Open Chronicles It's Just Good Business

[Rowe Collwood]

He'd been operating for years in Alliria, solidifying his power base and ensuring his foundations were secure. Now it was time to spread outward, first through the city and the world would follow. His name was known well enough in certain circles as was his face, or rather lack thereof. His features hidden behind a mask, none knew his true face, something he used to his advantage from time to time.

Today, things changed. An abandoned warehouse on the edge of the slums had been quietly secured for the occasion. Candles gave dim light as the night wore on, casting odd shadows upon the room. A banquet table laden with fine food and wine dominated the room and was ringed by cushioned mahogany chairs. Servants silently moved about tending the room while a single figure sat at the head of the table. His garb was tailored and cut in the latest fashion from his dark, leather jacket to his creased trousers. His face was hidden behind a blank mask while he idly toyed with the jet black cane in his hands.

As the final preparations ended, the guests trickled in. Thugs, assassins, scholars, thieves, and more. They each had skills that could serve his goals or assets he could invest in for future benefits. Whether they attended for money, glory, curiosity, or something else he didn't know and, if he were an honest man, he didn't care. To him, it was just business.

He remained silent, waiting for his guests to settle in and be served.

Gracia von Stehlen
Smiling One
Faelyn Daestra
Kiileet Glassdancer
Ktaris
Faurosk
Kerastrina

 

[Kiileet Glassdancer]

Alliria once more! unlike so many traveling circuses before, The Dancing Wisp Circus managed to keep its reputation intact and on good terms with Alliria, which meant they were able to return to the bustling city once more with the turning of the seasons.

Business was better than usually, having built a good reputation the year before with the people of Alliria, it seemed there was no end to the people who wanted to see the show again.

Having already been camped outside of the city for a week now Kiileet caught wind of this secretive meeting. One such as Kiileet, with his various connections, eventually heard of such things one way or another. And it simply couldn't resist such a tantalizing offer. One needed to eat... And one needed gold to buy food.

Kiileet took the day off, confident that his people will keep the circus running smoothly while he was away. It wanted to attend the party, and decided it wanted to dress to impress. Changing its shape from its customary male appearance it switched to a female form, choosing clothing that was at once posh, yet intimidating.

Now so prepared she sauntered into the warehouse where the meeting was to take place, tapping her cane and sharp heels on the floor as she walked in. She played the role of a well-to-do con artist, which matched her form and costume appropriately. Everything she did down to the minutest detail told only of the person she pretended to be, with no hint as to who she really was.

She strolled in and surveyed the stage before her with a confident smirk on her face.

 

[Ktaris]

Entering in slowly, there was a natural look around for exits and surprises, anyone waiting here that shouldn’t be here, or hidden windows looking in. The dim lighting was a boon for not only his profession but also his kind. It wasn’t as if the shadows moved around him, instead he simply managed to find the exact spot to obscure himself naturally, a skill of a now acolyte shadowmancer. Back to the wall, he remained with at least two exits in clear view and a good view of everything he was able to see.

Unknown to him yet, while the first entrants had reputations and names or reputations to build, Ktaris had a name to remain lost. The less anyone knew about him the better, as was the way of his people and his god Eleth. A member of Enigma City’s religious caste he was a firm devotee of that god.

Noting each as he entered, and strongly observant of the details of their walk, any mannerisms they gave away or secrets for later. Kiileet's confident walk, Rowe's inclination to remain hidden, not knowing their names these details were their names to him. Their use of slang, inflections, and accents would also be useful information. He had attended gatherings like this before, but he had usually been along as a bodyguard, not the one doing the speaking. Today was a test of sorts, as to how he handled any negotiations.

Dressed in black leathers, and reinforced with the occasional bit of black iron plate around the wrists, neck and other common targets, he came with a variety of knives hidden beneath the cloak, the hood obscuring most of his face and the shadows the rest. There was also a sword and a small shield on his person, a hand crossbow and several alchemical vials. You could probably tell he was elven by his bearing, but not the Tundra Elf tribe unless you looked closely. If you were incredibly observant you would also notice a shadow shifting somewhere the other side of the warehouse to watch where he could not, but that was only for the very visually aware.

He was here to seed a new set of eyes and ears in this very city. For the Tundra elves dealt in secrets and lies as currency, that and supplying assassins. If this new group needed a steady stream of trained assassins, that might be workable, including his services of course.

Tags:
Kiileet Glassdancer
Rowe Collwood

 

[Gracia von Stehlen]

Gracia had come to Alliria to do business. That was the only reason she ever went anywhere. There was a house of nobles in need of trade partners. As advisor to her own noble house, and as a woman who'd suffered from devastating boredom for the past three months, she took the opportunity to draw a carriage and take the long trip herself.

She hated nobles. As a noble herself, she knew the inner workings of a spoiled, rich brat. So, naturally, she used that to her advantage. The prices she offered for her family's goods went up tremendously due to her unique ability of persuasion. The head of the noble home, a man whose name she didn't bother remembering, had taken obvious interest in her. Particularly in the curve of her hips. So Gracia popped one hip out and drew out her words in a seductive tone until the man finally shook her hand. She winked to his wife as she strolled out the house with the security of knowing they would be doing business again.

While on her way back to her suite at an inn in the Inner City, she couldn't help but overhear talk of a meeting. A band of misfits was to be formed and they were in specific need of people with her capabilities. Gracia smiled to herself. She was beginning to dread her humble duties and this opportunity was one she simply couldn't let pass her by.

Quickly changing into a satin green dress and handfuls of golden jewelry, she took the streets with the sole purpose of finding this meeting. Strangely enough, it was easy to find. With ears like hers, Gracia could pick up on anything and if she sweet talked enough, she could get whatever she wanted. So she did.

She walked into a dimly lit warehouse, much to her disliking, and approached an organized banquet table set with a dazzling array of delicacies. Her eye was only drawn to the wine, though. It had been forever since she'd had a glass.

Gracia took a seat next to woman in a suit and immediately curled her fingers around a glass of wine. Further observing the group around her, she realized she should have brought a weapon with her, even if the only thing she'd travelled with was a dagger. Weapons made a person much more intimidating, so instead she would have to sit with the figure of a king in hopes of portraying her power.

She cast her eyes over the woman next to her, attempting to figure her out. Gracia swirled the wine around in her glass, but didn't dare to take a sip.

 

[Aeyliea]

There was only one reason to come to a place like this, only one reason to come to an event like this: information. She would not trade with the kind of people that dealt in information, preferring to do her own scout work herself, or have someone else do it in her stead. Obviously, this was the kind of party that Tian would enjoy best, and she was reasonably certain the former assassin was in among the crowd.

She wore all of her regalia for this occasion, including her two-handed sword. The long hilt of that great blade stuck out over her shoulder, the tip of it visible around her thigh on the opposite side. She didn't need it to be deadly. It was her favored weapon, even though she was just as well versed with short spears and bucklers, but those were weapons of war and this place was not one of war, not yet.

She expected to find Two-Faced Eddie among the people in the crowd, but he was absent. Just as well, she would very much have started bloodshed if that lying son-of-a-whore were here. As it was, being among thieves and cuthroats and people of the lowest, most debased caste...

She moved to an outside edge of the crowd, her perfect face a mask carved of stone, stormy blue-grey eyes as inscrutable as a statues. Her brilliant white hair was in its traditional briad, complex weaving that incorporated the bones of small animals and feathers and beads, turning it into an ornate headdress of its own.

For now, she merely observed. These would all be enemies, people she would likely have to deal with in the future. There were too many criminal gatherings as it was in a place like Aliria, and she loathed the city for it as much as for anything else.

 

[Faelyn Daestra]

Faelyn was fond of the richer areas of town - and the trinkets she could snitch off the nobles staying at the Inns (when luck was on her side, at least). And so it was at one such inn that Faelyn drank, watching idly with golden eyes as a rather attractive (standoff-ish?) human female draped in green satin swept through the Inn and out the door when a group nearby mentioned something about a meeting. Drink in hand, Faelyn leaned closer to the group, practically falling over in her attempt to eavesdrop. The group hushed and the main speaker raised an eyebrow at her.

"Something we can help ye with, lass?" he asked.

"Mmmm....just that handsome face," she replied with a wink, raising gracefully to her feet despite the flush on her cheeks. The entire group gave her a confused look as she left, a little unsteady on her feet, towards her destination, which was....oh yes, a warehouse. In the City. Somewhere.

It took a while, but the green elf eventually found the warehouse and, out of habit if nothing else, she checked the building and it's adjoining streets, noting potential exits and hiding places. Satisfied with what she found, she walked quietly through the door to find a group of people gathering around a table covered in delicious-looking treats and -

"Wine!" she sighed happily, grasping the first glass she found and tipping it back, not even noticing if she'd grabbed it from in front of someone already sitting.

Looking towards the head of the table she raised her glass to Rowe, smiling as she winked at him.

"And who do I have the honour of thanking for this deliciousness?" she asked, swirling her glass and taking another drag.

 

[Ivo Coppercrow]

The odd man out among the cosmopolitan crowd was no doubt one old dwarf in particular. Hamund shouldered and elbowed his way to the table as quickly as he could, snatching out a overtly fancy chair with hustle unbecoming of a man his age and stature.

What could he say? Fine food made for fine motivation, and business is no fun without a little pleasure. Of course, he would've preferred a stouter drink to this namby-pamby elf faff that was being served in 'decanters' and 'chalices', but free drink was free drink. So it was that Hamund ate as he waited for the meeting to get wound up to speed, drinking his fill of wine in spite of the fact that it didn't warm him as much as a nice, strong ale would have.

His fingers were tinged by chicken grease, and the corners of his lips dribbled faint stains of pinkish red to his beard as wine spilled sloppily from his cheeks. It would seem as though the old man hadn't eaten in days given the way he was scarfing down his fill, but he payed absolutely no mind to his fellow attendants in spite of their individual and uniquely odd behaviors.

 

[Kerastrina]

Kerastrina was glad to be back in Alliria, truly the best city, where money was what made the world turn round. Sometimes you just want to go where nobody knows your name, and they've got no idea you came, you want to be where you can see the troubles are all the same; you just wanna be where nobody knows who to blame.

As Kera was walking around the slums, taking in the old sights, she noticed a man on a slanted roof watching her. She continued, noticing another on top of the warehouse across the street. Men on roofs, especially around these parts tend to not be up to any good. As for why they were on a roof well that was obvious to Kera: they were there to ambush her, or spy on her, probably so they could ambush her later. Heading down an ally she quickly found her own way up onto the roofs as well. Luckily the two on the roofs were busy scanning the street, likely trying to find her again. This made it easy to sneak up behind the first, and cleanly, and silently put an end to his nefarious plan.

The second would be trickier, but she first had dispose of this body before it fell from the slanted roof. She quickly pushed it off the far side of the building using it as a cushion for her fall. She needed to get to the second before they realized he was missing. Just as the guard leaned forward squinting to find where their partner had gone Kera gave the answer with the blade of her dagger.

Alright now she just needed to hide the first body before someone stumbled upon it. The warehouse seemed abandoned so it would make a pretty good spot. So Kera dragged the body across the street in a hurry, picked the lock, and began to enter only to realize the warehouse was not so abandoned as it might have first appeared. She turned to see a room full of thugs, and that she was entering behind, going off of his dress, his position at the table, the somewhat famous mask, and the angry thugs who stood beside him, likely the leader of this shindig. She decided the smart thing would be to run. She dropped the body, and booked it away from the door hoping the confusion would las long enough for her to get some distance. She needed to hide, but where. She realized that there was a crowed of people, and a place anyone pursuing her would likely not suspect.

So she entered though the main door, trying her best to blend in. She followed the lead of a person wearing something dark, leaning against the wall, in the shadows. "So... how about that darkness, eh?" She said quickly tying a bandana around her face, "Really hides one identity making them seem dark and mysterious."
It was roughly at this time she also realized she was surrounded by thugs; she could not have found a better crowed to blend in more with if she had tried.

 

[Smiling One]

"Hey you!"

Willis overheard a raspy, haggard voice yelling at a patron. It was just a typical day in the tavern. Some drunk asshole tends to muster up fools courage and think they can take on anyone. The young mercenary paid no mind to it focusing on his cold ale that lay before him. The froth began to bubble and pour out from the edge of the metal jug. Willis' mouth began to salivate his eyes gazing at the beverage it felt as though Willis had found buried treasure or a portal stone. He had a long day involving hunting a pair of Grecks who were killing a farmer's animals.

Tracking the Grecks wasn't particularly hard, they were insectoids who love digging and aren't particularly subtle. There were huge holes in the farmers place which allowed Willis to go in search for the Grecks. After about 5 hours of searching, Willis found the insectoids gnawing on the rotting corpse of a cow. A fight ensued in which one of the Greck's tried to lunge at Willis with its razor sharp pincers. The young man kept his distance and attempted to penetrate the gaps of its natural armor with his Cutlass. A few whacks later, Willis managed to stab at the Greck's exposed neck area killing it instantly. The last Greck attempted to escape but was doused with a fire bomb by Willis.

The Farmer grumbled about his fields being destroyed but nonetheless gave Willis pay. Willis couldn't care less about the Farmer's problem he got paid and that's the long and short of that. "Is your name Robert son of Robert?!" The drunk man continued to shout at the poor soul who was cowering in front of him. Willis sighed, it wasn't a situation that involved him besides he had an alcoholic beverage to drink and a invitation to attend later. The bartender craned his head towards the drunk patron, his eyes filling with worry. "This is the fifth time Harry has picked a fight." the bartender muttered. "Damn Sailors always trying to start something."

Willis frowned. "I miss the part where I should care," he grumbled. "Fights happen in Taverns all the time, when you have exhausted, angry people and inject them with copious amounts of alcohol then no shit it can turn to chaos."

"I am Robert," the frightened young man replied. The Sailor grinned his bulging arms twitching a bit, in an instant the Sailor grabbed the boys neck and held him up high for a bit before throwing him in Willis' direction.

"Fuck!" Willis managed to run dive on to the ground belly first before the young man haplessly landed on to the table and on to the Ale Willis was salivating over five minutes ago. The jug of Ale fell on to the floor its contents spilling next to a shocked and angered Willis.

"Time to kill you!" The Sailor shouted swaying back and forth lumbering to the beaten kid. Willis forced himself up before glowering at the drunken man. He's sailed with Pirates when he was younger and they know you DO NOT fucking mess with another sea dogs drink!

"Hey fucker!" Willis spat. "That was my drink you spilled! I don't give a shit what this kid do to you but you're going to have to pay for that!"

"Fuck you!" the Sailor charged at Willis bellowing. Willis grabbed the spilt metal jug and hurled it towards the Sailor's skull. Metal met flesh as the Sailor staggered clutching his bruised head allowing Willis rush in and kicked him in the crotch. The Sailor howled in pain falling to his knees, Willis silenced him with a punch to the throat and the drunk Sailor fell down face first coughing.

Willis shook his head, "one moment of relaxation!" he said. "All for nothing! Fuck you!"

The kid slowly got off the table while the bartender emerged from his hiding place. "Thank you sir," the boy said. "I don't know why he tried to attack me but thank you."

Willis sighed stepping over the coughing sailor heading for the exit. When he reached the door, Willis turned his head to Robert. "Think nothing of it."

After about an hour of walking, Willis arrived at the place where he was supposed to meet the mysterious benefactor. He heard that he was starting a guild of sorts fit for bandits, mercenaries, thieves and all kinds of scum that lurk in Alliria. Good luck with that especially with the top gangs in the Shadows watching your every step but the coin was good and Willis was not the one who turns down coin.

 

[Tzuriel Alanthis]

Tzuriel normally wouldn't pay attention to gossip or reports of secret meetings, but this one had some merit to it considering the wide area the rumors occupied. If this were a normal criminal movement it would be far more discreet and he would hear about it through other sources.

This could only mean that something big was about to go down, and he wasn't about to let his company suffer for lack of information and ability to do anything.
The merchant king was not about to be left high and dry while others circle his companies like sharks.

Tzuriel arrived at the warehouse. Thankfully it wasn't one of his own, he would hate to go to all the trouble to find and fire whoever was bribed to let them use this space.
He entered the warehouse. There was already a large gathering of individuals, all of them either rough or posh with only a few in the grey area. Even those in the shadows fell into one of those categories.
A few people stood out. One was the obvious proprietor of the event, wearing a now familiar white mask.
The other was the Amazonian Aeyliea, a warrior of the Savannah and a face he remembered well. He offered a respectful nod in her direction.
If she noticed him he was hardly as soft as he was before, even as he walked calmly across the floor to the table there was something predatory in his step, like the essence of a hunter.

He approached the table and selected a spot close to the head of the table, where he could have a good view of the man who organized this well advertised meeting. If there was going to be any decisions made against the trade, or specifically the Alanthis trade empire, he would make his voice heard, and he would know who his enemy would be.

 

[Quentin Scrive]

Quentin sat in one of the cushioned mahogany chairs, a glass of wine sitting at the low table between his chair and the chair to his left. In his hands he had a small pen knife and an apple, cutting slices off and eating them slowly as he watched the room fill.

He didn't normally work in Alliria, having mostly worked with the local guilds in Vel Anir and recently branching out into Elbion. His most recent master, a figure of the shadows he hadn't been allowed to meet yet, had left instructions at a dead drop to be at this soiree. He'd gotten into town and had only the smallest windows of time to make introductions to some of the smaller guilds of the streets and acquire a safehouse for his own use, before the time to appear happened.

Now, it was only time to wait and see what his shadowy master had in store for him here.

 

[Kelak]

The Komodo wandered down the streets, shuffling a deck of cards in his hands and a pair of blades dangling comfortably at his hip. His eyes idly traced over the forms of the pedestrians, yellow pupils lingering on any particularly full coinpurses. It took a degree of self-control to wrench his gaze away from the easy targets and focus it back on the path ahead of him, as he recalled the directions to the warehouse. Left at the well, then make a right...

Perhaps he had time for one small spur of pickpocketing, after all it was late and he was going to a meeting of assorted thieves, vagabonds, thugs, and other various criminals. Getting some practice in beforehand as a sort of warm-up couldn't hurt. He continued to take a steady pace down the road, scanning the streets for a suitable pocket to pick. His eyes landed upon a decently dressed man nearby a tavern, with a slight hiccup to his voice and stumble to his movement. Excellent, a man with coin to take who had to much booze to spill, a convenient combination.

"My friend!" He exclaimed, turning his head over to the drunk as though he recognized the man, casting a friendly facade over his features. "It's been so long, hasn't it? Oh, how the days go by!"

He came over, the drunkard by this point clearly confused but too drunk to process it into words. "Fri-*hic*-end?" The confusion only lengthened Kelal's grin, as he pulled an arm around the man as though they were casual friends discussing business. "Had a bit too much booze for you to handle, just like you. Glad to see people never change," he laughed, the man beside him following. A couple of gold taken already. He turned the man around, putting his hands on his shoulders as he was about to fall. Slipping a hand into his pocket, he passed some more coins into his robes. "Another day then, friend. Careful around the alcohol," he warned, quickly leaving the drunkard behind, still too confused to become aware of what just happened.

He let out a chuckle, rubbing the gold together in his palms before depositing it in his coinpurse. Looks like he's ready. Now, to head to that warehouse. Following the directions he had memorized when he first heard about the meeting, turning from alleyway to street to alley once again, he finally came upon his destination. Opening the doors, he was quick to realize he had found the correct place, coming to see a dozen faces each rather suspicious looking. His type of people, it seemed. He gave them all a friendly grin, taking a seat and pulling out his cards to shuffle once more. After a moment of the silence, he said out loud, "Awfully quiet bunch, aren't you?" Casting a glance to the orchestrator of this meeting, he asked, "Mind explaining what you had in mind for this meeting?"

 

[Rowe Collwood]

The gathered numbers so far were varied, misfit, and exactly what he expected. They came from all walks of life and around the world. Their skills ranged from deadly assassins to petty thieves. From brutish warriors to wealthy entrepreneurs and aristocracy. He let himself enjoy the tiniest of smiles behind his mask. He'd earned that, at least.

"Thank you all for coming," he began, his accent prim and proper, his tone cool and well mannered. "Please, eat and drink to your heart's content. Should you desire something more, do not hesitate to ask and I shall make it so."

"As you're probably well aware, this meeting is rather… unusual. Normally, we don't meet in such numbers, nor in such… atmosphere. Shadows and dimly lit taverns are our habitat of choice. Perhaps the Halls of Nobility for a more luxurious prize from time to time, but nothing quite like this."

Rowe stood in a fluid motion, cane in hand. He tucked the glossy stick under one arm and spoke as he walked.

"People of Shadow are we. Comrades of the dark. The 'dread underbelly of society' I've heard on occasion. I have called you all here to ask a simple question."

He stopped and met the eyes of everyone assembled, lingering perhaps a touch or two longer on a woman bearing a large sword, Lady Aeyliea.

"What is the only difference between a king and a thief?"

Kiileet Glassdancer
Ktaris
Gracia von Stehlen
Faelyn Daestra
Hamund Bitterbrew
Kerastrina
Smiling One
Tzuriel Alanthis
Quentin Scrive
Kelak

 

[Kerastrina]

Kera raised her hand before realizing, one: this wasn't the place to be raising ones hand hoping to be called on. And two it would be foolish to call attention to oneself. Unfortunately she had already raised her hand so she had to answer now, otherwise she'd only seem suspicious and call more attention to herself. So, to hide her identity, she did her best low rumbly voice and replied loud enough for him to hear her from across the room,

"The scale of things? Thieves can only be in one place robbing, or killing one person at a time, King can rob and kill on a larger scale? The lucky b*st*rd!"

 

[Aeyliea]

"Might."


The single word was delivered in a clear, strong voice. The mercenary Captain still leaned against the wall, arms folded beneath her breasts with that unreadable expression on her face. She made a warding gesture with one hand, and then spit to one side. "Might, it is the difference between the high and low. Be they king, lord, or peasant. Willpower,it is defined by the number of swords willingly used, ready to hand."


Her words were thickly accented, clearly not of Aliria or any of the other cities. That thick, heavy growl in her words spoke of something primal and savage, which made a good fit to the woman it was coming from.


She clearly did not care if she drew attention to herself. The continuous warfare with one criminal outfit or another within the underbelly of the city meant that she was already known. There was no fear in the cold eyes, only steel. That this one felt so bold as to host a gathering, bringing round friends, enemies, and potentates alike...


Bold.


She looked around the room fearlessly, but not arrogantly. At least, not over confidently. She had likely clashed with some of these people before, but she had not backed down then and would likewise not now.

"Kings, they bleed like anyone else. Just have to get to them, first." She looked the masked figure straight in his unfathomable face as she said it.

 

[Kiileet Glassdancer]

Kiileet chirped up to answer, taking a light-hearted air to maybe release some of the tension in the room.
"Th' difference between a king an a thief be 'ow the bloke spends 'is gold."

She looked about at everyone at the table. Not a bad crowd for this performance, the bloke in the mask should'a charged an entry free.

She debated putting on a show of her own, but decided not to steal his thunder.

 

[Gracia von Stehlen]

Once the room had settled and everyone had taken their places to let the man in the mask speak, Gracia allowed herself a sip of wine. It was bitter with a hint of fruitiness and she relished in the way it burned down her throat and lingered on her tongue. She set the glass down gently, as if it was her most prized possession and listened as the strangers around the table began to answer that masked man's riddle.

Gracia could name many differences between a king and a thief. She didn't care much for the specific answer the man was searching for. Of course she had her opinions. In truth there wasn't much difference between the two. Kings steal because of what they already have. Thieves steal because of what they don't.

She didn't want to say something the masked man would identify her for, so instead she tipped her head toward the woman sitting next to her and pointed a graceful finger in her direction.

"What she said."

Gracia let the words fall off her tongue and then slipped back down in her chair, not bothering to make eye contact with the man. He was too busy staring down the silver-haired woman leaning on the wall. She carried too many secrets behind her eyes. Gracia didn't like not being able to read someone. She stared her down out of the corner of her eye, trying to get something out of her, but simple couldn't.

In that moment she realized she didn't know what she was signing up for.

 

[Neonitus]

i enter ubruptly and probably way to dramatically

"sorry im late damn bounty hunters are after me had to kill a few folks and do a quite lavish vanishing act, also i brought the best liquors a theif can steal and im a pretty good theif"

i wink at
Gracia von Stehlen

"okay mask man lets hear it" i pop a cork off one of the bottles and take a huge gulp while plopping onto a chair

 

[Ivo Coppercrow]

Hamund paid little mind to the shin-dig's host, instead glancing about as his fellow attendants gave their answers. Seemed ladies were speaking one after the other-- Some were close to getting it right in Hamund's eyes, others were less so. After four of his fellows spoke out, the old, crotchety dwarf figured he had been cordial enough. Before he could speak, though, a young elf came dashing in and promptly made himself the center of attention. Hamund watched, mouth agape, as the two-bit thief popped open a bottle of incredibly expensive liquor and downed a draft straight from the tap.

Finally gathering himself once more, the old dwarf gave two coughs into a balled fist. Throat cleared and attention on him, Hamund made his case.

"No, no, no," he bellowed in an accent that wasn't quite from Alliria or Belgrath, staying seated in his overly fancy chair. The old apothecary took a deep drag off of his wine glass, letting the room hang in the amplified silence that followed his boisterous voice before continuing on. "Kings take what they want in the light, using the laws they make. Thieves, eh, we have to deal in the dark and do things the more, ahhhhh, illicit route, shall we say?"

"You," he said, pointing a single digit off of his maul-sized fist in Aeyliea's direction. "I like you-- You look of death from the sword to the bones! But more importantly, you were right. Kings use power to amass more, thieves bleed the overly fattened king for all he's worth. It is simple donnar -- Ah, no, how's it said...? Arithmetic! Simple arithmetic." Hamund smoothed his beard out with a single massive hand, downing another long draw out of his chalice as if he were drinking the cheapest of ales.

Realizing that some of his fellow attendants still stared at him, expecting him to prattle on, the dwarf set his emptied cup down with a clatter and looked around. "What? That's all, I'm done."

 

[Kelak]

Kelak raised an eyebrow at the question, answering, "That's easy." He nodded to the rest of the words spoken by the others present in agreement. Continuing to shuffle the cards in his hands he continued, "A king's just a thief that convinced people they weren't one. We both steal from others, but when a king does it, no one bats an eye and all they see is that crown atop their head. When a thief steals, people actually realize they're a thief. " He flicked a finger into the deck, pulling out the king and held it in his palm. "They wear a crown, sure, but pull that thing off and you just get another one of us."

He leaned across the table to pick some of the wine, taking a glass to pour himself. Sitting back in his seat, he took a sip, content with what he had said and simply waiting to hear the others speak up.

 

[Faelyn Daestra]

The difference between a king and a thief? Hmmm...

Faelyn listened, somewhat, to the answers around her, swirling the wine in her cup, watching as it's red legs rolled down the inside of her goblet. Is it a riddle? She wondered drunkenly, then gasped, Do I get a prize if I win?!

She took another swig of her wine, licking her purple lips - and nearly spat it out when a young elf came bursting in. She struggled to swallow, nearly choking as she did so. She thumped her chest ungraciously, wincing as she finally managed to force the liquid down. Managing that, Faelyn gave a small start as the dwarf set down his wine a little too heavily.

"Mm, yes," she said at last, pointing her thumb towards and nodding at the Komodo, "A crown."

Maybe the masked host wanted to be a king. That could be fun, Faelyn thought with a small, amused smile.

 

[Tzuriel Alanthis]

Tzuriel was thoughtful for a long moment before answering. Under specific circumstances everyone was right, and under other circumstances they all were wrong.
"It's important to define our terms... A king is being compared to a thief in the question. When a king is cruel and tyrannical then that is a fair comparison... Yes, in this world a king can live like a thief, and a thief can live like a king. Such as most of us in this room I would guess.
But I would say there is a much bigger gap between a king and a thief, to say that there is only one difference between them would be the height of arrogance."

Tzuriel took this opportunity to stand as well, since he was giving a lengthy speech and currently had the floor. He paced around the table till he passed the masked man and paused there.

"A king is a man who rules over men with law and gets paid by his kingdom to perform his duties, put simply. A thief is one who takes what doesn't belong to him. To assume more is arrogance."

He finished and stopped at his chair again. He drew attention to himself, but as a merchant he didn't mind. But more importantly he hoped that he contributed to the discussion and helped define the terms being used. They were obviously referring to the only difference between a tyrant and a thief.

 

[Kerastrina]

Kera felt as though she was being talked down to. She did not like feeling as though she was being talked down to. She could stab him easy, but then doing that might be risky, there were too many people, and unknown outcomes. There were however safer options available especially with the current crowed.

"A vial of starfire for whoever can bring me that mans tongue. Sorry friend, it is fine that you were wrong, the problem came from how much of an arse you were about it. I mean you had to have seen the irony of insulting everyone here with arrogance for not agreeing with you, right? Maybe before you opened your mouth you should have asked yourself the difference was between giving an answer and delivering an insult. By the way the starfire is still fairly new."

 

[Ktaris]

Tags: Rowe Collwood | Kerastrina

Ktaris nodded slowly to the approach of Kerastrina. As with the proximity of anyone, if she was observant she’d see one of his hands rest lower on his hip, and the hard to spot shadow the other side of the room shift ever so slightly. Almost like he was mirroring her approach in his body language and that body language was conveyed 50 feet away on the other side of the room. An assassin's subtle technique of natural mimicry. More on that later.

Content to stay far at the back watching. Many others came, from drunkards, to seducers, to thieves, and sellswords. Some remained out of sight, some sort the leader's attention, others positioned themselves to assert dominance, and yet others did so among each other. A diverse group and all the better to gain or trade information for coin.

More personalities meant more contacts and a greater net to cast. For a moment the Tundra elf wondered if he’d brought enough silverslips. A simple method to trade a favor for information or for what this place considered currency, though rarely would an outsider ask him for one. Fortunately for the long-lived elf, outsiders tended to be easily content with something they could hold in their hand and spend in a day, not trade inconveniently a hundred years from now.

A clever probing question came. Seeking information for free. He almost chuckled.

Unsurprisingly Ktaris didn’t answer the question openly. Content to listen to everyone else’s answer, gaining small secrets or insights for later, like gaining pocket change in his favored currency without lifting a finger. Hopefully, the questions would continue.

Eying the wine with some suspicion. Nobody had fallen dead yet, that was promising.

An argument or rather contract had begun to form nearby. Behind his hood he waited to see how the host would handle it. A disagreement could define a group as much any job, errand or quest. Would their host be the type to be hands-on or hands-off. All to be noted for their later dealings and how Ktaris conducted his own business here. Though notably with the developing situation ahead, his hands had remained at his waist and his posture had shifted sideways to match.

 

[Quentin Scrive]

Quentin did not answer the question. To him it was just a pretense, and he wanted to see what the masked man was getting at. He did, however, maintain attention to what the others answered with. It often proved a good insight to hear answers to such questions. The answers themselves told of a little of a persons mind, as well as how they answered and reacted to the others around them.

In the room, aside from their host, there appeared to be three types of people. Those who, like him, were merely observing for now; then there were those who answered the question; and finally there were those who seemed to be more concerned with being seen than with getting to the heart of the meeting.

To Quentin, the first group was the most interesting, as they were keeping their thoughts closer to their chests. At the moment, however, he wouldn't be able to learn much from them. The second group was being the most open, in an earnest way that was helping lead to the continuance of this very odd meeting. The third group was an annoyance, and that was frankly dangerous.

As he watched those talking, answering, and observing, he continued to slice and eat his apple slowly.