Open Chronicles It's Just Good Business

[Princess Amun'Dzeer]

A figure, somewhat portly, certainly well dressed, made a motion behind him. Hovering behind his chair, a yellow-eyed beast, something out of the most savage reaches of the wildlands, skulked in the dark. Its narrow eyes moved from target to target as the better-off human smiled contently to himself; He was certainly enjoying the perks of this new bodyguard.

The room gave its answers, slowly mulling over the question. They were certain, each of them. Thankfully, no one went to blows over this. A voice from the portly human rang out; not his voice, and not his words: "Control" said Rowe's voice from the darkness. Two yellow eyes in the dark following his hips as he moved, glancing to his hands for only a moment whenever they shifted their position.

"A King need not lift his own hand," continued the human, lifting a mug to his lips, "He has others to act for him. This is why we are here, are we not?" his eyes glittered with emotion, a little joy, some greed, much anticipation.

Those yellow slits betrayed nothing.

"Well, I've seen bosses come and go," he continued, "but they always need one thing more than anything else."

"To maintain control," answered Rowe's traitorous voice from within the dark spots just out of the candle light.

 

[Rowe Collwood]

"Strong answers, and good ones, but not… quite," Rowe answered as the voices died down, including what sounded like a mimicry of his own. He'd have to investigate that particular parlor trick later.

"The answer is this:" he gave a slow look around the room and smiled slightly beneath his mask. "Nothing."

"A thief and a king are one in the same. Take the crown and castle away, you have the same man standing there before you." Rowe stood at the head of the table now, cane in one hand, though he scarcely leaned upon it. "The man doesn't matter in the end. What matters is the atmosphere. The surroundings. The gilded cage they both stand within."

"You all came here for a reason. Some came for free food and wine, some for information. Perhaps some to weigh the competition or to determine the latest threat. But you all came, just the same, for an answer. I shall give you this."

"I represent a group of like-minded individuals. Entrepreneurs, opportunists, and 'odd job' individuals. People of Shadow, like yourselves. We have a foothold in almost every operation available here in Alliria, but we're not satisfied. What I'm offering you all today is… well, to put it bluntly, a piece of the pie. The cage that surrounds the common thief and the common king will not surround us."

Rowe chuckled a moment before returning to his seat and glancing pointedly at the mercenary woman.

"Who knows, perhaps we might make ourselves kings and queens of Alliria in the process."

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

 

[Aeyliea]

She spit on the floor to one side, her eyes like chips of ice. There was not much to read in her face, except perhaps the ghost of disdain. Those eyes quickly scanned the gathered, assessing the threat level each posed...and then sought for the one she expected to be among them. Of Tian, there was no sign; there was plenty of black attire in this place, but none of it belonged to him.

Didn't matter. On principle, she had found an entire room of enemies, including one who would have to be killed sooner or later. All of them would be, ultimately...but now was not the time. She was outnumbered vastly, and doubtless many of these here were skilled, else they would not be alive in their given trades.

But she was no coward.

"Hubris," she spat, arms still folded under her breasts. The casual air was gone, replaced with one of a coiled spring, ready to move suddenly at a moments notice. "People of the city, one and all. Greedy fingers, clutching for ever more." Perhaps that was just a touch of anger in her voice? She needed to mind that, or she might dig herself a hole that she could not get out of.

That wasn't going to happen, of course. She did not speak around corners, twisting her thoughts into lies. That was a thing so-called civilized people did without thinking. "Rule over me and mine, you shan't. Tooth and nail, that is what you shall find." The accent had grown so thick as she went on that it was nearly impossible to decipher in common. Ultimately, it devolved into her own native language.

"<<Cast your words to the wind like rainbows after rain, they ring hollow and and filled with greed. Stand in your way, I will, if it comes to harming those that cannot defend themselves.>>" This delivered in No'rei, the language of her Savannah tribe. She looked at the masked figure in the face, defiant. There was no telling what would happen next...but she would not bend the knee, nor sacrifice her honor.

 

[Urberus]

Almost unnoticed, a diminutive little green man slipped in at the back of the group. He had big eyes as yellow as bug guts, with slitted pupils like a cat. Big, pointy ears jutted out from underneath a leather skull cap. And he sported a week's worth of gray stubble on a rather handsome chin, if he did say some so himself.

He pattered up beside Faelyn Daestra, giving her backside - which he was only slightly taller than - an appreciative pat.

"How long they been windbagging?" he whispered.

 

[Abriax]

Abriax had found this place by the scent of the food. He had remained hidden, despite his massive side, by remaining in the rafters, huddled all the way in the back. Despite all this, the words of so many had enticed the monster to finally make a move of some kind. In one of the corners, Abriax lowered himself down, his feet touching down on the ground as the woman spoke.

"All die the same. King or sticky fingers, all fall before mighty hands of death." He said, finally reveling his presence. Abriax was hunched down, closer to the height of a normal human at this point, and watching the others for any sign of aggression towards him. "Abriax knows. Abriax sees. Empires rise and fall. King and Queen over thrown and replace. How can little human promise broken cage and aim to keep promise? How can little human say such things and aim to keep stars in hands?"

Perhaps not the most eloquent of beings, but he was clearly not stupid. As he asked the final question, he would stand up to his full height, or at least as much as he was able to. Eyes flashing across the room, he held his reservations and was ready to flee at a moment's notice. No need to fight everyone unless it boiled all the way down to it.

 

[Quentin Scrive]

Quentin kept his face impassive, his eyes scanning those around him. He had finished his apple, eaten the core and all, keeping the seeds separate and tucking them into a small bag on a throng around his neck. He tucked it back beneath his shirt and pulled a small cloth from a pocket to begin wiping his pen knife clean of the apples juices.

'Bold thoughts, taking over Alliria from within the underworld. I wish I was more familiar with the political landscape here.' The rogue thought to himself as he turned his attention to the tribeswoman who seemed extremely angry at the thought. 'The setup was good, very organized and lavish. The delivery, however, was rushed.'

His eyes moved between the tribeswoman and the masked man, then he sat back, slipping his knife and the cloth back into their appropriate places. His eyes moved around the room, watching and waiting. This seemed like the late middle of the performance, and Quentin expected the climax was still to come. His eyes flashed to the obvious exits, then the less obvious ones he could see without moving his head. He mentally cataloged his various knives and packets of alchemicals, but his hands moved before his face, fingers together in a steeple as he continued to watch.

 

[Smiling One]

Kings and Thieves? Hah! There was little difference between the two! The only difference was that the King can get away with his theft because he's the one who makes the laws. Willis causally listened to the recruits giving their answer. It was all quite dull to him though the person who caught his eye was a familiar ally: Aeyliea. She and Willis worked together on a job once looks like the Ashen haired warrior couldn't get enough of him.

Willis smirked to himself, he tended to get high opinion of himself when it came to women but right now he had a job to do and if he wants get it then better answer the question right now. "There are no differences," Willis remarked. "They're both thieves though the difference is the affects of their actions. The worst a thief can do is to inconvenience a major bank. Kings can potentially change the lives of millions based on their actions and history will remember him favorably despite being an amoral son of a bitch who is above the law."

Was that a good answer? Hopefully. The only Willis is wondering is when will he get paid?

 

[Kerastrina]

Kera was deeply shocked when she heard that no one got the answer quite right. She was sure she was right as always. Was this masked figure sure he wasn't the one who was wrong. Sure he asked the question in the first place, but she knew that she had hit the nail on the head. Her shock turned into frustration when she realized that the masked man provided his own answer.

"What in the twenty nine hells you mean 'not quite'? I was right and you know it. Just cause you felt like wording my answer differently doesn't make me wrong! You just didn't want to give me a prize... Er, I mean whoever it was with the deep voice who answered was...

Anyways not the point, you came here saying you just wanted to ask that question, now here you are moments later offering people a piece of pie. I suspect that you were maybe not being entirely honest when you said you only wanted to ask the question. You have to understand that it can be hard to work with someone if you don't trust them, and it is hard to trust someone when within just the first five minutes of talking you have been caught in a lie. Worse it makes you a horrible lier, in which case I would recommend switching professions, because who needs a smuck who can't lie in this field of work?

So... I am going to step outside for a second, cause... well if experience is worth anything, bad stuff is going to go down here soon. Not even for, like, only one reason, there have got to be at least three obvious ones, watch.

One: If I am right, and people agree, now there are a bunch of thugs who are frustrated in one room with little more than the fear of losing their own life keeping them from taking their neighbours.

Two: Before I even opened my mouth there are people already eyeing their weapons, and the doors, any idiot could know sh*t is about to go down, or people want it to.

Three: The smart thing to do is to kill as many people as possible now, because if he is offering a small pie there is not a lot to go around. If he is offering a big one, each fewer person quickly becomes a lot of gold for those left.

Three and a half: I know I wouldn't want to share the pie with anyone. If I did have to share a pie I would want to make sure that it was with only those I need, those who provide indispensable unique skills, or maybe a lad if he would let me eat the pie off his bare chest. I get a touch of topic...

Bringing it back, Four: I have noticed that there are actual monsters just chilling in here, and I do not want to wait until one answers its basic instincts. And, you know what? Speaking of following ones instincts... I asked for someone to teach that man his place a touch ago."

Kera then proceeded to stab Tzuriel before walking out,

"Five: a person just got stabbed, that usually means it is not a good place to stay.

Hmm, look at that I got up to five reasons sh*t might go down, but hey, here is to hoping I am wrong, but as I said: I will be stepping outside briefly on the off chance things turn sour. You need me afterwards just call for your mother, I won't be that far off."

 

[Tzuriel Alanthis]

He figured the masked one had his own answer... But a close observer would notice that he gave the same answer as many who had answered his question, but also proceeded to say they were wrong. It was his prerogative to do so, but it still didn't make much sense. Perhaps he simply didn't hear those answers?

He hadn't aimed his own answer at anyone in particular, or really at anyone in the room. But it seemed the very person he described called themselves out when they took offense at his words. Practically proving their arrogance by thinking they have the right to be offended by simple observations that pertain to the discussion.
The person offered a reward to silence him, to which he rolled his eyes, nobody responded to the offer, and perhaps he was too arrogant to care.

The crowd seemed to have gotten bigger since this discussion had begun. Tzuriel was aware of several beasts in the room, and even a troll had come out of the rafters to join in this discussion. If this organization was allowed to bloom, he would have to take measures to upgrade his caravans.

The one who wanted him dead was talking again. She was bringing up some fair points now that she wasn't bellyaching about him, though her words still boiled down to more complaints. This was indeed a dangerous atmosphere. If you throw hundreds of agents of chaos into one room and expect there to not be chaos then you are making a foolish gamble.

The bandit walked by him and Tzuriel watched her closely, he caught the flash of a blade at the corner of his eye and would have reacted to stop it, but he decided there was no need. She slid her blade into his back and pulled it out, a clean stab all the way to the hilt. He grimaced in pain and supported himself on the table as a darker spot began to spread on his dark jacket. The bandit walked out of the warehouse.

Tzuriel shook his head to clear it. He glanced up at the Amazonian Aeyliea, "Seems whenever I'm in the same room as you something manages to go wrong."
chuckling Tzuriel leaned back in the chair and looked at the masked one. This was his show, so it was his call.

 

[Kiileet Glassdancer]

Kiileet was in a bit over her head here. These cut throats had little to no sense of humor, or short fuses at the very least. She could tell things were about to go down south very quickly, especially when the cute one got stabbed! But so far it was the Masked guy, it was his meeting and he was supposed to be in charge. He offered a pretty good deal, an opportunity for pretty much everyone here to make some cash... IF he was as connected as he said he was...

Kiileet wanted to avoid a fight, especially with so many people in such close quarters. And ESPECIALLY not with a fricken TROLL right in the middle of it!
But actually two people... Or rather, two creatures, caught her eye. The troll for one, and the beastial bodyguard for another. Those two could quite easily find a place in her traveling circus. If she ever got the chance she wanted to talk to them both, ideally together, easier that way. There were dangers to running a freak show, and she didn't have enough people to protect everyone else at all times.

But right now she was in a meeting that might turn into a slaughter. If she used just a bit of magic and changed the subject quickly enough she might be able to avoid all of that.
She spoke to Rowe Collwood directly and loudly enough to get everyone's attention, "Wot abut ye? Ya make a mighty fine bargain, but 'ow do we know ye kin deliver? I be just in off the road an I never eard of ye. 'Ow kin ye prove ta the likes of myself that yer good fer it?"

She hoped that was enough, but out of view of the others her fingers were prepped to do their magic. If it didn't work, she'll make sure to put on a big enough show to get everyone out of the warehouse and have the least loss of life.

 

[Gracia von Stehlen]

At this point, whatever structure the meeting was supported by had crumbled and Gracia watched with excited eyes as a blonde woman with a sharp attitude spoke with estranged passion, then proceeded to stab a tall man nearby. She almost gasped at the show, not out of surprise, perhaps, but of entertainment.

Gracia liked the blonde woman. She had a strong personality, a lack of a filter, and a fiery will. Gracia envied that. The commotion of the meeting continued around her as she stood from her place at the table and walked over to the wounded man all while keeping her gaze on the woman who was now exiting the room. Only when she had disappeared did Gracia allow her focus to linger to the man.

She crouched down to be at his level and pushed his hand away from his wound, "Let me."

Gracia reached her hand out and gently placed it over his injury, tapping into the energy flowing through her veins. She closed her eyes and focused on the place where the skin had split and willing it to close itself. When she felt his body begin to ease, she took her hand away and stood up to rummage through a pouch attached to the belt around her waist.

Taking out a miniscule vial filled with a strange purple liquid and handing it to the man, she said, "Drink this. It'll help."

Then she turned to find the blonde woman. Something was drawing her closer to her aura.

"Oh," she said, suddenly turning to face the man, "I promise it's not poison."

She strut out the room, not caring for the masked man's meeting any longer. Gracia was intrigued by the idea of it all and if she was welcomed to join their antics, she would surely agree, but that was a worry for another time.

Eventually, the blond hair came into view.

"I was wondering where I'd find you," Gracia shifted her weight onto her right leg and sweeped her hair over her shoulder, "That was quite the display you made back there. Color me impressed."

She went back to rummaging through her pouch, "I'd like to make a truce. You and I are both untrusting people and I hope we can have some sort of security here in the form of an alliance. I'm not acquainted with very many thieves, so surely you can help me get used to it all?"

Gracia took out another vial, this time filled with a dark black liquid. When she turned it round in her hand, the swishing of its contents was alluring, pulling her into the dark depths of something unidentifiable but so relieving. She forced herself to look away and offered it to the woman, reaching her hand out to close the gap between them.

 

[Neonitus]

i about lost my lunch when i spotted a rather ugly little yellow eyed thing enter. i mean i have yellow eyes too but at least i look good.

"im all for the theatrics and showmanship you present acting mystical is something i invented a long time ago before you were born, i used to be a prince but ive always been a thief and so when i say that everyone in this room including that gross looking thing that just entered is going to be looking to not only get there piece of the pie but steal the pie that others have earned, you know i am speaking the truth. what stops us from stabbing our fellow thief's in the back once the pie is served. what stops me from killing everyone in this room right now with a simple potion?"

i pull a vile from my bag filled with a writhing and squirming liquid. its actually just a potion to cure poisonings but they dont need to know that. i smile and put it away once more.

"see any good thief knows that there is no honor among us and that trusting a thief is like trusting a viper not to bite you, how do you suppose we share the pie? thieves aren't really known for their sharing. thats why we got into this profession ive seen plenty of thieves guilds fall to ruins because one person got too greedy and took too much of the pie. see it all starts out even steavy with promises of the cut being even for everyone but it rarely ends as such, can you promise this guild of yours wont delve into chaos? that i wont find a dagger in my back one day by someone who would call themselves an ally "

 

[Princess Amun'Dzeer]

"I came here," slowly began the otherwise unnoteworthy man, "Under the impression it would be good for business. Aside the posturing of thugs, I've not seen anything to sway me...

"Unless someone here is going to make it worth my while, I am afraid that this organization will find support from the Free City Slaver League in short supply," he concluded with a frown; he had no fear of the assembled rogues. For all the muscle, all the potential for violence among the assembled host, this slave trader had no reservations. After all, just over their shoulder hunched a creature with more violence in its bones than most Orcs could ever manage.

"Truly barbaric," they mumbled under their breath, annoyed that this meeting was proving to be a mistake, "Can't even pretend to be civilized for two hours."

 

[Faelyn Daestra]

Faelyn couldn’t help but stare at blue-eyed human when he began speaking. There was something about him that she couldn’t quite put her finger on…he was striking, certainly, but almost too striking, and his blue eyes looked a little too clear. He was eloquent, but he had a smug air about him that could either greatly amuse Faelyn, or drive her insane. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes slightly as he spoke – he seemed to be vying against their masked host for the groups attention, and Faelyn glanced at the masked host to see his reaction.

The tanned, blonde human female didn’t seem overly pleased with the blue-eyed human male either – which only amused Faelyn more. Oh, this IS juicy, she smirked to herself, idly swirling her glass of wine. A vail of starfire? Faerlyn almost snorted. No – she wanted to see how this would play out. It was far too entertaining.

Catching a small movement from the corner of her eyes, Faelyn glanced towards the Tundra elf – did he just reach his hand towards the weapons on his belt, or had it always been there? He was practically shadow itself he was in such a dark corner away from the rest of the group, and which was probably one of the smartest places to be if Faelyn was honest with herself, keeping his distance as he did. Faelyn recounted her own weapons in her mind, reminding herself where they were, just in case…

Just then Faelyn felt the hair on the back of her neck begin to raise; she turned ever-so-slightly to glance behind her to see the yellow eyes of a beast staring back. This group was becoming diverse, certainly, and Faelyn became a little more cautious when she heard their hosts voice come from, well, not the host.

Nothing? There is no difference between kings and thieves? Faelyn actually rolled her eyes this time, Oh, come on, she thought to herself. But they had all come for a reason, that much was true. She perked up at the mention of a network – she needed access to fences to sell her stolen merchandise, and her last one was rotting in prison. Which was a shame, because he was a particularly good kisser. Faelyn thought on their hosts' idea to one day be kings and queens of Alliria, which was certainly ambitious, but Faelyn wasn’t much interested in all that. It would be entertaining to see their masked host try.

Faelyn suppressed a shiver as the tribeswoman began to speak, her voice cutting into Faelyn like ice. It seemed like the white-haired human had her own to protect, but then she didn't seem shadowy like the rest of the group, at least not to Faelyn, so why had she come? And hubris? “Speak for yourself, girly,” Faelyn muttered snidely, perhaps unwisely, under her breath, raising her glass to her lips again – just as she felt a hand rest on her backside. Rolling her eyes, she turned towards the little goblin, raising her eyebrows as she studied him. Well, at least I didn’t choke on my wine this time, she mused. Brave little thing.

“Oh, about fifteen minutes or so,” she whispered the lie with a shrug. She hadn’t truly been paying attention to the time. She was about to open her mouth to say more when another beast entered the room. She blinked at the massive creature, struck dumb. How many more beasts were there hiding in the shadows? She glanced around, looking at all the dark corners, baffled as to how she could have missed their entrances, just as the tanned blonde human got up and began to speak.

Her drunken thoughts meandered from Faelyn’s mind as the tanned human reached for her weapon; Faelyn quickly, smoothly, went for one of her own daggers with her free hand, her stance still lackadaisical as to prevent undue attention to herself.

At the off chance things go sour?? Faelyn wondered, baffled, as the blue-eyed human did nothing to defend himself. Faelyn glanced around at the rest of the guests to gauge their reaction. It was odd to see the other blonde human go and help the man who was stabbed – generous, almost.

“Well, this is at least entertaining,” she murmured down to the goblin next to her, raising a green eyebrow.

She was almost tempted to wave as the other blonde human quit the room, but the man with the gorehound grabbed her attention first.

“Barbaric?” she asked, almost spitting the words, “Says the slaver.” Her gold eyes flashed angrily at the man, despite his hulking bodyguard, only her interest in what their masked host was proposing keeping her rage in check, even as she placed her goblet of wine back on the table with a hiccup. Her other hand slowly grasped the pummel of her dagger, her lithe fingers gripping the hilt angrily as her eyes shot daggers at the slave trader.

 

[Princess Amun'Dzeer]

"A certain civility," replied the slave master with an air of patience, likely distilled from defending his occupation many times in just such a setting, "is required among upstanding folk. Otherwise, we are no better than the beasts," he concluded, and motioned into the shadows as he eyed the dagger on Faelyn's belt, "Honestly, I'm doing these savages a favor. Teaching them good manners and proper thinking. That they can use their brawn for something worthwhile, well... I don't run a charity, in any case."

He turned back to the host with a slight smile; "I am willing, should this organization prove... robust, enough, to provide the services of an intermediary," he leaned back, smug, "When not bringing culture to the hopeless, I enjoy a spot of 'Reunion Sponsorship', bringing separated families back together- for a, ahm, modest fee, or course... to be shared with the honorable soul who found the lost individual."

The slave master opted to reach out for a pastry after his monologue. His fingers fumbled it at first, but at the second grab managed to take it delicately. He set it on his plate 'properly', and waited for a spell. Very, very, properly. Almost in contrast, the figure in the shadows leaned slightly towards Faelyn.

Stained teeth glinted slightly, and a rancid stink wafted gently. To the likely amusement of the more scrupulous woman, the smell disturbed the slave master, who made a choked face and quickly covered his nose. The slightest whine of amusement whispered out of the dark, and the shine of teeth vanished. Only those two yellow eyes remained.

 

[Urberus]

"Yeah, entertaining," echoed Yew.

Lot of shit sacks in one place. And people wondered why it smelled of shit. Awful lot of competition under one roof. Rob stroked his chin and a slow, cruel smile crept onto his face.

By the time anyone who cared noticed, the little goblin had vanished from the gathering, in the way very short people with quiet footsteps do.

The door to the warehouse groaned closed. Then there came a thud.

Like a heavy bar sliding into place.

From the outside.

 

[Ktaris]

Tags: The Gorehound | Rowe Collwood | All

While one individual moved to stab her quarry, thus ending or lessening any potential value in her offered contract, Ktaris’s hand shifted atop a blue vial from his belt, sadly another beat him to offering healing, and again for free. Interesting and infuriating.

Seeing the perhaps staged bloodshed? It would show how much stomach people had for the endeavor. An exiting figure or two whittled the group down to the stronger of will or reason to be here. While trolls had value as muscle, it was naturally quieter individuals such as Quentin Scrive he related to the most and saw an opportunity in, those silently in no rush act.

Sadly act he must, “opportunity sometimes knocks,” he said to the Gorehound cryptically. Enigma City always hungered for a steady stream of slaves to train as assassins, and wealth found those that provided them. Neonitus question while a good one, was answered by his own people several hundred years ago, silverslips as a stop-gap till other valid methods such as a reputation were formed.

Raising himself up off the wall for the first time since preparations began. If there was any reaction to Aeyliea’s proclamation or Faelyn Daestra’s counter it didn’t register as he passed their exchange. Their passionate words a contrast to the assassin’s business-like walk.

Taking a route along the far wall to where Rowe was standing or as close as he could get. For those with an eye for positioning, he ended up somewhere off to the side and between Aeyliea and Rowe. An unspoken commitment and token gesture of positioning. An irritation that he had to be so obvious, but until this potential group's security or reputation increased, his knives might suffice.

From inside his belt Ktaris readied what looked to be a small note. Passing it over to Rowe or probably a nearby assistant, the simple red seal was unbroken and the parchment seemingly had nothing whatsoever on it. “It requires five minutes,” he whispered into their ear.

After five minutes.

Skreshwood ink exposed to air would begin to reveal a message written in common. Only two lines in smaller faint lettering. There was notably an image of a pearl white leaf painstakingly detailed at the bottom and probably technical to forge.

The Pale Wind offers a steady supply of services for information, leveraging secrets and slaves, to be negotiated with the carrier. Burn this after reading.

The Pale Wind were one front the Tundra Elves used to deal with the outside world, how much Rowe would know of them, would be down to how many stories he’d heard, probably from a friend of a friend. They were most assuredly assassins, spies and information brokers, or so the stories would say, turning up in unlikely places like today. An ambiguous name that allowed Ktaris room in negotiations.

 

[Kerastrina]

"I was wondering where I'd find you," Gracia shifted her weight onto her right leg and sweeped her hair over her shoulder, "That was quite the display you made back there. Color me impressed."

"Didn't realize I was hiding, yet at least."

The way this woman was acting was strange, usually when she left somewhere the people who followed after her came with weapons drawn. Kera quickly went over everything she'd done: She called the masked fellow out on his bull sh*t, she stabbed a man, and she told people the obvious fact that it was about to go south in there before saying 'fr*ck this sh*t I'm out.' Pretty normal stuff, so what was different this time?

Kera was pulled back into the present when the woman offered her the vial of mystery liquid. Wait she wanted an alliance? The vial looked valuable, but why was this woman looking away? Kera quickly looked in the direction the woman was facing, before swiping the vial. This call was strange, but seemed like going with her would be profitable.

"What is this? You know what? Answer on the way, I still expect something to go down here, and don't want to get burned."

Though she said that she still hesitated a second. She was kind of hoping for more pandaemonium sooner than later, maybe she should lend a hand. Her hand began to reach for the starfire when she saw the goblin step outside and bar the door. She shot the goblin a huge smile as she turned grabbing the mystery woman's hand.

"Come on, I think things are finally going to get good, and I know a where the best seats in the house are!"

Kera ran across the road and jumped up from barrel to crate, jumping onto the roof of the building across from the warehouse. Kera reached down from the roof, offering to help pull Gracia up with her.

 

[Gracia von Stehlen]

The strange woman was only getting more and more interesting to Gracia as they continued to interact. She hadn't been particularly interested in her offering, but took it nonetheless, which meant she'd accepted her proposal. Gracia smiled to herself, but didn't get much time to think before the woman grabbed her hand and rushed her forward.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the goblin bar the door, but didn't get to observe the situation any further before they had turned the corner and the woman was on the roof. Gracia wasn't used to things moving so quickly; she liked to take her time and watch as hell unfolded around her. I'm just going to have to get used to it, she thought.

The woman offered her a hand, inviting Gracia to join her on the roof to watch the uncertain events of the meeting together. She was glad she left at the right moment, but cursed under her breath as she gathered her dress in one hand and took the woman's invitation in the other. She would have to learn to start wearing pants. As if that would ever happen.

Gracia finally made it to the roof and pushed her hair out of her face. She was standing awkwardly, her feet wobbling from the uneasy task of wearing heels on the top of a building. Yet she felt powerful. Being able to watch the street from up high was a feeling she relished in, breathing in deeply and taking in the night air.

"Thank you," she said, bending down to take off her heels, "I don't believe I caught your name."

She tied the strings on her shoes together and turned to give the woman a smile, "I can't wait for the show to start."

 

[Rowe Collwood]

"Perhaps I was mistaken for attempting philosophic discussion among those with more pragmatic points of view," he stated smoothly before standing. He gestured to one of the servers standing in the corner who began moving forward, carrying an object in their hands.

"The young lady has a point, however. You do not trust me and I do not trust you. However, to build such an enterprise we must rise above such pettiness for the... Greater good, shall we say."

He knew some had left, but others had not. It was to be expected, quite honestly, and he'd taken steps for such a thing. The servant placed the box he carried upon the table and stepped back, allowing the masked man to place his hand upon the lacquered wood.

"You desire proof that I can deliver and so I shall, but I also desire to see if the same can be done in turn by those of you interested. Somewhere in the city there is an item. A magical weapon I require for a client who desires such a thing. It is owned by a noble, their name I shall keep to myself, but to you all I shall give a hint. The weapon is a bow capable of delivering a bolt of lightning, made of enchanted ivory and inlaid with Dwarven gold with a bowstring of arcane silk. The Noble's crest bears a hawk clutching an arrow and a snake. Find the home, steal the bow, and return it here with no one the wiser and I shall pay your weight in gold coin. As a gesture of good will..."

With that he opened the small box. Inside, the container was filled to the brim with gold coins glinting in the dim light. He pushed the box gently towards the others at the table.

"No one will be harmed by my hand or any hand I command. All are free to go or to take what they will from the box or the table. I will be waiting. The clock begins now."

His piece said, his task outlined, he returned to his seat and leaned back. Waiting.


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

 

[Urberus]

Rob had finally managed to make a good torch, which he now lit.

The fire crackled merrily.

He smiled at it, as one does at a destructive force that provides you with temporary warmth and the knowledge that it would devour your entire body of it got the chance.

Rob chucked the torch onto the roof of the warehouse.

The flames caught quickly on the dry wood and spread with alarming swiftness.

Then Yew pulled out a nice little crossbow, drew back the mechanism with a grunt, and loaded a small bolt slathered in a fast acting paralytic paste.

He hid behind some barrels and waited.

 

[Neonitus]

i immediately grabbed my cut who knows if this guy will give us any after he gets what he wants. besides i need a little booze money for the quest. i take a swig from my flask and sigh.

"well money talks mister. im unsure if your little organization will rise to power but if it does you will need me in the end"

 

[Tzuriel Alanthis]

It had been quite some time since Tzuriel was last stabbed. It seemed the host of this party intended to let things play out as they would, naturally and without his interference.

Tzuriel was grateful to the noble woman who stepped up and healed his wound, as she did so he whispered his thanks to her. Surprisingly the room didn't erupt into chaos as many including himself thought it would. The calm aura of their host seemed to dissuade anyone from further antagonizing the situation. He would have liked to follow the woman who helped him and speak more with her, but she left after the woman who stabbed him.

Their host then gave them a task. So he intended to start small at least, this was good. Building trust on the personal level instead of the industrial level, it was slower, but the trust was potentially stronger. As a businessman he would simply have needed to know that the masked one could deliver his dues consistently and without fail for Tzuriel to trust him... Or to trust him as far as he needed to trust him.

Tzuriel had heard enough at this point. He got what he came for. He had no intention of becoming tangled or under the employ of this new criminal organization, but any good businessman would have been a fool to not investigate first before coming to this conclusion. He had his own sources that as of right now were far more reliable to him than a new and upstarting organization. With the way things stood, Tzuriel could not make such an investment with the masked one and expect to turn a profit any time soon.

Tzuriel stood up, his attitude more subdued than before.
"I'm afraid slumming through the streets in a contest holds little interest for myself."
He looked at the masked one.
"You're new organization shows promise, but I'm afraid we cannot do business at this point in time. However, the future may be a different story. Remember that before you target any of my caravans, won't you?"

With that Tzuriel turned and walked to the door.

 

[Kiileet Glassdancer]

Kiileet looked at the money on the table, somebody already snatched up his share of it. She wasn't interested in a contest, especially with a band of professional larcenists and cutthroats. She was hardly a hardened underworlder herself, she had a hard life to be sure, but she had made the most of it, while many of these let it define them. She was now the ringmaster and leader of one of the most well known traveling circuses west of the Spine.

All the same she was very much interested in this new organization, not because she had good business sense, though she wasn't exactly suffering in that regard, but because money was hard to come by, even for a circus. They rarely make a profit, earning just enough to feed themselves and replenish their supplies before they travel again. Some days are better than some, the weather often played a big factor. And there was always one promise she made to every single person who joined her circus, "I will do my best for all of us."

She never wanted to break that promise, but with the way things inevitably went, sometimes she couldn't help it. She needed money, and this organization promised just that.
With the simple promise of money alone she would have been willing to go out and hunt for this magical weapon, but that little box of money was getting split, and she wanted the big promise, not the little one. Which means she had to make a bigger sacrifice. The better and more skilled hopefuls would hunt down this weapon and fight over who gets to bring it back. She wanted to go deeper, see what she could do to ingratiate herself with him.

She cleared her throat to speak to the masked one, but her sharp ears caught the slide of wood against wood, like something heavy being placed in front of the warehouse door to keep it closed. Her eyes widened, something was finally happening. She looked back at the masked one, her eyes expressing her alarm. This man was the promise of food and comfort for her people, so he suddenly became a priority to her.
She had to take action.

Casting a minor illusion to simultaneously leave a convincing image of herself seated in her chair and also turning herself invisible. She got up and silently moved around the table to Rowe Collwood to whisper in his ear.
"Someone has blocked the front door... Is there a safe exit? Someone may be laying a trap."