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Fire and Brimstone [IC]


Kavos

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Sirius looked up at the night sky smiling as he absorbed the rays of light from the moon. He had one thing to be thankful of, at least he wasn’t a wolf otherwise he’d be announcing his presence to every hero in the city.

He would have to go hunting soon; his tattoo had been burning all day. A sign the fox was getting agitated. At that thought Sirius couldn’t help but make a faint chuckle. The fox and his himself were the same person; there was no split personality or other subconscious. He was the Fox just as the Fox was Sirius.

Perhaps long ago when the Foxfire had first possessed his ancestor they were two individuals, but over the centuries both beings had merged into one body, one mind, one spirit.

Sirius hand moved to his pocket, and retrieved a small tattered leather-bound book. In the night-light the book glowed a soft red color, a dead give away of its magical nature. A Fiery emblem marked its cover; the same emblem appeared of Sirius chest, shoulders and back. This small book held the secrets of his family’s legacy.

Shortly after his ancestor had joined with the fox, he had created a journal utilizing a drop of his foxfire blood. The result had been this book. Magically enchanted it was indestructible, could never run out of pagers, and it would always return to the Foxfire.

A minor artifact that Sirius had gotten the night his Foxfire blood awoke. The journal had appeared in a flash of fire beside him after his transformation had been complete.

Unfortunately for Sirius only the last few generation’s entries were readable, the ordinal entries were written in a long dead language, in which Sirius had yet to find a suitable translation for. Sirius sighed, the amount of magical knowledge those first generational chapters must hold within them would be great.

Quickly Sirius closed the book, and placed it back in his pocket. It was too public to be reminiscing and daydreaming about magical power, someone could of spotted the book, and anyone learned enough in magical artifacts would know what it was…

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Jos Terhune had been jogging for almost a half hour around and through Riverside. Not only am I working off those last three slices of tiramisu, I'm starting to get a pretty good lay of the land around here. So many restaurants and shops! I'm certain now that this is where I'll set up my own little shop. I've just got to narrow down where it'll go! Of course, I'll need some things to fill it with, but between my connections and contacts in the black market, the few items I liberated from Marrakesh, and some magic from my 'partner', that shouldn't be much of a problem.

Rounding a corner, he saw a young man stowing a faintly-glowing item into his pocket. Well, well, what's this? A kid out on a rave? Or a precious thing? No, no, don't want to change here -- too much risk of losing my 'secret identity,' and I certainly don't want any hero-types showing up. Besides, he may know something of value, or even make a useful pawn. Heh, a pawn for my pawn shop! Now, how to... ah, of course.


Just as Sirius put his book away, a 30-something jogger collided into him. Sirius was able to keep on his feet, but the jogger fell flat to the ground. He soon got to his feet, but seemed more concerned with Sirius' welfare than his own, not even pausing to brush himself off. "Oh, my, I hope I didn't hurt you, young man!" His semi-German accent marked him as a foreigner to this country.

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Sirius looked at the stranger, a streak of worry ran down his spine, had he seen the book?

Looking at the man, Sirius extended his hand to the man, “I am fine? You’re the one who fell to the ground are you all right?†Sirius asked, his voice strong with an Irish accent.

He would play this cool, the stranger may not have noticed the book he certainly hadn’t noticed Sirius. “Names Sirius, Sirius Vulpesâ€Â

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"Nothing seems to be broken or torn," he says, smiling as he brushed himself off, "so I suppose I am alright." He then extended a hand, "I am Jos, Jos Terhune [yos tare-hoon]. You... are not from around here, no? I am new to the area myself, just came over from the Netherlands a couple of days ago. I am an art appraiser, antiques and objects d'art are my passion." He knelt down to check his running shoes, making sure they were still secure, "though I'm sure a young man such as yourself would find such pursuits immensely boring."

That's it, tell him just enough to gauge his interest, see if the little fishy nibbles. Maybe this is some punk raver kid, maybe he's something more. Maybe he'll even show me that little glowing thing. Precious, precious thing. Yes, yes, calm, calm, mustn't get too excited. At least, not yet.

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“It is good you are not hurt.†Sirius says, “Yes, I actually only arrived here yesterday. Quite a marvelous city.†Sirius says as he looks around at the buildings. “Quite different than Ireland."

Sirius’s ears pick up when Jos tells him about his job, “Now isn’t that a strange twist of fate. I have recently began to explore a career in, how do you say? Especially rare antiquities.†Sirius says, tilting his head slightly to see if Jos gets his drift.

Perhaps this strange may be of use, with his help I may be able to begin decoding the older entries of the journal, that is if he understands magical apparatus and even if he does not, he may be able to at least narrow down the time period of the original text, which would help immensely in finding someone who can translate it.

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"Really, now?" Jos replied, smirking. "Well, then, fate indeed! As I said, I am new here, I've not even acquired a shop from which to work, though I do hope to rectify that soon." He gestured towards one of the nearby streets, and all the stores along the sidewalks. "Many shops around here, some last just a few months or even weeks, so I'm sure something will come available soon."

Especially if they are 'persuaded' to leave.

"Once I do open, I will likely need at least some part-time help. Getting the place set up, getting word out about my place, help in cataloging my inventory, and so on. Grunt work, mostly, but if you're a college student, perhaps you could do it as an... oh, what is the word? Internship? Yes, internship. And if not, well, I am sure I can provide other incentives."

If you've got the same desires I do, I know exactly how to entice you. Now, about that glowing thing you held...

He paused a moment, as if remembering something, then his eyes went wide, "Ireland! Lots of fine antiques and art there, but I have not had the chance to see any in person. Closest I have seen are a few Breton pieces, from Celts who'd settled in northwestern France, and a few Norse-Gaelic items, but no purely Gaelic items."

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Sirius nods as he listens to Jos, “I am interested in the job although we would need to sit down to discuss the finer points, I am no collage student after all, I just look younger than I am.†Sirius says dismissing the matter with a flick of his hand.

When Jos makes mention about Gaelic artifacts Sirius’s eyes narrow. So he did see the journal… although something is off, he’s no caper, and he doesn’t appear to be a mystic. I’ll have to tread lightly.

“It’s funny you mention that, how is your knowledge of ancient Gaelic text?†Sirius hand falls to his pocket, but doesn’t retrieve the book. “You see I happen to come about an object that has some… rather special properties. Unfortunately I cannot decipher the text. It is a strange and very ancient form of Gaelic.†Sirius says eyeing Jos carefully

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Jos nods when Sirius mentions sitting down to discuss the finer points. "Oh yes, yes, certainly! Perhaps... over lunch? There are so many good places to eat around here, and I have just had time to sample a few." He pats his stomach and laughs, "though if I go to too many, I will need to do more jogging!"

That's right, keep it light, we're all friendly here. No one's going to bite your head off.

When Sirius mentions an object, Jos's mood gets slightly, though noticeably, more serious, more no-nonsense. "Oh? Well, I must confess that my knowledge of Gaelic language, ancient or modern, is fairly non-existent; I'm limited to English, French, and Dutch. Not to say I know nothing of Gaelic culture and history, though: it is not one I devoted a great amount of my studies to, but I am passingly familiar with the major points. But, not knowing the language would be a big impediment."

Don't come across as too knowledgeable, he may try and pump me for more information. He has something I want, I can get something he needs, so let's dance a bit longer.

Jos snaps his fingers, "I'll tell you what I can do, though: give me a couple of days to get in touch with some of my contacts and see if I can find anyone in the city who might could decipher it. Of course, it would be useful to be able to give them a sample of what they would be deciphering," he sensed Sirius tensing up, "so if you could provide, say, a photograph of a section of the writing, that would help me be better able to track down a translator with the appropriate skills. You could present me the photos when we next meet, when we discuss 'the finer points' of working with me, and with luck I can get a meeting with a translator set up within a week."

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Sirius nods. “That would be acceptable.†Looking around Sirius points to a small café. “How about there tomorrow twelve o’clock, I’ll bring a photo and we can discus our options.†Sirius says, still watching the stranger.

Ultimately Sirius didn’t trust him, but than at the same time whom could he trust. Sometimes to get thing’s done one must take a step of faith…

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"Wonderful, wonderful!," he said, peering over to the café. "And I do not believe I've been there before, so that will be a treat for me, too!"

There will be other treats, too. But I must be patient, yes.

Jos scratched the back of his head, then checked his watch, and seemed a bit startled. "Oh, look at the time! I am sorry, but I have got to run -- someone has been calling me for the past few days, since I got into the city, and I am hoping to catch them tonight. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow!" He offered his hand to Sirius to shake, but after a few seconds, whether shaken or not, he jogs off.


Jos jogged back to the small apartment he'd been renting, with three things vying for attention in his mind. First, his evening jog had shown him where he would be setting up his shop/new home, a two-story building at a crossroads. There were people in it now, but that could be remedied. Second, the encounter he'd had tonight: the boy seemed useful (not to say trustworthy), and if the boy could lead him to more artifacts, all the better. Third was finding out what was causing that damn buzzing in the back of his mind, present ever since he'd arrived at Freedom.

Now he was home, he quickly disrobed and changed

Change! Change, O mortal form!

Release the might from fleshy mire!

Boil the blood in heart of fire!

Gone! Gone! -- the mortal form --

Rise, the Demon Belphegor!!

and flew out the window.

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Sirius says goodbye to Jos. Not particularly sure on the man but he could be useful in unlocking the journal’s power, if any.

Tapping his head Sirius was really getting annoyed with a buzzing that had started since he got of the plain. Sighing he made his way home.

Once he arrived he quickly closed the blinds of the apartment, and took of his shoes, no sense in destroying a pair if he didn’t have to. Taking his cloths, he ran his a finger along the currently dormant tattoo. At his slightest touch the tattoo began to flare up, seeming to glow an inner fire.

Than waves of agony ripped across Sirius’s body, his bones cracked and reshaped, his skin exploded with fur. Than finally the pain subsided the transformation complete. Grabbing another pare of pants, one more suitable for swift action, he changed, making extra caution with his tail.

Looking in the mirror the Ember quickly fussed up his hare, there were only three parts of him that never changed, his hair, his eyes, and the tattoo. The tattoo now appeared to be a rather odd grouping of black fur, giving the illusion of a picture.

Once he was adequately happy with his appearance Ember went to the window, checking to make sure no one was watching, he leaped out and headed for the harbor… a sneeze the only sign of something out of the ordinary.

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Belphegor flew back from 'the Arena' to Riverside, but not back to Terhune's apartment. Instead, he wheeled around and over the Freedom School of the Arts, then headed a few blocks northeast, to a two-story home located on the corner of two side-streets.

"Ah, nothing like a crossroads."

He circled the building a few times, sizing up the entry points and activity level. It was late, well past midnight, but one dim light shone out from a second floor window. Swooping down, he landed as gently as he could on the roof, and crept down so he could peer in through the window.

Oh, I do hope it's a nubile young woman!

It was not. It was a young man, high school age, and very much the 'dark brooding outsider'. The room was plastered with metal and punk band posters, occult artwork, and pinups; the carpet was riddled with burns and ashes from cigarettes and incense; the windows had small sheets of red plastic taped over them. The light Belphegor saw came from numerous candles as well as a fairly large computer monitor. The teen, in black boots, jeans, and a torn tee, was at the computer, clicking on random dark and brooding loner websites.

Right, well, not my first choice, but I can still work with this. But I don't want to just break in, I do plan to be using this place. Ah, I've got it! Well, assuming that nameless sorcerer was right about me being able to do anything any demon can do....

The demon pushed off the roof and flew gently down to the back yard, landing in a crouch. His wings spread wide and then draped over him, seeming to meld into a seamless lump of demonic flesh lit from within by hellish fires. Moments later the demon-ball warped and twisted, compacted, and refined itself into a very different form. He was now a very attractive woman with long brunette hair and piercing green eyes, wearing nothing but scarlet lingerie. 'She' looked herself over, looking at herself from this angle and that, feeling the newly sculpted flesh, free of scales, free of wings, free of any major blemishes.

"Hrm, not bad, not ba- ooh, that's a nice voice!" 'she' said in a very sultry tone. "Now to- whoah... head rush..." 'She' stumbled a bit, and leaned against the house for a moment.

After a few deep breaths, 'she' picked up a few pebbles and flung them at the teen's window. After a few the teen finally came to the window, and even from this distance 'she' could see his eyes almost bug out of his head. 'She' pointed around to the back of the house, then made pleading gestures, mouthing "let me in" to him.

Very soon the back porch door was open.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" 'she' cried, running to him with such force as to push him back into the house, into a small kitchen, then clung to him. Almost the exact same words ran through the teen's head. "Quick, please, shut the door, before they see me!"

"Who? Whoah, whoah, hold on now-"

"No, please, close the door, those men will find me!" 'She' moved as if to cower behind him, away from the door. "Please!"

"Okay, okay, settle down, it's alright," the teen said, closing the door. Hot damn! "What's going on? What men? Muggers?"

"Yes, yes, muggers, beastly men, they stole my purse and jewelry, then tore off my dress and said they would... would... oh!" 'She' fell to the linoleum floor, breathing hard, almost curled to a fetal position.

"Alright, okay, you're safe now, we'll just call the cops. Mom!," he called out, "Mom! Grampa! Wake up!"


Family Slain!

September 14th, 2008

Riverside - A gruesome scene greeted police officers responding to a 911 call for assistance for a mugging victim. A teenager, his mother, and his grandfather were found brutally mutilated, their bodies placed in a sitting pose on a couch in front of a television playing nothing but static.

Investigators have not determined a motive for the killings, Sheriff's spokeswoman Grace Morales said.

The coroner's office identified the victims as 61-year-old Maury George Dickson; his 39-year-old daughter, Joan 'Jett' Mary Dickson; and her 16-year-old son, Richard Timothy Dickson.

Neighbors say the family seemed close, that they were never heard arguing and that they would often pile into a minivan to run errands together. But Robin's classmates reported him to be shy and withdrawn, and his teachers reported a recent slump in his grades.

The investigation is ongoing.


Jos Terhune woke up in his apartment at around 11am, quite a bit later than he'd intended. He took a hurried shower, went to grab a bite to eat -- then realized he wasn't at all hungry -- then set about making a few phone calls. He wouldn't be able to make all the calls he'd hoped before his noon appointment with Sirius, but he would be able to honestly say he did put in some calls. (The worse thing a devil can do is tell the truth.)

[[ Used Extra Effort to stunt Enhanced Charisma 2 (to 16/+3), Enhanced Feats 1 (Attractive; Bluff +9/+13, Diplomacy +3/+7), Morph 6 (one form, +30 to Disguise; +33 total), and Strike 2 (retractable claws; PFs: Mighty, Subtle) off his Demonic Attacks 7 array. 'She' looks like a young Sophie Marceau. Even fatigued from the extra effort, though, he'd still be able to handle 3 Bystanders with little problem -- +5 attack, Str 18/+4, Claws +6; +5 defense, Toughness +6, Dex 12/+1. ]]

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Ember jumped from one rooftop to another until he finally landed on his apartment’s balcony. Quietly he slipped into the apartment, and than like all the other time’s pain ripped through him. His bones cracked and twisted, the world around him became dull, and his fur fell away, each hair bursting into flames before it touched to ground.

Pulling the small journal out of his pant’s pocket he grabbed to small instant print camera he had grabbed on his way back home.

Taking a picture of one of the earliest pagers in the book, Sirius placed the journal next to his bed with the photograph. Setting his alarm clock Sirius fell onto his bed and fell asleep…

The Next day, Sirius awoke at the irritating sound of his alarm clock. Getting up from bed Sirius checked the time, and quickly got ready. Grabbing the journal as well as the photograph, Sirius headed for the door. He was a particularly intrigued to see how this meeting would end up today. At worst nothing happened. At best he’ll find himself a job and if it turned out really well, a way to translate the ancient text of the journal.

Waving down a taxi Sirius’s mind was a mile away as he told the driver were to take him. Finally he would have answers, Finally he would unlock the beast that lay within him, Finally he would have power…

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Jos arrives a few minutes after Sirius. He's in a casual-dress outfit, dark khakis and a burgundy shirt with the top two buttons left undone. He's smiling broadly as he walks over and joins Sirius. "Ah, good, so good to see you have made it! Have you ordered yet? I hope I did not keep you waiting long, I was tied up on the phone."

Good, he did show up: my trip's not wasted. And he's still here despite my delay. Could be a sign of a solid work ethic, or it could just be a sign of his curiosity.

He sits and orders a glass of ice water, "unfortunately I have not yet been able to get in touch with as many linguists as I had hoped -- some of my contacts were in very chatty moods! I did manage to get a few solid leads, though, and I will be following them this afternoon, after some of my people talk with some of their people."

"Now, about those photos...."

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Sirius stands up and greets Jos. “No, no that’s fine, I only just got here myself, I haven’t even got myself a drink yet.†Sirius say’s sitting down again. Reaching into a pocket he pulls out a few photos and hands them to Jos. “Best I can do.†Sirius says. The photos are good, however there’s something wrong with them, It takes Jos a few seconds to realize that the photo itself is blank but there seem to be words burnt into the photo paper. “It appears the object does not like being copied. Those are the best, and most readable of the photos.â€Â

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What the?!

Jos looks over the photos, clearly fascinated by them. "That is very peculiar, very peculiar indeed. The script looks vaguely similar like a few ancient Celtic items I've seen... or, at least, what I remember of it. Fascinating!"

Fascinating indeed. Where did you get this item, boy? And where is it?

"I don't suppose," he said as he continued examining the photos, "you'd be willing to share just what sort of item this is, would you? An amulet or pendant? Something with a fire motif?"

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Sirius looks at Jos oddly for a moment, as if trying to sum him up. “It’s a journal, a very old journal.†Sirius pauses for a second, as if contemplating something. Than he reaches into his pocket and pull’s out a plain leather bound book. In the daylight it didn’t have the same glow as the first time.

Holding the journal for a second as if reluctant to show Jos, Sirius eventually handed him the journal, on the front color a strange emblem seemed to glow with an inner fire. A Fox stood in the middle of a burning upside-down triangle; flames flowed from the two side edges flowing around until the tips of the flames almost met above the top of the triangle.

Insides the words glowed as the cover did, each page Jos flicked through always produced more and more pagers, eventfully the righting on the pagers turn into modern Irish and than nothing but blank pagers flowed, on and on in a seemingly never ending supply.

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Ooooh... I want this! There could be... I don't know... ancient Druidic secrets in here... and at the very least, it's just nifty! And look how well-preserved it is! Ooooh.... wait, wait, no, no, I can't just run off with this, I still want to see what else this kid can get, what else he can lead me to.

Jos is fully engrossed in the book, only pausing to move the glass of ice water the waitress brought out to the sidewalk so the table was clear. He laid the book out on it, tilting it this way and that as he looked at it under the noon(-ish) sun, delicately turning the pages with just the tips of a pen from his shirt pocket. "This is remarkable, Mr. Vulpes, remarkable indeed! I do see some similarities to assorted Celtic items -- the binding is reminiscent of some 12th century manuscripts, though I cannot begin to guess at how it has stayed in such relatively good condition... and this border work, here," he pointed to some pages which some knotwork along the edges, "looks like some of the earliest knotwork, which would mark this as 7th century! But... but most of this -- especially the language -- I have no idea! Oh, this is a rare treasure indeed! Where on Earth did you find this?"

Waitasec... is that a fox on the cover? A fox with flames? Could this be tied to the pup from last night? Oh, curioser and curioser....I've got to find someone to translate this thing, or at least someone who knows more about Celtic and Gaelic stuff than I do!

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Sirius watchers Jos carefully, “It’s a long story, but in short it sort of fell into my hands one evening.†Stopping for a second he looks around. Picking up a knife from the table Sirius suddenly slams it down on the book while Jos was looking at it.

A sudden flash of light flared from impact dazing Jos for a second, When his vision cleared the book was perfectly unharmed, the knife was no ware to be seen and Sirius seemed to be nursing a slightly redden hand. “As you can see it is also impossible to destroy, or damage.â€Â

Looking at his hand he flexes it a little bit and the color seems to die down. “It destroyed the knife if you were wondering, and because the damage wasn’t that bad my hand only got a little cooked. I would however suggest not to attempted to damage the book my more extreme means, the last person to attempted to destroy the book was incinerated.†Sirius says casually as if he were discussing the weather.

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"Wait, no-!" Jos cries out as he sees Srius plunging the knife towards the book. That, plus the brief flash of light, caused a few people to look his way.

What is he, some kind of idiot? What's he thinking, pulling stunts like that? Maybe I should re-consider working with this kid, if he's this blatant about things.

The few who turned to look their way turn back to whatever it was they were doing, seeing no obvious thin or event to keep looking at. Which suited Jos fine.

"This item just gets more and more fascinating, Mr. Vulpes," Jos says, clearly awed. "I would put that away, though -- being invulnerable from harm do not make it immune to thieves and robbers." He carefully closes the book, but does not touch it further, does not hand it to Sirius, does not even touch it to slide it towards him.

If I touch it, I won't want to give it back, and we can't jeopardize that, not now, not until this kid proves who and what he is, one way or the other.

"Now then," Jos continues, leaning over to retrieve his icewater from the sidewalk and taking a sip, "about the other thing I had mentioned, the opportunity for employment in my little shoppe, once it opens. As I said last night, the initial stages would be mostly grunt work, getting the place sorted out and set up, helping move and catalogue inventory, getting word out on the street, things like that. Once the store is fully up and running, if you're still interested you can help some in the day-to-day operations, helping with the phones, the correspondences, and the... how shall we say... acquisitions and procurement of stock?"

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Sirius nods as Jos talks. “That would be acceptable, you may even find I have other talents that could be of use.†Sirius say’s somewhat cryptically as he picks the journal up and hides’s it away again. “I assume the position comes with a paycheck as well.†Sirius says, a faint smile on his lips. ‘If I can get a job with this guy, who knows were it may lead, having some money will help, but learning more about the journal will be far more beneficial, and who knows maybe this guy may actually get in some artifacts of interest that will help increase my power…’

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"For the... straightforward work, I would certainly be willing to provide a steady paycheque. It won't be much, not at first, but enough to make the jobs worth doing." He pauses to take a sip of icewater, "For the more... exotic work, I believe payment via commission would be most appropriate, dividing the profits based on how much each of us participated."

Money's nothing to me, just the art treasures and antiques. But if money can snag you, I'll not ignore its allure.

The waitress comes back by to take orders. After some dickering with the woman regarding what's on the menu and in the kitchen, Jos orders a prosciutto, arugula, and bocconcini panini, a danish, and a French vanilla coffee. After she leaves, he resumes the conversation.

"Now, what was this about 'special talents'? I do need to know the capabilities of any employees, so that I can assign tasks and compensation equal to their skills."

And to test to see how crafty you are. Are you going to just blurt out what you can do, or will you use some degree or subtlety in your speech?

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“Fine, fine.†Sirius says Truth be told, he didn’t really care about the money, just the chance to be near artifacts was enough, but it would help pay the rent.

Looking over the menu Sirius ends up ordering a chicken risotto, and a soft drink.

Sirius waves his hand, “Oh it’s nothing, let’s just say before I left Ireland I had some special training in the acquisition of…†Pausing for a second. “Hard to get items.â€Â

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"I see, I see," he replies, nodding. "Training from whom? I know a few folks scattered across and around Europe who specialize in... acquisitions. There is a chance I may have heard of your instructor. And did you part on good terms? For that matter, is there anyone with whom you have worked in the past that I might contact, as a sort of... what is the word?... reference? Yes, your, how to say, former employers."

Having a few names to track could be useful. Especially if I need some leverage on this kid in the future.

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“Now, now, now.†Sirius says shaking his head. "You should know that anemometry is vital for this business. If I were to go bragging about my training, and my accomplishments to every person I meet, than I would quickly find myself unemployed.†Sirius says, taking a sip from his drink.

“Of cores perhaps after sometime and we get to know each other, I may be obliged to inform you of some of my past contacts, but until that time I am not at liberty to say.†Pausing for a second, “Let us just say I worked mostly in Europe.â€Â

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