Private Out with their eyeballs

[Rou Stonewall]

A shit hole. It truly was one shit hole after the other with this damn place.

Disgusting pay, horrible beds in every inn she dared enter and worst of all - every pub she walked into and gave a few copper pieces two, the ale seemed to get worse and worse.

It had been pissing rain for about two days now, without sign of it coming to a stop. One would swear the gods are trying to drown me... - the half breed thought as she leaned against a wall in a dark, musty alley way.

She took her chances here to empty out her water logged boots, one of the few places outdoor with an inch of shelter from the water raining down all round.


Rou had had enough, more then enough. She had been screwed over for months now and the lid she kept screwed on tight of her temper was slowly starting to loosen. If the assasin had been in a city could of atleast gotten into a ring, loosed the pressure she felt building behind her eyes and even made some money.

But she wasn't in a city, she was in a shit hole whilst the pulsing in her head grew louder.

 

[Diaz]

A shit hole with a big prize.

Went by Donley Trickheart.

Pissed off one too many people sleeping around with the wrong peoples people. Did not stop there either. Took more than he should have. More often than he should have. And left debts all around.

Was only a matter of time until someone dealt with him.

Or so the prayer went.

While Donley himself wasn't worth a damn, other than the trouble he caused, Trickheart was a known name in Telephasa, on account of Terrance, the Trick, Trickheart. Old con man had won himself so many fucking coins running schemes on people he had turned himself into a real somebody, with the sort of real muscle real somebodies had behind them.

Only Donley? Well, he never learned too much from his da.

So there Diaz was. Tailing the fucker. Slinking like a mangy dog through the Old Town district. Place looked like an Imperial ghost, come raise a block up in the memory of their youth. All stout square buildings and cracked walls.

Puddles flooded in the streets. And most people stayed inside.

Not Donley.

Fucker walked around like he was untouchable. All laugh and giggle under the parasol of his bodyguard.

Now that was the real problem. Herold the Hatchet. Big as the brick walls he walked by. Two old axes hung from his hips.

Would be a mess to deal with that guy. More work than it was worth.

So. Just wait, and watch for now. In the pouring rain.