The Chant

[*Darkrob]

After watching the exchangeÂ…

“What can we do to help each other? Well, for starters… we can help each other. How long do think it will take for the Mercykillers and Harmonium to figure you out? A week? A month? Then what? You’re just another lost soldier to be toasted at our evening meal before another appears to take your place as a lone angel of death.

That would be a great waste for the chances of the people of this city. A month of showing the Reds real fearÂ… then a quickly fading memory. Hardly worth the effort in the great scheme of things. Alone you are a hornet to be avoidedÂ… and then swatted. But with familyÂ… as a HiveÂ… you are to be respectedÂ… feared. We have access to things that would make you much more successfulÂ… for much longer. Information on our enemies. Access to supply routes and black markets. Safe houses, escape routesÂ… we can even change your identity if they find you out.

WeÂ’ve broken people out of the prison and cut off their being hauled to the Barracks. WeÂ’ve even gone so far as to fund private projects and interests for members of our family.

There is much we can offerÂ…. But you have to be willing to accept it. Offers like this are rarely open ended. They usually vanish once you have made your choice if your choice is to reject it.

Â…And if you do reject itÂ… you are on your own. We will deny association with your actions. If your actions bring too much unwanted attention to us and our movementsÂ… we will ensure our family stays safe by removing that threat. So you would be forced to act on your own from all sides.

Support in a fight against the factions is essential to success. Fight with no support system in place… you can only hold back the tide for so long…”

[*Powderhorn]

"When I was first approached I made my position clear, nothing has changed," she says simply but firmly. "If you need it in so many words, then yes, I wish for us to be in mutual support. If you have a particular Mercykiller in mind that needs a very spectacular end, I have a notion in mind I wish to bring to fruition."

[*Darkrob]

*He nods*

"Very well then... mutual support. I don't expect you to hold any great amount of respect for myself or my family just yet. Respect is a valuable thing and must be earned, this much I know. So until that happens I will accept, and give, support".

He takes out a small copper emblem and sets it on the table.

"Now that my position is clear... have you any questions or concerns?"

[*Powderhorn]

"Don't mistake me, I respect the fact you all are still here, despite your leanings. However, you cannot expect me into a warm embrace with the lot of you without even looking at your faces. I understand the caution, mind you, but it seems written on your masks that you do not trust either myself, or each other. There can be no equality, no fraternity, when one holds another to disadvantage."

[*Darkrob]

There are eyes on the Eagle, indeed. From deep within the networks, from deep within the cells... people have taken notice. Those who can shake the reds up, get them edgy... have a habit of making things happen and making things happen... that's all the people need to shake this city up.

[*Powderhorn]

It's almost a week between the last strike of the Eagle and when she casually saunters into the Bottle and Jug. She doesn't say much, just asks for small beer, not even her usual drink. Her usual raggedy leathers and straw hat are changed for unremarkable traveling clothes, her bright red hair covered by a hood and cloak against the weather.

Still, she smiles to the patrons, and exchanges small talk with the drunk, and orders a beefsteak fit for someone twice her own size, as rare as it comes. Even still, she says nothing that would indicate her knowledge of current events, or who might be behind them. After all, who could she trust, beyond the man who brought her into the fold?

Could she even trust him?

[*Midnight]

The Jug is one would expect. full of strange creatures and noisy. As Levria makes her way to the bar she has to push herself past a scantly clad Jinkskirt trying to ply her trade with one of the patrons. The room is filled with smoke and the scent of devil weed. At the other end of the bar a man sits hunched over in a stupor. She is given a tankard of sludgy dark ale and not longer after a large slab of questionable grey veiny meat is brought out to her by a waitress who's make up can do nothing to hide her advancing years, the lines on her face and the gap where one of her yellow teeth is missing show she is used to live in the hive. As she is about to tuck into the first bite the barman calls over to her.

"Oi Berk! You forgot yer change Berk!"

He flicks a stinger over to her, the coin not from Sigil is presumably from a prime somewhere. The heads side of it that of some monarch Levria does not recognise. The tail side bares the likeness of an eagle. The man watches her intently.

[*Powderhorn]

She deftly catches the coin, the eagle on the coin staring at the Eagle sitting for a meal. She gives a small smirk to herself as she contemplates the thought, before nodding to the barkeep, thanking him.

She ambles over to the bar, saying "Still, perhaps another round before I leave," and slides the same coin across the counter, eagle facing upwards. "Perhaps something a little less dark and thick in nature, however."

[*Midnight]

The burly barman nods. He begins to pour an ale he hands it her. This one is a little clearer.

"Another ale? Aye, but you can't pay with that coin. That coin is better spent elsewhere."

Along with the ale he hands her a scrap of folded yellow paper.

[*Powderhorn]

"Are you saying my money is no good here?" she asks with a smile, slipping coin and paper into a small satchel on her hip. She slips a different coin onto the counter, and pouring down the drink with a practiced air, takes her leave before he can refuse it.

Some time later, the Eagle found herself camping by the waterfall in Brux, and, alone, finally read the note.