IC II: DH The Purity of Sacrifice

[Wyndeward]

Earlier

Arl was back at the Commissar's Tavern, tucked far back into a booth in the pungent depths of dreary drinking hole. He had managed to quickly befriend a one of the line workers at Station Tollares; a cow eyed stick of a man with skin the color of his rheumy eyes. He looked like a void-born, twitched like a void-born, and smelled of spaceships. He'd said he'd been working at Station Tollares for nearly four decades, and had worked cleaning crew on almost every ship that had come in and out of the hive at one point or another. He wasn't supposed to talk about what he'd seen, guild secrecy or something, but that had been about three drinks ago. Now Pip was in his cups and slurring his words bad. With any luck, he knew something about this Mercutio, or the Rogue Trader he worked for.

Arl signaled for another round for each of them, letting Pip take first choice as was his custom.

"It must be something to see, all those ships... cargos from Emperor knows where! Arl said, in his best wistful voice.