Open Chronicles Service With a Tail

Simin Omid

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Ship-Shape Tavern
Interior

Simin had bustled around the tables, a few feet finding their way into the path as an armful of plates nearly went flying in all directions. Had it not been for the Komodo's tail catching them so readily, a few patrons would have been wearing leftovers, rather than smug grins. They didn't say anything or even give a snide look, choosing to simply speed past the rest of those sitting. The human cook banged on the heavy wood table as they came into the kitchen, the bartender standing there arguing with the man as Simin slid between them, their tail kept low to the floor behind them.

Hearing them in another battle about the benefits of cooking with ale versus the cost of the endeavor, the Komodo silently picked up another platter of food and made for the door that led back out into the main hall. The whole building was a mix and matched mess of rooms and hallways. In the four years that Simin had been working for the current owner, they still had yet to fully remember every way of getting around the place.

It was an ideal spot for quiet deals and shady business, the bottom floor of the place having a door that opened up to the cliff side. Not that they explicitly needed access to such a thing from time to time.

The tavern also sat just outside of the city, nestled away in the quiet of the countryside with a stunning view of the river from the south facing rooms. Some of the east rooms had a stunning view of the city, which was beautiful at night with all of the mage light that was so common in the city. The west rooms were, all boarded up, and not used. Officially. The north room above bar level had a lovely view of the grey rock face that had fallen away a few years ago, but it didn't threaten the tavern in any way.

At least that is what Simin had been told. Who would lie about such a thing anyway?

The dagger was carefully tucked away in the hip of their pants as they pushed out of the doorway, the slight weight a small reassurance that they wouldn't need to resort to teeth if the worst came about. Before the door closed, the bartender hollered something about drinks on the bar. With an artful flick of the tail, the door propped open and Simin looked at the bartender with a smile.

"Yes?" Simin asked, their forked tongue escaping their mouth for a split second as the bartender pointed toward the bar. Don't forget the drinks this time he hissed as he continued his argument with the cook, not caring for a reply from Simin. The server pulled their tail out of the way and looked to the bar, noticing the mugs sitting there. Where do they go? Simin thought as they walked out toward the tables.
 
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Simin Omid

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The grumbling humans that were waiting for drinks made themselves known quickly after Simin had dropped off the plates of food. They very nearly ran to the bar and dispensed the mugs out to the patrons that had ordered them. A few of the human men spat at Simin when they dropped off the mugs, and Simin did nothing but smile at them.

This one was used to this sort of treatment, all komodi received some form of this in their life after all. It was just their lot in life.

The bartender came out of the kitchen, his hand giving a long wave towards the cook as he seemed to dismiss what was said. Taking his place behind the bar, he began to wipe out mugs, and watched Simin clean off tables once more as a head poked out from the back corner where a door was nestled. The owner waved at Simin and pointed to the door.

Simin approached the door, a small smile that held concern on their face. "What can this one do for you?" Simin asked quietly. "Oy'. Need a basin and someone to take out the trash." the little man replied, Simin had to stoop a bit to hear him. The nervous flick of Simin's tongue as they turned to the owner made the man sigh. He made a motion like scrubbing is hands on the rag, to which Simin nodded. With a nod, the bartender walked to the cooks window and spoke while Simin entered the door after the fellow.

They walked for a minute to what could be considered the basement, since this floor was below the entrance. Granted, this floor had several exits to it that opened up to the chasm below, hidden from view for the most part unless one knew where they should look.

The komodo had done this more times than they cared to count. It had been part of the reason the owner had hired them, along with the scales since few could readily kill someone whose skin acted like armor. The little man acted jumpy, likely their first time here at the tavern. Either that or something had gone wrong. Simin did not care in particular either way. So long as the man didn't make their job hard, Simin did not mind the trouble of having to come down here. It always saddened them that someone died, but these things happened. People needed to live, and they would do what they needed to do to make sure they survived.



OOC
Someone was killed in the basement room they are headed to, in case someone needed that kind of in.
 

Salogan

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The labors of flesh brought not but coins that smelled of death and the illusion of redemption. Molesters, vagrants, rapists and murderers; names pinned to a wooden board and traded like porcelain figures by the bourgeois in the inner city of Alliria. From where these names originated, whom had decided that these souls were deemed appropriate avenues of vengeance, it remained a mystery to the frond. Like sins weighed against cosmic scales, the value of a life returned was mirrored in the metal that weighed the palm after the deed was completed.

He carried a certain faith in that system, having known no other. All the men who whined and pleaded for their lives, it fell on the deaf ears and bent horns of a Komodo who had no mercy left in him. No mercy beyond sending these men to the ancestral plain to be sorted by the vigilant Pantheon. It was in this way that he could assuage some sort of peace in an otherwise hate filled life, a brief recess from the darkness that surrounded them by bringing justice and atonement in a single cut.

Whispers in the Shallows brought the Order of the Steel Coin to his attention, like a sister or rivaling brotherhood that worked in a similar fashion to his own Guild. Curiosity got the best of him as he sought this group out, coming into possession of a blood coated Docatto. A meager flashing of gold currency within the confines of Elbion, Salogan would soon learn that this coating indicated a finalized assassination for an organization that also went by the moniker of the Crimson Coin.

On arrival to the outskirts of the city, the wanderer found himself at the doorstep of a tavern that appeared to be stone cut from a cliff-side rocky outcropping. While he had seen establishments in better shape, he had also seen them in far more diminished states of dilapidation. The narrow brick pathway, lined by green moss and bottle-necked by steep falls at the threshold, leading to the cliff-side below, was approaching immaculate and only showed the slightest signs of wind erosion. The tiered building, revealing four floors with what appeared to be a single fifth attic, was adorned with a modest style of red ceramic scale roofing that served well in the moderately poor climates and only showed small pattering of broken plates.

Of course, he had neither the inclination nor the desire to scour every detail, otherwise he may have noticed that the root cellar was under clear renovation.

Dusting off the clinging grip of a day well traveled, Salogan entered to the sound of muffled discourse and floorboards moaning under his weight. Based off the lack of response from those occupying the tavern area, it seemed strangers passing through wasn’t entirely uncommon. Golden eyes drifted upwards as he surveyed thick cross beams running strats along the entire structure, hoisting up rustic chandeliers that were coated in years worth of wax. While not all the candles were lit, enough embellished licking flames to illuminate and provide necessary ambiance. The serving bar seemed to be rather grand, given the space, and wrapped around a center pylon that obscured any access point to the lower level or to the fire and kettle.

Salogan decided that it was cozy enough to settle down for a spell. Approaching the barkeep, Salogan pulled a leather pouch from his belt and rolled out a few Zoldo’s. “One tankard and a plate of meat and cheese, please.”
 
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Simin Omid

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Simin did not turn around when the other komodo came into the establishment. Business downstairs beat dealing with the tavern, but only barely. The little man lead the way, not that he actually needed to show Simin where to go, but it was nice to not be the first one into the room. It was a short walk, and upon entering the room, Simin could see the rise and fall of the humans chest. They laid the person on the floor and listened close, noting the stab wound and broken chair leg off to the side.

"They are still alive. Go get cleaned up and this one will deal with them." Simin explained as they pushed the little man out. A slight nod from the man before they left once more as Simin shook their head. It was always strange to see deals go bad, Simin quietly thought. Why violence when you came to talk? Simin asked themself, unlocking the dresser in the back of the room.

Between the four chairs, table, and dresser, the room was sparsely furnished save for the candles that lit the space. They set about their task with little more thought given to the scene, pulling a length of rope out of one drawer along with some bandaging. Silly people, was the last thought as the cleanup began.

The bartender has watched the komodo enter, a small frown appearing when it came to the bar before it placed its order. Eyeing the money, the tender shifted back, opening the window for a brief second.

"Plate of sliced meats and cheese." he spoke while grabbing a mug. A grunt came from the other side of the window before it slid shut and the bartender chuckled to himself. While it was filling from a barrel, the black haired man spared a glance to the komodo.

"Needin' a room too? Or just here for a bite?" the man's tone was surprisingly cheerful compared to the solemn looking rabble that occupied the tables behind them.

A loud thud from the kitchen made the bartender look up for a second to the window. Stopping about half full, the twisted the handle on the keg and slid the window open once more.

"What are you doin' in there? We-" The man started before someone bit back. "Shaddup' before I come out there an do your job too." the window closed a little harshly this time. The wood slide catching a moment as the rough movement made the man behind the bar cringe a little.

"You'll be fixing that again if it breaks! Damned idiot." The man said the last bit under his breath before continuing to pour. Once he finished filling the mug, he slid it to the komodo, and pointed to a table away from the human patrons.

"Take a seat there and the food will be to ya' shortly." he sighed as he grabbed the coins off the counter and walked to the far end of the bar. He didn't wait for the new face to leave as he pulled what looked to be a metal shaped horn from the bar.

"You done yet? Got an order, so hurry up." the man didn't wait for a reply as he grabbed a rag and began cleaning the bar top.

Simin had bound the man's hands behind him, and had just finished bandaging the wound as best they could when the horn in the room blared. You done yet? Got an order, so hurry up. Simin shook their head, the blood puddle on the floor the last bit to clean up as the person was propped in the corner.

Pulling out a pile of rags, Simin tossed them onto the puddle, gingerly stepping on it to start soaking up the mess as they rinsed their scaly hands in the wash basin on top of the low dresser. Searching for another rag, they sighed and wiped them dry on the apron as they made for the door.

Simin will have to remember to come back down later, they thought to themselves while leaving and locking the room. The trip upstairs was quick, taking a side passage directly to the kitchen as the cook came into view. A green bottle was on the center table, and the man looked tired as he washed his set of knives, a gruff nod to a platter of cheese and meats on the table next to the big room's door.

Simin picked it up and headed out, the bartender pointing to a far table out of the way as they looked to the person. Their head tilted slightly in surprise to see another of their kind here. Their tail flicked happily and the tender went back to cleaning as they made for the table quickly. A large smile appeared as they set down the tray in front of the other komodo.

"Welcome, is there something else you need from this one?" Simin offered, standing on the other side of the table, facing the new komodo. Noticing the discoloration around the eyes, they blinked knowing full well the meaning behind it. Their kind was so disposed to disease, it was hard to not notice the small details when another was present.

They did their best to not stare, but curiosity was nearly palpable from them. It wasn't often another komodi came in, and it was likely visible to the newcomer that this one wanted to chat as the one in front of them though obviously nervous, somehow still excitedly flicked their tail in greeting.
 

Salogan

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The tall Komodo proffered enough gold coins to indicate an affirmative on needing a room. The sun was setting, split halfway by the spires of Elbion, and he would need a place for shelter before dark. If the many rumors he had heard were true, the local populace wouldn't take particularly kindly to one of his complexion or texture. It appeared he needed myopia and a talent for destruction to be considered suitable for hospitality within the walls of Elbion. If the rumors were true.

Taking the mug in his four clawed digits, the hooded figure nodded as the barkeep took the tumbled stack of gold coins. "Thank you. A room would be appreciated." With a sip of the ale, he noted a fairly robust flavor hidden by an almost instant slap of sour. As potent as it was, it was gone in a moment, like medicine washed down with a rolling tide of sugar. He was content to enjoy it as he sat along the long bench, pushed against a lone table. A single candle light danced at the center of an otherwise unadorned fixture, plates and glasses seemingly cleared regularly.

He withdrew a book and was prepared to open it when the quiet mumble of voices was interrupted by someone approaching, their steps hardly finding introduction through the creaking of floorboards.

Many enjoyed joking and sneering at the notion that all Komodi smelled of trash and garbage. Of course, this simply wasn't the case. Unlike the Nordenfir, who oft smell of musk and unkempt furs, the Komodi were adaptable and their scents took on the surroundings like heat from a midday sun. It was for this reason that Sal didn't immediately sense one of his kind. Any smell this one might have had was overcome with things far more robust. The yeast and tones of age adhering to the chunks of beige and honey tinted cheese, or the scent of pepper, sap, and local herbs rolling out from the freshly cut smoked sausage.

His golden eyes shifted to the server and for just a flash, they may have caught an expression of surprise. As ephemeral as a passing shower, it faded for something more resembling the warm welcome that he was now receiving. "Need is a strong word." In every sense of it.

Even in the low light of wooden chandeliers and table sprung candles, the lustrous coloring of this servers scales and skin tone were something approaching haunting. The way their eyes were a different color from their skin, it gave Salogan the impression that perhaps they suffered from a similar affliction as his. But it was far too smooth to really be so.

"It has been some time since I have been graced with the presence of my own kind..." He stated quietly, eyes trailing to the tail that moved about whimsically. His, on the other hand, remained tethered and obscured, used predominantly in the moments of his profession. Scouring out a piece of cheese with the sharpened nail, he chewed quietly with gaze re-fixed. "Are you here by choice?" Komodi were vulnerable to slavery, it was the nature of their creation.
 

Simin Omid

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The other komodo spoke quietly, and expressed that need was a strong word. Confused by the statement, Simin's mouth opened for a second before closing without a sound. It was rude to interrupt others when they spoke, something their mother had made sure to remind Simin of almost daily. They asked if Simin was here by choice, and it make them wonder briefly behind the meaning, remembering quickly that some komodi endured slavery while others were free to choose their own way in life.

"Simin is here by choice. This one is their own, though their mother says they are too young to decide large things without asking questions." Simin offered quietly as they wondered about the other's tail. They hoped that their tail was still intact with the way the conversation had gone. A thought appeared as they wondered about the other komodo, almost fretting at their oversight.

"This one does not mean to be rude, but are they here of their own choice?" Simin asked carefully as they could, their voice just loud enough for the other komodo to hear. A hand was held up against the side of their mouth as if to hide the words from the other patrons, the blatantly white palms a harsh contrast to the silvery scales and skin.
 
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Salogan

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By their choice of words and their ideology, it was clear to Salogan that this was a young Komodo. It was a difficult thing to tell age based simply on appearance, as Komodo aged oddly and the aging process was altered and invigorated by the presence of disease. Simin, he assumed was the name, was still in their most vulnerable time of youth.

"You are not being rude..." He stated with a purposeful pause, extenuating the act of mulling over the question and their mannerism. Their phrasing was peculiar but not entirely alien to him, given his travels from the Amon-Khalit to Alliria. "But your question has a duality to it. I can provide you a simple or not so simple answer."

The truth was that he wasn't sure. But of the things he had long spent nights dwelling upon, the idea of fate and the illusion of choice, it dogged his every thought. They had, no doubt, understood Salogan for a diseased and cursed entity of the Komodi, as all Komodo stand inevitably. But unlike some of his kin who stuck to the caravans and traveled aimlessly, he leaned in to this status to better understand why he had landed in such a way.

Taking a slow drink of the ale, he pulled in air through thinned lips and smiled. "Which do you prefer, Simin?"
 

Simin Omid

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Simin gave the other komodo's question thought after being assured that they had not been rude. It was a strange thing to be told that there was a simple answer, and a not so simple answer. It perplexed Simin and begged the question of why not both answers? Tail flicked in thought as they mulled the question over for only a breath longer. A small frown appearing as if the answer to the question was not so simple.

"Simin would like to hear both." It seemed a simple enough reply to the question as the bartender looked to the two of them. Simin gave a brief glance to the man, their eyes opening a bit wider in unspoken question as the man waved off the silent query.

A few of the other patrons had begun to watch the exchange, as though they hadn't seen komodi before in their life. Simin quietly looked around, the wandering eyes diving back into their food and drink as they looked back to the other komodo.
 

Salogan

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Eyes, lit by the gentle wave of a candlelight, watched the Komodo with some intrigue. It would seem that in even this regard, it was a difficult decision to make. Though Salogan gave this one a bit of latitude, knowing full well that his own answer would have struck along similar vein in such a rigidly appearing stranger.

Silver tongue, outstretched from alabaster.

Leaning back in the chair, Salogan folded his hands across his stomach, sharp nails of the indexes picking at one another. Pepper flecked eyes of burnt gold moved from the server to those looking towards them. He spied an old man, perhaps a sailor, with a thick mustache that obscured cracked lips pinched around a narrow pipe. Even from here, the traveler could smell the astringent vapors, like burnt cognac and the mild aroma of dark chocolate.

On the other side of the room, he spied a man who was buried almost entirely by a cowl. Stooping over his table, gloved hands were coiled against one another and hovered over a dying flame, shrouding the table in obscure shadows that dimly lit the person and his fixture. But the murmuring of all had seemed to die with the conversation between two simple Komodo.

"In your position, I would undoubtedly feel the same." He offered with a smile, gesturing with open palm to the seat next to him. "Can you take a break from your drudgery?" If it hadn't been apparent now, his complex accent may reveal itself with further conversation. A serpents tongue, dipped deep in the ravines of Baal-Asha. Try as they might, the winds of the Aberassai could not sweep it away.
 

Simin Omid

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Simin was content to watch the other komodo when their eyes returned from looking at the other patrons. Still fairly young, and lacking any real worldly knowledge, Simin had been content with their life. This komodo though spoke fluently and the words were not entirely lost on Simin, but they usually only heard the folk in the fancier part of town speak this way.

When asked if they could take a break, Simin did not look back to the bar, just simply sitting down with interest plainly painted on the young komodo's face.

"You speak very well, much better than this one. You must be very smart and we'll travelled to speak so well." Simin spoke quietly, their face alight with cheer and interest. "This one can take a few breaks. Is there something Simin can help with?"
 

Salogan

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It seemed that Simin did, in fact, have a choice.

"Well traveled, perhaps." He trailed off, taking another brief sip from the ale. The sour taste was growing on him, though he wondered if it was intentional or a matter of something in the brewing that ran amok. In truth, Komodi were not know for their scholarly ways. Salogan, in some regards, deviated from this due to his upbringing and life amidst intelligent slavers. As Simin spoke of their mother, Salogan recalled that his was no more than a cruel thief. Piety in one hand, a whip in the other.

He bypassed the matter of need, getting too easily caught up in the lack of it. Instead, he simply meandered on to what he could only assume would be a complicated answer, masked behind a simple terms, and an even more complex answer, parading in front of the philosophical ideals of religion. "I chose to come here, from Alliria. Not to this tavern specifically, this just happened to be in my path. But I chose to enter this establishment, when I could have continued on my path. We are not far from Elbion, as you know."

He picked at another piece of the cheese, inspecting Simin's features as they were not regaled in the fire light. "I chose to seek out those who know things, of merchants who deal in more than goods." His nostrils flared as his gaze drifted from Simin towards the floorboards. Beneath all the various smells that lingered through tavern, one suddenly revealed itself. Like a chest full of copper coins.

Blood.
 

Simin Omid

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Simin nodded to the answer the received. Well travelled, meaning their company might have some stories they would share if this one asked nicely. Then they began speaking of their choices.

They came from Alliria, and while the tavern wasn't the destination, it was a good stop. They could very well have gone right into town, but choose to stop here. The words were not complicated. But the implication behind them were a little lost upon the younger komodo. It seemed cut and dry to one so ignorant of the world, but they continued speaking.

If only for a brief moment as they looked to the floor, their nostrils flaring for a second. Simin did not put two and two together, having just come from the basement themselves. The head tilted a little as they looked at the plate, seeing it was still very fresh and became confused.

"Is something the matter?" Simin asked quietly.
 

Salogan

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"No." The threat of death laid dormant behind the blood, like the shadow of a figure held behind a closed door. All it took was a simple turn of the knob and as fragile as life came, it was gone. He had dealt in it far too much and far too often for it to have escaped his attention for so long. He must have been distracted by the presence of one of his own, the opportunity to philosophize.

"The Annunaki Pantheon is the entity which guides the people of Amol-Kalit. It is believed that the six Gods of goodness guide us to our eternal life in the astral valley. But darkness also guides the three, pulling the greedy and lustful down into the pits for eternal damnation." The irony was that Salogan believed both goodness and evil needed to exist, to counter balance one another, and that all beings reveled in both alignments. Hissut, for instance, stood as God of Destruction and Death. If that was not indication for the coalescence of Humanity and Komodi, Salogan wasn't sure what was.

"They guide my actions, always. So from that perspective, I am not here by my own choice." He looked back towards Simin who was impressively expressive, especially for someone of their kind. They wore their emotions and responses on their brow, extending through the horn crown, and such a realization made Salogan contemplate on his own facial reactions and what he gave away with simple breaths and smiles.

"What is it that you do here, Simin?" It was a rare thing for Komodi to serve food, given the rumors of their ability to carry plagues without a sign or warning.
 

Simin Omid

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A simple answer was given to their question, and the smile reappeared as they listened to the other komodo speak. They spoke of the Annunaki Pantheon, something that Simin had only heard of, but was now privy to a small explanation as they continued. Then the guidance of the gods came into what they had said earlier, and it truly complicated the matter, Simin's brow furrowed at the thought of the gods guiding people in their own plan, even if they thought-Simin blinked away the thought.

"This one understands a little better with the two answers. Thank you." Simin replied, though their expression was cheerful, the idea of talking about the gods and their hand in what people did was not something that Simin was ready to discuss at work. The other posed a question as to what Simin did here. A beaming smile appeared at this, and the younger komodo even turned a bit in their seat to begin speaking.

"Simin serves the food, takes out the trash, washes the tables and floors. This one also can light candles, and replace them. There are a few other things, but the owner must tell Simin if this one can talk about those things." Simin told them, their voice becoming quiet as the last little bit came out. The bartender didn't seem terrifically interested in their conversation, and no further loud sounds came from the kitchen.

One fellow approached the bar for a drink, stumbling their way up, and holding onto the bar for dear life. They exchanged words, and the bartender shook his head, but filled the mug anyway before sending the man back to his seat.
 

Salogan

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They was being honest, Salogan had a knack for sniffing out duplicity when spoken directly to him. But even beyond that, he wasn't sure Simin was the sort for lying. If they were, they were quite good at it. A face of innocence with a capability for deception would make for a very capable Komodo.

"You're welcome." He replied almost stoically, as if he was giving a lecture on religion and philosophy. The sort of position that a rare Komodo would be given. A former tomb thief and successful assassin likely didn't fit that bill.

Nodding at the answer provided, Salogan pressed his four clawed hand over his breast and tilted his head. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Simin. I am Salogan. Merchant." Far more and far less. Flipping open the triangular flap, he reached into his breast pocket an withdrew an object wrapped in coarse papyrus. Placing it down on the table, he studied the fold before looking back towards the young server.

"Would you mind opening this and telling me what you see?" Hidden within this delicate fold was a coin. At one time, it may have reflected gold, but now it stood as deep as blood seeping from the vein. And it smelled of blood as well, indicating that whoever this belonged to, they had successfully completed their task. And someone had departed to the astral valley as a result.

Around them, the sound of fire crackling permeated through the vinegar soaked struts and slats of the interior tavern. Men went about their drink and food, though certain sets of eyes stared intently towards the exchange.
 

Simin Omid

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Simin nodded at receiving the other komodo's name, Salogan, a merchant. They looked a bit odd for a merchant, but then again, stopping in here wasn't a guarantee that everyone dealt with legal goods. Or in goods that had a physical form, after all, Simin had seen people talk and traded money, but not goods. Which usually meant the words were what they were after, or someone's life had been talked about.

"Simin is glad to meet you." They spoke proudly. Something was offered after the other komodo opened a pocket, a folded piece of cloth-no. Pulling it carefully into their hand, it felt like the pages of a book. The komodo asked what they saw when they opened it, making Simin a bit wary of opening it at first. Mouth drawn tight for the time it took the words oh well to pass one lips, Simin carefully pulled the fold back.

The smell reached their nose, and it scrunched up. Blood was not a new scent to the young one, but it was still fresh enough to them that their nose turned up a little at it. They had seen this coin a few times before, when it was time to clean up the basement room an watched a person pocket the item in much the same wrapping. Simin wanted to tell them about the basement now, but they had not talked to the tender yet, and they weren't going to break the rules. Simin's face seemed troubled, either wanting to say something and not being able to, or perhaps even trying hard to think about the item before them.

"Simin believes they have seen this before, but only as it was put away." Simin admitted, the nervous rubbing of their fingers signifying that maybe the were headed down a path that wasn't so openly talked about.
 

Salogan

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It wasn't disgust that perplexed Simin's face but instead, familiarity. Like getting hit by the smell of a fish market, despite walking through it almost every day of the year. The smell of blood was strong with the coin and Salogan wasn't sure if that was due to physical touch or some sort of ephemeral enchantment, but the scent had clearly been noted by the fellow Komodo. Even beyond that, even before Simin had really inspected the coin, the traveler perceived their familiarity with it.

He took a piece of the sausage and wedging it between two pieces of varying colored cheese, Salogan took small bites of it. Like it were a sandwich. His golden eyes moved over the young Komodo, watching as the tail flicked thoughtfully at thigh height, and how they went about formulating their answer. Simin was being careful with their words and the intent was understood.

"It is my understanding..." He said between bites. "That this is a token of completion. That a task given was finalized or..." He gestured with the half-eaten cheesewich. "Brought to an end." He had been told, by the man who died while holding this coin, that it indicated his mission was complete. Someone had died and the torment of the Assassin was over.

Quickly succumbing to his wounds, the blood could have invariably been that of the dead assassins and not his quarry. "I must confess that I would have great interest in meeting anyone else who might know more of this...coinage."
 

Simin Omid

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Their explanation seemed enough to tell the other komodo that the issue was not so much a lack of knowing, but being able to tell. Salogon explained the purpose behind the coin, and the other few times the item had been seen, made much more sense now that the reason had been made clear. Almost as an aha moment, Simin's look brightened and the smile was directed to the one explaining. They had said the right thing to Simin to allow them to speak to the bartender now.

"This one can ask for you now. Please wait a moment while Simin does this." The komodo spoke quietly, almost giddy as they stood carefully to avoid knocking over the seat before heading into the kitchen.

The window could be heard a minute later, the bartender's face showing an unspoken question before nodding and exiting behind the bar and into the kitchen. Another minute passed before the pale cook left the kitchen with Simin in tow as the other man went back behind the bar.

Patrons glanced at the sight, but returned to their own business when the cook glared at them. Simin was trying to reign in a smile as they approached Salogon, the cook still holding onto a grumpy expression.

"Let's talk downstairs." the man's gruff tone left no room for question as he walked to the back wall of the room. Simin waited for the other komodo to move before following closely behind. The cook did not wait for them, quickly opening and closing the door behind him as he hustled to a smaller second room set on the other side of the first room. He stopped before entering when he heard groaning, doing little more than hollering for the occupant to be quiet as he entered the room he had made for. Simin would lead the way for Salogon when they cleared the door to the basement.
 

Salogan

The Frond
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He was admittedly surprised to see the server respond as they did. He was not expecting the sort of enthusiasm, almost as if they were just looking to help all along. Or the actual act of not being able to discuss these other roles, or these things the tender prohibited, was causing physical distress and a pathway to remedy that situation brought legitimate comfort. "Of course." He replied, masking his confusion with a bite from the cheesewich.

Golden eyes trailed their movement as Salogan went on to complete the majority of his food quickly, unsure of where this path would take him. It could be some time before he got another opportunity to eat. Leaving the tankard half filled, his gaze shifted upwards as the trio approached him. Based on the nonchalant response, it had not been the first time Salogan was in a circumstance that left him outnumbered. He was silently hoping this wasn't going to go poorly.

"Oh. Ok." It didn't seem like a request but more of a requirement. Bringing out the coin was either a catalyst for additional information or an unfortunate situation, waiting to happen. Time would tell which it was. Getting up and scooting in his chair, he took a deep breath and followed the tender as Simin moved behind them. Despite the structure of the building, Salogan's steps were practiced and utterly silent against creaky boards, as he came to a stop.

This wasn't his house or establishment. He'd wait to be told to head downstairs. Based on the sounds coming from the door, he imagined that was the most prudent route.
 

Simin Omid

Scaly Server
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On some silent cue, the bartender nodded from his spot behind the bar to Simin before they opened the door and lead the way to the basement room. The groaning had diminished into labored breaths as Simin anxiously eyed the other door, still opening the other as the cook could be seen having sat down to a table.

The man also had black hair, but was paler than the bartender, and looked almost perpetually moody as he rubbed his jaw when they entered. Simin shut the door after jiggling the handle of the opposite door, checking that it was still truly locked.

"I hear you have a token that might interest me. Let's see it." the man spoke casually after the door had shut, dismissive of Simin's continued presence.

"If it is what I think it is, telling you where you might find more knowledgeable folk is near all I will be able to do for you. I can't read the damn things like they can." the man hissed as he waited. Simin shifted nervously as the cook spoke, something about the man seemed to make them uncomfortable.
 

Salogan

The Frond
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Interest to him...they...Words put into ways that Salogan didn't like. This particular man looked gruff, like he had been slung over a bench and flogged for a week straight. The torture had soured his face and fixed it like a stone mural.

Salogan had hardly reached the point of desperation, his time in Elbion had not even begun. But the way Simin shifted about, checking door knobs and anxiously moving, it left a good deal to be desired. Salogan peeled his gaze from the young Komodo to instead look towards the seedy man. The traveler opened his palm and rubbed from the bottom lip down, feeling the various scars that clipped his bottom lip and from the cheek to jaw line.

A mother's love.

Reaching into his pocket, the Komodo palmed the small pouch of papyrus. With a brief pause, he unfolded it to reveal the coin in the low light. The breaking of the slats of the root cellar revealed a slowly rising moon. Much time had passed in the tavern amidst discourse. And there were many rooms in this place, many things that could be hiding. It did not make the assassin comfortable.

"I took it from a dying man..." Salogan trailed off, failing to clarify what caused this death. Him and something else.
 

Simin Omid

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The man lazily gazed at it, his mouth forming a partial frown as he noted its appearance. Not giving a response to the komodo before him, he instead looked to Simin and spoke.

"Ain't uh, shit. That little scab that was in here a bit ago just met with, uhh. The guy...what's his name." if the words were meant as a question, the frustration behind them only emphasized the man's irritation at forgetting.

"Tibble?" Simin spoke quietly in response. The cook nodded and looked back to Salogon. "Tibble. Tibble would be able to tell you more. This is a pretty secluded place as you probably could tell, and he only comes here on business. I can get Tibble here in the morn-" the man spoke as Simin cut in.

"Tibble is still in the other room. This one had to...see to him after Fisk left." Simin spoke up, getting a glaring stare from the cook. His mouth was agape for a brief moment before he shook his head and continued his glare at Simin.

"The hell scaly!? If Tibble was hurt, they ain't gonna like that much. You shoulda' come up and told us! Its coming out of your hide if they come here. I'm sure the little rat Fisk was keen to beat feet out of town once you got wrangled into it." the man spat, rubbing his face for a brief second as he took a deep breath. "Dammit Simin."

"Simin apologizes. Had this one known-" the cook waved his hand and dismissed the talk as Simin flinched a little. "What's done is done. I suppose we oughtta go check on him." the cook hissed as he stood and roughly pushed his chair away. It nearly tipped backwards before settling, the man still shaking his head as he rounded the table and opened the door.

He didn't bother shutting it behind him as he looked back to the other two, waving for them both to come on. Simin again waited for Salogon before shutting the door behind them. The cook fumbled for a set of keys hidden in the apron pocket before unlocking the door and stepping in.

"Shit Simin. You dropped the keg this time." the cook reaffirmed the trouble Simin was likely in as he spotted the thoroughly soaked bandage on the bound man's side. His groans were a little quieter as he kept his head laid back against the wall.
 
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Salogan

The Frond
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Salogan had remained silent amidst the exchange between Simin, the cook, and the sleazy man. Based off the interaction, the traveler could piece together very little beyond the existence of a man named Fisk and a man named Tibble. It seemed his new Komodo friend was in deep on activities and interactions that they, perhaps, didn't fully understand. These must have been the duties that they previously hinted at, being unable to elucidate further in fear of stepping out of the barkeepers defined bounds.

So he kept quiet and when the time came to proceed into the back area, Salogan considered not going. But there were many of them and only one of him. Whatever hesitation he may have had, it was overcome by the slow gait, initiated almost by instinct.

The back room seemed almost cavernous in the way the lights were succumbing so easily to the darkness of the corners. The walls were shored up, as if this was the room that seemed entirely fixed in the stone outcropping of the cliff face. It wasn't the right circumstance to feel at the stone or material that lined the walls but he had to assume it was sedimentary and eroded, consuming sounds and giving back mellowed versions of the former noise.

Golden eyes surveyed the man that laid huddled in the corner, bent over in a curled fetal position. Based on the wrapping on the side and the smell, there was a swirling concoction of blood and feces. The man had been beaten badly and defecated himself, out of fear or out of pain. Either way, it was difficult to tell the mans condition from afar.

"Is the bandage a result of this...Tibble being stabbed?" Salogan asked plainly. The man in the corner looked up in response to the name but said nothing, eyes cast downward and away from the light.
 

Simin Omid

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"Yes." Simin meekly replied, giving little more than nod to Salogon's question as they moved to the dresser once more. Fetching another set of bandages, the cook removed the rope binding while Simin got supplies and held the other man's face for a brief second once the rope was removed. His face scrunched a little at the smell of feces, but he did not shy away from it.

"I'll send for a healer." the cook sighed as he stood and began to leave the room. "Quicker they get here, the less trouble we are in." was his last remark before going out of sight. He left them, not terribly concerned about leaving them with the wounded man.

Simin knelt before the man once the cook left, beginning to wipe away the blood and switch the bandaging. A few groans of pain at peeling the bandage off the wound were all that Simin received as Tibble let them work.
 
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Salogan

The Frond
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Salogan frowned, drawing his fingers to his lips as he concealed the sharpened edges of his teeth. He was hoping that the conversation upstairs would yield in different ways, the dealing of death was a tiresome chore.

But a chore all the same.

He knelt next to Simin, taking the dirty bandages from her in folds. Lifting the item to his nose, his nostrils flared as the golden eyes pinned with abrupt realization. He couldn't tell the man's color or state, due to the lighting, so he reached forward and placed his hand on the mans neck. "One should take care where they place a blade..." Salogan responded coldly, noting the distinct smell of sulfur.

The man had been stabbed in the liver, based on the coloration of the blood, like pitch. The smell was either a result of an acute inflammation, though it was hard to make out over the feces, or was a result of a poorly functioning organ over an extended period of time. Either way, Tibble was in poor shape.

"Dun..." The man coughed, spitting up blood. It was a fortunate thing Komodi were so resistant to disease, otherwise he might be concerned. "Dun fookin'' touch me, munster."

Salogan smiled and shook his head. "Strong words for a dying man."

"Crags arse ya toothy..." Salogan interrupted him with a firm look, withdrawing the coin from his pocket. He presented it and the man shook his head in response, clearly nervous. Or in shock. "Tell me where I can find more."

"No, no no I can', dey'll kill me."

"And you believe I won't. I just ate but for you, Tibble, I can make room."

That got the mans attention, though it was entirely a bluff. Salogan wouldn't stand in the way of this death but he assuredly wouldn't expedite it, either. "I...I-I-I..." The man muttered and Salogan shushed him. "Take your time."

Tibble looked to his left, trying to stretch and grimacing at the pain. "Da...da gilded feaver. Three blocks down, take da cobble stairs to da broken ramparts. Look fer a man wif a gold eye."

"A golden eye?" Salogan repeated.

"Did I fookin' stutter?" The man bit back, blood dribbling from his lips and coating his teeth. "Now get me a fuckin' heala..." His angry gaze shifted to Simin.
 
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