Standing in the Shadows of Giants - IC

[THEChanger]

There are many benefits to living in the city. Shops on every street corner. Water pumps every other. By the Nine, there are streets. For those who succeed in the city, it can be a paradise. Tubs lined with gold, grapes from vineyards far to the west, silken robes woven by elven hands far to the east, and power from the realms far above and far below. Yet, even for those who succeed, there is no rest in the city. Even the greatest among the citizens of Marid’s Fall are constantly on watch, and even now their schemes are in work.

In the Wildren District, in his gleaming mirror tower, the Guildmaster of the Masters of Avalon, the Ruin Chanter sits at his desk. Once, Marid’s Fall was his ruin. But mortals came, and rebuilt his home. And as they built it up, so they built him up. Now the Ruin Chanter was a being of the city, sure as any of the mortals who ran beneath his feet. A giant chessboard was laid out before him, and as the sun set beneath the horizon, the Ruin Chanter played a game with rules only he could comprehend.

Below the streets of the Smithy district, a council was being held. Nine dwarves, faces colder than iron, sat around a mighty stone table. At the head, a tenth figure, surrounded by a shroud of steam, pointed a single gauntleted finger at a newspaper which had been printed that morning by the gnomes of the Daily Gazette. Not a word was spoken, for no words were needed between these ancient beings of earth. They were almost as old as the Ruin Chanter, and twice as vindictive, and they would not take these offenses lightly. The traitor would be found, and the status quo would be enforced.

As the shadows of dusk lengthened, in the Butchers’ District, a man purchased a flank of beef. Coin was exchanged, as were pleasantries. A scene completely ordinary to an outsider, but anyone who knew the city well would note that the shop in question belonged to the Bloodletters’ Guild, who catered to the elven population of the city-who were restricted by religious law from eating the meat of plains animals. That, and the coins exchanged were certainly not gold.

In the center of the city, Portal Square, a solitary figure stood. Massive, encased in armor decorated with onyx and bronze but carrying no weapons, the gigantic man stared at the nearby clocktower. As the first bells began to toll, he stepped through an archway of bronze gears and brass pistons, but did not appear on the other side. Nearby, the man’s master nodded once, and returned to the simple quarters which housed the Ringwarden’s Guild.

This, as dusk fell over Marid’s Fall, the city.

Now enter Marid’s Fall, the prison.

For though a city has many benefits, there are costs that come with it as well. If you asked an average citizen of Marid’s Fall what their least favorite part of living there was, the answer one would inevitably receive over and over again is “How quickly things spread.”

News.
Poverty.
Plague.
Fire.

In the depths of the Elven Quarter, a dimly lit room hold hosts to a strange sort of party. The men and women attending wore clothing of varying states of disrepair and wealth. Elves all, the one thing their dress had in common was the masks. For each wore a mask stylized to represent the Forest, an ancient elven deity. And commanding the subtle attention of each party-goer was the pair standing deep in conversation-one in a crisp, three-piece suit, the other in a gown woven of ancient leaves.

By the Southern Gates of the city, a place known for the high amount of fiend-touched who live there, the clinking of chains could be heard. A line of ragged and starved mortals, maybe fifty of varying origin and culture, were being led through the dusky streets by a group of men with red-tinged skin. Each carrying a chain which in the fading light almost seemed to writhe on its own accord, the men directed their charges into a cemetery, and down the stairs of a deep mausoleum. There, in a room lit by molten metal, ancient rites were being conducted, and unholy words spoken. A pact of cold, rusting iron was being made, and for these men, nothing was stronger.

Between the Butcher’s District and the Milltown, by a mortal-fashioned river of blood and dye run-off, two former enemies met in secret. Two madmen, by the dying light of the holy day, sealed their contract in blood, drug, and steam. Though no formal agreement had been reached, two Families were rapidly approaching the day when they would become one, and for his part, Crazy Bob was most pleased.

In a much nicer part of town, the Three Stars Theatre had just finished the final performance of an old favorite, The Desert King and the Raven. Sophia Wood, reprising her seminal role as the Raven, had given what many would agree was one of the best performances of her career. For a select few however, this night was not so much about what Sophia did, as what she didn’t do. The message received, the two Aasimar quickly departed the theatre. When Sophia returned to her dressing room, she knew her duty was complete, by the single phoenix feather upon her vanity.

And, finally, as Marid’s Fall’s clocktower struck the final peal to signal seven in the evening, seven associates met in an abandoned warehouse by the common sand-skiff docks, to begin the most dangerous, and possibly most profitable, venture any had been a part of to date. Eshan Attar, the man who had called them here, sat, a cup of wine in one hand, waiting for his friends and business partners to come and begin their plotting, a fine, round table brought for just this occasion.

Finally, the sun set. The jewel of the Confederacy of Blades slept. Yet that night’s activity had barely begun…

[Rama]

Conor arrives at the warehouse on foot, clad in simple clothes and a dark hooded cloak pulled over his head. What glimpses can be caught beneath the cloth reveal the face of a man in his later years - silver dusting hair and neatly cropped beard, age lines marking his face.


Disguise check to appear significantly older than actual age:
[roll0]


Conor takes a moment to survey the building for anything out of place before entering - Eshan may be trustworthy, as far as that applies in this city, but no point in taking chances.


Spot:
[roll1]


Assuming nothing seems out of place or worrisome, Conor steps inside and approaches the table. He nods wordlessly to Eshan and anyone else he recognizes at the table, mentally sorting through what he knows of everyone there. He takes a seat at about 4:00 from Eshan, and fills the wine glass before him with a gloved hand - but leaves it untouched for now.


Knowledge-Local for recognizing anyone by reputation:
[roll2]

[Ezeze]

Madame Sophie looks dangerous.

That's by design. This evening the young woman has dressed herself in a floor-sweeping dress of dark red fabric clinched at her ribs by a black velvet corset in an under-bust style that hasn't been popular for decades except, of course, for the most fashion forward of the city's residence amongst whom it was just beginning to be all the rage. Though the dress's shape is revealing, hugging the woman's body in a suggestive manner, its collar is modest - covering her chest completely and coming nearly to the diamond-jeweled choker at her throat. The dress's sleeves end at her shoulders, but are then quickly compensated for by the long gloves she is wearing. Her sleek black hair is down for the evening, and it falls nearly to her waist. Her eyelids are heavy with dark shadow, and her lips are painted a bright red.

The overall effect is that the only skin visible on Sophia is that of her face - and that heavily made up - a statement in its own right for those who know the woman's trade, which should rightfully be everyone gathered there.

Sophie has come alone tonight and that, too, is a statement. She finds the seat immediately to Eshan's right and occupies it like a conquering army, legs crossed and hands sitting delicately atop her knee.

[Qwertystop]

A glance about the room eventually brings Hyacinth to eye. A hooded cloak that trails into the shadows behind her as though pulled from it, a loaded crossbow at her side that drips some unidentifiable blackness...

The effect would be much more imposing were it not about a foot tall and perched on an empty wall sconce.

[Saskia]

Peregrine enters at a slow and dignified pace, clad in a simple leather vest and trousers. Not quite the company she was expecting. A proprietress of whores, an unusually philanthropic street doctor, a plantoid murderer, a vintner... Professionals, and of wildly disparate fields; she's heard of these people, and they're not the ignorant bumpkins she's used to working with.

She grins and nods, showing a hint of her glistening white fangs, and claims the seat beside Madame Sophie. Having grown up in the city's bowels she learned quickly that the girls had to stick together, and by now it's second nature. With easy and relaxed motion she unclips her swords, leaning the five-and-a-half foot beast again the table and placing the short one on the table before her. It is, in some circles, considered to be in poor taste to leave weapons where they can't be seen. Her mannerisms are decidedly less feminine than Sophie's, though, relaxed and leaning comfortably against the chair's back rest.

Good evening, everybody, she says pleasantly in a voice that seems a bit airy for the tall and powerfully-built Peregrine. Even silence can be aggressive, and Peregrine has little patience for aggressive company.

[bryn0528]

A man entered, his head held high and his shoulders square. His hair was nearly shaved clean on the sides, an attention to great detail to maintain such a hairstyle, and the long hair on top slicked nearly flat with perfect comb technique and wax. Even his stubbly beard always seemed trimmed to the exact five o'clock. He wore severe black clothing, thick and stiff fabric uncomfortable in the desert heat, save for the lack of sleeves and the cut which exposed his skin beneath in key areas. His appearance military, except ruined by that wondrous fabric of ink which covered his body in a proud display--entwined knots of vicious color running from his exposed shoulders, the occasional divine figure stylized into his flesh, runemarks, an arrow that pierced through his skin, curved and script lettering. The only distinction between skin and cloth here is the application of color, and a careless eye created the same effect as Madame Sophie--only his face, a careful sort of pale, seemed a clean and spotless kind of mask.

He carried no weapons and his name was Zigmund Dolezal, an infamous dealer of illegal narcotics--a very special wine dug from the Marid's catacombs and exceptionally rare.

He sat across from the Madame, upright and prudish at first. After a moment or two, he gave her a coy smile--recognized, perhaps, from the many times he entered her house for the services of her "girls". He leaned far back in his chair and propped his feet on the table. "Hey love, how ya holdin' out?"

[Ezeze]

Peregrine's company seems to make Sophie stand (or sit, I suppose) a little more on edge, not less, despite the woman's relaxed demeanor. She smiles at her and nods in acknowledgement of her greeting in any case. When Zigmund speaks Sophie fixes on him with polite attention.

I am well enough she responds in perfect, unaccented Common and eager to discover what our host has to say, though I suspect he will not keep us long in suspense.

Turning her gaze back to Peregrine, Sophie makes a brave attempt at casual conversation. Your weaponry is impressive. It is said that you can tell the quality of a craftsman by the condition in which he keeps his tools.

[Qwertystop]

"Somehow it seems that must apply to a very different sort of craftsman," Hyacinth says, flitting over, "but I agree - those seem fine blades."

[FearlessGnome]

Peric enters. He has curled, black, perfumed hair, and a milky white robe that looks a little too clean for this city.

He does not look like he would belong in a den of criminals, but then he does not look like he just stepped into one. His eyes look playful and a little curious as they sweep across the room.

He takes the seat opposite to Eshan, and pours himself a nice cup of wine.

He takes a sip.

[bryn0528]

Zigmund casually smiled and ran a finger delicately across his own jawline. He said nothing, but chuckled quietly to himself. The moment passed and he returned to silently scanning the others. He pulled a small flask out and took a large sip from it.

[Saskia]

Peregrine's grin broadens, obviously pleased with the compliments. Ah, yeah. Deliverance, she says, unsheathing the short sword to display its brilliant silver sheen as she speaks, is for were-beasts. Also good for some of the more dangerous undead; vampires and the like. The silvering process softens the steel though, so she's not as good for other things. A delicate princess like her is best left to her specialty. She replaces the blade, and draws her larger weapon slightly from its scabbard. I call this old girl Atonement. She's a practical kind of lady, as good for stubborn doors and steel vaults as she is for slavers and thri-kreen. She takes a moment to admire her weapon and continues with a wink, But to me, weapons aren't quite as necessary as they are to you average street tough. She takes off one of her leather gauntlets and offers her hand to Sophie, revealing a simple and unadorned mithral ring, only slightly out of place among her otherwise plain and practical clothing. Peregrine. If you ever need some extra firepower for a particularly nasty problem, I'm your gal.

[Qwertystop]

"Yes, I could see that being helpful... I'm no good in a brawl."

You can hear exactly what Hyacinth thinks of "brawls" in her tone - crude and unpleasant.

"Might I ask in what way weapons are unnecessary? I mean, I don't need to bring them with me,"

(she demonstrates by pulling a petal-size swing-style chair down from the ceiling, and a three-foot-square map of the room from a crack in the table's grain)

"but I get the impression you don't mean making your own weapons."

[Ezeze]

Sophie hesitates for a period just shy of being rude, then shakes Peregrine's hand.

A pleasure. You may call me Sophie.

[THEChanger]

Eshan sipped his wine, a slightly amused look on his face as the banter went back and forth. As Peregrine and Sophie began to introduce themselves, he cleared his throat. "Yes. Now that everyone is here, formal introductions are in order, I think. If none of you mind...

Next to me here is Madame Sophie, and Peregrine. Sophie is an old friend, and owns a fine brothel in a not-so-fine part of town. Peregrine, as it happens, grew up not too far from there, and as she says, specializes in taking care of large problems. Monsters, or men." Eshan's smile widened as he turned to the tiny winged woman. "Hyacinth here is one of my oldest friends. We grew up together. She also specializes in problems. Her size makes her excellent at being places she shouldn't." He then regarded the three men. "Conor Shoyen, a master of disguise and intrigue. Even I don't know all his names, though I hope he'll not be keeping any secrets from us, eh Conor? Beside him is Peric, a healer I've had occasion to visit, and a man with many magical talents. Zigmund Dolezal, our last member, is a purveyor of some of the finest wine I have ever tasted, and good hand with a cross bow to boot." Eshan stood. The man was getting on in years. His clothes were fine, though perhaps not as fine as they might have been.

"And now that that is out of the way, business. I called each of you here because I feel I can trust you, and I feel you trust me. I expect that between us seven, there will be no deception. No intrigue. No fighting. We sit at this table, tonight, as equals. Seven heads of a new Family. I'm tired of where I am. I want more. More power. More wealth. There's room for us now, here, and between us seven, we can take more. Whatever that means for each of you. But to do that, we need each other, capire?"

[Rama]

Conor smiles briefly at Eshan's words. He pushes his hood back and leans forward, elbows on the table.

"Ambitious plans, my friend. I'd expect nothing less. And quite an interesting group you've brought here." He glances around the table slowly.

"What you propose is not without significant risk, however. Other guilds are moving in, and will be less than pleased by new competition. And while we each bring certain skills to the table, we each bring enemies and adversaries as well.

"That said, I for one think the risk is worth the reward." He nods at Eshan. "Like our mutual friend, I am tired of working my skills for the benefit of another guild master. If we can come to a mutual understanding, I agree to bend my resources and abilities to the defeat of your enemies and the growth of your enterprises."

[FearlessGnome]

Peric's smile widens.

"Well well. So today is the day. How excellent. Yes, certainly I trust you, and I will take your word for our friends." He looks around the table. "Some of you I have met before, but... as he says, I run a clinic. That is most of what I do. I hope we will all come to rely on each other."

[Ezeze]

Madame Sophie doesn't respond with quite as much enthusiasm as the boys.

I hope you'll forgive me for saying so, Eshan, but I'm doing quite well as an independent agent. I can protect my girls in the way I see fit, and can cater to whom I like. Our association has been profitable for both of us, but you aren't the only person I do business with. Crazy Bob in particular might be upset if I stop carrying his merchandise, and with the recent kidnappings any movement I make that draws negative attention from the Spellweavers is bad news for me.

Sophie rests the side of her head lightly against a gloved index finger and focuses absentmindedly on the middle distance I need the latitude that I have to move in many different circles unhindered by associates I have limited control over, and I'm not seeing the profit in giving that up.

I'm not saying "no" she adds, quickly. I'm saying... Tell me what's in it for me.

[Saskia]

"I didn't hear him say to stop carrying anyone's product." Peregrine sits up, with her considerable size seeming to take up considerably more space. "I'm not terribly knowledgeable about the drug market, but even Mister Dolezal, if I'm not mistaken, you're not competing directly with his labs. It's an incomparable product with a different market from most of what his boys produce, right? They provide a valuable product and their own distribution channels. I don't see much reason why we can't have some professional symbiosis."

[bryn0528]

Zigmund always smiled. He ran a finger over the lip of his flask on the word 'trust' and shot a quick eye to any weapons at the table. His fabled crossbow, which he beamed upon in Eshan's introduction, was not to be seen. Zigmund leaned forward.

"Madame Sophie," he said carefully and tenderly, almost as delicately as pillow talk. "Crazy Bob is an idiot and he is a fool. If you should seek compensation for losing his business, I am a fine supplier of rare and illicit wines, and would be happy to peddle wares through your front." He flicked his tongue, nearly quicker than to be seen, over the point of his eye-tooth.

"As per the Spellweavers... well, how long do you really think some simple thugs are going to keep your joint safe? Already you make mention of kidnappings. If you ally with the family, I'm sure your new friend Peregrine, along with others and their services, could provide a little extra help when you need it."

Zigmund, finished, leaned back slowly and took another draft from his flask. "But, ya know. Your choice love."

EDIT:
He flicked an eye over to his aforementioned Peregrine. He sustained a silent look for several heartbeats and replied with a flat "no" and shook his head slightly. "No, I am not in direct competition with Crazy Bob."

[Ezeze]

Your points are well made and well taken, Misses Peregrine, Mister Zigmund. However, I'd still like to hear from our host on the matter.

With this Sophie looks to Eshan and waits for him to speak.

[THEChanger]

Eshan nodded to Sophie's questions, and to the responses of the others. "Well put, all. Yes, the question of what is in it for you is an important one." Eshan stood, and began to pace back and forth. "Allow me to paint you a picture, Madame. All throughout the underground, every brothel is marked with a small pearly gate. Any time anyone seeks entertainments of the flesh, they have to go through you. You set the rules, you set the prices. You choose who is allowed in. Your girls are safe. No one dares give you trouble. And you, Zigmund! Imagine Crazy Bob gone. You sit at the top of a vast network of dealers and purveyors, and your wine is the best drug in the whole city. Peregrine, you and Hyacinth would be masters of the thugs and mercenaries that protect our city's investments. Peric, a chain of hospitals and apothecaries, all yours. And Mister Shoyen, all information in the city passing through your hands. No secret kept from you." Eshan smiled, and threw his hands wide. "I suppose, Madame Sophie, the answer to your question of what is in it for you is no less than the very city itself. Ambitious? Yes. Foolhardy? Perhaps. Possible? Absolutely. I intend to go straight to the top. Remove any who stand in my way. And you six, well, you'd be right there beside me. I can't do it without you. I'd try, but I'd fail. You all bring resources, techniques, and skills I lack. But we can take Marid's Fall for ourselves. Shape it in our image. Even topple the Guilds, if we play our cards right. Us seven will be in charge."

[FearlessGnome]

Peric nods along, content to hear what others have to say for now. It sounds like health care will be at a premium for a while, no matter the specifics of the plans made today.

[Qwertystop]

"I think that might be a bit much tostart out looking for..."

- The bow and map have disappeared, and she absentmindedly pulls clasped hands apart to reveal a crown -

"It might be better to stay in the back - leave the Guilds and just hold the Underground. Make the seedy side ours and make it official. Turn it into its own guild, with us at the head, so we can't be said to rule -"

- The crown pressed between palms again, and revealed as a collection of smaller ones -

"- Ruling makes a target, but if we're just one more guild, it's just a small change to everybody else's normal, and we still end up on top of our slice."

[bryn0528]

Zigmund folded his hands together. "I say I must agree, at least for the time being, with our fine flying friend. I have no desire to remove Crazy Bob from his... position, for I have no desire to care take the masses of addicts. The same is true for our guild overlords--I care not for their daily nuances." He flashed an unruly grin. "Of course, there is always--I find that you'll enjoy this--" he looked to Conor with that still playful expression, "A puppeteer in the shadows. To rule not as written, but in practice--de facto. At least, I desire as much, but these are merely plans for a future."

He looked away for the moment. "In the present, I have a delivery to make."

[FearlessGnome]

When Peric speaks, it is with a casual, nonchalant tone of voice. "Oh whatever happens to Bob, I'm sure the city will adjust. If the man does not make himself a target, so far so good..."

[Ezeze]

Madame Sophie moves her foot in small circles as she ponders Eshan's words.

The first step she begins, quietly would naturally be to expand in our own fields.

For me that would mean eliminating my competition and expanding the number of houses under my control. For Mister Peric and Mister Zigmund I imagine it'd be similar. But what would that look like for Misses Peregrine and Misses Hyacinth? Recruiting other hired blades to work for them on a permanent basis? Is that something the two of you are even interested in?

I prefer to engage my mind to engaging my body, but for someone of a more martial persuasion I don't imagine that is necessarily the case.

What are your takes on this, ladies?

[Saskia]

"Well, we'll need soldiers of a sort to secure our assets, and to dissuade attack. People are far more amenable to your presence when they know you can hurt them." She nods, though at what it's not quite obvious. "Particularly in the future, as our operations expand. Just seven people and whatever ignorant thugs we can scrounge up aren't going to cut it. Competent protection is expensive though, and I'd need a guarantee that security is important enough that I can hire and train what we need without having to skimp because someone wants to squeeze out a little more cash." She takes a deep breath, continuing "Once we've got a few competent guys and gals though we can hire them out as bodyguards or take big bounties to take out problematic elements. It's earned me quite a comfortable living as just one woman, and I've had no shortage of work. Just few extra hands would let us take bigger threats, and potentially increase revenue exponentially while maintaining their peak physical and mental abilities. And further, I have very good reason to believe business will soon be positively booming." She shifts comfortably, folding one powerful leg over the other. "Seems like the best possible time for raising a mercenary company."

[Qwertystop]

"Personally, I am not one to lead a small army. Small squads, fine, but I prefer to work from behind."

[FearlessGnome]

Certainly we should not be seen to recruit too eagerly. For some of us, much of our usefulness lies in discretion. My clinic can make a great deal of difference in the lives of individuals, and if those individuals happen to have ties to obstacles in our way... Well, you understand my desire to keep my affiliations with Eshan quiet.

[Rama]

Conor briefly raises his wine glass to his lips.

"It seems to me we have three primary decisions to make before we go any further.

"First: Coordination. While each of us is clearly focused on our niche (and I envision that we will continue to exercise the majority of the influence within this organization over lower members in the same niche), I think we need to select one or two vulnerable targets to take over or take out first. Madame Sophie, as an example, perhaps there are a few competing houses that are ripe for a change in management? But wherever we begin, we will need to move as a coordinated whole. Otherwise the other gangs will wipe us out at the first sign of a threat.

"Second: Funding. The organization's coffers will need to be tithed to regularly by everyone here, for security costs, blackmail, bribery, and so on. While greed is good," Conor flashes a smile, "There has to be a limit if we are all going to benefit. We may even need to pull off a coordinated job soon just for the purposes of funding our first safe house.

"Lastly: Rules and Restrictions. If we hitch our wagons to each other, any one of us could destroy the lot by drawing the wrong sort of attention. We all know why this opportunity is here; I'd rather not be the next group to be made an example of. Likewise, some of us may have particular...endeavors which we want no part of. Slavery, as an example. That needs to be clear from the start."

[bryn0528]

Zigmund sighed and leaned back. It always came to this. Every group had them, some lawful type that wanted to write it all up in contract, sign it in blood, that sort of thing. They would sit and discuss politics for days. He took another drink from his flask and found himself talking before he could really stop.

"Let's keep this brief, shall we? We agree here, seven of us, all or nothing. Money shouldn't be an issue, not with everyone all in, and rules are redundant. If one of us is on the line, then all of us are, and exercising caution is as much on your neck as it is on your fellow's."

Somewhere, during that brief speech, he rolled his eyes so hard, you could practically hear it. But for now, he paused, and allowed the words to sink. Hopefully, someone else would chime in, as he didn't really think of what to say next.

[Saskia]

Peregrine nods. The last thing anyone wants is to need to destroy their own comrades. Right now we just need some ground rules, the rest can be hammered out later. First, don't be an idiot. Considering none of us are dead, I'd say that's not much of an issue. Two, no kids, and no civilian casualties generally if we can help it. We don't need the moral crusaders singling us out. Three, we need to establish a front, something even the moral crusaders won't hate. Four, don't be stupid. It's worth restating. I don't want to see you guys and gals with prices on your heads, nor do I want people asking why I'm not going after a particularly juicy bounty.

[Rama]

Conor nods to Peregrine. "Exactly my point, and I agree on all particulars you mention. Perhaps a free clinic under Peric's auspices would make a suitable front? Alternatively, I would have no objections to funding an orphanage or two."

[bryn0528]

"Why not a chapel or small temple? It wouldn't be obscene for their to be a clinic of some sort as well as an orphanage." Zigmund's eyes flicked to Peregrine. "With an orphanage we could recruit the very leaders of our tomorrow, and shape them to our will."

[FearlessGnome]

Peric carefully keeps quiet while Peregrine speaks. Certainly he agrees with the sentiment - and trying out the very occasional experimental technique on those who cannot afford to pay hardly falls into the 'idiot' category the woman outlined. It is not like the patients are worse off than if they received no care at all.

A free clinic... That is actually very doable. We occasionally provide free healing at the main site, but sensibilities being what they are, many patients resent being made to share facilities with those who cannot pay. A second, less prestigious clinic might not increase costs terribly much, in light of that. As for an orphanage or temple... Well, I see no harm in those. I think I would have no organizational role in either, but certainly I see the benefit to having multiple fronts.

[Qwertystop]

"Agreed on all points, but there's one little note - if we make it a temple, we'll need to pick the right god. We don't want it to conflict with the orphanage-and-free-clinic idea, which is a good one, but if we pick one that's too paragon-of-charity-and-good-ish we run a risk of not having enough lightningrods, so to speak.

An orphanage sounds excellent, though..."

And a little wooden dog is produced from under the table.

[Rama]

Conor flashes a smile. "How about we combine all three ideas? We open a temple to a 'new' god - either some minor godling from an insignificant plane of existence, or one dedicated to a platonic ideal with a figurehead we fashion out of whole cloth. Then under the auspices of that temple, over time we can open several clinics and orphanages across the city. all sponsored by our temple. That gives us the cover for multiple safe locations and also spread our influence across even more ground."

[Saskia]

"Maybe the bias of my religion is showing, but Wee Jas seems like a perfectly reasonable option. She values order, which shiftless and desperate street urchins do not. She values magic, so we can justify establishment of minor education in magic for the gifted, or other tradecrafts. After all, we can't let them go out into the world with no means of supporting themselves; without a trade they could turn... Unpredictable. She's also not overly concerned with moralizing, and as a goddess holding dominion over death it's quite reasonable that a sect of her faithful already want to care for the orphaned children of the departed. Keeps society ordered and predictable, you know."

She looks around the assembled with a raised eyebrow. "Who knows. Maybe some of them might end up with an affinity for getting things done. Maybe they'd be attracted to what we'll have to offer."

[FearlessGnome]

"While I agree Wee Jas would not be a horrible choice, I feel her servants - and perhaps the goddess herself - may not be too happy with a long running con being perpetuated in her name. Similarly my own god would not make an acceptable impression on the public. No I suggest we really do make up a persona. We need not be too specific - gods assume new guises every now and then, and not only for sinister purposes. Let us call her... Mother Erie? That is a new name, I believe. A mother goddess who nurtures the young and heals the sick. My clinic is not associated with any god, but something like 'Mother Erie' I would have no problem paying lip service to.

It is important everyone finds the plan and the god acceptable, but... Whatever we settle on, I think a strong sense of community - and blind faith if possible - should be central to the faith."

[Ezeze]

So we establish this great temple-orphanage-clinic as a front for what, exactly? So far we have spoken only in generalities, or of the resources each of us have at our disposal.

What do we want? What is our ultimate goal?

[Qwertystop]

"If possible, whatever ideals we come up with should be something that can be made to fit what we are actually doing in some sense. There's always that unfortunate chance that people pick up on the religion and run with it - and then either the belief makes a new god who knows they were made for a con, or we get attacked as heretics by people who actually believe it. Something that can fit our plans would likely be the best option."

"Which means Madame Sophie has the right question - what, exactly, are our plans?"

[Saskia]

"Stability, for a start. It's good for business, even mine. Bend the guilds and the families and the city council to our will by silver or steel, and control everything from the shadows. Earn unconscionable fortunes to do with as we please. Bathe in hot springs and bed exotic and beautiful women." She pauses briefly, only long enough for a passable summation to spring to mind. Order is enough for Peregrine, but it's not like she hasn't got a taste for the finer things, after all."What point is there if not to have it all?"

[Ezeze]

[roll0]
Bluff. For... Reasons.

Sophie shifts in her seat.

So we want to create stability by opening a free clinic? I think there are Paladins who have fought for less worthy causes than that.

If all you want is money you hardly need control of the city for that. Find a way to provide a good very wealthy people are willing to pay well for, find some people able to provide that good and press them into your employment. We hardly need some super-secret alliance for that.

[Saskia]

"I'm talking long-term, doll. The illusion of benevolence has gotten a lot of people a long way. Who's going to oppose us making the city safer and healthier? Imagine. Something their adored priests and paladins charge a month's wages or more to do, and here's us, they call us scum, and we're doing the job for free that they can't stomach doing for anyone but the most fabulously wealthy. You win the hearts of the common folk and you don't need to fear the wrath of a dozen kings. It doesn't matter if you actually care about them, as long as you pull them up a notch on your ride to the top.

"Besides, you strike me as the sort of woman who can appreciate the intangibles. Do you not want your girls to be able to live and work safely with the knowledge that one of the most powerful people in the city has their back, and that she's got powerful friends who will happily eviscerate anyone who hurts them? Do you enjoy worrying about whether someone's around the next corner waiting to cut your neck and take your share? Do you want to live in a city that perpetually smells like cat piss in the summertime? That's the power of order. Stability. Civility. Luxury. And right along with stability, comes security. And when people feel secure, they spend even more of their money on the nice things. The nice things that we provide, from warm companionship to fine wines chilled in ensorcelled cases. And in a city where people feel secure and buy nice things, more people with money move in so they can spend their money on nice things, too. All provided and protected by us, so powerful and so necessary that nobody would dare touch us for fear of dragging everything back into the ****ter."

She sits back and holds her arms out, as if in defeat. "But, if you really prefer peddling your girls in a disgusting, grimy, sewer of a city where even the rich are accustomed to the stench of rotting vomit in the streets, then I guess I just misread you."

[THEChanger]

Eshan nodded. "I understand your objections, Madame Sophie. Let me try and simplify. In the end, all I am proposing is that we seven work together. We establish a professional relationship much as Bubbly Troubly, or the Spellweavers, or Dis' Boys have. We become a Family. Watch each others' backs. Help each other out. We unify, so we don't get snapped up by people we'd rather not work with. And in the course of that, we become filthy stinking rich, and maybe get to impose a little of our own order on the city." Eshan produced a map from under his coat, and laid it out on the table. "As for short term goals, well. We all know what happened about a month ago. Merchant Guard goons came in to this area of the city and cleared out the Rachetters. Killed em to a man. Now this whole area of the city by my docks is out of sorts. The Rachetters kept things more or less orderly. Now, my men can keep things more or less safe right near here. But there's looting, and petty thievery, and a whole lot of people who don't have protection no more." He looked pointedly back to Sophie. "Lot of girls on the street, don't have anybody looking out for them. Kids too. There's a lot of money to be had if we start picking up where the Rachetters left off. Start collecting the protection money. Get the girls off the streets." He points to a spot on the map marked with a red X about fifty blocks away. "There's a group of lowlifes here, in a warehouse the Rachetters used to own. They've been stealing from the shops in the area, and trying to muscle in on my smuggling. They'd be our biggest issue in this area of town. I'm working on getting them cleared out, but they're smart, like rats. Just thugs, but smart."

[Rama]

Conor shrugs. "I think we can go one of two ways right now. We can try to secure our territory by driving out some of the competition; this group Eshan speaks of as an example. Or, we can begin raising funds, gathering allies, and so on before putting our resources into eliminating the opposition.

"Either way, I think the cover of a church is a fine idea and one we can begin implementing immediately. I have a few locations in mind that may serve as acceptable humble beginnings for our worship hall."

Knowledge (Local) for potential church settings (buildings that are available and would serve, both from a location and a security standpoint):
[roll0]

Sense motive opposing Chain's bluff roll:
[roll1]

[Qwertystop]

"Personally, I think I would be best at eliminating any keystones of the competition, but... overall, having a stable base would be good."

"Perhaps we could split into groups, by what we would each be best at?"

[FearlessGnome]

Peric nods. Perhaps a compromise would be best. If we start up a free clinic, it could start building up popularity before we associate it with any new 'religion'. It also makes an excellent cover for a base of operations. Naturally I would work mostly at the clinic, though I could take part in any important operation." Under a disguise, of course.

"But... we will also need a front for the criminal elements. Others need not know what our power base is, but they do need to know that Eshan and a few others have staked a claim." Peric flashes a brief smile. "I'm sure we could think of some way to make our claim credible." And perhaps there will even be a few survivors who will be happy to accept help at the clinic.

[Ezeze]

Well, if we are going to stake our claim Madame Sophie smiles gently. I think I'd prefer to change into a dress I don't like quite as much, first. Blood is always hard to get out of fabric.

[bryn0528]

Zigmund raised his brow. "So what, you are just going to go in there and murder a bunch of people? What will that accomplish? This city is full of rats living their brief, flourishing lives. Names pop in and out. You cut down one family, in the night like that, and you see what happened with the Ratchetters. It just brings more fallout, more families trying to vie."

He shook his head.

"No, if you want to succeed, you must build yourself to be the best out there. Keep business brief, small, and moving. Build your pieces, set your pawns. Undercut where possible, but outright confrontation isn't going to do much good."

[THEChanger]

Eshan nodded. "Excellent ideas and points, all. A building can be procured for the establishment of such a front. If there are other resources that are required for all of you to do your work in this area, do not hesitate to ask. I will do my best to procure them for you." Eshan looked around at his assembled friends, and smiled. "My Family. Our Family. A truly excellent night." The great clocktower of the city began to strike the half hour. "Are there any other questions, before I set to acquiring the building for our church front?"

[Rama]

"Just one," Conor says. "What do our current resources look like? After acquiring the front, will we have sufficient funds to furnish it appropriately, spread out some bribe money, and retain underlings to assist us? Or should we make acquisition a priority?"