Crane sat silently, listening to the Feral's remarks.<br/>"Nor am I.  I did not bring you here without reason.  Who<span style="font-style: italic">I</span>am is not important, but who<span style="font-style: italic">you</span>are is."  Crane stood from his bench, and it's metal framework instantly began to degrade without his touch.<br/>"I have a proposition for you.  You are strong, quick and silent.  You are also smart.  These are very... desirable traits.  I need someone like you for a special mission."  Crane fell silent as a pair of drunkards stumbled across the paved road ahead.  Silently he waited, before they exited from view.  The shrubbery around him obscured any further vision from passerby's.<br/>"A war is coming," Crane whispered harshly," Make no mistake.  It is my job to prevent it, but I cannot do it alone.  I need a mort-" Crane stopped, catching himself.  "An assistant.  I need an assistant to help me get some very highly classified missions done.  I've been sitting in that putrid cesspool the entire day without luck, at least until now."  Crane pulled a heavy sack filled with chips and chunks of gold from his cloak.  With a light toss, it landed at the Feral's feet.<br/>"In addition to preventing this war, there will be another matter at stake.  I will explain this as we go, as it is a little much to be said in a single conversation."  Crane stood, hands behind his back.<br/>"Do you accept?"