Your ship approaches the rendezvous point. The sleek lines of the [i]Wages of Sin[/i]--Pasha Arlox's private yacht--hang in the void, right where you were told it would be. Its glossy hull reflect the blackness of space and the pinpricks of distant stars, but pulsing lines of color along its vertices pick it out from the background. It flashes its transponder as you get into range, confirming its identity; apparently, the Pasha has already established your identity to their satisfaction.

Arlox's hands are clasped behind their back as they wait on the other end of the airlock. The Pasha is a small person, and the towering guards flanking them on either side don't exactly make them look any taller. Long, expensive-looking robes hide everything else except their head; their face is finely featured, and while their eyebrows have been shaven--hair replaced by a series of silver and gold piercings--jet-black hair falls in a straight line down their back, all the way to their waist. At face value, not a very impressive sight--but you notice that the guards, who are quite impressive-looking, show clear deference to this diminutive figure.

"Ah, the [i]Cerberus[/i]," a musical voice greets you onto their ship; Arlox's mouth curls up in a slight smile. "Good hunting, I take it?"