The word was out of the streets, here whispered in shadowed corners, there shouted across a crowded tavern. For most it was just another piece of gossip in Glamour, the grinding rumour mill at the heart of the Empire. But for others, it was important, a matter, one could say, of life or death.
Important enough suddenly to close off the back room at an infamous Vanchite restaurant, and as the door opened to let another meticulously dressed 'trader' into that sanctum, a heavy voice rasped out "Vito, bring us some wine. Not the stuff you serve da customers."
Indeed, important enough to close Ho Kak's Happy Chop House in Kraloritown altogether. When some three-quarters-drunk patron rattled the door, oblivious to the sign, he was confronted by the contorted face of Ho Kak himself. "We closed! Go 'way!"
"But I just wanted some-"
"Is off! Go 'way!"
And the surprisingly solid door slammed shut.
In the barracks of the Sable Regiment, whose motto of 'Firm Protectors' still raised sour grins among the merchants forced to pay them off, there was an unexpected 'officers' conference.' From the slumside soup kitchens to the rough gin-shops of the southside dock quarter, sharp-edged and hungry-souled people were gathering to discuss the news. After all, everyone had just heard:
"There's going to be a funeral."
The news had soon enough made its way to the ears of the army of informants and agents on the streets of the city, there to keep the Emperor's peace and fight crime when they could. In the crowded office at the top of the headquarters of the Glamour Vigilance, three tired-looking men were sitting round an incongruously splendid table whose top was a delicate mosaic depicting the whole city, on top of which rested a variety of carved pieces, of agate, jade, slate, marble and turquoise. One of them, a judex by his toga, reached out a manicured hand and took the largest piece off the table, a solid gold cube. The magistrate looked at his comrades, excitement and trepidation in his voice.
"There's going to be a funeral. And then there'll be a war!"
The man they called the Hand of Lanbril - truth to tell, he had forgotten his real name himself - twitched aside the elegant drapes in the underground chamber and watched as, one by one, the godfathers of the Glamour underworld paid their respects to the body of the Old Man, as he lay in his open casket. More than one surreptitiously cast magics or, while kissing his cold cheek, pricked him with a needle, just to make sure the tyrant who had lorded it over the city's gangs for years was truly dead.
The Hand's mouth twisted as he saw these men and women, who a week ago would have sacrificed their sons to see the Old Man dead, going through the motions of mourning. Not that he disapproved; quite the opposite, as the foremost representative of Lanbril the Faceless Thief, he regarded such callous hypocrisy as truest homage to his god. But he also knew that they were all mustering their forces for a turf war to see who would become the new Old Man. He, though, could see the larger picture. A turf war like that would only help the authorities, who even now were preparing to use it to smash the underworld, playing faction against faction until none were left. He stepped back, as Lanbril's Angel of Enforcement began to form from the shadows of the side-chamber. He would not allow the work of decades to be thrown away.
"There is going to be a funeral. But there is to be no war - instead, there
will be a Contest."
The Great Glamour Sit-Down is a not-very-serious gangster freeform set in the Lunar capital of Glamour, although no Gloranthan knowledge is needed to play. It will run on Saturday afternoon and will be limited to 28 players. Parts are filling up, so register now to ensure a place in this game, which ran very successfully last year at C02. If you need more information, contact Mark Galeotti (Mark_at_galeotti.fsbusiness.co.uk) and Simon Bray (simonbrayuk_at_aol.com), but otherwise register for the game and express your preferences as to which character you want through the Tentacles registration site.
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