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"Aliator is correct" the hallow voice of Yawgmoth called from the raftors above "Skye, we remember his name. Showed up at Ziven's door a bit ago. Still as annoying as ever. Both of those over rated lizards, so boastful and yet each one infinitely weaker than we are. Than Aliator is. Tiamat had one offspring, one of her blood. Ali remembers him we are sure. Trigon. A foe worthy of mention. Far beyond the abilities of his broodmother and her pathetic excuse for a brother" the titan called out with a slight sigh of regret. Wherever Trigon had gone to was some place no being would ever venture. Silently Yawgmoth wished for his return. So Aliator and himself would have someone else to have glorious combat with instead of these insects. "Trigon was even before Ziven's time. Long. Long before she set foot here. Perhaps my dear, we have told you the tale ?"

"We're not so sure either of us could. For if time has proven for him what it has proven for us he is vastly more powerful just as the two of us are vastly more powerful since those days. We could only hope somewhere along the line we skipped ahead of him. But you're right, it is a pity he isn't around anymore. We grow bored of butting heads with the same opposition very quickly." the titan commented in an obvious reference to his and Ali's constant back and forth of one another as the superior force in the syndicate. Fun? Yes, stale after all these years? Also yes. No one else ever had the balls to stand toe to toe with Yawgmoth though, not that he could blame them much.

~Boom~

He appears with a low sounding booming line noise. Sitting on the bar counter this ragged vagabond looking male with nappy brown hair, and a scruffy face. A lit cigarette held in his right hand with a long brown cloak covering his body.
"Days of old I guess."

With a low toned creek the tavern door opened. For a brief moment, the door sat there, motionless with nothing but shadows and dust in its portal to the outside. Then, then heavy thud-thud sound of a pair of boots hitting the ground, followed by the sounds of shuffling of sorts. A figure made its way through the portal, his hand gently brushing a long black feather from his shoulder, past is long red hair and to the floor below. Now past the entrance, he paused as his red colored eyes, hidden behind a pair of dark glasses, looked about the room.
With his hands is the pockets of his long, baggy, black pants he made his way over to the bar counter, and seated himself atop one of the various stools.
Again, his eyes looked about, searching for any signs of activity, any signs of life.
His pointed ears twitched as he turned on the stool, letting his back lean against the side of the bar while he faced the room head on.
"Evening. His voice, dark, empty, almost as if missing something.

His head turned so his eyes could look upwards, up towards the roof of the building he was within, and to the source of the unknown voice. With little effort, his ruby like eyes locked to the figure looming in the shadows of the above, she seemed to be a shadow herself. Studying her for a moment longer, he shifted on his stool, allowing himself to become more comfortable before he spoke.
" Some spiders are passive creatures. The weave their webs, catch their flies, and keep to themselves. He would stand from the stool taking a few steps forward until he was to the lower left of the rafter in which the mysterious woman had perched herself, his eyes still locked, his motion stopped " Some set traps to lure others in, before they wrap their victim in a most devious cocoon, inject their poison and wait for the body to rot before feasting." With a few steps, he was standing to the lower right of the woman Some will bring a mate to their burrow to pursue acts of lust to bring forth new life, only to eat the very partner whom helped spawn the new life... While the most feared, fear nothing at all, hardened warriors, fangs of steel, the bleakest venom, who will destroy all in their path. All interesting in their own ways... Reaching his left hand up, he brushed away a few strands of his blood red hair from his face as he continued to speak Will I be an interesting little spider... It all depends on the kind of interest.

A spider with no web to weave. Like the others, interesting in it's own ways. His eyes watched as her hand moved toward his hair and yet, was not surprised in the slightest when she was unable to touch him. He looked her figure over then let his eyes lock to hers Perhaps in time I will come to know just what kind of spider you are... Perhaps you will come to know which I am. Tipping his head downard slightly, his dark lensed glasses moved slowly down the bridge of his nose exposing his blood red eyes. A sly wink in her direction before his head straightened. Perhaps... But perhaps not. Turning on his heels he walked towards the door to the tavern. As he walked a low growl rumbled deep within his chest. The flesh upon his back twisted and contorted before giving way as to black feathered withing emerged. As he neared the door, it opened for him, as if pulled open by some unseen slave. When his boots touched the ground outside he paused to look over his shoulder at the woman "Only time will tell, what spider games we will play". With a single flap of his wings, he was gone, vanished into the distance.

The door of the old taven pushed open as the red haired man made his way in. Stopping just past the doorway, the note held in place by a knife on a close by pillar caught his eyes. Curious, he made his way over, his eyes skimming through the note with each step closer. By the time he was standing infront of the pillar he was done reading. "Intresting" he mumbled to himself.
He stood there thinking on the note for a few moments. All in all it would have no direct effct on him, but none the less, it could proove to be intresting.
Making his way past the pillar, something else once again caught his eye. Ali. Judging by the guards at his sides, he figured this being must have been the one to post such a note. " Your handy work I assume?"