The tavern was a dingy, low-ceilinged, homely little establishment filled to the brim with the usual buzz of business; the excited chatter between old friends, the telling of fantastical tales recited by adventurers to the eager crowds and the heavily slurred singing of drunkards fueled by one too many flasks of alcohol. Despite the welcoming atmosphere, two men remained huddled away from the lively scene. Instead they remained hunched over their drinks, glad to remain apart from the action.

Sir Robert: "Sir Pac-"

Sir Pac: "Come now, Robert! There's no need for such formalities!"

Robert sighed, drumming his fingers against the countertop.

Sir Robert: "Sir-"

Sir Pac: "Now what did I just say? I insist, forget all this 'sir' nonsense and try again."

Robert sighed again.

Sir Robert: "I'm beginning to think that you're not handling this situation as seriously as you should be."

Pac shrugged callously before returning to his drink, taking a generous sip of the muddy-brown concoction.

Sir Pac: "You're probably right. Speaking of which; have you noticed the bloke sitting three stools to your left yet?"

Robert shook his head before covertly tossing a sideways glance towards the suspect character. The man in question sat within the cover of the shadows at the very end of the bar, surrounded by a low-hanging cloud of hazy smoke formed from the cigar loosely hanging from his mouth.

Sir Robert: "I haven't; but what's your problem with him anyhow?"

Pac furrowed his brows as he brought the murky glass away from his lips, finally setting it aside on the countertop.

Sir Pac: "You're losing your touch old friend. Look again; something's not quite right about him."

Robert returned his gaze to the man, and the longer he looked the more oddities he noticed – aside from his companion's suspicions, Robert noted the fact that he was drinking out of a glass that didn't match the rest of the bar's glassware, and that no matter how much he drank, the level of the vibrant purple liquid inside never seemed to go down. And then there was the dark coal-colored cowl which not only veiled his face, but which also seemed to be the source of a faint waft of sulfur deriving from his vicinity.

Sir Robert: "You're right… You think he's our guy?"

Before Robert could he reply, the man jolted up in his seat and stared down the duo, briefly revealing a depth of infinite pallidity where his eyes should've been, instantly sending a wave of shivers down both of their spines.

Sir Pac: "Oh, there's no doubt about that..."

Robert swallowed nervously, evidently uncomfortable.

Sir Robert: "Let's go see what he wants."

==={Blood Feud: A Sequel to 'Meet the Mobs'}===

Author's Note (7/12/2015)

Hey guys! It has been a very long time, hasn't it? But we're back; and better than ever! I hope you all enjoy!