Shots in the Dark

[Syntaphar]

Dario Armando Ferrini, the infamous Prospero, scorned assassin of New Xexoria, was in a moment of repose at his favorite hangout, the Cheap Book Bar and Inn. This hangout in particular was his favorite because the people who knew him in that area were legion, and a legion was just the kind of influence he needed. At the moment, just after dusk, Dario could be found at the bar between shots, trying to get used to his current limbs. He paid most attention to his arms, the right the dextrous arm of a Xexorian snake handler, the left the strong arm of an Ulsterian construction worker. He had just gotten back from his other hidout in town, where he weaponized the arms by threading razor wire like twine all round his hands, making them as sharp as a newly forged blade. He was able to do this because after he had been cursed by the demon that saved his life, his limbs rotted quickly but felt little pain.

At that time, Dario simply was whiling away the minutes testing the reaction time and strength limits on his arms. Of course he had made sure, as always, the wear his long sleeved coat and leather gloves, owing to both the fact that his hands looked like he dipped them in a razor sharp spider web and the fact that both of his arms were drastically different skin tones, both to each other and to himself. And of course, the fact that the arms were different sizes entirely. Soon, he would grow bored of this and strike up a conversation with the bartender. Despite his boredom, he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

[Ramlock]

Another man would quietly enter the bar, his appearance somewhat exotic, but his mannerisms not strange enough to warrant huge attention. Tall and dark-haired, his face was marked with small and subtle angular tattoos that granted his face a certain reptilian appearance. His clothing was all black, from a thick pair of black sunglasses (worn poorly during the night) to a black scale armor shirt and a black coat that partially covered it. Dario would recognize the man, Komodo, easily- it was the man who had given him that fateful job that had wound up so poorly for him...

Komodo would move quietly up to Dario, sitting beside him on the bar seat. He didn't order anything, instead pulling out a small envelope and setting it on the bar, addressed simply to "Prospero." He would then speak quietly in his plain and emotionless voice, enough that no one in immediate proximity could hear, while general bar noise would obscure the conversation further.

"Dario. Another job. It's... A job especially well suited to you."

[Syntaphar]

Not usually a man quick to anger, upon the entrance of the very man that required him, indirectly, to make a deal with a devil or die of blood loss, Dario would crush his glass in his hand. He would pay no mind to the fact that blood was rushing out of his glove faster than was entirely healthy. However, being a man of professional decorum, he locked his rage inside to use at a later date. No matter his level of calm though, it would be drastically difficult to allow this man to sit next to him and pass him a new job, of all things.

"Good to see you again, sir." he would say, barely containing the acid in his voice, "Although I must say, my friends in this bar have heard of you. Luckily for you, i am strapped for cash, and so I will take your job. However, unluckily for you, my friends will not care to see you. I would say you maybe have five minutes, maximum to get out of the bar now. I don't care how conniving you are to have gotten into your occupation. There is a level of brute force against which no tactics can succeed."

Of course, Dario's friends were mostly casual, and although he had told them about Komodo with some disapproving feedback, he had no idea how people would react upon sight of the man himself. However, Dario had become rather good at bluffing through sheer practice. With an almost disgusted expression on his face, Dario would open the envelope placed before him and dump the contents on the surface of the bar, then take a casual look at whatever fell out.

[Ramlock]

"You're angry at me? You're the one who freely took my job, and didn't ever succeed at it, for that matter. And then you had your failure halted by my associate, as I recall..."

The envelope contained very little. A single piece of paper, with just a few words. Komodo was only delivering the paper, and he wasn't entirely sure what the job was himself. He just happened to be passing through, on his own mission. New Xexoria contained a lot of knowledge that had been taken from old Xexoria...

Meet Bruno. 6 Capra Avenue. Rhakotis, Xexoria. Further details will be provided there.

Komodo would grab some money from his pocket, enough to provide fare across the ocean, and dropped it on the bar. Standing, he would turn to the door, just as happy to leave, particularly when Dario seemed to have a personal grudge against him. Before he left, he spoke once more, in the same placid tone he always used.

"You should try to do better this time."

[Syntaphar]

Dario had half a mind to ply his trade upon Komodo at that very moment, but upon working through it in his head, he figured it wasn't worth either the legal consequences, or the possible injury. Instead, he would manage a grunt in response to his employer's insults. It was just more rage he could keep inside and let fester for use on a later date. Upon looking at the note he would sigh and gently pound the table. Or at least try for gentleness, apparently, as several bar patrons perked up and stared at him when his fist hit the table. Dario deftly and confidently ignored them.

"Xexoria, eh. Never did like the place." he would say to himself," Black clothing gets too hot in that climate." However, Dario would live, he thought, and so he'd make his way as fast as possible to his aprtment hideout. In a secret compartment of his black duffel bag, he'd hide some nostalgic weapons of his profession: two revolvers, some poison and muscle relaxant in syringes, a spool of razor wire and his trusty retractable razor wire garrote. In the non-secret compartment, he'd place a few changes of clothes and a good deal of money he had been saving up for travel. He had hoped to use it when he wasn't on a job, but that seemed to be a distant dream now. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he'd quickly arrange for travel to the nearest port, then to Old Xexoria, then to Rhakotis. Assuming uneventful travel, he would make good time to 6 Capra Avenue.