Legend of Ransera

Hahseu, Kalzasi
85th of Searing, 124 of Steel

"...feeding ssssstrayzsss..."

The Rathari woman, too serpentine even in her zoan to pass as anything but what she was, chided him from the shadows of her cowl.

"Well, I fed you," he said, smirking up from where he had taken a seat on a relatively clean bit of the ground in order to coax the mutt closer with questionable bits of meat he had purchased legally from the vendor it had been eying greedily. "You've stuck around, and I don't mind at all."

She hissed her discontent, but she was always somewhat coldblooded. She probably shouldn't have stuck around now that he was largely a top-side dweller, but Elwes kept him appraised of what was going on down below, and he made sure she had anything she needed. Not everyone down here knew her face, strangely beautiful, Aurin had always thought, but most knew her hooded form and its swaying gait, knew Elwes could fence anything and, it was whispered, kill anyone, but that could just as easily have been slander.

It didn't hurt to be seen as dangerous, though.

Aurin wore his own face here. He had lived down here before he clawed his way to the surface. It wasn't like people down here would recognize him as the impresario at the Golden Peacock Theater. They knew a realer version of him, who, like Elwes, could get them things for a price, and make people disappear for a price, as well. Aurin still had a reputation as someone who knew what was going on, secrets, and such.

"The key?" she asked significantly.

"Still safe," he assured her. "Under heavier and heavier wards as I get better at making them. Hidden someplace difficult to find, as well, and nobody has access to it even if they knew it existed. The place. Or the key, I guess. Any other whispers or..." He barked an ugly laugh. "...screams about the Mad King returning?"

"No," she said, and he thought he saw the flicker of a tongue tasting the air, but they were in the shadows.

"Got your pendant at all times?"

"Yesssss."

"Good. If shit goes south, I can get you out. If I'm in town. If I'm not, Rivin's good enough to get down here and get you out with the traveling trick."

"I know the gargoyle."

"Even if things get too heated down here. Don't want you cooked in a slow boil. I can glamour you up and nobody will know who you are unless you want them to."

"Thissssss is my home, Aurin."

"I know, and I don't care. If your home gets too dangerous, I'm pulling you out and into my home."

She hissed, but did not disagree. She didn't have a death wish; she was just more comfortable in her old haunts. After a moment, she turned and left without a fare-thee-well. He was not offended, knowing she had a meet planned in the Old Bazaar and he didn't want to cramp her style. If he didn't know where she was headed, he wouldn't be offended. They were long past that stage.

"There's no more," he said to the dog, showing his hands, already a bit dingy just from existing down in the Midden for a few hours. He had a few hours to kill before he figured he would meet up with Elwes again. If he couldn't dig up some secrets on his own, he could at least take the pulse of the people down here. He was surprised they hadn't bubbled up and demanded more from the surface than they had, but he supposed the powers that be in Myria Manor were keeping the lid on.

Aurin strolled through the market, mostly killing time, though his ears were always perked up for interesting things to hear and to know. The mutt followed him, and from the way it kept to his ankles, he assumed it was used to getting kicks in the market and was banking on people thinking it was with him. Smart mutt, he thought, but he sighed. He was going to have to figure something out or he would feel bad. Of course, he would never admit to such feelings, but... fuck.

He paused amid the crush, alert for pickpockets; he wasn't dressed richly, but he was clean and that alone made him a mark for some. He could have glamoured soot stains and worse, but hadn't bothered.

Reading the dragonborn's sign and smirking at the corrections, he nodded approval. The kid seemed to have found himself a niche.

"How's business?" he asked.

He also reached into his clothes, reaching through a hidden tear in reality, and pulled a battered bowl from his cottage in the alley behind the Velvet Cabaret up above. He offered a copper and the bowl.

"Could I get three ladles, please? Promised my friend here lunch."

It wasn't meant as slander; fit for people, fit for a dog, though. He supposed beggars might gather if they saw his largesse, but, well, so be it. The purveyor of chow might be smart enough to keep his ears open, and Aurin would pay for secrets, sometimes even for news he didn't know. Elwes' attentions were sometimes specific and Aurin liked to widen his net.

"Thanks," he said drily, for the 'compliments' and the slop. The dog didn't seem to mind the quality; first treats and now a more substantial meal, and she was one happy bitch. It didn't take much, simple creatures.

"Used to live down here. Managed to claw my way out a few years back, but my girl... She won't come with me. Sentimental or some shit. So I come down and visit her." He paused, then clarified, perhaps humorously, though that was subjective. "She's not the dog."

Aurin was worldly enough he could recognize a dragonborn and wasn't likely to stare. The kid seemed to have hit the dragonborn version of awkward adolescence; he hoped for his sake it didn't last longer than a normal person's. Adolescence had been a bitch, at least back in Cathena City, but he didn't like to think about that too much; it made him paranoid.

"Never met anyone from Myria Manor," he mused, glancing back toward the 'palace' of the Hahseu's nominal overlords. "Not down here, not up there. I wonder if there are enough of us to storm the bastille..." He couldn't truly be considering that. Probably.

"Anything I'm missing down here?" he asked. "Rumors? More than rumors? Particularly nasty things coming out of the Waterworks to eat perfectly innocent dogs?" He fished a silver coin out of his ratty coat and held it out. Secrets were more valuable to him than food, even during the food shortages of the eclipse. The dog looked up, whether curious about these 'particularly nasty things' or hoping instead of silver, he would produce more dried, delicious meat.

Aurin paid close attention to the 'nothing' that the dragonborn kid knew and deigned to share. Between that and the sharp eye watching Aurin's back was enough for him.

"Well, the soup is orgasmic," he said with a laugh. His voice dropped, his smile sharpening into a smirk. "Thanks for the heads up, but I know." The hairs on the back of his neck were raised, and even if they weren't, he had his Rune of Semblance resonating on a steady supply of aether so he was more aware of his surroundings than most.

"I'd give you a better tip if that wouldn't make you their target in future, but if you have a hidey hole, I can make a drop-off there. We could also set up a side hustle if you'd like. Coin or better quality drugs from up top for information. Not trying to send you off asking questions that could get you hurt, but keeping your eyes peeled and your ears open, right? Like you have to do just to survive down here. I can make that worth your while."

He could also have Elwes keep an eye on him, which would ensure some physical protection, but he didn't want to talk about that.

Myria Manor did seem to be the problem here. Granted, food had been scarce during the Eclipse, even with the powers that be using magic to increase yields. Some of those Senue farms could feed these people, filtered through their Myria magistrate, but no...

In any case, even his oldest clothes these days were too fine for Hahseu, and he was going to have to get better at glamouring them to seem worse. More illusory dirt, even a bit of a stench, perhaps; the better to fit in.

But Aurin was no folk hero attempting to uplift the masses. That didn't mean he didn't see the hypocrisy of the powerful. He was prone to offering clever kids a hand, though; he had been one of those clever kids, except when he was a dumb ass. He was still sometimes clever and sometimes a dumb ass. Perhaps one's core nature was immutable, after all.

"You know, assuming I survive the growing mob." He smirked.