Snippet #2286112

It was a sight to see the herald of a God smoking, and yet the harsh, angular lines of Anzo's face lit with the embers of a rolled stogie cigar, those features that were thrown into shadow by his hat illuminated in a deep red light. The trails of smoke rolled from his lips in a lazy fashion as his eyes travelled between the two speakers - first Taima, then The Auditor - in silence, appraising, examining. When The Auditor's voice quieted, the Gunslinger spoke.

"Ain't been in this business as long as some 'o ya," he murmured, his hat removed, as it would remain, when speaking in the presence of a lady, "but I reckon this here meetin's a good step - a strong step - in the righ' direction. Only problem I see is that we'd need a sort o' conductor, t'keep the train on the right tracks."

He paused, savouring another puff of the cigar before it vanished from his fingers. "Now, I don't wish t'offend any o' you gathered. Taima, the Herald of Ahuma, speaks a right truth in tha' united, we stand. An' if we're t'stand united, the conductor we choose has t'be the right conductor."

He waved a gloved hand to those assembled. "It's a mighty first step t'throw our hats in th' ring. Bu' an accord don't mean much if we're standin' on it separate. Herald o'Ahuma, y'called us here t'discuss this with us, an' I thank yeh for it. But d'you have an idea as ta how we're t'use th' considerable might of those assembled, should we decide somethin' must be done?"

To the Gunslinger's left, a cowled figure - The Serenade - leaned back, folded his arms, and awaited a response.