Spooks an' Geist an' Spooks again

Roit, then.

I nab a bit mo' brains-n-barmy then mos' me, uh- unsavory mates. 'ate ta piss me kin 'an all, but it truth.

Yah, I 'ear tale o' giest come 'auntcha arse iffin ya piss 'em whenney die, that. Oy, 'ear alotta that I do. Ya ken stories old wives in me work, then. Moit be geist commatcha from grave. They moit be dwerven' melt stone wiffer eyes an' gems inney sheiss. They moit be fish o' gold grant wishes ya throw 'em back, that. They moit be wee folk 'oos piss turna gold iffin a roit good worthy pot catch its.

Mos' spooks I ken do th' tricks, wot. They na' th' Weirding spooks, they sheisster spooks. Wots at mate? Ya kip a gold from me ear? 'Ows that, then? Ya ken wot me card from a deck, that? Oy! There no rabbit innat 'at? What parta ya soul ya sell fo' tha' power?

Oy. Anney call me a scoundrel.

They na' Weirding spooks. I work tha Weirding spooks. Weirding spooks na better. 'Owzzat, mate? Ya make flames an ya word all loud? Y' mus' rival 'Is Excellency. Oy, a wild pig fromma earf? Ya master demons?

Yeh, th' Weird spooks got th' power, roit, but they still be spooks. It the next step, that. Fake tricks made wif nuffin, then real tricks made more. Not all spooks that, roit? But it work us clueless lot, why na' then? 'Ell, if I make me knickers glow I be Oy, run from me demon seed!

An' now I inna 'ouse from o' one of me spook mates. Annis pop-pop or uncle or wot be th' 'ead spook. An' they voices and geists an that.

But.

'Is uncle already flash us Weirding trick wiffa talkin voice. 'Is weirding shiesster trick smoke already make one o' us (onnat ken 'e smart that), think 'e all magicked cross space, then.

Oy.
Then there that.
'Oppin' through magic space fog me arse, gub'nah.
But 'ell.
Me good side na pop as much, but some timmat shine, it do. I already threatena kill 'em once then, an I make 'e butta joke at that. Think 'e jus' try look all blue-blood wiffis magickoport or wot story.
Aye, that I speak. I sha stop miffin' Salbadore, that. Shook 'is shite 'nuff I did. But Highaboves, it fekkin' fun.

Keeper

I stumble outta th' woods, barely keepin' track wi' th' lass. Whicha roit bitch job, tha'. If I no' see 'er, I no' ken she at. She na leava branchfall, that.

She take me outside I tol' Womblie stay. I turn ask 'er take care o' 'er... uh, bird-bugger-thing a tic. She 'appy ta 'op off. I ken she done wot that any'ow, flighty bird.

I turn ta th' cave.

I neva ken wotta father feel, that. Na' 'avin' me own, I go' nuthin at it. Na' sure wo' I feel be th' father that, bu' I got a roit fekked knot me belly.

Na wunner pop split.

Suicide King

I crouch down asida carraige. I make I looka th' carriage wheel. I taka sippa me flask, 'nother.

Na' roit wot I 'bouta do. But sometime a berk got watchis' back. Sometime a berk got be a roit arse-ol'.

Th' others gonna pisser. Tima me move.

I hop ina carraige.

"Got a tick, mate? 'Ave a few 'quiries fo' ya brain box, I do."

Pleased to have a receptive ear for his ministrations, Salbadore can only respond, "Aye, Markus! What would you ask?"

Oh yeh, 'e na there I tellim' me name.

"Roit then," Mercurio says, smiling while he shifts himself in the cart. He reaches into his cloak and takes a dagger from somewhere. He uses it to pick his fingernails. "Ya smart bloke, that," he says, "Ya ken me gutterspeak. Ya know wo' we mean by rat, do ya that?"

That dirk-nail trick, ol' one. Not one'a me proud of. Good tessa see 'ow blue blood this berk at. Iffe shittisself, we bad. 'E all yes-yes, thenne turn me 'fore the streak go allaway uppis back. I lucky, this berk got some balls, at that. Or 'e clueless.

Salbadore throws up his hands. "Oh on a tied, blue tongue -" He shakes his head and sighs with melodramatic resignation. "Of course I do. What is your point going to be?"

Mercurio laughs, "Roit good answer," he says, waving his dagger around. He nods toward it. "Na' think thisa work, that" he says, placing the dagger back into the folds of his cloak.

He smiles. "I jus' wanna light th' dark fo' yeh. I go' no beefa 'Is Emperor. I na' traitora throne, nor any that dog jizz."

Th' ol' card 'ands comin' out. We friendly like-like. I almos' drop me 'and. I got th' jitters. Yeh, this bloke rat one'a us out, 'es still one'a 'Is Excellency's students. I ken 'e piss-ass rank, that, bu' 'e still one'a em. Me dirk 'and shake a' th' las' thought. I 'ope 'e na ken it.

Nuffa this shite, tima be th' flyin' cock.

*swish*tunk* Before Salbadore can speak, the wood next to Salbadore's head splinters as a dagger now rests within it. Salbadore's eyes bulge and Mayna leaps in surprise, spitting and cawing. She crackles angrily.

Got th' fekkin fear. Fek! Sheiss-Fekkin' Bird! Na! No distraction! Na tima stop, play me cards.

Mercurio glares at Salbadore, his voice taking a strange, ominous, and very uncharacteristic tone. "But if you rat me out like you did Laurie, I will kill you."

It come cool, come easy. Na' sure iffat gooda no. Na tima think, go!

He does not break eye contact as he takes the daggers out from the wall and replaces it into his cloak. He speaks with uncharacteristic clarity. "You understand me . . . gub'nah?"

Salbadore: "Sh-sh-sheiss- yeh. Kenned."

I thinka tic ta say somefinelse. Na, tima go.

Fekk, I 'ope this dunnae bite me inna arse.

Party for your Right to Fight

Mercurio makes the rounds of his mates, old and new, before rejoining the party in their special caravan.

Of Noble Fools and Foolish Nobles and All Those In Between

Markus curses silently to himself as he realizes his flask is empty.

Running With the Devil

Shortly after the events seen here, Markus pauses at the main path back to Corcoran. He pretends to catch his breath as the townsfolk arrive. He is surprised to see all four eventually followed. He turns to them as he speaks. "Yeh, mates. We made it! Guess th' weird mumbo-jumbo magic not kill us, aye?" He looks back at the direction they came. "Sheiss, I may needa go back. Th' wizard is me meal-ticket and all. Oy, ya gimme a heads up wot all 'appen since I- er... strategically moved? Anythin' weird? I guess no' since we all two legs an' not catchin' flies wit our tongues, yeh?"

He wipes his forehead and looks up at them for a response.

My Gambit is a Kick in the Neck.

I think I won this hand.

Either that or I didn't.

No matter what, this bloody fun. There four of us here, see. Two of the folk here are highers ups in rival factions. I won't say they factions are as organized as a "family business," (if ya know what I sayin) but I think they way more than a mere gang. This card game mean a lot more to them than the silver on the table. Then there's me. Got a few aces up me sleeve, I do. Not literally, sadly. The main one that these buggers don't know my leg is in a good position to kick this table up into the air. That and I run bloody hell fast. Also, the Big Two ain't focused on me or the other guy.

Then there that other guy. This bloke either a sad sod or the bravest, sneakiest berk I seen. He don't realize, or don't act like he realize, that he sittin near this bright decorative shield behind his head. I know it cliche, yeah, but I seen his cards good. I ain't sure the other two can, but I ain't sure they can't. Second, he sittin' close one of the angry lots at our table. Bad close. Dangerously close. He do anything wrong he get a shiv to the lung before he even noticed. Then again, maybe he just askin' for it. Maybe he got his own set o' secrets that he waitin' to plunge into Those Two.

And into me.

Shite, I hope I can run fast enough.

We at our final hand. Things lookin ugly between... well, between everyone. Thankfully, I'm last to show. Thug One and Thug Two both have bloody impressive hands. I lower meself in the chair to give this table better leverage. Clueless Bloke wipes us all clean with a rather suspicious hand. Things look quite ugly but at least I think I'm forgotten. Small potatoes and all. This table might not need ta take to air.

Glares from Thug One, Thug Two and Clueless. Clueless seems content, the thugs keep glaring back and forth at each other. I hear the sound of weapons unsheathed, but no one is taking action.

I hear the conversation die down. I foolishly think it cuz everyone looking our way. I don't hear the unique sound of Military Issue Boots hobblin' inta this dive.

The table flies into the air (not my doing this time). Steel is drawn. Shouts. Military Issue Boots (there lots of em) start shouting. Some folk say that good thieves thankful for the City Guard as they a great distraction. I now know what they mean.

The proverbial shite hit the fire. Guards shouting at the thugs. Clueless all but gone ghost. Which precisely what I doing. Most folk say I'm a really good outspoken berk, but I can be a calm, casual, blend-into-the-background sod when I need to.

Outside, on the way down the street, another guard before. Hell, someone musta really fingered this place. He accost me, ask what I doing here. He don't know I can speak the Proper Talk when I needs to.

"Thank the stars you're here, sir! I was just on a stroll of the local district. I happened to have, a-heh, gotten myself lost a bit and wandered in to this- this... area. If you would to please direct me to the nearest safe haven away from these mountebacks I would be in great serv-"

He don't wanna hear it. He tell me move on an' I do. He probably think I be a normal berk who just happen to look for some easy love. And then I all shamed and pretend not ta be here for that now that they caught me.

I wouldn't say tonight a loss.
I wouldn't say it a win.
Though, I think it be quite some time before folk ask were the money on the table went off to. Time enough for it ta be spent.