Lucius Marco was a card shark, plain and simple.

He made his devil's money conning gamblers out of their hard-earned Thrones at any table he could squeeze in on. He robbed them all blind and then made a quick getaway before anyone figured out Marco was a dirty, stinking cheater.

It wasn't a profitable business, Lucius had to admit. He'd make thrice as much if he put down the cards and used that mind of his for more legitimate work.

Card sharking was incredibly dangerous work too. More than one cartel in Novem Mundos wanted Marco's head delivered to them on a platter for stealing from them. Lucius had gotten into more fistfights, shootouts and chases than he could count- an impressive thing, considering how good Marco'd gotten at counting in his years.

Yet for all of it's faults, Lucius would never, ever do anything else. There was no feeling in the world like the rush he got sticking someone else's Thrones in his pocket. Nothing could compare to that exhilaration that came with robbing criminals, barons and drunkards with nothing more than some sleight of hand.

He felt that same rush now as he slapped his hand of cards down on the butcher's cart in front of him. Lucius grinned his terrible grin, showing off his shark's fangs to the other eight men seated around the cart. A chorus of curses sounded, followed by several other hands slamming down on the rickety wagon in disgust.

"Thanks for playing, lads." Marco chuckled, reaching into the cooking pot to take his hard-earned Throne Gelts. He stuffed them into the pockets of his dust-covered flight jacket, his gaze slipping over his victims as they began to disperse. Only, not all of them were leaving.

Two men sat side-by-side remained, whispering to one another. Though Lucius couldn't tell what either man was saying, he could see the malice dripping from their faces. [i]'Uh oh.'[/i] The Shark thought, his grin growing ever wider as he started to step away from the cart.

"Fare thee well!" He waved, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he backpedaled away. He hoped he could get a fair distance away before those two finished their conversation. Before he could get too far, he heard both of the men's chairs screech against the ground as they rose up to their feet. [i]'Throne be damned.'[/i] The Gambler groaned, spinning around as he quickened his pace. Maybe he could disappear into the Square's crowds and lose those two.

"Oi!" One of the men barked, prancing around the cart with surprising grace given his size. "Get back 'ere!" His partner in crime was shorter, but even fast, quickly gaining on Lucius.

Any chance of escaping this without a busted lip and emptied pockets dropped away when Marco broke into a sprint in one last bid to escape. His pursuers gave quick chase, throwing themselves after Lucius. The Shark pushed and shoved his way through the square, weaving through volunteer soldier and mercenary alike.

The chase was brought to a quick end when Lucius took a wrong turn and found himself stopped by a solid wall. "Shit!" He shouted, spinning around just in time to see the two other men breaking from the crowd.

"You fookin' cheated!" The bigger, more outspoken of the pair spat, an accusatory finger thrown toward Lucius as he began to walk forward. The Gambler retreated, his back smacking up against the wall behind him as he searched for some way to talk himself out of this mess.

"Hey, man, just- just calm down." Lucius held his hands up in front of him, trying to dissuade the giant farmer with a neck twice the size of Lucius's from beating him into a pulp. "I didn't cheat, I swear. I swear by the Emperor."

That didn't seem to convince the fellow as he got right up in front of Marco, his big, meaty hands shoving him back against the wall. Pain shot up the man's back as he let out a near-silent groan. "Come on, we're on the same side! Soldiers of the Imperium! We shouldn't be fighting each oth-"

Before he could get the words out, a fist filled his mouth.

The card shark went down, his hands hitting the grass as blood poured down from his lip onto his scruff-covered chin. "We're doing this, then. Nice." Marco grumbled, wiping his face with his sleeve as his other hand reached down into his pants. For a brief moment, he considered going for the auto-pistol tucked into his pants. But after deciding against it he chose to slide his hand over until he felt the familiar leather-wrapped hilt of his long knife.

It came screaming out of the sheathe like a bat out of hell, Lucius swinging it wildly toward the farmer's belly. He caught his shirt, tearing it and leaving behind a thin line of blood as the big guy lurched backward to avoid being gutted. "You little shit!" He roared, sending his boot forward to crash against the downed gambler's ribs.

Marco slashed the extended leg, forcing it backward so he could scramble up to his feet. By this time, the second unhappy customer was moving forward with his own fists raised. "Two against one, lads? I'm touched you care so much." Bringing his own fists up, the lanky man started bouncing between his feet to keep himself on his toes. 

[i]'Alright, Emperor, now's about the time you send one'a those guardian angels of yours to keep me from getting my ass beat.'[/i]