"When the oblivion gates opened, one ended up bursting forth in the very center of Skaven. I was a young boy, but old enough to remember. I was orphaned after that, and learned to steal and eventually..." He tried to find a kinder word for it. "...kill people, and I ended up in a bandit group a few years ago. We called ourselves the red talons, or Rahid did, but he always had ideas too big for his ability. Anyway, his second, Behoon, ended up betraying us to a lord whom we recently robbed. He lured my fellows and I into a trap. They all lost their heads, but I escaped, beat Behoon to death with their heads, and then left all the remains on the mat of the lord's bedroom." 

He almost took a drink, but realized that would indicate he was lying or not answering in a satisfactory manner. He would wait, the night was still young. He saw her looking at him, and he shrugged. Despite the horror, he was charming about it. "I... well, I did not wish to lie. Anyway, I was tired of being chased and wanted to start something new, and so I headed north. I didn't have the coin to go by ship, and they also have those [i]pesky[/i] lists. So I've just been traveling for half a year, until I made it here. Lucky for you too. Not often you get a handsome thief with skills like mine and he's looking for a partner." 

"Now, let me ask you a probing question..." He said, pondering for a moment, before looking up at the ceiling. "What is your greatest desire?" He smiled. "No, I'm not flirting with you. Not yet, anyway." 

[hr] 

Marcel Gross tossed a chair, the item noisily clanking against the wooden floor. He ran a hand over his sweaty forehead and sighed, vainly trying to calm himself down. The clearing of the mine was a good thing, he had to remind himself. But it had been a kick in the teeth when that bouncy girl and the redguard walked in and collected the money right after the town had been ransacked. It's one step forward after four steps back. He needed that money more than ever, but a deal was a deal, and he had to hand it over. Grabbing his pint, he set back down at his desk with an audible grunt, organizing his paperwork so he knew where he was next going to conduct the relief efforts when the front door opened. 

A man wearing a black cloak stepped in, a nondescript short brimmed hat hiding his face. It was difficult to say if he was nord or imperial, or even breton. 

"What do you want?" The Alderman asked testily, hardly looking up from his desk. 

"Heard about the attack. Wanted to know if there was something I could do about anything else." The faceless man said. "Word has it the mine is infested with goblins. The lads and I can help with that, maybe." 

Marcel groaned. "No, someone already got that today. Two of them." He flipped a page so violently it flew out of his pudgy hand. 

"Just two of them? Interesting. And where are they?" The stranger inquired. 

"No idea. Thanks for the offer, but that's all I got for you. Unless you want to find the slaver bastard." Marcel remarked, but the man was already gone.