((Note: this post represents what had happened immediately prior to the very first post of "The Gathering" topic.))

Every day when the sun would be setting, Count Talomar Longden, would arise from his dreamless "sleep", wash up, get dressed, and go to his study to light up a cigar and have a glass of wine while he reviewed the business logs, shipments, and the mail that came in during the day while he had been sleeping.

This evening he was particularly well dressed because of the gathering that was about to take place. He was also more impatient than usual. He had a lot on his mind and just skimmed the business logs and the bookings and shipments details. He was tossing mail aside, but one piece of mail caught his interest. The return address said "S.P.I. - Security Division".

"Now what the hell do they want?" he mumbled to himself. "It's Christmas, so they're probably looking for donations like everyone else in this city. If it's not the cops, the fire department, the animal protection society, the Salvation whatever, the Little Orphans in Far Away Places Society, it's the private investigation people. Everyone's looking for a damn handout."

He pulled out the contents of the envelope and read.

Count Talomar Longden,

I will be brief. I have noticed you in the Red Dragon Inn before and had cause to guess at your nature. Though our business practices are quite different, I have recognized and respect your reservation and subtlety. It is this professional attitude, and the application of a similar attitude to others of our kind, that I wish to discuss.

I will be at Firenze's on the night of the 26th. You are welcome to join me, and I assume you own a black tie.
Alain D'Mourir

"Assume that I own a black tie? Is he joking?" He would have dismissed the letter except for the mention of "others of our kind". That caught his attention. Besides, this could be useful for his meeting this night. He had heard of the Sentinel Private Investigation agency, but he didn't know any details.

He set down his cigar, picked up a fountain pen and wrote on the bottom of the same letter:

I'll be there at 8. With any luck, I'll get a black tie for Christmas.

T. L.

He put the letter in the "Out" box with a note paper clipped to it that said, "Charles, find out what you can about the S.P.I."

He then sat back in his leather chair behind his desk, right hand to his chin, staring into the fire that was blazing in his study. He placed the cigar to his lips and took a long puff when he heard the voice of his Valet, Charles Dukette, as he entered the second floor study. . .

(Note: and thus began "The Gathering")

A black coach slowly traveled down the nearly deserted cobblestone road, as the clip clop of the hooves of the four black horses echoed off the buildings that lined the street on the cold winter evening. The coach came to a stop in front of Firenze's, and the door swung open as the driver sat motionless. Count Longden stepped out of the coach and the door shut. His dark sable overcoat covered his black suit, and black leather gloves grasped what appeared to be a walking cane.

Talomar stepped inside Firenze?s and let the door close behind him. The food smelled good enough, but that was not what he was attempting to sense. The Italian looking man with the mustache who stood at the front desk greeted him. ?Good eve, sir, and welcome to Firenze?s. Would you like a table??

Talomar slowly removed his gloves and turned to look at the man, ?Monsieur D?Mourir . . . has he arrived??

The man nervously nodded and pointed to the corner booth where curls of smoke slowly circled about.

Talomar nodded. ?Thank you. It appears I already have a table.?

The Count stepped inside the dining area and walked over to the table, taking in the man, the coffee, and the envelope. Charles had filled him in on the man and the organization, and he sincerely hoped this wasn?t going to be a waist of his time.

?Monsieur D?Mourir," Talomar nodded. "Good evening.? He removed the sable overcoat and went to hang it on the hook on the outside of the booth. ?Must make sure people get to appreciate my black tie.?

Talomar looked down at the seat opposite Alain and he sat down when the invitation was given. ?Thank you,? he said as he sat with the toe of the walking cane planted upon the floor and his hand resting to the engraved knob on the top. His posture began as one who didn?t intend to meet for very long.

"I hope it won't offend you if I get straight to business . . .?

The Count had that impassive, unreadable look on his face, but he liked this guy already. Right to the point was the way Talomar preferred to do business. He listened carefully to all that Alain had to say about the cancer in the city.

A waiter was approaching with a coffee pot and Talomar held out his hand to indicate that no service was necessary. The server nodded and went on his way. Count Longden tapped the knob of the walking cane a few times with his fingers and then spoke in a voice that was deep but silky smooth. ?It appears, Monsieur D?Mourir, that you and I have a similar view of this city?s ?cancer?. If it?s not dealt with swiftly, I?m afraid the patient is destined for an early demise.?

His posture changed to one that was more relaxed, indicating that he was growing interested in what Alain had to say. ?Exactly what is it that you are proposing, Monsieur D?Mourir??

Count Longden studied Alain through eyes so dark they might be considered black. It occurred to him as he listened that Monsieur D?Mourir might be assuming that he was a slaver. The idea nearly made him smile, but it was an understandable error. Enslaving people was a dirty business that Talomar considered beneath him. He was the founder and ?CEO? of S.E.C.T.O.R., the Space Equipment and Commodities Trading Organization, a legitimate business that ran trade between many worlds. Of course, sometimes the ?commodities? he traded were questionable if one were to look closely. Talomar?s ?pharmaceuticals? were actually drugs; his ?security and defense? items were the state-of-the-art weaponry of many worlds, and his ?personnel?? Well, to be honest, they were slaves. Whether voluntary or collared, they usually came from those persons and organizations who actually were slavers. However, Talomar could afford to be particular. There were certain slavers he wouldn?t do business with, such as those who were not professionally discrete; and if a slaver couldn?t move his or her slaves, the slaver would not be happy. Slaves needed to be fed and housed and kept alive. If they didn?t move them quickly, the slaver could quickly go broke.

When Alain had finished, Talomar straightened up just a bit more and laid a hand upon the table. His words were slow and deliberate. ?A more stable and sensible Rhy?Din,? he nodded, mulling over that goal. "Yes, I would have to say that is definitely a goal that we evidently have in common."

He paused, then continued, "You have approached me at a most opportune time, Monsieur D?Mourir. I already have an ?affiliated group? that you speak of ? a very powerful one with people in key places. I?m looking for other groups of like-minded individuals who might wish to take a unified approach in extracting this cancer.?

He leaned forward and spoke softly, ?If you are serious about this alliance, Monsieur D?Mourir, then you and the S.P.I, and the S.P.I.S.D. would be most welcome to join us in a unified effort to achieve that more sensible and stable Rhy?Din, as you so nicely put it.? He looked about the restaurant and saw no one paying attention to them. ?We need to act quickly, Monsieur D?Mourir. There is an election coming up, as you know. We need a governor who will work very closely with us this coming year.? He refrained from saying ?who will be controlled by us? but he was sure Alain got the gist.

That makes him pause. This is democracy they're talking about... though not necessarily standing in the way of democracy. One common feature of this form of government is gaining the support of various powerful groups and factions. Still, the caution in his eyes is evident.

"It's important, to be sure... but I wonder if anyone other than G'nort really has a chance." He nurses his coffee, watching the other man's eyes, still. "He's indicated openness to private contracts, and I believe he could be negotiated with." A wry smile touches his lips. "Now I'm not sure how well-equipped S.P.I. is for substantial political support... but there's my two cents, just the same."

His tongue ring clicks once against his molar. He's thinking deeply, choosing each word carefully. "...Still. In advance of the primaries, or maybe before the main election, I could pose critical security questions as important to my organization as they are to your affiliates. And the nature of the questions would make the candidate most ideal to us look the very best."

He waves that topic off with one hand, finding something else entirely more pressing. "Whatever governor we have, as long as they are not incompetent, I'm sure can be negotiated with... What concerns me more is cooperation between your group and mine. There are monsters out there going way off the deep end, murdering left and right, and generous as our governor and the Watch have been to me, they often do nothing." Leaning forward a touch. "What I need is an agreement, funding, to rid ourselves of the problems that bother both of us. Without money, I can't devote the time and resources to investigating rampant and senseless crimes and bringing a stop to them."

Alain keeps his best poker face, and incidentally rather fancies a card game someday with the count Longden. The way he refers so nonchalantly to his resources, though... the detective assumes Scrooge won't be much involved in the negotiations.

"I think you should wait until after the primaries." He rips a page out of a notebook in his pocket and circles a few figures as he speaks. He's already done math for what kind of money would be needed should he actually get funding from this man - or another benefactor, in all probability, had this meeting gone south. "G'nort didn't do so well last year, but people didn't know him last year. Now they know him. Most of the others I would go so far as to say I am actively afraid for our city should they win." He slides the paper over. The figures are reasonable given the task - the task is expensive, but it won't be breaking any banks, either. He doesn't refer to it yet, though. "The racially-minded orc, Khaine... Jade Rogue... Wolvinator... they're unstable and poorly suited for the job. One of them gets into office, we'll have one helluva mess. Anastas is intelligent, he actually works for me, but..." He itches his chin. "...let's say I'm open to the idea, but I have my doubts about the popularity of his platform, much less his ability to make it work."

"I like Karen Wilder, though I imagine she would be wary of working with you." No sooner does he say that than he pauses and reconsiders. "...If she knew she was working with you. I've worked with her in the past, and feel pretty confident I could negotiate deals with her in the future. I might function as a go-between for you if that's possible - just an idea."

"Corlanthis... decent guy, don't know much about him, don't really know his platform..." He frowns, then. "Haven't seen him around much, come to think of it. Which leaves G'nort as the strongest choice, or Ms. Wilder, if you think you can work with her through me or other parties."

At last, he refers to the figures, gesturing to the paper. "Obviously there's a lot I couldn't take into account - this is based on my experience with previous long-term assignments and the amount of work I imagine my people would be doing over the course of the coming year." Low funding first quarter, medium funding second quarter, high funding third quarter, low funding fourth quarter. "If we cooperate closely and work intelligently, we should see change beginning by the spring, and significant change by the end of the summer. That peak?" He grins, breaking the poker face, and there's a glint in his eye. "That would be my organization making war - taking down the larger groups and more powerful and dangerous individuals we've been probing." The grin slowly fades, and he leans back into his seat, the look on his face silently saying, Questions?

"And with you also, Monsieur Longden," he replies, returning the firm handshake. "I will have to see this castle sometime." He winks as the other man departs, and then returns to his seat to finish his coffee. He leaves payment and a tip, puts his notes away, pushes his coat collar up, and with another cigarette lit, leaves the restaurant.

A similar letter arrived at Longden Castle from the Grayskull Estate, one day after the primary election results were announced. It was addressed to Count Longden, and upon opening it would read the following:

?Dear Talomar Longden,

Good day to you sir, and I would first like to thank you for responding to my initial letter. I understand that you are a busy man, and there are many items that cross your desk, so for that I thank you.

As you may have heard, I have moved past the primaries, and I am now one of the final candidates in the General election. I have continued to keep an open line of communication with Miss Ashante, and my stance on my initial offer remains unchanged. If it were in your power, I would still seek to have any backing that you may be able to provide in the coming election. There are a variety of ideas that I believe we both share, and I feel it would be mutually beneficial if we were able to work together.

Feel free to contact me at your earliest convenience, and I look forward to potentially working alongside you.

Thank you,

Admiral Wolvinator?
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