You’ll start with an easy one, you begin, hands still firmly gripping your gun, who do they work for? The ringleader answers with a scoff.

“‘Work for’? We run our own racket, kid-”

Lie.

“Ngh…” He sputters, clearly not being used to being called out, “We… We work for a company… okay?”

“Yea!” Grins the fuzzball, “We sell spice!”

And waylaying travelers on the road is, what, aggressive sales tactics? That earns a smile out of the bossman.

“Look, you seem like a smart girl-”

He’s gonna make you blush.

“We are…” Mutters Periwinkle Eyes as he searches for the right words, “Procurers and providers of things that might not be easy to acquire…” He grins. “Under certain rules and guidelines, that is.”

Just your luck you’d run into mobsters. You tend to get more info when you play dumb, though, so you play it dumb.

Meaning?

“There…” Your friendly neighborhood mobster stammers, clearly not expecting you to ask for clarification, “There are… we-”

“Slaves! Potions! Magic Stuff!” Croaks the six-eyed stab victim, “You want it, we got i-AAACK!”

“We aren’t just average crooks, okay?” Growls the leader after delivering a well-timed kick, “We’ve got influence. Connections. Zoral wouldn’t function without Spice.”

‘Zoral’. So that’s what this place is called… and who runs the show, exactly? The goons exchange a wary glance–guess they’re starting to believe in your ‘lie detector’.

“It ain’t a secret, really.” Grunts the strong, silent type in the back. “Name’s Vhale. He calls the shots.”

Just him, huh?

“Well,” Shades chimes in as he shoots an unsure glance over to the leader, “We… there’s an agreement he’s got with… well, Umberal's lord-”

Umberal, you repeat, that a town?

“A CITY! And it’s got a lord runnin’ it!” Yips the feisty furball! “You want a civics lesson!? Take a hike up there yourself!”

But you’re having so much fun with them you reply dryly. A blast, really.

“Needo coulda’ phrased it nicer,” The ringleader sighs as he shoots a glare in the furball’s direction, “But if you really want the rundown on who’s who, you oughta’ talk to someon-”

But you’re talking to them, you interject as you drum your fingers on your shotgun. But okay. Bye~

“WAITWAITWAIT!” Exclaims the leader, “WE CAN TALK!”

His subordinates watch in silent awe… they’ve never seen him like this before, and it shows. Hmmm, you remark as you uncross your legs and shake some snow off your bomber jacket, SOLD.

“So,” the boss continues, his eye trembling at his sudden outburst, “Zoral’s split into five pieces, really: Umberal, where we’re from, is to the North, The Bite to the East…” His gaze wanders over to tallboy. “Biiba’s folk. The West is pretty wild, still–forests that have been around for… well, since before the darkness, really.”

>CONTD.