes and smiling unctuously. "Isn't that right?"

The dark elf's smile didn't diminish by even a fraction, but there was a sudden steeliness reflected in his eyes. At the same time, Trapper saw that Largo was standing only a few feet away, the mute sniper's eyes fixed on him. The portly man shook his head curtly from side to side, indicating that he had not found any enforcers that were paying an untoward amount of attention to their game. Simmon's smiled broadly, flashing his teeth at his target.

Iksal had just opened his mouth to reply when Trapper's hand shot out, grabbing the dark elf's hair at the nape of his neck. Without a moment of hesitation the ruffian slammed his hand straight down against the solid surface of the table, smashing his nose and chipping a tooth. He had enough time to slam the drow's face into the table a second time before any of the other players got over their shock and reacted to the unexpected assault. The werewolf growled deep in his throat, his lips pulling back and revealing a mouthful of teeth designed for rending flesh. Simmon's other hand slipped underneath his coat, grabbing his hand crossbow and lifting it in one smooth motion. The weapon was already loaded and ready to fire. The werewolf froze when he saw that there was the tip of a stubby quarrel hovering less than a foot from his lupine features... and it was tipped in pure silver.

"Now, now... Let's not be too hasty." Simmon smiled charmingly, punctuating the pleasant expression by knocking the drow's features into the table a third time. "I have some business to discuss with this fine gentle-being in private. So the two of us will be departin.' Are there objections?" His eyes flickered from face to face around the table, cold and merciless. The vampire was watching the confrontation with a bemused expression, but the undead didn't seem fond enough of his playing companion to intervene. The one-eared wood elf looked far less pleased with the situation, but Largo had drawn his repeating crossbow and could take out the gambler before he could make a move. "To make sure none of ya' hold a grudge..." He let go of the drow's neck, letting him slump bonelessly against the table. Blood was streaming out both his nostrils, and at least two teeth had fallen out on the table.

Trapper drew a short, heavy dagger from his belt and used it to cut the string on the dark elf's purse, flicking the pouch onto the table. Gold and silver coins spilled out of the container, a small fortune. "He's all in for this pot." Simmon sheathed the blade once more, flipping his hand. "Full house. Any of ya' got better?"
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Lady Eko
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"No limits? Freedom in Balefire is an illusion. If you survive long enough, you'll learn." Eko released her grip on her hidden weapon in order to work the table properly. Against a vampire, she was fine; her heart was racing all the way from the start, a constant fight-or-flight reaction in anticipation of someone attempting to murder her friend. The wood elf was a pushover playing for the social aspect, most likely. The werewolf was a cautious player who folded more often than he played, so he wasn't a threat. That left Trapper and the drow. Eko mentally corrected herself, reminding herself that this wasn't about winning the game, it was about protecting Arden -- she had almost forgotten in the sudden influx of rapid-fire thoughts.

Eko had fallen into old habits stemming from back when she would play card games with her siblings. In Eko's family, competition among siblings was encouraged from a young age, as it was meant to inspire the kids to strive to become better. What Eko's parents never caught onto was how badly the sibling rivalry had spiraled out of control in recent years. As the four siblings grew more clever and gained more resources, they used those to cut each other down. Even in the most petty situations, like card games, they would constantly cheat or find ways to protect themselves from cheating. It translated into useful skills in higher-stakes situations like these.

In any case, it stopped mattering quite so much when the Tarasian started killing Iksal Highbane out of the blue.

But Eko, quite used to this sort of suddenness, recognized the damage wasn't coming toward her or Arden and thus found an opportunity to react to the bumping of the table in a different way. Using her baggy sleeve, the girl rapidly switched out some cards she'd palmed and arranged them nicely. She calmly stood up at the same time as Trapper and slapped her hand down. Eko let the corners of her mouth rise into a kind of polite grin. Laid out on the table between her two hands was a four of a kind -- a hand slightly better than a full house, but also one that was relatively easy to acquire by cheating. In any case, everyone let Trapper excuse himself with Iksal, as no one was interested in getting between people's personal business. Afterwards, Eduardo politely excused himself from the table.

The wood elf studied Eko's hand, one eyebrow raising. "Fine luck you got there, girl. Or are you in it with that human? A bump in the table is all most need."

"Hey, now, everyone. Calm the hell down," the dealer butted in.

"We humans think for ourselves. I'm sorry if that's hard for you to grasp." She remained stock-still rather than moving to take the coins she just cheated herself into.

There was a flash of steel in her peripherals, sudden movement, and Eko reacted. Like she predicted, the elf didn't go for her first -- he went for Arden. The little human intercepted like the scrapper she was, coming in with quick, tight strikes that slit the tendons in his arm, then his leg. As he fell, she grabbed him by the hair and raked the edge of her blade across his throat. It wasn't clean, but it would bleed out fast, so she dropped him to the ground. By then, the dealer was screaming for them to get out. When Eko sheathed her blade and rushed to collect the pot, a couple extra cards fell out of her sleeve-- so she grabbed as much money as she could and hoofed it out the back way where Trapper had gone, Arden doing the same.
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Trapper's eyebrows shot up when he saw the marginally better hand that Eko turned over. He stared at the girl for a few moments before chuckling and shaking his head. "Ya' got stones, kid." He shrugged and stood up from the table, still lazily aiming the hand crossbow at the werewolf. He grabbed the dark elf by the hair with his other hand, dragging the stunned man out of his chair and across the floor. The various denizens of the gambling establishment took one look at his lined, cold face and scrambled to get out of his path. Instead of heading for the main door, the ruffian made way for one of the numerous back exits that he knew led into a cramped alleyway. Although the Sheriffs in Balefire rarely traveled this far out of the safer neighborhoods, he didn't want to chance running into the proper authorities. Largo bled out of the crowd and walked alongside him, still keeping an eye on the poker table and both hands firmly holding his repeating crossbow.

Simmon kicked the door to the den open without preamble, hoping the heavy door would stun any ambitious cut-purse lurking on the other side waiting for someone to depart with their winnings. He was rewarded with a pained outcry and a dark shape that hurtled away down the street, muttering insults in half a dozen languages as it retreated. Trapper hauled the dark elf out of the den and tossed him onto the filthy cobbles, waving a hand at Largo and indicating that that the sniper should shut the door. The mute did so, cutting them off from the din of conversation and the smell of fairy dust, before settling against the opposite wall of the alley and keeping his weapon trained on the doorway.

"Now then... Iksal, isn't it? Let's talk." The drow blinked blearily at the sound of his own name, staring at Trapper in a dazed manner. The ruffian smiled charmingly and reached underneath his heavy coat, withdrawing a stubby cigar. He pulled out a match as well, lighting it against one of the brick walls and lighting the stogie with a practiced movement. "We were talkin' bout respect. The way I see it, ya' don't have enough of it. Not for me, not for my men." He drew in a breath, holding the sweet smoke of the cigar in his mouth for a moment before exhaling it through both nostrils. "Ya' clearly don't know my name, but ya' should. Simmon Trapis, of Taras. Trapper to some. I'm the man who's set up shop near Crafter's Lane. Ring any bells?"

The dark elf's eyes widened as the meaning of the words managed to sift through his addled mind. He sputtered and reached behind his back, fingers closing around something that was surely a weapon. Simmon's heavy boot lashed out, slamming into the man's wrist and pinning it to the ground. There was an ugly snap! as something in the joint broke, and Iksal crowed out in agony. Trapper continued talking as if he hadn't been interrupted, dark eyes never leaving Iksal's face. "Like I was sayin,' I like this city. I plan on stayin.' But ya' clearly disagree with that notion. I'm a merciful man, Iksal. Tell me who yer boss is and I'll kill ya' fast." He drew the heavy blade in his left hand once more, twirling it nimbly before tightening his grip in a reverse hold. "Otherwise..."

"Go to the abyssh, human." His broken teeth made it impossible for Iksal not to slur certain syllables, but there was no disguising the contempt and derision in his tone. "You're jusht a thug. Won't lasht a month here."

"I've been here a month. Several, in fact." Simmon pressed down on his foot, grinding the drow's broken wrist into the cobbles. Iksal managed to bite back a scream this time, but his dark skin paled to a rather unhealthy shade of gray. "I want ya' to know, I don't enjoy this. Just try to remember that." Trapper knelt down, preparing the knife, when the door leading back into the gambling den flew open. Largo had his repeating crossbow up and ready to fire in an instant, the mute's eyes narrowing dangerously. Simmon glanced back and saw the two young humans from the poker table stumble out of the establishment, the girl holding a small fortune in coins in her arms. He clucked his tongue at his subordinate, a signal to stand down... and then saw that the wood elf was in hot pursuit, a blade in one hand.

Largo was usually a stickler for orders, but the sniper's primary duty was protecting Trapper, and he never hesitated. He smoothly lifted the crossbow, aiming above Eko and Arden and squeezing the trigger twice in rapid succession. The first bolt tore a furrow across the wood elf's cheek, ripping through his remaining ear and all but tearing it off of his skull. The second missile slammed directly into the elf's left eye socket, sinking all the way to its fletching in his skull.

Simmon watched as the wood elf toppled to the ground, his face transforming from cool and collected to furious in an instant. "God dammit!" He angrily turned and sank his blade into Iksal's throat, twisting it savagely and all but decapitating the dark elf. He lifted the blade, pointing it at the two humans, blood dripping off of its edge. "Don't. Move." He nodded to Largo, and the sniper shifted his aim from the doorway to the two youths. Simmon quickly and efficiently rifled through the drow's pockets, but found nothing of interest. Still scowling, he stood up and glared at Eko and Arden. "Who did my man just kill, and why the hell shouldn't I let him do the same to ya' two?"
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Lady Eko
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Eko froze. Her arms and legs trembled not from fear -- though she certainly was feeling it -- but because her reflexes couldn't decide whether to make a run for it or drop the money and rip out her knife. Arden, being far more of a runner than a fighter, tensed up behind Eko and was probably weighing his options in a similar manner. She wouldn't have blamed him if he bolted, leaving Eko behind. Probably the only reason he didn't was that there was no way he could outrun a crossbow bolt at this range. Ansha the dog came bounding after the wood elf, but had flinched when shots from Trapper's thug took him down. She padded up to Eko, wagging her fluffy tail in big strokes, unaware of how dangerous the situation was.

She looked to Arden, who made an expression urging her to answer the gangster's question. Eko obliged. "Hits going out on Orphan Prince couriers. Your man killed a fly, nothing more."

"I am not--"

"No use lying. He already knows your name," she told her friend without looking away from the bolt head pointed straight at her. "You know the Orphan Prince, right? Kind of a faction in his own right. You did everyone a favor by protecting his courier. As for whether or not to kill us, too... well, that isn't a question you should be asking others. That's your call." She realized it probably wasn't the best idea to lecture the guy who was a trigger-pull away from killing them both, especially someone who was older, cockier, angrier and more experienced than her. Realizing she was probably going to get shot soon, Eko's mind raced. She kept her pale eyes focused on Largo's trigger finger, trying to remember the fastest way to the Aguilar Infirmary from here if it came to that. With only a knife, this wasn't going to be a physical battle, but a test of her wits.
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Trapper
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Lucky for them, the two youths obeyed his command. Perhaps they heard the steely tone of command in his voice... or more likely, they realized that Largo would execute them as quickly and dispassionately as he had the wood elf. The ruffian straightened from the still-warm corpse of the dark elf, absentmindedly drawing a piece of dirty fabric out of one pocket and using it to wipe the blood off of the blade. When all the viscera had been cleaned off he let the rag fall to the ground, fluttering down to rest on Iksal's frozen features.

"Ah, the Orphan Prince? Interestin.'" Trapper was no stranger to the mysterious information broker that seemed to rule the homeless children of the City of Lanterns. One of his men had caught a street urchin attempting to pick his pocket in the first week they started operating in Balefire and had broken the youth's jaw in retribution. Less than a day later he disappeared. They had never found his body, and after asking around the city Simmon had quickly figured out who was responsible. His men now had standing orders to not violently retaliate against any cutpurses or pickpockets they uncovered in his territory, but rather to take all of the money they carried and send them on their way.

He mulled over this information for almost a full minute, watching Ardent and Eko with a fierce glower. Eventually he sighed and raised one hand, waving at Largo. The mute sniper lowered his crossbow, although he still kept both hands on the weapon and his shoulders tense. "Be that as it may, it looks to me like ya' two owe me. Something tells me pointy ears over there was out for blood. Nothin' comes free in this town... right, girl?" He turned his full attention to the female, arching an eyebrow at Eko. She was clearly the leader of this duo, and he suspected she was the more intelligent of the pair. Simmon sheathed the dagger abruptly, still watching them. "So I have one more question... What do ya' two have that could possibly be worth my time?"
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Lady Eko
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Eko's eyes hardened. The moment Largo's crossbow lowered, Arden ran as fast as he could, slipping around a corner. He probably thought she would too; they'd scramble and then regroup at one of their safe places. Even Ansha started running out of sheer habit, but the dire dog stopped and expectantly looked at Eko about halfway down the alley. Eko remained, listening to the Tarasian gangster's demand. "Before I answer, I want you to know that I'm not entirely defenseless." The girl looked to Ansha behind her. The dog appeared a bit confused, head cocked and ears perked. "She seems friendly, but the quickest way to make her angry is to hurt me." The threat was delivered in her typical polite voice. Eko slid her heel against the dust, taking a half-step back to give herself a more even stance.

"We never asked you for help, yet you gave it for free. Out of the goodness of your heart. That's your fault, not mine. I don't owe you anything. Is this kind of thing common in Taras? I'm imagining all the gangs constantly doing each other unsolicited favors in order to keep each other bound in servitude. An endless chain of debts." Eko began to take long, careful steps backward. Ansha padded around her, staring at her. "Sorry, but that's not really how it works around here. Besides," some laughter crept into her voice, "I have nothing to give."
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Trapper
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OOC
 
This post might not make sense. Apologies.

It didn't take long for the Orphan Prince's lackey to flee once Largo's weapon was lowered. The boy took off down the alleyway with commendable haste, disappearing out of sight and leaving his female companion behind. She, surprisingly, did not follow suit. Instead of joining him she started to gradually walk backwards, speaking softly and assuredly. Trapper listened to her entire spiel, his expression bland an uninterested until the last sentence. He chuckled softly, shaking his from side to side without taking his eyes off of the girl.

In a blur he raised his hand from his belt, lifting his hand crossbow once more and leveling it at Eko. "Ya' might live here, girlie, but ya' clearly aren't the sharpest urchin in the bunch. First of all, tha' Arden fellow was safe... he should've been the one to stay behind. Ya' didn't claim the Prince as yer own, so yer not under his protection, which means I could beat ya' bloody and no one would give a damn." Simmon nodded to Largo, who lifted his bow as well, pointing it at the dog instead of the girl. "Secondly, ya' should learn when to bother with intimidation. Ya' think your mangy mutt scares me? It's not faster than Largo's trigger finger, trust me." He spat to one side, nodding at the dog. "If ya' want the mongrel to keep breathin,' I would recommend keepin' it under control."

"And last..." His smile faded, leaving his face a grim, unsympathetic mask. "There's always something to give, lass. Even if it's just yer life. So I suggest ya' think real fast, or outta the goodness of my heart I'll cut out yer tongue to keep it from gettin' ya' in more trouble."
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Lady Eko
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It was true that the Tarasian could beat Eko bloody and no one would give a damn. Perhaps a few, but none of them would want to throw their life away to save her -- and she wouldn't want them to -- so they didn't count. Eko thought now how stupid it was not to just run away. Especially since Trapper was insistent on getting something from her, like he was obsessed with reciprocity. There was the money in her arms, of course. That was why she had laughed a bit while giving her near-sarcastic comment about having nothing to give. She really did have nothing to give. More specifically, she had nothing she wanted to give him.

It was only when Trapper insulted and threatened her dog that Eko's face started to show hints of anger. Nothing significant, but the words were enough for her to solidify her opinion of this foreigner. She committed the face and name of Trapper to her memory. Then, still taking steps backward, the Balefiren girl pressed her lips together and made a shrill, high-pitched whistle. As a puppy, Eko taught Ansha only three formal commands, ones which she thought were the most important for her to know: stay, stop it, and run away. The tone of this whistling command was distinct. Ansha bolted, and Eko followed.
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Trapper
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The girl reacted with commendable discipline, showing no signs of fear or worry despite the crossbow pointed at her. It was rare to meet someone so young with so much motivation... or dispassionate disregard for their own life. He could learn to respect that attitude, if she hadn't been an insufferable pain thus far. Trapper watched her calmly, observing the emotions that flashed across her features. A moment later she whistled shrilly and turned, sprinting for the end of the alleyway with her dog in close pursuit.

Simmon snarled and took an instant to aim the hand crossbow at her departing form, firmly squeezing the trigger and launching the bolt down the street. The girl had already disappeared into the perpetual gloom of the city, leaving him with no way of knowing whether or not she had been hit. The ruffian glanced at Largo, who had not fired, and raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry. The bodyguard shrugged, making no excuse for his failure to shoot at the girl and her dog.

"Suit yerself. Let's get out of here. At least tonight wasn't a complete waste of time." He turned his head and spat in the general direction of Iksal's corpse, reloading the hand crossbow automatically without even looking at the weapon. He never went anywhere in Balefire unarmed. "Make sure that lass doesn't try to follow. If ya' see her, kill her." With that he led his lieutenant down the alleyway, eyes roving the alleyway and searching for further threats.
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