Tug tells the dockmaster he's done for the day, doesn't bother to collect whatever part-day wages he's owed. He tells Sharvon I am not sure what just happened - but at least partly it's a job offer? I want answers more badly than the job, but both'll do. Tug will need to stop at his cheap room to wash up and grab his gear - Shar could travel with or we meet back up at the club, whichever

Arriving at the club about sunset, he's no longer looking (or smelling) like a longshoreman - but not exactly a veep either. Tug is big but not comically so, but obviously muscle not mastermind. He'll order A stout or porter, please ma'am from the server and eat a hearty meal

He does not mind sharing that he has been impoverished twice - his grandfather cheated, himself taking the fall for a botched robbery - ...and that's why I've been saving and training for a chance to take down this Dron bugger...

Aravor arrives at the lounge. He does not order anything, and is rather reserved with his story, but does share that Dron caused the death of someone very dear to him.

Tug's eyes hit the floor briefly, embarrassed to complain about his relatively minor hardships. But he decides to be mad at Dron on someone else's behalf as well. Sharvon lost more than I did as well, I think I remember. A thing I am fuzzy on - when did Dron take over? I only put it together after I got out of the workhouse, but folks say I'm not the sharpest orange in the crate. I assume he was a mover well before that, but how long before?

A cold smile on his face Sharvon reverses the chair and has a seat next to Tug. "Yeah I owe the bastard some pay back." Sharvons cloak is made of a much higher quality material then then the one he had on in the street earlier, but is still a dark grey. The wide brim hat still cast a shadow over his eyes, he is much more used to working at night. 

"So looks like we all have a grudge against Dron, and maybe even the abilty to do something about it. See Tug I told you thinks are happening!" Sharvons eyes take on a excited gleam.

Wilfer grabs the token and heads to the backroom, leaving a small image of a burning bridge on the counter for a moment after he leaves (minor illusion). He takes a seat with his back to a corner if possible, ordering just another water and eating the food provided without any apparent interest or enjoyment, viewing it simply as fuel. Listening to the others tell their tales and listening to a little of their plotting, he shares only a little, "He's responsible for the death of my unit, and for what happened to me. It isn't enough to simply kill him, I want to see him publicly exposed for what he is and brought down. I knew I couldn't bee alone, but its good to see others capable and willing to do what is necessary to accomplish this task."

Yes yes, you had great foresight. Like you were reading an issue ahead in the serials. Tug tells his spring partner But so far it's a lot more grudge and hope than plan and action. Still, I grant you said that you had a feeling even before this Garrol guy showed up. If'n you had this kind of insight all the time I wouldn't'a hit you as often as I do

"Ok, lets follow him for now, see what opportunities present themselves. If he heads out to get a drink, maybe I could approach him, ask him how he feels about Dron?"

David keeps his eyes on their quarry, ready to move when they do.

Sharvon cracks up with laughter, "if only! Lucky for me you hit like a newborn." Sharvon jokes back at the same time rubbing his jaw where the last time they spared left him hurting for a week.

Tug is more polite to his new acquaintances Sharv and I know each other from the arena, friendly competition and trash talk, you understand. Ah-mah-doe Roo he enunciates most call me Tug. I get y'all have more skin in the game than me, but count on me never the less. Sharv and I have some hard and fast rules - he hits fast, I hit hard, and we rule. So if this tiefling has something we can agree to, know that if I agree, someone needs me, I got yer back. 

"Damn right!" Sharvon agrees to....everything Tug said. "I also got some other skills, stealth, infiltration, that kind of thing."

"Look at these miscreants," says the tiefling with a chuckle as he enters the VIP lounge. "Hello. I am, indeed,  Garrol Vansic. In here, we can speak freely. The White Flamingo is beyond the reach of Curtis Dron, one of the few such places in Foxshadow."

A touch of venom laces the final words of Garrol. Vansic's reputation is well known. He is not a killer. He is smart, charming, and unafraid for his reputation or his life. Garrol Vansic acts with the freedom that the philosophers of old could only expound upon.

He continues, saying, "I know this because the White Flamingo is mine and mine alone. I have no debts and I keep the permits clean for this place. All of the staff are hand-picked by me and we screen the clientele constantly for Dron's insidious influence. There is no safer place than here."

Vansic sits firmly into a plush chair, selecting an olive from the table of food barely within reach. "I have never liked Dron," the tiefling says between bites. "Not since I stepped off the river boat. This tavern, White Flamingo, was the first place I set foot in that day. And Dron was here when I walked in the door. From that moment I have disliked him...hated him."

Garrol is full of anxious energy and he fidgets in his chair as he reflects on painful things. "I realized too late what Dron was doing..what he was becoming. I regret not getting in his way long ago," he says, meeting the eyes of everyone in his audience in turn. "It wasn't until last year that I made Curtis Dron my business. I wormed my way into his inner circle with a clever little scheme but..."

A sneer curls on the tiefling's lips briefly, but he covers this up by popping the olive into his mouth. "...well, he did not know me or remember me. Except by reputation, you understand. But me personally....no, he didn't know me from a dockhand. My plan was nearly perfect for that reason. But then I came to know Guyard Loum."

Again, a flash of something...regret? pain?...slides across the man's face. He hides it quickly. "Loum is one of Dron's lieutenants. Except Guyard isn't vicious the way that Dron is. I thought him to be the weak link in Dron's organization. I should have..."

Vansic hesitates in his story and a brief silence falls on the five of them. He is deciding something and eventually he reaches a conclusion and proceeds. "So, Loum tipped my hand to Dron. On purpose or on accident, Loum let Curtis Dron know that I could not be trusted. For my suspected and potential betrayal, he game me the Silver Scar."

The tiefling reveals the scar high on the left side of his neck near to his jaw. It is almost perfectly round and a lighter shade of skin than his crimson red. It is almost pink, actually, with subtle definition on the scar in the mirror image of the head side of a silver coin.

"Dron is a force of personality. He is a thug. He doesn't kill nor does he order people killed. But they die by his whims nonetheless," Vansic says, but looks meaningfully towards Aravor. "Dron controls. He calculates your value and how much he can squeeze from you. He sucks people dry unless you can prove your continual worth. Dron is a living vampire." This time he glances to Wilfer.

Vansic's anxious energy subsides and he relaxes into his chair. He is sliding more into his element as he approaches the point. "Dron is like a parasite. He will bleed Foxshadow dry and then move on to Cottage Grove or Kentalia."

Seeing the impatience in his audience, Vansic holds up his hands, placatingly. "I aim to undo Curtis Dron and humiliate him in the process. I want him to never feel safe in Foxshadow again. I have a plan forming, a crew that is earning my trust, but we need more. We need to execute this flawlessly against someone like Curtis Dron. What we are cooking is big, it's personal, and, well, it's unprecedented. A job like this does not come cheap, but I have a backer who has pledged funds to our cause...a cause worth 10 times the money pledged."

A devious smile creeps onto Garrol's face. His eyes accept the smile as well, portraying true joy at the thought that entertains him. "we all know Curtis Dron to care only for money and power. And we will take his money, you can be sure. But I have personally seen that there is another thing that Curtis Dron prizes," Garrol Vansic says as he leans back. "Little Curtis was a daddy's boy. He loved his mother deeply. Both were cherished members of the Foxshadow community before their boy rose to power on their name. Sadly, his father, his mother, his two brothers, and his beloved uncle have all passed on. But this thug...this leech...he visits them still three times a week at the Fox River Cemetery. Some little part of Dron is still human and  that means that there is a part of him that can still feel pain. So we are going to do that to Curtis Dron. We are going to steal the Dron family mausoleum."

Wilfer waits for a moment to see if he's really done, "That's your plan? Steal a mausoleum? Do you have a pair of giants wandering around somewhere out of sight to carry off the slabs of stone? Or perhaps dwarves undermining it as we speak? Please tell me you actually have a plan, and not just a grand idea. I have no interest in wasting my time."

"Its bold, I'll give you that much. But yeah my back isn't that broad, not even tugs is." Sharvon eyes twinkle, he has skepticism and faith blended equally.

That's really funny Tug says, but he's only grinning I imagine Dron won't think so. And it will take some craftiness to make it more a crushing humiliation than a funny prank. Social craftiness, that is, I guess some kind of magic for the actual stealing physical kind of craftiness? Or do we occupy and hold it? Um, the occupants of said tomb ain't the type to object, are they? I mean, if we're about taking Curty-boy down, not defiling these cherished community members.

Anyway Tug concludes I think it's funny. If it's good enough payback for y'all that lost more - or if'n it's even a decent start - what do I lift, who do I punch?

"It would make him look weak, and he would send his boys out to search the city. Maybe we can plant clues on one of his lieutenants making them look like they had something to do with and get him to start doubting his own people? " follow that up with a few more frame jobs, and we could have him chasing his tail? " 

Wilfer nods slowly, "I might be able to spread a few rumors to help make it hurt him even more. I might even be able to start some vague rumors ahead of time, not enough to give away our plan, but enough to make people realize what the rumor was talking about after the fact. Which would make him look even weaker, because if the common person on the street heard about it, then he must have, and wasn't able, or willing, to do anything about it."

"Now that's smart, maybe something involving a necromancer? Maybe the lieutenant was going to steal the bodies and have them animated, zombie fireball? Done all comes up, "oh my lovely sister " and boom!!!" As Sharvon says boo. He claps his hands and creates a minor illusion of a fireball exploding, with no sound or heat. Someone needs to slow Sharvon's roll, he is getting a bit ahead of himself.

Easy big guy. Sharvon (and no one else) hears in his head. Sorry about the eye twitch. Even in here explosions are not subtle enough. Even fake ones

The musscle under Sharvon's left eye twitch once, and he takes a deep breath, nods his head and takes his seat.