The Mad Queen was a sight to behold.

Bedecked in candles and phosphor lamps, it shone like a fallen star on the beach. Denizens of Old Rose were crawling all over the beach, drunk and cheerful; most weapons had been put away in honor of Clock's Eve, which, although it was a galdori holiday, was a grand excuse to get knackered.

The top deck of the Queen was packed with customers, eating, drinking and playing cards; the entire boat creaked with the weight of the crowd. Down in the hold, the Plank was swarming with drunks and merrymakers. Playful fistfights, sporting rather than martial, were taking place on every available patch of sand. Most of the space was taken up by many loud, rowdy men, who danced on the tables and sang lewd songs with not-so-subtle innuendos.

Lurking in all corners, the Bad Brothers kept a watchful eye on the main table, where Silas Hawke sat among scores of minions, his broad-brimmed hat over his eyes and a smirking smile on his face. He did not eat or drink, but instead was playing dice with whomever approached him.

Nivious Lumen entered the tavern, almost skipping with the spirit of the holiday. He hummed softly to himself as he looked around the place, smiling at all the drunked happiness. He would drink, too, but not to the excess everyone else seemed to enjoy. Upon ordering Gioran Whiskey, he searched the place for an empty table, and found that most were being danced upon, and the vast majority of the ones that weren't were filled already with gamblers.

There was one available table, though, and it was occupied by one Silas Hawke. Nivi had always had a certain respect for the crime lord, but never imagined himself having any sort of dealings with the man. Oh, well... He sighed, and approached the table. "'Ello, mind if I 'ave a seat?" He smiled.

Hal was having a great night, thus far. He was in the company of his leader and was getting some of his first sips of ale. Though "company" probably wasn't the best term; he was sitting halfway across the Queen from the fellow, off near the Plank, where drunkards kept bumping into him left-and-right. He just made note of the plastered pirates for future reference.

But a newcomer caught his eye. Hal didn't exactly know everyone in town, but he could spot an Ol' Roser a mile off; in the same way he could spot an intruder. The fellow didn't sit right with Hal; perhaps it was his unnaturally pale appearance and red eyes, or perhaps it was just the way he sauntered up to Silas.



All familiar-like. Hal glared at the pale boy and looked to his master for his response or command, ready to stand and fight the whole tavern if need be. Only then to realize that he had already stood up, sloshing his drink and knocking back his chair with the force.

Silas Hawke ignored Nivious completely; his presence did not even seem to register within the wick's mind. Several others at the table, however, laughed and clapped the boy on his back.

"Oy, this kid wants a game!" said one particularly gruesome-looking pirate, grinning around a series of piercings in his lower lip. "You know the stakes, son?"

"Calm yerself, Hal," said a large thug beside him, placing an enormous meaty hand on the table to indicate that he should sit back down. "This's the safest place in the whole clockin' world right now, righ'?"

A gruesome-looking pirate, indeed, the same sort of filth Nivi was used to seeing in Old Rose. He smirked a little and took this as an invitation, and had a seat. "What are the stakes, then?" He took a swig of his Gioran Whiskey, before setting it on the table in front of him.

"What have you got?" wheezed an elderly pirate. His friends let out a not-so-friendly sort of chuckle. The table went subtly quieter, if Nivious were to notice that sort of thing.

Nivi cocked his head to the side, very slightly, pulled a sack from his pocket, and yanked the drawstrings, spilling the coin into his hand. It would ammount to about nine shills and five tallies. He knew it wasn't really a whole lot. It was money he'd saved for a time when he'd ever want any sort of trinket- but trinkets weren't his thing. He had all he really needed. Gambling, on the other hand, was his thing. So why not have a little fun?

The pirates and thugs stared at the pile of coins. A few nervous chuckles bubbled and surfaced. The dark man in the wide-brimmed hat could be seen to smile thinly, his face half-shadowed.

"You bring overworld currency to my table," observed Hawke, in a surprisingly slow and gravelly voice. "What use is this galdori money to me?"

"Ain't worth nothin'," guffawed a beefy man at the table opposite Silas'. "Might as well be chicken feed."

"You have a thing of value that you have not offered," continued the wick; his yellow eyes glinted. "Do you truly wish to play?"

Finally, that flicker of fire burning him, slight annoyance, mostly directed at himself. Irritation that he'd not thought this through. He'd already known he didn't have any sort of underworld currency. Why bother trying? But he was used to the up-turned noses at his presence, so it shouldn't really have mattered to him. He managed to keep a straight face, and let out a low, slightly bitter chuckle, "Right, sorry for waisting your time, sir." He swept the coin back into his bag, picked up his drink, and got up to leave. Perhaps he could join the dance party, or try his luck at a duel, or maybe enterain someone with a few good drinking songs.

People moved aside as she walked. A golly? Here? At times the racial stigma really bit into her nerves. It was so annoying to have to deal with these kinds of things every time she wanted to go somewhere of ill repute.

The Mad Queen was really decked out tonight. It reminded her of Clock's Eve in years past. People danced, sang, and played; it was all so familiar. It had to have been at least five years since she had been here during the festival. It was like walking into a dream.

Angel was dressed in a form fitting, ankle-length red dress with slits down either side. Sequence sparkled in the light of the phospher lamps and flicker candles. While the slits may be slightly revealing, she'd never wear anything that would constrict her movement. Seeing how some looked at her, she was glad she was prepared--and that weapons were not allowed. Although she certain that certain others had concealed weapons or, in the case of Silas Hawke, illegal magic.

She moved smoothly toward the crime lord's table, never glancing to the worms that reveled to either side of her. Approaching the table, the woman caught the conversation and smiled. Putter her hand on Nivi's shoulder as he rose, she slammed her palm into the table next to the the boy. Picking it up, she upturned a small velvet pouch and spilled it's contents, coins with Hawke's face stamped into them.

"Here, use these. I'm in a particularly generous mood, and it's a holiday isn't it?" She cast a quick smile at Nivi. "Just don't disappoint."

"You misunderstand me," said Silas quietly, not taking great pains to make sure that he was heard but directing the comment to Nivious. "I have no use for money. You approached my table for a reason. Why?"

His eyes flickered up to glance at Angel, but he didn't seem to recognize her.

Nivi flinched, his hair standing on end. His natural instinct was to either run, or push her away and prepare to fight. This golly had her hand on his shoulder. If she so chose, she could have easily cast a number of nasty spells on him. He felt his heart panicking, hammering- almost painfully- in his chest. He glanced down at the coin, then back into her eyes. But she was being nice, as far as gollies go, but what was the catch? There was always a catch. Maybe she wanted to use him to earn her double the ammount? Maybe if he did, she would let him keep some of it- doubtful, but as she said, it was a holiday.

He forced a smile- it looked more like a grimmace- and nodded stiffly, "Thank you." His voice cracked. He lowered himself back down in his seat, turned back to the crime lord. His lips twitched into another simle- this one real- as he contamplated the possiblity- however thin- of winning. Gambline was all a game of chance, though he wouldn't put it past these men to cheat, to use loaded dice. It didn't matter, though, he would have fun.




"..." And there again was the nervous tightening of his stomach, of course, there could have been many reasons to approach. What did Silas know that he wasn't letting on? The corners of Nivi's mouth twitched. He had been looking for a new job, prior to the spirit of the holiday. When he approached the table, he'd only intended to have a drink, possibly converse, play a game of dice or three.

Ah, bother, what sort of mess did I just get myself into? Was there something better to be gained, here? "You have something you want of me?" No, that was silly, stupid to word it like that, he rephrased, "Is there something I can do for you, a job of some sort?" He cleared his throat. He had no idea what was going through the wick's mind. If there was such a job offer- not likely- he could do some sneaking and snooping, he could do with the extra money. He had wanted to join the Bad Brothers in the past. If not, he'd just come off like a total idiot. The crime lord was scaring him, almost as much as the galdor had, it made him stumble over his thoughts, and his words. Made him confused. Perhaps he should not have approached the table in the first place.

Hal settled back down into his chair, turning to his fellow brother, "I know that. But 'e just finks 'e can waltz right up to Silas 'imself. I wasn't even stupid enough to do that." Hal remembered bouncing from tier to tier as he gained more trust among the ranks. Everything was uncertain then, until he finally reached Silas and was accepted as a permanent member of the band.

He kept his eyes on the pale boy, memorizing his face for future reference. And to make sure he didn't try anything funny. He watched as a woman in a red dress provided the boy with underworld currency, and was momentarily distracted. That was quite the dress she wore, and he was a fourteen year-old boy, after all. He drew his attention back to the boy when Silas spoke, the boy responded,



Hal smiled to himself as the boy stumbled over himself. At least by the time that he had reached Silas he had enough confidence to speak like a human being. Hal looked to Silas for his answer, hoping that he would turn the boy out on his ear.

"Ugh," Angel sat down on the table and crossed her legs. "When did you become such a stiff, Silas? If you have no need of money, then you shouldn't be opposed to having a little fun and gambling." She sighed. He sounded like he smoked too much of the opium he traffics. His voice was much much more gravelly than she remembered. She delicately moved her hair from in front of her right eye to behind her ear and cocked her head at Hawke.

Hawke's eyes moved slowly over to Angel. Surveying her face, his mouth twitched into a momentary smile before he raised his left arm and snapped his fingers.

Two large thugs seemed to melt out of the sides of the ship. Dressed all in black leather armor, they looked more built for brute strength than stealth. They grabbed Angel's forearms roughly and dragged her up.

"Happy Clock's Eve, love," said Silas, waving his hand dismissively. The thugs began to drag Angel towards the exit. They were strong, almost superhuman; she could smell their sweat and salty skin. From what she could see, they bore the passive mark on their shoulders.



"You obviously want to gamble," said Silas, turning back to the boy. "What is more humane than a struggle between employment and destitution? Sit, and play. A win will get you the gold to feed a city for a week." His white teeth appeared then, long and straight. "An intrepid lad. Get him a drink, boys."

A rough-cut mug, filled with a liquid that smelled like turpentine, appeared beside Nivious as though placed their by magic.

With a wink, Angel said farewell to Silas. "Oh, don't worry, I'll be back shortly," she called to him over her shoulder. "Unless I find something else of interest in the mean-time."

As the two lumbering hulks walked her away toward the door, she comment to them about the social situation. "You know, in my day, a man knew how to treat a Lady. Even here in Old Rose. A man would fling himself to protect her honor, not to carry her away. If you two weren't so cute, I think I would have put up a fight. Maybe that says something abou--" She suddenly cut off and began speaking in monite. The spell she had in mind was Anesthetic. Hopefully, the spell would make them weaker and lower their defenses.

After she finished the spell--regardless of its success or failure--she put all her weight on them and sent a kick to each of their groins at once. Not for the first time, she was thankful she had chosen a dress that allowed her such mobility.

Angel's boot met with a distinctly metallic surface. There were two "pings" as her feet bounced off the underplating.

The Anesthetic spell worked on the passives' rather small brains, but even as they stopped moving, slow smiles spreading across their features, Angel felt a rather dark resonance behind her - a galdori field. It felt, and tasted, like swimming through a sea of ink.

"Is there a problem, miss?" said a polite voice. "Were these poor luggers bothering you?"

A tall, thin galdor stepped forward, patted the passive men on the shoulders, and turned them around with an unspoken spell, which Angel could easily recognize by its side effect - Push, at a rather advanced level.

The pale man smiled gently at her. He was not intimidating - rather the opposite, though his weak appearance belied his aggressive field. "I'm afraid this is a no-weapons zone. Perhaps you would like to accompany me to the top deck to discuss your business with the King."

Angel sighed, as her boots were ineffectively knocked aside. Great, they had looked really stupid too. Their mothers probably made sure they wore cups, damn mothers. But at least her spell worked. As she prepared to make her exit on her own terms, a distinctly intriguing presence appeared behind her. She felt the spell cast, a push--but at a much higher level than she had felt in a long time. A smile spread from ear to ear, 'Sorry Silas, I found something much more interesting.'
"Well, hero of mine, how could I possibly say no?" Her reply was a tongue in cheek. She completely realized her situation and knew that even if she had in fact said 'no' that she would probably be going somewhere with this mage, whether she wanted to or not.

((lol, angel.))

The galdor did not seem hesitant about throwing his magic around. With one sweep of his hand, the crowd parted, complaining, albeit quietly. "Since when did this place become bloody Brunnhold," muttered one peeved pirate.

"I am pleased to see another of my kind," said the man, offering a hand to help her up the stairs. "What is your name, if I may inquire?"

There goes that whole racial segregation thing again. It was too easy for her to forget that she was galdori. The only thing that set her apart from these bloody banders was her magic--which she used rather sparingly compared to others. However, she just couldn't help smiling as he parted the crowd with a wave of his hand. The man was certainly into theatrics.

At the stairs, she graciously accepted his hand, and her hair slipped in front of her right eye, again. She may act gruff, but to the hells if she didn't remember all that high toned, fancy, 'manners' crap they shoved in her head as a child. She looked up at him and smiled. "Angel."

((Gah! why does everyone post when I'm asleep?))

Nivi calmed himself down a little, relaxing back into his chair. He did feel much better without the golly hanging over him. She'd left the underworld money on the table for him, though he wasn't sure of that was her choice or not- she'd been dragged away rather quickly. He did wish they'd managed to get her out before the other golly came to her rescue. Stupid galdori.

He didn't touch the ale they'd set before him, not entirely sure he should trust it, and took another swig of the whiskey he'd gotten earlier. "Alright, then, let's go a round." He smirked, now, though he wasn't entirely sure why- some impulse that suddenly gave him confidence. Was it the ale? Surely he'd not had enough, yet, for that? It didn't matter. He had a good feeling, all of a sudden, and he would roll with it.

"Angel," repeated the galdor, smiling serenely. "My name is Lordan." His manners seemed impeccable, despite the company he kept.

As he reached the top of the stairs and looked around, Angel noticed a hideous scar marring the perimeter of his neck, almost as though he had been beheaded and then had his head sewn back on. It had been mostly hidden by his tall collar until now.

"Please, sit," he said, gesturing at an empty table, which only moments ago had been heavily occupied. Angel could see piles of golden overworld and underworld currency still scattered across the rough wood. Men and women around them began scooting their chairs away from the empty table, eyeing her and Lordan warily.

"Do you play Carrot?" Hawke said silkily, snapping his fingers once again. At once, a triangle of pyramid-shaped dice was set up on the table in front of the two men. He turned to Nivious, gesturing to the set-up.

"We begin with the base. Each die is rolled twice, once for each of us. After each row, the man with the highest points wins the round. The stakes become higher as we reach the tip, and the dice become more important, as individuals."

He smiled. It was not a very friendly smile - more like the smile of a hungry barracuda.

Nivious eyed the set up, and shook his head once, "I've heard of it, it sounds... simple enough." He shifted in his seat, making himself comfortable. He ignored Silas' barracuda-like smile- or was that a sneer?- and smirked right back at him. He waited for Silas to take his turn. He wondered- fleetingly- if Silas used loaded dice, or if he influenced the outcome with magic, but- as he did with Silas' smile- he ignored that thought.

Silas rolled the first die, and handed it to Nivious. "Four," said the wick softly.

The albino could see a scribe taking careful notes from across the table; he didn't feel the effect of any magic, and the die had bounced normally enough. "Your move, lad."

((I'll roll for you, if you don't have a four-sided die. We don't have to play each roll, though, since that would take a long time.))