Elbion
Merchant District
Some Cafe
Scrape. Scrape. Crack!
"Mm-mmph!" Gelert smacked his lips as he plunged his spoon back into the dainty ramekin and helped himself to another bite of creamy custard.
Ferenc sat back in his chair and dispassionately watched the man across from him indulge in his sweets.
"Oh, mate, you sure you won't try some? I'm tellin' you, best. In. The. City."
"I'm alright," Ferenc responds, his voice like scraping the edge of a broken glass against stone. He was content with his small cup of hot chai.
"Suit yourself. But what was it I was-"
"The cult."
"Right. Lass is on the run, just fuckin' stumbles into Artem's place one day." Gelert sets his spoon in his half-eaten dish and makes a blowing-up gesture with his hands, "All hell breaks loose. Right behind her are those same guys who've been giving us problems since last autumn. Fuckin' mayhem, Kaul. I mean, bunch of fuckin' rats, that lot. They just swarm the place, and somehow Artem gives 'em the slip with the girl." He takes another bite and continues as he smacks on his treat, "He's got nowhere to go with the girl, you know, so he comes to me. And you're the guy. You know. The guy, eh? Need you to take her off me hands for a little while. Lie low for a bit while we get this mess sorted."
Gelert leans forward to pass a small velvety pouch into Ferenc's hand, who does the same action to receive it.
"How's 'bout a fortnight you hold onto her, and we'll take her back off your hands. After the job's done, you'll get a bonus."
Ferenc nods to accept, "When will I take her?"
"This evening. Port District." Gelert smiles his trademark cheshire cat grin.
Ferenc hated this way of doing things. Exchanges in the dead of night only spelled trouble. What kind of honest folk were roaming in the late hours anyways? Thank goodness for the shattering otherwise the city guard would have sniffed out the exchange in no time.
A pair of cloaked figures, both similar in height to each other but one much thicker than the other, approached from down the road. Ferenc waited until they passed in front of him. The wider one, a man, stopped and turned to face the other. He jerks his head at Ferenc with a grunt. Ferenc catches a glimpse of a vine-like scar on the man's cheek.
Without a word, the thick, scarred man stomps off from where he came.
"Okay," Ferenc finally says as the scarred man rounds a corner and exits his sight. "Follow me."
He begins to walk the opposite way, upslope towards the Merchant District.
Merchant District
Some Cafe
Scrape. Scrape. Crack!
"Mm-mmph!" Gelert smacked his lips as he plunged his spoon back into the dainty ramekin and helped himself to another bite of creamy custard.
Ferenc sat back in his chair and dispassionately watched the man across from him indulge in his sweets.
"Oh, mate, you sure you won't try some? I'm tellin' you, best. In. The. City."
"I'm alright," Ferenc responds, his voice like scraping the edge of a broken glass against stone. He was content with his small cup of hot chai.
"Suit yourself. But what was it I was-"
"The cult."
"Right. Lass is on the run, just fuckin' stumbles into Artem's place one day." Gelert sets his spoon in his half-eaten dish and makes a blowing-up gesture with his hands, "All hell breaks loose. Right behind her are those same guys who've been giving us problems since last autumn. Fuckin' mayhem, Kaul. I mean, bunch of fuckin' rats, that lot. They just swarm the place, and somehow Artem gives 'em the slip with the girl." He takes another bite and continues as he smacks on his treat, "He's got nowhere to go with the girl, you know, so he comes to me. And you're the guy. You know. The guy, eh? Need you to take her off me hands for a little while. Lie low for a bit while we get this mess sorted."
Gelert leans forward to pass a small velvety pouch into Ferenc's hand, who does the same action to receive it.
"How's 'bout a fortnight you hold onto her, and we'll take her back off your hands. After the job's done, you'll get a bonus."
Ferenc nods to accept, "When will I take her?"
"This evening. Port District." Gelert smiles his trademark cheshire cat grin.
Ferenc hated this way of doing things. Exchanges in the dead of night only spelled trouble. What kind of honest folk were roaming in the late hours anyways? Thank goodness for the shattering otherwise the city guard would have sniffed out the exchange in no time.
A pair of cloaked figures, both similar in height to each other but one much thicker than the other, approached from down the road. Ferenc waited until they passed in front of him. The wider one, a man, stopped and turned to face the other. He jerks his head at Ferenc with a grunt. Ferenc catches a glimpse of a vine-like scar on the man's cheek.
Without a word, the thick, scarred man stomps off from where he came.
"Okay," Ferenc finally says as the scarred man rounds a corner and exits his sight. "Follow me."
He begins to walk the opposite way, upslope towards the Merchant District.
