Connection and Contention (IC)

**The Bandicoot** · 2012-08-15, 04:55 PM (ISO 8601)

Iothfrahar

Iothfrahar snaps out of his wide-eyed staring Just.....enjoying it. Not many places that are this close to nature. he walks inside slowly and lays his longbow and quiver on a table. He then takes his scythe and holds it, leaning on it slightly. He looks around and scratches Gix's head. He'll have something strong, and I'll have something stronger. he cracks his neck and looks around again, a slight smirk forming. He was impressed, which was something odd for him.

**Debatra** · 2012-08-15, 05:00 PM (ISO 8601)

Replying as Adeak to Kiley

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Originally Posted by TheWombatOfDoom

Kiley, as always, was pleased to see Adeak. Adeak always came for information, and always paid for the advice and information he asked for, and it was hard times for her. Hopefully she knew the information he was looking for or the person that would know. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday.

Kiley greeted Adeak with the same line she’d always used. “Hey there, Handsome.” She smiled. “Night’s getting nicer now that you’re here.” She eyed him up and down. “So, where you want to go? We could be dangerous and do it outside, or we could go somewhere and get to business? Either way, you lead.”

"Heh, I'm out for a new job, and some quick coin. I'm up for about anything you can lead me to."

Replying to DM as Erinde

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Originally Posted by TheWombatOfDoom

There were many posters along the wall, all with varying descriptions:

Semaul, Kobold, wanted for posing as a representative to the Licourta House. Wanted alive. Reward provided Licourta family. (No actual amount was given, but heads of houses are known to pay well.)
Jeriah Cariess, Human, Wanted Dead or Alive, Smuggling illegal immigrants into the city. Reward: 15,000 Gold (City Guard)
Riley Sunkist, Werebear, Wanted Dead, Destruction of Property, Murder, and Resisting Arrest. Reward: 20,055 Gold (City Guard)
Seeking Client to recover Items from a Theft, Reward per item: 6,000 Gold. Bonus if all recovered. (Gives an address to a building somewhere in the Noble District.)

Erinde jotted down the item recovery and Licourta jobs before heading to the Noble District. She didn't have many clients among the "high-society", and had to ask directions, but she found her way to the listed address for the item recovery.

**TechnOkami** · 2012-08-15, 05:03 PM (ISO 8601)

After waiting several tables (with the help of his bear, don't ask how) the Dwarf finally returned with a stein of beer, and a bowl for Iothfrahar's pet.

"'Ere ya go. On de house! I figur'd I'd get the word out of me brews! Ah definit'ly need tah hire more people though... coming!" And the Dwarf runs off to another place needing his services.

**The Bandicoot** · 2012-08-15, 09:24 PM (ISO 8601)

Gix sniffs the bowl, gives it a tentative lick, looks up at Iothfrahar, and then sets about to lick up as much as he can as quick as he can. Meanwhile Iothfrahar just leans against his scythe and drinks slowly. Best dwarf brew I've ever had. I'll be sure to reccomend you. he pauses, pondering But don't expect much extra business from it. Most people I work with aren't long for this world.......no matter how much I try and prevent it.

**SamBurke** · 2012-08-16, 12:40 AM (ISO 8601)

Zhin of the Heaven Clan
Zane Arc

Zhin stood up from his hiding spot in one smooth motion; sleep to fighting stance took but a moment of reflexive darting. An alley cat looked up at the strange figure, and shied away, trying to escape what appeared to be some monstrosity.

At the other end of the alleyway, a drunk looked at the spiky figure with growing surprise. "Yr musta gotten reaalllly drunk..." he mutters, "or it's ma ihs' decieving me..." The slurred speech is barely understandable to Zhin, not withstanding the language difficulties he'd had to deal with already.

Just walking through the gate was an ordeal: no warrior should have to endure the evil eyes of so many foolish peasants at once. A hundred people it must have been, turning to look at him. Just because he had three-inch spikes and horns lying against his body, and he was covered in thick, bone-leather skin didn't make him something to stare at. So, he tried cursing at them. No matter what he said, they just couldn't seem to get it, until, at last, he had to start waving his arms in a most... embarrassing manner. Or, so he thought.

The guard watching the gates had gotten a spell for him, something to understand languages, it would seem. The short interview had been inconsequential, though the customs of this age were no doubt barbarous.... extending hands, and surrendering tactical advantage? "Saluting" and offering such small forms of obeisance to superiors? Clearly, in his long sleep, there had been much regression. Never mind that, though, as Zhin nearly made several clear blunders, as the man apparently did not like being forced to bow instead of salute.

Still, Zhin had no time to think: whatever could help him understand the vulgar language of these people was clearly going to run out, and he had one priority alone: the finding of evil, and its rooting out.

Leaving the drunk, the warrior strode into the sunlight of the wide street, ignoring the stares and fear of the citizens with impunity. "Is there someone who can give me information for magical services!?!?" he bellows to all nearby, without regard.

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Trying to walk the fine line of being a flank hole and being a proud warrior race guy.

**Monodominant** · 2012-08-16, 02:33 AM (ISO 8601)

Responding to Greenwing as The Corporal (aid to Deneth)

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Originally Posted by planswalker

"I come on behalf of the Council of Ten to work under letter of marque to retrieve important items stolen from the Houses. When presented with this task, my first thought was to involve the city watch in this, and Captain was the one I trusted to aid me. I am surprised you did not immediately recognize me as chief adviser to House Astrine. I would have thought my appearance distinctive enough to warrant instant recognition. Mind if I come in or would you rather continue talking out the window?"

"Errr... yes sir! My apologies sir! Please do come in sir! Though if I may say so sir... you kind of know the captain, probably better than me! I know he likes to frequent a place just around the corner, two blocks down and next to the city walls... best meat pies in the all the Quarter. You are more than welcome to wait here but he might be some time!" responds the corporal trying to juggle policy with the fact that he is talking with a senior representative of one of the houses.

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Given that I might be out for a few more posts, might make it easier if you meet me there instead!

Responding as Deneth to the Guard Graeden

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Replying as (Guard in his 30’s)Graeden to Deneth:

Incognito, huh? Ooops. He briefly feigned scratching his head instead of saluting. Luckily the street wasn’t well traveled this close to the wall. “Sure,” he said in response to the conspiring captain. “Dodging paperwork?” he asked with a smirk. He knew that’s what he would do, if he were a captain. As the two walked into the shop, he noticed there were a few tables, and a small kitchen. The man behind the counter spoke out.

“Den!” he said excitedly. “Welcome back! Haven’t seen you in ages. How many you want today? Looks like a two day, eh? And how about your friend…?”

“Oh, ah, Graeden,” he said, distracted by the name. Den…for a moment, he thought the shop owner was addressing him. Some of his friends back when he was in his twenties had called him Den. Den as in Deneth? It's the only Captain he knew of that fit that name. He’d heard mention of him, but never met him. He’d heard many things. Seems Graeden had run himself into a walking legend of the Guard. Good thing the smell of food was waking him up a bit. Perhaps the day was not yet over.

"Give us two for him as well... breakfast is the only meal in a day a man needs. Hunger in the evening keeps you sharp!" replied the old captain before sitting at a corner table with a good view of the street.

"So Graeden eh? And what brings you out so early then? Heading for or returning from duty?" asks the Captain, though he was certain of the latter given the middle aged mans tired eyes and dark circles over the eyes. An all nighter... most likely on the wall... ah the Wall... he had not done a beat on the wall for ages... maybe he could pretend to go on an inspection tomorrow night... that would be grand!

"And between you and me... there aint no avoiding paperwork... it always gets you in the end!"

**planswalker** · 2012-08-16, 02:41 AM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by Monodominant

"Errr... yes sir! My apologies sir! Please do come in sir! Though if I may say so sir... you kind of know the captain, probably better than me! I know he likes to frequent a place just around the corner, two blocks down and next to the city walls... best meat pies in the all the Quarter. You are more than welcome to wait here but he might be some time!" responds the corporal trying to juggle policy with the fact that he is talking with a senior representative of one of the houses.

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Given that I might be out for a few more posts, might make it easier if you meet me there instead!

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"Give us two for him as well... breakfast is the only meal in a day a man needs. Hunger in the evening keeps you sharp!" replied the old captain before sitting at a corner table with a good view of the street.

"So Graeden eh? And what brings you out so early then? Heading for or returning from duty?" asks the Captain, though he was certain of the latter given the middle aged mans tired eyes and dark circles over the eyes. An all nighter... most likely on the wall... ah the Wall... he had not done a beat on the wall for ages... maybe he could pretend to go on an inspection tomorrow night... that would be grand!

"And between you and me... there aint no avoiding paperwork... it always gets you in the end!"

"Thank you, guardsman. You have been most helpful."

With that, Greenwing Drake begins to take off his coat as he casts the invisibility charm once more, giving the corporal just a peek of green wings as he disappears from sight. The theatrics are half of how he retains his reputation. Never hurts to re-seed the rumors of his untold powers in a reliable source.

As he follows the helpful corporal's directions, he ponders how best to convince the captain to help him. Just as he touches down behind the old badger, he overhears the crack about paperwork.

"I can help you put that off for a while longer if you'd like." He says while reappearing. "Have an off-the-books job from the Council of Ten that needs doing. You were the first one I thought of when looking for help."

**Monodominant** · 2012-08-16, 05:56 AM (ISO 8601)

Responding to Greenwing as Deneth Vims, Captain of the Mage Quarter

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Originally Posted by planswalker

"Thank you, guardsman. You have been most helpful."

With that, Greenwing Drake begins to take off his coat as he casts the invisibility charm once more, giving the corporal just a peek of green wings as he disappears from sight. The theatrics are half of how he retains his reputation. Never hurts to re-seed the rumors of his untold powers in a reliable source.

As he follows the helpful corporal's directions, he ponders how best to convince the captain to help him. Just as he touches down behind the old badger, he overhears the crack about paperwork.

"I can help you put that off for a while longer if you'd like." He says while reappearing. "Have an off-the-books job from the Council of Ten that needs doing. You were the first one I thought of when looking for help."

The old captain masks his suprise. He had heard something but given the ambient noise in the pie shop he had not actually realised the man was behind him.

Still years of being suprised, ambushed and generally in much worse situations gave him an iron pokerface.

"Oh. Hello there Mr Drake. Heh... I guess this one is one of those 'teachable moments' that the Lieutenants asks me to illustrate to my people." he says looking towards the guardsman before him.

"This my dear boy is Mr Greenwing Drake of House Astrine. He is a sneaky devil in disguise but he is generally on the side of the good guys and order... or nobility in any case which in our fair city usually counts for the same even if it isnt always..." he says before turning to face the greenscaled halfling.

"Looking good there... I always said Green suits you. So... would you care to tell me more on this? We can take a stroll and eat our pies while we are at it... and before you go on about secrecy, you surely know that a semi-crowded street is a better place than a clandestine meeting in my office that is probably constantly under divination by half the Houses in this city..." he says with a sly smile.

**planswalker** · 2012-08-16, 08:14 AM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by Monodominant

The old captain masks his suprise. He had heard something but given the ambient noise in the pie shop he had not actually realised the man was behind him.

Still years of being suprised, ambushed and generally in much worse situations gave him an iron pokerface.

"Oh. Hello there Mr Drake. Heh... I guess this one is one of those 'teachable moments' that the Lieutenants asks me to illustrate to my people." he says looking towards the guardsman before him.

"This my dear boy is Mr Greenwing Drake of House Astrine. He is a sneaky devil in disguise but he is generally on the side of the good guys and order... or nobility in any case which in our fair city usually counts for the same even if it isnt always..." he says before turning to face the greenscaled halfling.

"Looking good there... I always said Green suits you. So... would you care to tell me more on this? We can take a stroll and eat our pies while we are at it... and before you go on about secrecy, you surely know that a semi-crowded street is a better place than a clandestine meeting in my office that is probably constantly under divination by half the Houses in this city..." he says with a sly smile.

"Oh yes, I agree with your tactics on keeping a secret so long as you are not being actively followed. However, secrecy isn't the issue at all in this case. The invisibility is just my personal taste for theatrics. You know how I love to shock and awe the rubes. We can talk while you walk."

As they take a stroll and the Captain enjoys his pies, Greenwing Drake catches him up to speed.

"Apparently last night, Edward Zane, a small-time petty thief pulled off the caper of his life. He absconded with several very valuable heirlooms from the Houses, especially the recently recovered Cup of Astrid. There is also a concern that one of the items taken was home to a powerful efreeti. If that creature is released, recovery of the items will get... complicated. Not to mention the threat the man will represent. As a marqued agent of one of the major houses, it is my prerogative to accomplish the tast set out by my leal lord by any means necessary. When I thought of allies I would need to help me in this fight, you were the first I thought of. I ask your aid in tracking down and apprehending the thief. You're the best trained investigator I know. Besides, if things do go sour, I figured you could beat out the efreeti's power through sheer crusty stubbornness if nothing else."

"Oh, and I object to being accused of being on the nobles' side. I'm not nearly so heartless. Besides, it's more like they're on my side."

**TheWombatOfDoom** · 2012-08-16, 09:37 AM (ISO 8601)

Replying as Captain Nathaniel to Eli:

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Originally Posted by Eli

Eli was awoken one morning by a young Postulant with a bizarre summons. If this was some kind of joke, the boy would likely be beaten within an inch of his life if not outright killed.

But if it were real, one did not delay when the most senior Gray Guard Captain in Delere'ele came more than halfway across the city to talk to you, specifically. Taking the offered Prestidigitation potion to quickly straighten himself out, he all but ran downstairs to the chill of the Gray Guard "offices".

'So it's true; he really is here...' He stepped forward and bowed deeply. "Captain Nathaniel? Eli Senti, reporting as ordered."

“Mister Senti. Good morning. I trust you’ll forgive the lack of forewarning for this meeting, but I myself knew of it only just a few hours ago. It seems the Church of Corellon is making moves to disallow worship of other God’s within the kingdom in any organized way.” Nathaniel’s brow furrowed angrily. He was quite livid by this turn of events. “They just pulled down the temples of Vecna and Pelor last night, and I assume more are to follow today. I need you to defend the temple. We cannot allow them to defile our shrine” He walked closer and spoke quietly. “Any other current assignments you have assigned to you right now are hereby dismissed. I’m putting you in command of the unit I’m putting in place. Last, Senti, I need you to find out what caused this, and if at all possible reverse it.” Nathaniel knew that Eli had proved deft in task in the past, and trusted he would get this done.

Replying as Gyork to Wilstaff and Bennett:

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[QUOTE=Wilstaff & Bennett]Caw approached The Boss, a bit nervous. Seemed to happen more and more lately. But the tribe was getting restless again, wanting to move on, and as the advisor he had to try to convince their increasingly erratic leader to listen to them. The area had become peaceful, almost serene, and there was no money in that for the largest clan of mercenaries Arteria had ever seen.

It remained largely hob, even though a few stragglers from the old Watch had come along for the ride and produced some extraordinarily ugly mixed-race children. All of them, every man, woman, and child, trained either in combat or a supporting role for the warriors. Boss's orders. And despite the murmurs, it had been decades since the last fellow had fallen who tried to question the Boss when he made a decree. Now obeying was as inbred for the clan as the Jenkins family line, thanks to their predilection for cousin-lovin'. Those who did not obey, or who died either in battle or out of it, still served the clan. Not in spirit, but certainly in ghastly, renanimated body.

Caw crept toward the throne, his gaze captured by the bright scarlet tunic their leader still wore to honor a time long past. The blue emblem of hands shaking, the unique crown insignia stitched above the chest. All of it seemed appropriately regal, save for the absurdly large arsenal of weaponry The Boss carried on him at all times. He always said that can't hurt to be prepared, unless you're the person facing someone who is prepared, in which case it sure as heckfire can. Caw gingerly tapped the leader on his shoulder with one long, withered finger. But The Boss just stared forward, deep in concentration. Shuffling of feet and polite coughing received the same lack of a response. Finally the advisor, forgetting himself, stomped in front of their fearless leader and began to shout.

Come on, Bennett. You know I hate the silent treatment.

The skeleton remained still atop his throne. The wiry, wild-eyed hobgoblin elder in front of him went on bended knee.

Fine, I'll keep it more professional. You're such a fuddy-duddy. I bring you news, O Exalted One. The clan is becoming restless; I feel that it may be time to find a new stomping ground, full of rich people who hate each other enough to make us rich ironing out their grudges. Any thoughts on the matter?

The skeleton does nothing. The hob begins to shout.

I SAID, ANY THOUGHTS ON THE MATTER? Honestly, I thought you had to have ears to start going deaf.

The skeleton does nothing. The hob rises from his kneeling position, wincing as he does so.

Well, I'm sure I don't know if Sheila from accounting has a crush on you. But given that you can order her to prostrate herself before you any time you wish, I think I like your chances with her. Can we get back to matters at hand?

A spider descends from The Boss's empty eye socket; his advisor removes it and sets it on the ground gently, then promptly smashes it to bits with two projectiles from a well-worn wand.

That's good to hear. The fellows are itching for some proper bloodshed. What's the place you have in mind?

The skeleton remains silent. Caw gasps.

You can't be serious, Bennie. Well, no, of course you are. You're never anything but serious. But why would we go there now, though? I thought we put that behind us.

More nothing.

Hold up now. Look, I know I'm crazy. I think it's safe to say I've come to terms with it. But if you're going crazy too, we have some serious problems. Why would we try to pull the same gag after how brilliantly we botched it last time?

The skeleton stares into space. The old hob sniffles, and wipes a tear from his eye.

No...you're right. We do owe it to him to try again. The first man to ever recognize your rights, and we let him down. But now, with all our training, our well-crafted web of contacts, our long breaks for rampant breeding...and I still don't know why you always assigned me the homeliest females for that, you backstabber; maybe now we're ready to help the Khan realize his mad, impossible, beautiful dream. Maybe now we can make him king. Would you like that, Khannonball Run?

He looks to his left at the horrifying mohrg towering over him, spikes emerging from his mottled orange skin. Caw smiles.

[COLOR="DarkOrange"]We knew you would. Then by your leave, Big Boss Man, I will inform the clan to prepare the wagons. Tomorrow we ride for Aldhaven!

Gyork’s spyglass was a wonderful thing. He could count the red hairs in the motley beard of one of the guards in the camp. He’d oogled a woman or two in his time with it too, but he was not here for that. Plus everyone knew the women in the former clan from Aldhaven were not so easy on the eyes, at least not to a Halfling. All nose hairs and women aside, though, Gyork saw a clan that knew what it was doing. He gestured to the Halfling next to him, and she scooted closer from where she huddled. She was missing an ear, the poor girl. He handed her the Gnomish Spyglass, and asked her what she saw.

“Warriors tents appear to be in an outer ring around the main camp. Women and children inside that circle.”

He could hear the distaste in her voice at that. Halfling women always were more hostile than the men. Unlike many races, women fought alongside men, both necessary in battle for different reasons. Humans and other folk seemed to forget this often, to their misfortune. Gyork imagined it would be unfortunate to count on one number charging you in battle, and finding a near double that in its place. It would take more than double to attack this clan however. It was mostly compromised of fighters, and even if the three Halfling tribes allied (which was entirely unlikely) it would be difficult to say who would win. Plus, it was said their leader was undead. How do you kill something that’s already dead?

“If Grenier wants to take them, we’re gonna need something special,” Gyork told Tonda.

Replying as GM to Elif:

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Originally Posted by Forever Curious;Elif

Well, this had certainly explained the commotion that had interfered with her sleep last night. She gave a small nod the the server... Ruth, was it? The Tipsy Falcon had quite a turn over rate, and all these servers looked the same to Elif. "Good morning," she replied flatly, taking a seat next to the server. "Another brawl," she remarked, the smells coming from the kitchen peaking her appetite. It was something she didn't recognize, but it smelled wonderful. "A new dish?" she asked directly to the server, turning her head to look at her.

“Elmardian Pike,” said the server in reply. “It’s lunch,” she added quickly. “We don’t commonly get customers in the morn’. We ended up stopping serving breakfast about six months ago when 6 out of 7 days no one would come in to eat it. Waste of food.” She paused, thoughtfully. “I s’pose I could scrounge up some bread an’ maybe an egg or two from the pens. I’ll need a rubbings worth of silvers to do it though. Eggs are hard to find now-a-days.” She waited for Elif’s response.

Replying as "The Three" to Ander:

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Originally Posted by Exalaber;Ander

Ander reaches back to the spirit, pulling the unearthly calm back in, but keeping the alien will out, and faces the three, stairing into the shadows of the hood, the outline of the man's face clear to his elven eyes. He locks eyes with the man and says "I know there are not many elves running around this city, but surly you know that it is not just our subterrainian cousins that can see well in the dark. As to your question, I had hoped to avoid mentioning that, all I can say is that some more ethereal friends of mine say that a great place of walls, locks, and shadows is on the edge between destruction and prosperity, and they want me to witness the determination, I am here specifically because it was a condition of staying in my uncle's house." He continues to stare at the face that is only just to shadowed to read, and after a moment of calculating silence continues "you may want to get an oracle down here or a cleric or something, a... previous occupant wants to speak with you very badly." He suddenly wishes that he had taken his uncle's advice, and left the city.

“Seeing is one thing, but what I was asking about was hearing,” Center says with an annoyed tone. The boy was spouting nonsense. Oracles? Great place of wall, locks, and shadows? The hang ups in the boys profile were coming to light. He hears voices- that I know…but crazy people have their uses. The trick is, do they help or hinder him? That’s not something they’d likely find out in an interview. He needed an audition. Something where he could be watched, maybe even advised. Ah ha!

“No matter,” he said before the boy could say anything. “Tell me about YOUR reasons for being here. I don’t care if it’s a condition your uncle has put forth. Why do YOU want to be here? This isn’t a charity. I’m not taking in someone just because they were forced to apply.” He needed to know the boy was loyal to them-especially in times where members of the society were snatched out from under their noses.

Replying as Dimitri Grayson to Reynald:

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Originally Posted by TheAntiplanar;Reynald

After cooling down somewhat, Reynald returned to his cabin to throw on a navy overcoat and fetch his cane. He would need to look presentable to the Board. After all, appearance mattered in high Society... he chuckles softly. According to Captain Whitefeather, Aldhaven was fast approaching. He need only look out the window to see his home city, but Reynald finds himself hesitant. So many memories here... bad mixed in with the good. However, there was still the matter of the curse. At first, he had had absolutely no idea who had tasked the mage to cast the spell on him, but after finding out Almeran, he found the answer staring starkly back at him.
The Painters Guild. Of course, I still have no idea who they really are, only that they seem to oppose us at every turn. The name had come later, the last words of a dying man during a midnight raid. From all of the intelligence Reynald had gathered, the guild seemed to be comprised mostly of lower class thieves and assassins. Four Society agents had been murdered over the course of the last year, which led to yet another question.
Why did they curse me? Why am I still breathing? The mage could have killed me that night. For some reason, they want me alive. Reynald takes a deep breath. The Painters would be brought to heel, justice done against their ringleaders. But first, he needed to retrieve the double agent. He makes his way back above-deck, watching as the crew of the Herald made preparations to dock. The city was there now, looming. Every crack, stone and plank was exactly as he remembered it. Somehow, everything was different though. There was an aura of tension here. Even from several miles away, Reynald could sense it. Things were changing, and not necessarily for the better. His reverie is cut off at the approach of two sets of footsteps. The Twins, of course. Kirin and Arlin Corvayne, his two enforcers. They dressed the same, crimson coats over matching black pants and shirts, complete with golden belt and boot buckles. However, up close one could easily spot the differences. Kirin had a more muscular build, wearing her golden hair longer. Underneath her coat one could see twin hilts, the golden wire protruding somewhat. Arlin, on the other hand, was even skinnier than his sister. He bore no overt weapons, instead carrying several pouches with what looked like spell components, as well as a small book. Their violet eyes stare back at Reynald, awaiting his orders. The Twins knew him well.
"We have nearly arrived. Now, once we have docked I want you to split up and begin searching for a crew. Strength, loyalty, and avarice are the primary attributes you should be looking for. Start in the taverns and the arena."
"Where will we meet you?"
"I'm not sure yet. I have to check back in with the other Society members before I can leave. Here, take these. It will help us keep in touch." From one of his pockets, Reynald pulls a pair of dark gold earring studs. He hands one to each twin.
"I acquired these toys fresh off the Brunsgrove market at a wonderful price. These will allow the three of us to communicate telepathically for up to fifty miles. Only wear them when you absolutely need to talk: the enchantments on these will only allow a certain amount of chatter every day." Reynald nods, seemingly to himself. Yes, this would work. Hopefully, the Twins would be quick about their task. Looking up, he can see the Aldhaven docks quite clearly. This early in the morning, the pier was not too busy, but the banker could make out figures going about their business as usual... hold on. There was one figure standing at the edge of a dock, staring at the Herald of Dross as it approached. Apparently, the Society had sent someone to greet them.

Dimitri itched at his nose as the spray of yet another wave smacking against the docks tickled it. This might be a river, but with all the large boats casting out or coming in as the morning began, the waves reminded Dimitri of Cauld’s harbor. He missed the smell of salt and the sound of gulls. No matter. He couldn’t go back there if he wanted. Harbors just made him nostalgic. Reynold had all the luck being a senior agent. He actually got to get out of the city, and on a boat no less!

“Ah, there it is!” he said to the splashing waves and empty dock. They replied back schlorp schlorp. Another spray to the face. “Everyone’s a critic,” he said, rubbing his nose again.

The man waited until the ship came close, and then caught a line thrown his way as another of the crew jumped off and was tossed another rope. Together they brought the ship to dock, and secured it on the posts that ran along the gangway. As he saw Reynold approach, he remembered that in other ways, Dimitri was the luckier one. “Ah, Mr. Lheureux,” he bowed slightly, “Welcome back to Aldhaven. I’ve been tasked to bring you to an interview with one of our…erm…applicants.” He hardly thought it was fair to send the man immediately on a task as soon as he arrived in the city, but business was business he supposed. “Go ahead and gather what you need. I’ll lead you there when you’re ready.”

Replying as Graeden to Deneth and the (HOLY CRAP WHERE DID THAT GUY COME FROM) Greenwing:

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Originally Posted by Monodominant;Deneth

"Give us two for him as well... breakfast is the only meal in a day a man needs. Hunger in the evening keeps you sharp!" replied the old captain before sitting at a corner table with a good view of the street.

"So Graeden eh? And what brings you out so early then? Heading for or returning from duty?" asks the Captain, though he was certain of the latter given the middle aged mans tired eyes and dark circles over the eyes. An all nighter... most likely on the wall... ah the Wall... he had not done a beat on the wall for ages... maybe he could pretend to go on an inspection tomorrow night... that would be grand!

"And between you and me... there aint no avoiding paperwork... it always gets you in the end!"

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Originally Posted by planswalker;Greenwing

"Thank you, guardsman. You have been most helpful."

With that, Greenwing Drake begins to take off his coat as he casts the invisibility charm once more, giving the corporal just a peek of green wings as he disappears from sight. The theatrics are half of how he retains his reputation. Never hurts to re-seed the rumors of his untold powers in a reliable source.

As he follows the helpful corporal's directions, he ponders how best to convince the captain to help him. Just as he touches down behind the old badger, he overhears the crack about paperwork.

"I can help you put that off for a while longer if you'd like." He says while reappearing. "Have an off-the-books job from the Council of Ten that needs doing. You were the first one I thought of when looking for help."

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Originally Posted by Monodominant;Deneth

The old captain masks his suprise. He had heard something but given the ambient noise in the pie shop he had not actually realised the man was behind him.

Still years of being suprised, ambushed and generally in much worse situations gave him an iron pokerface.

"Oh. Hello there Mr Drake. Heh... I guess this one is one of those 'teachable moments' that the Lieutenants asks me to illustrate to my people." he says looking towards the guardsman before him.

"This my dear boy is Mr Greenwing Drake of House Astrine. He is a sneaky devil in disguise but he is generally on the side of the good guys and order... or nobility in any case which in our fair city usually counts for the same even if it isnt always..." he says before turning to face the greenscaled halfling.

"Looking good there... I always said Green suits you. So... would you care to tell me more on this? We can take a stroll and eat our pies while we are at it... and before you go on about secrecy, you surely know that a semi-crowded street is a better place than a clandestine meeting in my office that is probably constantly under divination by half the Houses in this city..." he says with a sly smile.

“Aye, returning,” Graeden replied, stifling a yawn. He waited for the Captain to sit and took the other available to him at the table. Deneth got the seat he’d have liked in any case - it faced the door. Graeden always liked seeing what was going on and who was coming in. He’s nosey, some might say. Curious, others might answer. Honestly, Graeden’s job was to be both. You pick up some habits when that was the case. For instance, he always cut up all his food before eating it. He never slept with the window unlocked. He put a piece of paper in the crack of his door so he’d know if it had been opened. Paranoid, maybe, but he was still alive, and it helped him sleep. “Been on the wall for a couple of years now. Used to do foot, though. That was hairier, but I kinda liked that. Take last night. We get this small band of orcs demanding entry. Wanted to get at some drow he claimed was in the city…but he likely just wanted to cause trouble or check out our defenses. They’ve been getting braver.” He sighed at that. They had the whole of The Reach, why would they need Asarenholm? Aldhaven was happy to let in orcs, it was these bands of them that were the problem. And worse, now people were profiling orcs. The Guard had more and more reports of attacks ON orcs than the other way around.

"And between you and me... there aint no avoiding paperwork... it always gets you in the end!"

“Well, I—“

And then leaning against the wall appears a green skinned dragon man. He eyed the thing warily, but it seemed the captain was unperturbed. In fact, it seems they were friends. Deneth didn’t even flinch. After introductions were made, he found that the man was from House Astrine. I thought it was another House that was affiliated with dragons…

“Graeden Leventhair,” he said, offering a hand. “That’s a neat trick you got there, mind sharing your secret?”

Deneth mentioned eating the pies while they walked, and so Graeden offered Greenwing one of his own. He didn't think he could or should finish two this late in the day. He asked Deneth if he wanted Graeden to walk with them or if to head on home.

**planswalker** · 2012-08-16, 09:48 AM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by TheWombatOfDoom

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Replying as Graeden to Deneth and the (HOLY CRAP WHERE DID THAT GUY COME FROM) Greenwing:

“Aye, returning,” Graeden replied, stifling a yawn. He waited for the Captain to sit and took the other available to him at the table. Deneth got the seat he’d have liked in any case - it faced the door. Graeden always liked seeing what was going on and who was coming in. He’s nosey, some might say. Curious, others might answer. Honestly, Graeden’s job was to be both. You pick up some habits when that was the case. For instance, he always cut up all his food before eating it. He never slept with the window unlocked. He put a piece of paper in the crack of his door so he’d know if it had been opened. Paranoid, maybe, but he was still alive, and it helped him sleep. “Been on the wall for a couple of years now. Used to do foot, though. That was hairier, but I kinda liked that. Take last night. We get this small band of orcs demanding entry. Wanted to get at some drow he claimed was in the city…but he likely just wanted to cause trouble or check out our defenses. They’ve been getting braver.” He sighed at that. They had the whole of The Reach, why would they need Asarenholm? Aldhaven was happy to let in orcs, it was these bands of them that were the problem. And worse, now people were profiling orcs. The Guard had more and more reports of attacks ON orcs than the other way around.

"And between you and me... there aint no avoiding paperwork... it always gets you in the end!"

“Well, I—“

And then leaning against the wall appears a green skinned dragon man. He eyed the thing warily, but it seemed the captain was unperturbed. In fact, it seems they were friends. Deneth didn’t even flinch. After introductions were made, he found that the man was from House Astrine. I thought it was another House that was affiliated with dragons…

“Graeden Leventhair,” he said, offering a hand. “That’s a neat trick you got there, mind sharing your secret?”

Deneth mentioned eating the pies while they walked, and so Graeden offered Greenwing one of his own. He didn't think he could or should finish two this late in the day. He asked Deneth if he wanted Graeden to walk with them or if to head on home.

"Greenwing Drake." He says shaking the hand quickly. "Yes, THAT Greenwing Drake. No, I'm not related to that house. Yes, the mistress of House Astrine and I go way back. Yes, that was a nice trick. You should see my good ones sometime."

"Anyways Captain, back to what we were talking about..."

**TheAntiplanar** · 2012-08-16, 12:58 PM (ISO 8601)

Reynald

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Originally Posted by TheWombatOfDoom

Replying as Dimitri Grayson to Reynald:
Dimitri itched at his nose as the spray of yet another wave smacking against the docks tickled it. This might be a river, but with all the large boats casting out or coming in as the morning began, the waves reminded Dimitri of Cauld’s harbor. He missed the smell of salt and the sound of gulls. No matter. He couldn’t go back there if he wanted. Harbors just made him nostalgic. Reynold had all the luck being a senior agent. He actually got to get out of the city, and on a boat no less!

“Ah, there it is!” he said to the splashing waves and empty dock. They replied back schlorp schlorp. Another spray to the face. “Everyone’s a critic,” he said, rubbing his nose again.

The man waited until the ship came close, and then caught a line thrown his way as another of the crew jumped off and was tossed another rope. Together they brought the ship to dock, and secured it on the posts that ran along the gangway. As he saw Reynold approach, he remembered that in other ways, Dimitri was the luckier one. “Ah, Mr. Lheureux,” he bowed slightly, “Welcome back to Aldhaven. I’ve been tasked to bring you to an interview with one of our…erm…applicants.” He hardly thought it was fair to send the man immediately on a task as soon as he arrived in the city, but business was business he supposed. “Go ahead and gather what you need. I’ll lead you there when you’re ready.”

Smiling as he recognizes the face at the pier, Reynald feels somewhat energized. Today might be a productive day after all. The Herald docks slowly, the planks of the dock grumbling against the hull. All in all, an expert job by Danica. Reynald makes a mental note to give her a bonus in her next paycheck - her work as captain had truly been exemplary. As the gangplank is lowered, the banker saunters down towards the shore to greet Dimitri. He listens to the instructions, offering only a nod as response.
"So, they want to meet right away? It's a good thing we're not working alone, hm?" He snaps his fingers once. The Twins, bowing in a similar manner, begin to make their way into the city proper. Hopefully they would be quick about their task. Leaving the remainder of his belongings on board, Reynald gestures for Dimitri to lead on. Outwardly, the older man smiles, but on the inside he seethes with barely constrained anger.
An interview is already in progress? Why didn't they inform me? Damn it, every time it is something new. Gods, I long for the day where one can go about his business without being bothered by the newest trivia. They won't even give me time to visit the old manor - of course, I think I actually preferred the Brunsgrove house to my old Aldhaven one. Trying desperately to focus on something else, Reynald finds himself engaging the younger man in conversation.
"It's Mr. Grayson, right? I remember the day you joined the Society. What was it, four years ago?"
"Five, actually."
"Ah. I apologize. Time away from home will do that to a man."
"Oh, I know. I used to be a foreigner to these parts myself."
"Really? Where do you hail from?" The agent deigns not to respond, turning away for a moment before forcing a smile. Reynald knew that look: he had seen it in the mirror many times before. The bitter mask, the emptiness. Best not to bring up the subject, then. The rest of the walk is carried out in silence. Thankfully, they did not have all that far to go. By the time they reach the Sapphire Swan, Reynald feels like sitting. The coughing was back now, in full force. Warm blood trickles over his chin again.
Take a deep breath. In and out, in and out. That's it. It takes well over a minute to compose himself and get back up.
"Are you alright, sir?"
"Perfectly fine, thank you. It would be best if we were to get inside, I think." He allows Dimitri to open the door for him, and begins to scan the crowd for the aforementioned contact. This was... unusual for the Society. Normally they held interviews in the Morganstern Hall itself, deeper in the Guild Quarter. As he searches, Reynald begins to wonder what kind of interview he had been roped into this time.

**TechnOkami** · 2012-08-16, 04:38 PM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by Hipho

Gix sniffs the bowl, gives it a tentative lick, looks up at Iothfrahar, and then sets about to lick up as much as he can as quick as he can. Meanwhile Iothfrahar just leans against his scythe and drinks slowly. Best dwarf brew I've ever had. I'll be sure to reccomend you. he pauses, pondering But don't expect much extra business from it. Most people I work with aren't long for this world.......no matter how much I try and prevent it.

The Dwarf pauses for a moment, listening to what his customer has to say.

"Thank ye kindly."

Taking a quick glance around, and after being thoroughly convinced everyone else was rather happy with their food and drink, the little Druid took a seat opposite his customer, and procured an ale for himself. After a few seconds of pouring amber waters down his throat, Jägerstein sighed with contention.

His focus snapped back when the lack of co-workers bit of his speech appeared.

"Oh...? N' why aren' they gonna be 'ere long?"

He took a few more drinks.

"If ya don' mind me askin'."

**The Bandicoot** · 2012-08-16, 05:34 PM (ISO 8601)

Iothfrahar takes another gulp and sighs, pulling a long piece of twine from his pocket. Attached to the twine are dozens of scales of various sizes and colors. Each scale has a two names carved into it, one in draconic and another in common. My line of work is one fraught with death. For every evil beast I slay I have lost allies. he pats Gix's head. Gix here nearly had a scale himself.... Gix rolls over for a belly rub, showing off three large jagged scars.

**TechnOkami** · 2012-08-16, 06:09 PM (ISO 8601)

Jägerstein's eyes seem to become hollow for a split second, returning to normalcy after taking one last long gulp, emptying his stein.

"Ah know how ya feel. Ah almost lost me bear once. E's stubborn as a bull tho, n' didn't give in. Ah dunno wha' I'd be withou' 'im."

His earthy brown eyes gazed upon the various scales bound to that reed.

"E's been a while since a've last seen one, but ah can tell by their tapers n' colors; tha's a Dragon Scale. Yer a Dragon Hunter, ain't ye?"

**hustlertwo** · 2012-08-16, 07:24 PM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by TheWombatOfDoom

Replying as Gyork to Wilstaff and Bennett:

Gyork’s spyglass was a wonderful thing. He could count the red hairs in the motley beard of one of the guards in the camp. He’d oogled a woman or two in his time with it too, but he was not here for that. Plus everyone knew the women in the former clan from Aldhaven were not so easy on the eyes, at least not to a Halfling. All nose hairs and women aside, though, Gyork saw a clan that knew what it was doing. He gestured to the Halfling next to him, and she scooted closer from where she huddled. She was missing an ear, the poor girl. He handed her the Gnomish Spyglass, and asked her what she saw.

“Warriors tents appear to be in an outer ring around the main camp. Women and children inside that circle.”

He could hear the distaste in her voice at that. Halfling women always were more hostile than the men. Unlike many races, women fought alongside men, both necessary in battle for different reasons. Humans and other folk seemed to forget this often, to their misfortune. Gyork imagined it would be unfortunate to count on one number charging you in battle, and finding a near double that in its place. It would take more than double to attack this clan however. It was mostly compromised of fighters, and even if the three Halfling tribes allied (which was entirely unlikely) it would be difficult to say who would win. Plus, it was said their leader was undead. How do you kill something that’s already dead?

“If Grenier wants to take them, we’re gonna need something special,” Gyork told Tonda.

If Gyork continues to look through his glass, he will see a a pair of specks heading toward his clan at a plodding pace. They grows closer and closer, revealing themselves to be an old, red-skinned hobgoblin, ropy muscles flexing tightly as he grips the reins of his slow-moving and similarly elderly horse with what appears to be mortal terror, and a human with a quiet air of dignity about him astride a somewhat less ancient steed. They approach the halfling camp, and the hob dismounts, bending down and kissing the ground as he does so. He then looks to his companion.

Good grief! I could feel my life flashing before my eyes every time this speed demon took a step. Why must we embrace such a hair-raising mode of travel, dear B?

The human says nothing.

Yes, I know, keeping up appearances. Still, this has to be like seventh on my list of preferred traveling methods, well below 'carried by several buxom babes'. Or even 'carried by magically animated rotting piles of flesh', for that matter.

He then remembers they are not alone, and turns with a grand sweeping gesture to face the halflings.

Greetings, tiny almost-people! I am Chief Advisor Wilstaff, and I give you a message in the name of The Boss: we surrender!

He looks over his shoulder at the human behind him.

No? That's not right? What part did I-oh, right! I'm sorry people, I meant you surrender. Yes, that's it. You surrender to us or we shall destroy you. However, if being destroyed would put a crimp in your long-term goals, we offer an alternate solution: you pay us an exorbitant wage, and in return we raze your enemies to the ground and make you a dominant force in this area. You have no less than seventeen minutes, and also five additional 'bonus time' minutes to decide. Thank you for choosing Blue Hands Inc. for all your ultimatum needs.

He then awaits their response while having a long and rather one-sided argument with his human friend about who had received the more comfortable saddle for their ride.

**The Bandicoot** · 2012-08-16, 10:15 PM (ISO 8601)

Iothfrahar nods and points to a large dark green scale. He lays it flat on the table and puts a finger under the names written in Draconic. Ashok the Acid Flayer. Big one. Had a nasty habit of using just enough acid to melt off the armor and the skin. He was my last kill. he closes his eyes and quickly says an old dwarven prayer asking Moradin to protect his 'brother'.

Slowly he moves his finger so it's underneath the other name, which is written in Dwarvish. The name reads Barel Glantek Most stubborn beardless elf loving dwarf I ever knew...I tried to bring him back but I imagine Moradin is keeping him in well enough company he didn't want to risk coming back as anything but a dwarf. he closes his eyes,finishes off his mug in a single gulp and takes a seat quickly as if a heavy weight has been dropped on his shoulders. His scythe stays gripped tightly in his hand and his other hand wanders through the scales, looking at specific ones. He seems deep in thought.

**TheAntiplanar** · 2012-08-17, 05:06 AM (ISO 8601)

Responding to Malenth

Originally Posted by Crafty Cultist

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Malenth soon arrives at the Saphire Swan, an upscale tavern on the waterfront near the entrance to the Noble district. The place was classy, without being pompous. The tables were made of polished mahogony, with leather apholstery on the chairs and benches, and fixtures of polished brass were plentiful. At this time of day, the place was nearly empty.

Malenth headed to the counter without any fuss, and a well dressed bartender greeted him from behind a row of taps. "Greetings Milord. You're in early today. What can I get you?"

"A glass of Goldendew Ale, my good man. I've had a rough night, and some hair of the dog that bit me is just what the doctor ordered."

The bartender looks at Malenth for a moment, who looks around the bar with casual interest. "I'm afraid that the last keg was purchased by a customer in one of my private rooms. If you think you can convince him to share it, I'll take you to meet him."

Malenth smiles and rises from his seat. "Lead on, my good man"

A fly crawls across the mahogany plank. Polyae watches the progress of the insect, entranced by its progress. What went on in its funny little brain? Did it understand its actions? The representative of the Morganstern Society sat in a plush chair, facing the door into the bar proper. She could hear little from outdoors, and to be frank she preferred it that way. They paid her well, and kept their distance. Much better than her last employer. Usually, meetings like this involved an outside client, but for some reason today's missive dictated that she act as a liaison to a potential new employee. The interviewee was one Malenth D'Everet, a young nobleman who showed promise and seemed willing to sign on as an apprentice. That was relatively standard: the Morganstern Society made a habit of picking the winning side, and it helps to win when one has more funding and can bend the rules a bit. There was one thing Polyae Cassain was not, and that was naïve. She knew the lengths that people with power were willing to go to maintain their positions. This meeting was unique in two things, however: locale and personnel. The fact that this particular admission interview was being carried out in the back room of the Sapphire Swan instead of the regular interview chamber in Morganstern Hall was of little concern to her. Well, the keg of Goldendew Ale she had ordered was definitely making up for it. She takes a long draught out of the mug.
Delicious. Rich, with a full oaky flavor and great aftertaste. And the Board is footing the bill! I should request assignments like these! Her smug expression dies, however, as she remembers the second reason for irregularity today. Reynald Lheureux. This was not the first time Polyae had heard the name, of course. Many thought he was secretly a Board member, but the events of the past year and a half pointed to the contrary. A mysterious accident, and all of a sudden one of the Society's most prominent figures simply ups and disappears across the globe? None of the given explanations fit. Polyae had never met the man. In either case, she would meet both men in short time. Her worries are cut short by the opening of the door and the appearance of the bartender, followed by an unfamiliar man that Polyae takes to be Malenth.
"Good morning gentlemen! My name is Polyae Cassain, and my official title is 'emissary'. If you could leave me and this man here, that would be wonderful. We have some delicate business to discuss. I'm sure you understand. Mr. D'Everet, would you please sit?"

**TechnOkami** · 2012-08-17, 01:18 PM (ISO 8601)

"Ah met a Dragon once. Big red fellow. Ah was able to stop 'im from charrin' me n' mah mates to a cinder wit' beer. Jus' flew up n' offered 'im a drink! He asked fer an unendin' bottl' o' the stuff afterwards. Tha's the first time ah did business wit' a Dragon."

Jägerstein turned to his customer who had turned to melancholy.

"Yer story's unfortunate tho'. If ah know me Dwarven Gods, which ah hope ah do, 'e's most likely 'appy up there somewhere."

The little dwarf pats a burly hand on his shoulder.

"Yeh can come 'ere to drown yer sorrows whenev'r ya like. Yer gonna 'ave to pay next time tho'. Ah can' make a livin' servin' free beer willy nilly. N' if ah could, I'd be the 'appiest Dwarf 'round."

**Crafty Cultist** · 2012-08-17, 01:34 PM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by TheAntiplanar

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A fly crawls across the mahogany plank. Polyae watches the progress of the insect, entranced by its progress. What went on in its funny little brain? Did it understand its actions? The representative of the Morganstern Society sat in a plush chair, facing the door into the bar proper. She could hear little from outdoors, and to be frank she preferred it that way. They paid her well, and kept their distance. Much better than her last employer. Usually, meetings like this involved an outside client, but for some reason today's missive dictated that she act as a liaison to a potential new employee. The interviewee was one Malenth D'Everet, a young nobleman who showed promise and seemed willing to sign on as an apprentice. That was relatively standard: the Morganstern Society made a habit of picking the winning side, and it helps to win when one has more funding and can bend the rules a bit. There was one thing Polyae Cassain was not, and that was naïve. She knew the lengths that people with power were willing to go to maintain their positions. This meeting was unique in two things, however: locale and personnel. The fact that this particular admission interview was being carried out in the back room of the Sapphire Swan instead of the regular interview chamber in Morganstern Hall was of little concern to her. Well, the keg of Goldendew Ale she had ordered was definitely making up for it. She takes a long draught out of the mug.
Delicious. Rich, with a full oaky flavor and great aftertaste. And the Board is footing the bill! I should request assignments like these! Her smug expression dies, however, as she remembers the second reason for irregularity today. Reynald Lheureux. This was not the first time Polyae had heard the name, of course. Many thought he was secretly a Board member, but the events of the past year and a half pointed to the contrary. A mysterious accident, and all of a sudden one of the Society's most prominent figures simply ups and disappears across the globe? None of the given explanations fit. Polyae had never met the man. In either case, she would meet both men in short time. Her worries are cut short by the opening of the door and the appearance of the bartender, followed by an unfamiliar man that Polyae takes to be Malenth.
"Good morning gentlemen! My name is Polyae Cassain, and my official title is 'emissary'. If you could leave me and this man here, that would be wonderful. We have some delicate business to discuss. I'm sure you understand. Mr. D'Everet, would you please sit?"

Malenth gives the bartender a nod and steps calmly into the room, removing his coat and hat, draping the coat over the back of his chair before taking his seat, placing his hat in front of him and letting his cane rest against the table.

Malenth lowers his head slightly with a look of confident politeness on his face. "A pleasure, my lady. I must admit, I'm not used to meetings like this. Nevertheless, we should get things underway."

This is it. The revival of the D'Everet house starts here and now.

**SamBurke** · 2012-08-17, 04:36 PM (ISO 8601)

Zhin waits for a few minutes, impatiently expecting the people of the market to bow, or at least do the failing salute that the guard did. Not even one... apparently warriors carried much less respect here, and now.

Even worse, not a soul spoke up about magic. Apparently, communication was VERY different from his hometown. Despite the unbearable din of the crowd, few people were yelling, bellowing, or screaming.. it was sort of orderly, actually. Each stall was separate from the next, had its own purpose... Strange, but useful. If he could find one for magic, then, presumably, it would be able to help him, or at least command a minor spirit for his aid.

Spirits. Bah. Idiot slaves, to be trapped and contained, hedged, tied, hindered, destroyed. If he could get his hands on one... well, there was the problem, right there. He had heard something about a robbery from the guard, but not much. Still, a powerful and evil spirit trapped in a bracelet could only give him more power, even if it wasn't the one he wanted.

Each step carried him closer to his goal -or, conversely, farther. Either way, he was going to something, and, eventually, he'd find someone to help. For now, Zhin turned his massive frame towards an enclosed shop, and stepped through the door without regard to the ceiling.

After brushing off some of his shoulder spines and removing chunks of wood from his head, Zhin turned to the shopkeeper of "Arlar's Arcana," some sort of gaudy magic dealer.

"I seek magical spells to be cast. For eternity. Do you, keeper, know of one who could wield them?"

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Permanence is level 5, Speak Tongues is 3 if I remember correctly.

**The Bandicoot** · 2012-08-17, 05:36 PM (ISO 8601)

Iothfrahar shakes the melancholy off and tosses a small bag of gold onto the table before pocketing the scales. Interesting taverns tend to attract the kind of people willing to throw their lot in with an old dragon hunter. Mind if I stay here for a few days? he slides his bedroll and pack off his back and sets them on the floor next to him.

**TechnOkami** · 2012-08-17, 06:39 PM (ISO 8601)

Jägerstein eyes the bag of clinking gold, then looks back up at the Dragon Hunter.

"Sorry to say, this ain't a tavern; it's a pub. I's supposed to be a place fer drinkin' an' eatin', not sleepin'. Howev'r, yer a good laddie, n' ah suppose I can offer ye some space in me home upstairs, if ye let me keep this, o' course." The Dwarf picks up and shakes the bag of gold.

"Oh! Tha' reminds me: a've got a bit of a shortage on people 'ere. I didn' think tha' I'd get so many customers so quickly, n' ah think tha' I need more people than just a bear n' a Dwarf. If ya can cook, tend a bar, or wait on people, ya could still sleep 'ere without having to give me dis bag o' shiney's, at least until ah get more people- ...unless you wan' to get a job 'ere."

The Dwarf tosses the bag of coins between his hands, waiting for his decision.

**The Bandicoot** · 2012-08-17, 07:56 PM (ISO 8601)

Iothfrahar thinks a bit I can cook....it's not going to be five course meals....but it will certainly match your nature theme. he grins and stands up My Dragon Bits Stew is my best recipe. Keep the gold, I imagine it could act as a tab of some sort?

**Calicade** · 2012-08-17, 10:03 PM (ISO 8601)

In Reply to

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[QUOTE=SamBurke;13745285]Zhin waits for a few minutes, impatiently expecting the people of the market to bow, or at least do the failing salute that the guard did. Not even one... apparently warriors carried much less respect here, and now.

Even worse, not a soul spoke up about magic. Apparently, communication was VERY different from his hometown. Despite the unbearable din of the crowd, few people were yelling, bellowing, or screaming.. it was sort of orderly, actually. Each stall was separate from the next, had its own purpose... Strange, but useful. If he could find one for magic, then, presumably, it would be able to help him, or at least command a minor spirit for his aid.

Spirits. Bah. Idiot slaves, to be trapped and contained, hedged, tied, hindered, destroyed. If he could get his hands on one... well, there was the problem, right there. He had heard something about a robbery from the guard, but not much. Still, a powerful and evil spirit trapped in a bracelet could only give him more power, even if it wasn't the one he wanted.

Each step carried him closer to his goal -or, conversely, farther. Either way, he was going to something, and, eventually, he'd find someone to help. For now, Zhin turned his massive frame towards an enclosed shop, and stepped through the door without regard to the ceiling.

After brushing off some of his shoulder spines and removing chunks of wood from his head, Zhin turned to the shopkeeper of "Arlar's Arcana," some sort of gaudy magic dealer.

"I seek magical spells to be cast. For eternity. Do you, keeper, know of one who could wield them?"

Maticus sat and waited for his informant to come, but with no success. Finally coming to the realization that the informant wasn’t coming, he dug into the pouch and looked back over the piece of paper for any missed information. Finding nothing but the same details from earlier, he decided to throw the paper to the side and curse in clusters under his breath.

Sitting there for a moment later, unable to think of his next step, Maticus witnesses a large spikey man cladded in armor walk into the area. Openly staring at the man he found himself curious at the spectacle of some being he hadn't seen before.

Maticus waited longer to only hear something that pleased his ears. The man was looking for assistance and magical services. The very slim chance that they were on the same path came across his mind, but it quickly was pushed aside.

He couldn't seem to eager though, so Maticus waited. Maticus admired how the man looked down upon on the other humans, finding it slightly refreshing from the usual. Actual power that wasn't considered a royal standing or political connections. Though his observation was cut short when the man finally decided to turn and enter into a shop.

Watching the man slightly break the door as he entered, Maticus slowly stood up and followed him. Stepping as quitely as he could in his armor, keeping his wrists ontop both of his blades. He stepped just a few yards behind the man as he entered the building, and waited for him to exit.

**TheAntiplanar** · 2012-08-18, 09:54 AM (ISO 8601)

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Originally Posted by Crafty Cultist

Malenth gives the bartender a nod and steps calmly into the room, removing his coat and hat, draping the coat over the back of his chair before taking his seat, placing his hat in front of him and letting his cane rest against the table.

Malenth lowers his head slightly with a look of confident politeness on his face. "A pleasure, my lady. I must admit, I'm not used to meetings like this. Nevertheless, we should get things underway."

This is it. The revival of the D'Everet house starts here and now.

Polyae:
As the bartender leaves, Polyae sits across from the candidate. Hmm. His clothes were not too shabby, and at least he carried the air of a nobleman. In fact, he seemed quite attractive for one of his position. The Society could definitely use people like that. Acting as a face for deals and contracts was a low level position, somewhat like being an emissary. Of course, 'low level' was still good pay, as far as the Asarenholm job market was concerned. However, there was still the matter of admission itself. Mr. Lheureux had yet to appear - late, which Polyae was told would not happen. Best get started on her own, then. It was a good thing that she had prepared for this contingency. From her satchel, she pulls a clipboard and a pen. Across the top of the page, she writes a title: D'Everet Interview.
"Alright. Let's start with three basic questions. What is your name? Why are you here? And what can you do?"

Reynald:
Reynald watches the pair enter the back room, and the bartender leave. There, it had to be them. The Society would send someone to act in the interim, but the merchant knew that they would wait for his arrival. Well, let them wait for a minute more. He had earned the right to a moment's rest. The coughing has fully subsided now, the force racking his bones now asleep. Signalling for Dimitri to stay behind him, Reynald approaches the door to listen to the conversation beyond. He only hears fragments, but it is enough.
Are... are they actually starting the interview without me?! How dare they? I've been away for far too long. Things have changed around here, and I don't think it's for the better. This is so insulting. I'm going to - Reynald, forced to focus his ire for the third time today, opens the door into the back room before the interviewee can answer any questions.
"Good morning. My name is Reynald Lheureux. I am here to conduct an interview for one Malenth D'Everet, not to be upstaged by an emissary who thinks herself above her station. What I can do is contact the Board and have you out of my guild in a heartbeat. Now, will you at least do me the courtesy of leaving me with the candidate? Take your diary with you. Mr. Grayson will take you to Morganstern Hall to pack your things."Waiting until Polyae leaves, Reynald visibly deflates, coughing twice. The tactic seems to have worked, for now. Hopefully, she understood that he was in no position to actually fire her. The end goal was intimidation: if this young man thought that a single disobedience would bring about career termination, than he would be that much more motivated to follow orders to the letter. If not, well there was little else that would work anyway. He takes her seat across from Malenth, staring the nobleman down. Unlike the emissary, he did not need a paper and pen to remember the conversation that was about to occur.
"I apologize that you had to see that. You must understand, we pay our associates very well and offer the opportunity for limited advancement. In return, however, we expect results! Have I made myself clear?"

**Crafty Cultist** · 2012-08-18, 01:42 PM (ISO 8601)

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Originally Posted by TheAntiplanar

Polyae:
As the bartender leaves, Polyae sits across from the candidate. Hmm. His clothes were not too shabby, and at least he carried the air of a nobleman. In fact, he seemed quite attractive for one of his position. The Society could definitely use people like that. Acting as a face for deals and contracts was a low level position, somewhat like being an emissary. Of course, 'low level' was still good pay, as far as the Asarenholm job market was concerned. However, there was still the matter of admission itself. Mr. Lheureux had yet to appear - late, which Polyae was told would not happen. Best get started on her own, then. It was a good thing that she had prepared for this contingency. From her satchel, she pulls a clipboard and a pen. Across the top of the page, she writes a title: D'Everet Interview.
"Alright. Let's start with three basic questions. What is your name? Why are you here? And what can you do?"

Reynald:
Reynald watches the pair enter the back room, and the bartender leave. There, it had to be them. The Society would send someone to act in the interim, but the merchant knew that they would wait for his arrival. Well, let them wait for a minute more. He had earned the right to a moment's rest. The coughing has fully subsided now, the force racking his bones now asleep. Signalling for Dimitri to stay behind him, Reynald approaches the door to listen to the conversation beyond. He only hears fragments, but it is enough.
Are... are they actually starting the interview without me?! How dare they? I've been away for far too long. Things have changed around here, and I don't think it's for the better. This is so insulting. I'm going to - Reynald, forced to focus his ire for the third time today, opens the door into the back room before the interviewee can answer any questions.
"Good morning. My name is Reynald Lheureux. I am here to conduct an interview for one Malenth D'Everet, not to be upstaged by an emissary who thinks herself above her station. What I can do is contact the Board and have you out of my guild in a heartbeat. Now, will you at least do me the courtesy of leaving me with the candidate? Take your diary with you. Mr. Grayson will take you to Morganstern Hall to pack your things."Waiting until Polyae leaves, Reynald visibly deflates, coughing twice. The tactic seems to have worked, for now. Hopefully, she understood that he was in no position to actually fire her. The end goal was intimidation: if this young man thought that a single disobedience would bring about career termination, than he would be that much more motivated to follow orders to the letter. If not, well there was little else that would work anyway. He takes her seat across from Malenth, staring the nobleman down. Unlike the emissary, he did not need a paper and pen to remember the conversation that was about to occur.
"I apologize that you had to see that. You must understand, we pay our associates very well and offer the opportunity for limited advancement. In return, however, we expect results! Have I made myself clear?"

Malenth's face was a mask of attentiveness, but internally he was grinning. If the society has this much friction between members, rising through the ranks would be easy. High turnover means plenty of opportunities for those with the skills to stay in the game.

Malenth lowered his head slightly in deference. "I understand, sir. Make no mistake, I can produce results. Now, shall we get this interview underway? Since the... previous interviewer didn't have time t hear the answers to her questions, I'll give my answers to you. I suspect it would come up in our conversation anyway, so it would be prudent to get it out of the way now."

A practiced veneer of calm hiding his nervousness, Malenth spoke confidently. "My name is Malenth D'Everet, head of the D'Everet house. I am here because the Morganstien Society seems to be an excellent place to form contacts and gain access to resources. As for what I can do, In addition to the decorum and social competence expected of a noble, I am a passable swordsman and a fairly skilled mage. But if you're asking what sets me apart, it would be this."

Rising from his seat, Malenth drew a sword from his cane, it's thin blade covered in odd lines and markings. "Magic weapons have become a rarity in this day and age. In only fifty years, the techniques and methods involved in their creation have all but been lost." Malenth smiles confidently before speaking in Ignan "Ignite!"

As he spoke, a sphereical red gemstone set into the handle of the sword cane began glowing, and the blade burst into flame. "By studying the items created in ancient times, and after some experimentation of my own, I have crafted this sword. The design is not as robust as those of old, but my creations are still a league above mundane devices. Douse!"

His demonstration complete, Malenth sheaths his sword-cane and returns to his seat. "Is there anything else you wish to know?"

**TheAntiplanar** · 2012-08-18, 10:35 PM (ISO 8601)

Reynald

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Originally Posted by Crafty Cultist

Malenth's face was a mask of attentiveness, but internally he was grinning. If the society has this much friction between members, rising through the ranks would be easy. High turnover means plenty of opportunities for those with the skills to stay in the game.

Malenth lowered his head slightly in deference. "I understand, sir. Make no mistake, I can produce results. Now, shall we get this interview underway? Since the... previous interviewer didn't have time t hear the answers to her questions, I'll give my answers to you. I suspect it would come up in our conversation anyway, so it would be prudent to get it out of the way now."

A practiced veneer of calm hiding his nervousness, Malenth spoke confidently. "My name is Malenth D'Everet, head of the D'Everet house. I am here because the Morganstern Society seems to be an excellent place to form contacts and gain access to resources. As for what I can do, In addition to the decorum and social competence expected of a noble, I am a passable swordsman and a fairly skilled mage. But if you're asking what sets me apart, it would be this."

Rising from his seat, Malenth drew a sword from his cane, its thin blade covered in odd lines and markings. "Magic weapons have become a rarity in this day and age. In only fifty years, the techniques and methods involved in their creation have all but been lost." Malenth smiles confidently before speaking in Ignan: "Ignite!"

As he spoke, a spherical red gemstone set into the handle of the sword cane began glowing, and the blade burst into flame. "By studying the items created in ancient times, and after some experimentation of my own, I have crafted this sword. The design is not as robust as those of old, but my creations are still a league above mundane devices. Douse!"

His demonstration complete, Malenth sheaths his sword-cane and returns to his seat. "Is there anything else you wish to know?"

Throughout the presentation, Reynald keeps his face impassive. Yes, this particular young man had potential indeed. A mage and a fighter, on top of his credentials! He might prove to be quite useful, perhaps in the near future... Yes. He would need strong fighters such as this one, and the fire magic sealed the deal for now. However, it would be a sign of weakness to show the young man any of this. Malenth would have to believe that the Morganstern Society was taking a risk with him. Reynald meets the fire mage's eyes.
"Fascinating. There might be a spot open for you, should you choose to accept it. I am told that you are looking for an apprenticeship. Now, I'm not supposed to divulge this yet, but you will know soon enough. Recently, there have been some... setbacks within the Society. One of our members was kidnapped by a bandit warlord named Lanath Orcbane. My assignment is to gather a team to stop him and recover the agent. This is to be your first task for the Morganstern Society. I assure you, the pay is more than generous." He settles back in his chair, eyeing the barrel of Goldendew Ale in the corner. It had been far too long since Reynald had had a drink such as that one... no. He felt the bonds of restraint, an old friend greeting him at the gates of sobriety. Wrenching his gaze back to Malenth, the banker's eyes are steely. There would be two ways this situation would play out. Either the mage would accept the offer, or Reynald would be forced to erase the man's memory of these events. That, of course, was the problem with spilling Society secrets before any sort of agreement was signed. Normally, such a course of action would be rash, to say the least. However, Reynald's current annoyance at the Board demanded a certain amount of indiscretion on his part. There was no question of cleaning up his own mess, though. After all, vendettas only did go so far.
"Take your time, Mr. D'Everet. You have as long as you need to make up your mind."

**Crafty Cultist** · 2012-08-18, 11:22 PM (ISO 8601)

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Originally Posted by TheAntiplanar

Throughout the presentation, Reynald keeps his face impassive. Yes, this particular young man had potential indeed. A mage and a fighter, on top of his credentials! He might prove to be quite useful, perhaps in the near future... Yes. He would need strong fighters such as this one, and the fire magic sealed the deal for now. However, it would be a sign of weakness to show the young man any of this. Malenth would have to believe that the Morganstern Society was taking a risk with him. Reynald meets the fire mage's eyes.
"Fascinating. There might be a spot open for you, should you choose to accept it. I am told that you are looking for an apprenticeship. Now, I'm not supposed to divulge this yet, but you will know soon enough. Recently, there have been some... setbacks within the Society. One of our members was kidnapped by a bandit warlord named Lanath Orcbane. My assignment is to gather a team to stop him and recover the agent. This is to be your first task for the Morganstern Society. I assure you, the pay is more than generous." He settles back in his chair, eyeing the barrel of Goldendew Ale in the corner. It had been far too long since Reynald had had a drink such as that one... no. He felt the bonds of restraint, an old friend greeting him at the gates of sobriety. Wrenching his gaze back to Malenth, the banker's eyes are steely. There would be two ways this situation would play out. Either the mage would accept the offer, or Reynald would be forced to erase the man's memory of these events. That, of course, was the problem with spilling Society secrets before any sort of agreement was signed. Normally, such a course of action would be rash, to say the least. However, Reynald's current annoyance at the Board demanded a certain amount of indiscretion on his part. There was no question of cleaning up his own mess, though. After all, vendettas only did go so far.
"Take your time, Mr. D'Everet. You have as long as you need to make up your mind."

Malenth raises an eyebrow upon hearing about the situation with the agent. He was expecting a test, but he thought political dealings would be involved, not trained drow commandos. Still, something like this would definitely prove his worth.

An unreadable face is to be expected from a high ranking member, but I can tell he's interested. The fact that he offered up a chase to prove myself shows that he can see my potential.

After a few moments deliberation spent tapping his fingers on the tip of his cane, Malenth spoke up. "What sort of budget will this operation have? I assume I will be given a letter of credit for the purposes of paying mercenaries and other such expenses. And exactly how much do you know about this warlord?"

Resting his hands upon his cane, Malenth gives a confident smile. "You can't expect me to bet my life on this without knowing the odds, can you?"

**TheAntiplanar** · 2012-08-19, 12:01 AM (ISO 8601)

Reynald

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Originally Posted by Crafty Cultist

Malenth raises an eyebrow upon hearing about the situation with the agent. He was expecting a test, but he thought political dealings would be involved, not trained drow commandos. Still, something like this would definitely prove his worth.

An unreadable face is to be expected from a high ranking member, but I can tell he's interested. The fact that he offered up a chase to prove myself shows that he can see my potential.

After a few moments deliberation spent tapping his fingers on the tip of his cane, Malenth spoke up. "What sort of budget will this operation have? I assume I will be given a letter of credit for the purposes of paying mercenaries and other such expenses. And exactly how much do you know about this warlord?"

Resting his hands upon his cane, Malenth gives a confident smile. "You can't expect me to bet my life on this without knowing the odds, can you?"

Outwardly, Reynald smiles at Malenth's curiosity. The older man gets up, motioning for the noble to do the same. There was no more time to be wasted here: they would need to get to Morganstern Hall, to the Signing Chambers. However, behind the mask Reynald cannot help but feel a tinge of disappointment clouding his satisfaction.
He is already displaying arrogance... Making assumptions and asking questions in an informal manner. His smile is good for the public, but in here it is anything but appropriate. Does he truly not know that the test isn't over until is actually admitted? Reynald turns to the mage, stepping close. His voice is slightly hoarse: the product of several sleepless nights.
"I will say this but once. Yes, sometimes we will expect loyalty without answering your questions. The Morganstern Society operates on a strictly need to know basis. You will buy nothing: as an apprentice, you have no Society holdings and as such are not a liable source of capital. All funding is to come from the Society treasury. Now, follow me. There is of course paperwork that needs doing." His speech over for the time being, Reynald leads the fire mage out of the Sapphire Swan, out into the street. He looks around. The tavern seemed to be somewhere in the Noble District, by the looks of their surroundings. Gods, it had truly been a lifetime since he was back here. From this very corner, the merchant could pick out the way to his old manor! The temptation to take a trip down memory lane nearly overwhelms him, but Reynald shoves back down into oblivion. Time for that later, perhaps. His thoughts are interrupted by a foreign voice.
Sir? We have found an interested party. A thief, seems kinda desperate to get out of Aldhaven, of you ask me. His price was a bit too low.
That's alright, Kirin. We'll just have to keep an eye on him as well. I have no doubt that we will run into our fair share of trouble along the way. That's just the way of the universe.
As you say. Where should we meet?
Hmmm... let's say outside the Hall, in an hour. I have a recruit with me, he will need to be admitted before we can get him up to speed. Reynald had barely noticed the route Dimitri had led him on to get him here, but he knew the route to Morganstern Hall easily enough. Nodding once, he sets off, navy blue coat streaming behind him and ivory cane at his side.

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