The little courier keeps close to the rooftops as she flutters over the Old City. This isn't exactly unfamiliar territory for her, and she's learned enough over the last few years to suggest that a low profile isn't always a bad thing. To that effect, she's wearing the darkest clothes she can muster: All dark blues and browns, and even a little black. To her, it's all the same.

The package being taken to this rather inhospitable locale is addressed to one "Mister Dykcyw." No pronunciation guide is included.

By the directions given, it's just past that warped building also known as the Asylum (or the Moz Ezley Home for the Disturbed in Spirit), and then a right at the dark obelisk, just past the headless felitaur, and then up the hill, at that desolate-looking crypt. (But then, don't all crypts look desolate?)

"Hmf. The least they could have done was provide a pronouncable surname." Bree glances down at the city below her as she loops about over the Asylum, then down to swoop over the graveyard, ruined and overgrown. "I have to stop taking jobs like these."

The ground seems to shift and move near the crypt – or perhaps it's just a trick of the light.

Brishen squints, cupping her wings as she darts down to lightly perch atop the crypt.

The crypt is suitably ancient, just like the rest of the Old City's graveyard, with badly worn statuettes and figures in relief that look vaguely bat-like, though their wings have either broken off or have been worn away into nothing but lumps long ago.

The courier tilts her head as she casts a few squeaks into the darkness. Here, her ears will tell her much more about the world than her eyes ever could.

A jumble of broken statues and monuments break up the reflected sound. A few such squeaks reveal the surroundings to be quite still … save for a cowled and cloaked figure quite some distance away, on the fringes of the Asylum's grounds, making his or her way to the entrance. By vision alone, that wouldn't even be noticed from here, in the pale glow afforded by the Procession above, and taxed by passing clouds.

However, there is some movement closer by. Here, then there. Vermites. They're swarming all over the ground outside the crypt, like a living, furry, semi-crunchy carpet.

Bree wrinkles her nose, ducking behind a headless statue. "Gross. Why does it always have to be vermites." She keeps an ear on the approaching figure, though.

The distant figure doesn't get any closer. Instead, it disappears into the Asylum. However, Brishen at last notices that someone must have slipped up while she was distracted. She can sense by a change in the feel of the wind blowing against her wings that someone is behind her, on the roof.

Brishen squeaks, her breath catching in her throat as she spins around. A few strands of errant, curly hair flutter out behind her. "Eeeef! Hey!"

A tall, dark, cloaked, black-furred bat with red-glowing eyes lets out a chilling laugh. "Bwahahahhaahhaaahahahahaaaaaa!"

Brishen narrows dark brown eyes. "You sound awfully familiar." She tilts her head a little. "Are you Mister, er, Diku?"

"Yeth," responds the dark bat. His overly large canines glimmer in the Procession-light. "You hath a packaghe fuwah me, yeth?"

Several vermites skitter about the dark bat's feet, clambering across the rooftop of the crypt, blinking at Brishen with curious rodent-bug eyes.

Her mother always said she was a pretty sharp little kid, and it doesn't take much for Bree to put two and two together. "Uh-HUH." She furrows her brow, trying not to glance at the vermites as she fusses with her satchel. "Yeth – er, yes, I do."

The tall, dark but not handsome bat presses his palms against each other. "Thplendid."

Thplendid! Hmf. Well, he is a paying customer… Bree smiles as she wrestles a package out of her satchel, and hands it to the tall bat.

The bat smiles widely and toothily as he takes the package. He rears his head back, laughing. "BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA – *koff* *hack* *ahem* – HAHHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAAA!"

The dark bat clears his throat, then fishes around in his robes, and pulls out a tenner to hand to Brishen. "Keep the thanghe."

Brishen tucks the tenner away, quick as a bat's wing, and buckles her satchel up. After she's done, and sure that no vermites have hitched a ride, she glances at the tall bat. "Do you always have to do that?"

The dark bat furrows a brow, looking at Brishen. "Why? Do you think I need to come up with a more thinithter thounding laugh?"

Blink, blink. Brishen giggles faintly, "It certainly couldn't hurt. Maybe your minions could chitter mockingly in the background." She leans back against the headless statue, grinning. Well, he hasn't tried to attack me or anything. Yet.

The dark bat hmphs. "We thall thee who thall hath the latht laugh!" He tears into his package, revealing a box, which he opens. "Aha! At latht! The key to my thucceth! I thall now be ready … to take over the wuhld! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!"

Brishen crosses her arms. I know this music. Delicate wings furl primly behind her as she steps across the crypt's roof to peer at the box. "So, what is it?"

"BEHOWUD!" the dark bat bellows, and he yanks something out of the box, holding it high. It is …

… a plush Francisco doll. Five tails. Grey fur. Loudly colored shirt, but Brishen can't tell that. Goofy smile. Beady eyes.

Brows raise. Arms cross. "A Fahnseesko doll?" Brishen peers up at it skeptically. "You can't be – Oh, it's a wonderful idea!"

Brishen claps a hand over her muzzle. Watch it, girl. This guy's really crazy, and you aren't in the Bazaar.

The dark bat laughs again, then says, "Yeth, it lookth tho … innothent, doeth it not? But thurely you hath theen thutht how popuwaw it ith among aw the cubth!"

Brishen brushes a lock of hair from her eyes. "Well, they're pretty popular with everyone." She squints at the strange, five-tailed fox doll, "What're you planning to do with it?"

The dark bat makes a wider grin, and digs into the box again, producing another plush toy. It looks like a dark Eeee with overly large fangs, red glass eyes that glitter in the Procession-light, and robes very similar to those the dark bat is wearing. "THITH!"

Brishen grows very interested in her hair, brushing a few more locks back. "Oh… " She fidgets a little, fighting off a giggle, then looks up at the tall bat again. "It's truly ingenious."

The dark bat waves around the plushie version of himself, and bwahahas again. "Yeth! Thuth think of it! I thall win the heawts of a whowe genewathion! They thall IDOWITHE me! Evewy night, they wiw go to bed, cuddwing thith imathe of me, twuthting it to keep them thafe and thound. They wiw athothiate me with aw that ith good and dethiwabuh."

"And then," the dark bat boasts, "when they meet me, they wiw gwadwy obey my evewy COMMAND! I thaw wuwe the WUWLD!"

Dethiwabuh? Well, he's certainly thinking in the long term, the courier muses. She grins cheerily, "What'll you do after you've gained control of the world?"

The dark bat pauses at this, deep in thought.

The dark bat snaps his fingers. "I thaw win the heawt of Ambewgwith and we thaw wive togethew in a pawathe of ebony, with a thouthand thewvanth to obey hew evewy whim. And I'w take a nap and hath dinnew."

Ambew-Ambergris? Wow! This is, really, really… Bree smiles, "Incredible! I admire your vision." Really… Um. Romantic, in a twisted sort of way.

The dark bat smiles proudly. "I wike youw thpiwit. Maybe you wouwd wike to appwy to become a woywaw minion? The pay wiw be good, onthe I take ovew the wuwld."

Brishen clasps her hands in front of herself. "Oh, I would certainly be honored – But I think I could serve you better by… Hm." She glances at the bat plush, hoping it's at least cute.

The bat plush IS cute, though with a NASTY overbite.

And then, there's the freaky way those eyes reflect the light…

Brishen's eyes glitter. "Well, I… How much were you planning to sell them for?"

The dark bat adopts a business-like attitude. "Now then. I wouwd wike to have a methage dewivewed back to the madame dowwmakew. I thaw compothe a wethponthe." A vermite skitters up with the dark bat's pen, while another comes up with an inkwell, and another with a scrap of parchment in its mandibles.

Brishen opens one of the outer pouches on her satchel, clearing a spot for a letter. She glances at the vermite with the parchment.

The dark bat finishes scribing a letter, and addresses it, then hands it to Brishen. He digs out some shekels and gives them to her as well. "Now. A pwithe. I thay … a modetht pwithe of … ten coppewth. Fuwah thuch quawity, a bawgain, yeth?"

The vermites say nothing to indicate any sort of disagreement with the dark bat.

The little bat crosses her arms. "I'm not sure how much the Fahnseesko dolls are selling for." There's a long pause as she considers, then shrugs. "I guess ten coppers sounds fine." She grins to herself as she tucks the letter in her satchel.

The dark bat smiles proudly. "Wiwth the fundth fwom thaweth of the dowwth, I wiw put togethew a gweat AWMY!"

"Of course, if I'm going to be your partner, I expect a percentage of the profits." Brishen grins cheerily, "Oh, and when you take the world over, I'd like Rephidim."

Brishen giggles to herself. This is really fun.

"Hmmm," ponders the dark bat. "We wiw conthidew it. I'm wathew fond of the Athywum. It hath chawactew."

"Thewve me weww," the dark bat proclaims, "and you wiw be weww wewawded when I come into my uwtimate powah!"

The dark bat adds, though, in a more sinister tone, "Faiw me, howevew, and the punithment wiw be tewwibew. My vewmiteth awe EVEWYWHEWE!"

"Turbulent!" The little courier grins evilly. No matter how this all turns out, it should be interesting. "Oh – I almost forgot." She wraps her arms around herself as she starts to laugh, a high, soft sound that gradually builds into a crazed, broken-glass giggle which shatters amongst ruined statues and crumbled stone crypts.

Brishen smiles. "There. Now that's a laugh."

The dark bat pauses a bit for his ears to stop ringing. "Vewy … impwethive."

"You awe weawning vewy weww, my appwentithe. Thomeday, pewhapth aww thith thall be yowahth." He gestures to the expanse of the graveyard.

Brishen wraps her wings around herself, giggling muffledly. Maybe I'll get a few silvers out of this. And if he doesn't get in the way of things, I could build a pretty good business, too! I'll have to think of other toys, though.

Brishen spreads her wings, suddenly, and crouches down. "Well, it was nice doing business with you, Mister, uh, Diku. And I'll make sure this message gets delivered!" She drops down from the crypt, circling about a few times until she's well over the other bat's head. The things you get yourself into, girl. Hmf – Well, at least you'll have an interesting story to tell Reico. Soon, she's faded from sight, though the keen-of-ear can hear her wings fluttering for a little while longer.