<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: verdana;"><strong>Darcoli</strong></span></span></span><br/><div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/64/DeadwoodCox.jpg)</div>Character Sheet (http://plothook.net/RPG/profiler/view.php?id=13649)<br/><hr/><br/>Darcoli sat on the edge of the polished cherry table kicking his feet back and forth. This was by far the nicest tavern he'd ever been in. He imagined some servant would be tasked, after he left, with removing all evidence that his soot-stained and smelly self had ever been here. They might even get rid of the table. It wasn't his fault -- they had nabbed him during his day job, surrounding him on the roof of the Sheltered Skunk and giving him no chance to parley or escape. They didn't give him a chance to ask questions, didn't even inform him why he was being picked up.<br/><br/>Now he knew. Septimus Finn. On a list of the top thousand people Darcoli would like to be on the wrong side of, Septimus Finn didn't feature. This was serious, almost serious enough to wipe away Darcoli's default dumb grin. The well-practiced expression had led many to underestimate him over the years. On the other hand, it had also led many to estimate him very precisely as a halfling with a certain lack of learning, though more than his share of common sense.<br/><br/>Common sense told him to just shut up. Blend into the background, as hard as it was to do when you stuck out like a pile of cow dung at the Queen's Ball. He accepted the heavy packet with the same fixed grin and flipped through a few pages. They had his number, all right. There was even a map of his nightly route through the city, with symbols and notations that he couldn't make out. Yep, he was stuck in the pickle barrel on this one. But not dead yet, and that meant there was a way to wriggle forward.<br/><br/>The packet went into his packet, to be almost instantly replaced by a small clay pot of vinegar-wine. He broke the seal and took a long sip. "Looks like we're fucked sideways," he announced joyfully to his new companions. "My name's Darcoli, and it looks like we're going to be spending some time together. For such nice folks as you all appear to be, I'll even wash my feet before tomorrow. Unless anyone wants to try to make a run for it before tomorrow night."<br/><br/>He turned toward Ailis, who had made it to the door but was still well within earshot. "Just kidding, your highness. Septimus has long arms and I've got short legs. I'll be here."<br/><br/>"Drink, anyone?" He had produced a second clay pot, identical to the first. "It's swill, but there's not too many bugs in it."<br/>