Cormyrian Complications - IC

[Mordae]

Braundlae's Best; Suzail, Cormyr; Kythorn 18, 1472 DR

The promenade outside is thick with crowds of travelers, eager to visit the brightest gem in Cormyr's crown for the coming of the Summer Solstice. The gods had seen fit to favor the heartlands with warm weather already, so aside from the noisy bustle to contend with, those having business throughout the city had to endure the reek of a multitude of unwashed bodies; the public baths of the city naturally being overwhelmed by the crush of visitors, scentwater was in high demand.

Inside Braundlae's Best, the smell is only slightly better, but the noise is less. The noon hour has come and gone, and with the departure of a gaggle of sightseers following the lunch meal, most of the tables sit idle as the bussers work diligently to clear the mess in time for the next wave at suppertime.

Aside from the live eels--always popular amusements for tourists--and the garishly named Silver Dragon sauce that was served on spicy sausage rolls, the tavern was well known as a place of information. Commoners, adventurers, and gentry alike would come to The Post--in actuality a series of tall wooden beams that occupied near on a full wall at the far end of Braundlae's bar--to find out about the news and gossip of the day. For the most part, such notices are small pieces of paper tacked to the wood with tiny nails. Today, however, a larger banner has been strung across several of the poles, bearing a notice in scarlet letters big enough to be read from every corner of the room.



Brass Lantern Guild Seeks Adventurers!
Licensed Mercenaries!
Competitive Wages and Benefits!
Premium Pay Available to Those who Qualify!
Open House at Our Headquarters
Inner Harbor, Black Eel Bend, #13
Kythorn 18; 4th Hour -- Sharp!

[evyldead]

Niomi steps up to the bar and sees the board. Alaric hun, Think we can get a job with the Brass Lantern people. I don't know much about them though. Niomi get the attention of the barkeep. "Who's the Brass Lantern people? I see they got a job and I might be willing to help.

[Dexam]

Jostled by the last of the departing lunch patrons, Krieger pushes his way into the tavern, the scowl on his face visible even though his hood is drawn up in spite of the heat. He pauses briefly, yellow eyes surveying the room, before making his way up to the bar. Reaching into a coin purse, he slides a silver piece across the bar towards the bar tender. "Light ale," he rasps, "And make it a decent one."

As he waits for his drink to be served, he scans The Post and the eye-catching banner strung across it. "Brass Lantern Guild, huh?" he mutters to himself, flipping his hood back to reveal oily, spiked black hair and a pair of small deep-red horns jutting from the pasty grey skin of his forehead.

Knowledge (Local) check: [roll0].
Has Krieger heard anything about the Brass Lantern Guild in his travels?

[ScaryTerry]

Arlen skewered one of the tiny eels on his fork, swirled it briefly in the dish of brown sauce, and popped it in his mouth. He let it wriggle between his teeth for a few seconds before biting down, savoring the strange sensation even more than the sour-and-salty tang. Arlen felt that food was important when you were getting to know someplace new. How could you understand the locals if you didn't understand what they ate?

Of course, you could also learn a lot by fighting alongside them - or against them. He looked at the banner again as he washed down the eel with a swallow of beer. "Premium pay" implied premium risk, which in turn implied something more interesting than the typical caravan-guarding, bandit-chasing jobs that got advertised in places like this. Arlen had just come ashore after a few months aboard a trading vessel on the Sea of Fallen Stars, and signing on as an adventurer for a while sounded like a good way to get his land legs back.

An elf woman approached the bar a few seats down and asked the barman about the Brass Lanterns. Arlen cocked an ear to listen for the response.

[JanusJones]

Tam rolled down the street with his usual easygoing seaman's gait. People rolled to either side of him like water against the prow of a ship - calm water that wanted nothing more than to part and be on it's way.

Tam's grin was large and friendly, but it never seemed to make up for his size.

He was new to town, but had spent enough time dockside to know the Inner Harder - Black Bend #13, however, might take some finding.

He nodded to a passing sailor. "Point a body towards Black Bend?"

[Kelvin360]

Near the center of the place, with a table to himself despite the overabundance of seats thereabouts, a tall man drains the last few drops of his ale, patiently waiting for his heels to cool, both figuratively and literally, after the long trek (or, more accurately, the ride) from Teziir. To be fair to his former employers, he'd expected the pirates, just not their shocking lack of concern for scurvy. And now that he's back in civilization, the smell of sea salt is back to the crowds and sweat salt. Not that I mind the swarm, in some places. He muses, tossing a small smile at the nearest barmaid.

Adjusting his feet on the table in front of him, comfortably poised above a fresh cloth, so as not to befoul or scuff the wood, his eyes also drift over to The Post. Unlike the others, however, he doesn't seem to care a whit about who he's to work with. Any time is a good time for new sights, I suppose. I wonder how high the sun's risen since I got here?

Not for the first time, he's glad that he decided to adopt the rare occasion of removing his armor and relaxing in his sleeveless tunic and breeches. It's more upper-class than he'd like, as it used to be a standard of Calimshan's nobility before he made a few adjustments (namely the aforementioned sleeves and pressing some of the puffiness out of the pant legs), but not only is it comfortable, he finds the bronze embroidery on the chest, swirling into the shape of a roaring dragon, to be a nice touch.

Figuring he has enough time on his hands to spend, he casually leans back a bit and settles himself, watching the bar for signs of a commotion or others who, like this elf woman, seem to be taking an interest in the local hiring practices.

((What time is it now?))

[Mordae]

Alaric simply nods. "I've little doubt such a venture would be profitable to you. With my duties to the guild, however, I am less than certain that my own participation would be advisable." He offered the elf-mistress a faint smile, knowing that her seeming impetuousness was a mere part of the game the two played--she the long-lived eladrin and he the frail mortal, trading roles for sport.

"Brass Lanterns, eh? Yeah, they hung that banner up just this morning--as though you'd roust a bunch of adventurers on just a day's notice, hrrmph. They're all torchbearers and guides, and to think they want to be carrying arms openly! Not many folk I can think of would want to follow a guide that could just as easily knife them in the dark as lead them to their destination. But, her Majesty saw fit to grant them a license, so I guess you can see how much sway I hold in the kingdom's affairs."

He grins and turns to serve the tiefling who had sat down on the next stool, pausing ever so slightly to give the tiny pair of ruddy horns a suspicious look. The ale is pulled quickly, and it froths merrily in the glass as the bartender sets it down before Krieger. Lightly hopped and smelling faintly of cherry blossoms, it is no doubt a seasonal specialty from one of the local brewers. "May it be as good to you as you are to grace my establishment, sir," the server mouths the formality without any particular enthusiasm, pocketing the coin with a deft flip of his wrist.

---

The sailor looks up, craning his neck to take in Tam's rugged features and squinting into the early afternoon sun. "Aye, sir, meaning you Black Eel Bend? It be but a minute's walk from here, two blocks behind me to the east and on your right, down along that side o' the harbor. I'd tell you to be watching for cutthroats, but by Lathander's light I doubt any'd be able to reach your neck." He grins, exposing a few missing and blackened teeth to the big goliath.

(OOC: One hour past noon; three hours until the appointed time. There are banners all across the city that you might have seen.)

[Kelvin360]

Coran's scaled brow furrows at that, but he doesn't speak up. Yet. It's more than likely he's simply waiting to see if whatever questions come next also answer his satisfactorily.

[evyldead]

Alaric simply nods. "I've little doubt such a venture would be profitable to you. With my duties to the guild, however, I am less than certain that my own participation would be advisable." He offered the elf-mistress a faint smile, knowing that her seeming impetuousness was a mere part of the game the two played--she the long-lived eladrin and he the frail mortal, trading roles for sport.

"Brass Lanterns, eh? Yeah, they hung that banner up just this morning--as though you'd roust a bunch of adventurers on just a day's notice, hrrmph. They're all torchbearers and guides, and to think they want to be carrying arms openly! Not many folk I can think of would want to follow a guide that could just as easily knife them in the dark as lead them to their destination. But, her Majesty saw fit to grant them a license, so I guess you can see how much sway I hold in the kingdom's affairs."

Niomi looks at Alaric "What if I go all by myself and I get hurt. That surly would put a downer on that face of yours. But If you come we can probably meet some higher up people and get to know them." as Niomi looks back to the bar keep "Well bar keep you got a name so I don't have to call you bar keep? I don't think they will do that out in the open but in the dark they might. Hope not anyways. Any idea where I may find these Brass Lantern people?

[Mordae]

Alaric raises an eyebrow. "You know I have complete faith in you, dearest," he demurs. "But I will accompany you if you wish."

"Name's Braundlae," the keeper rejoins with a chuckle. "And if you're looking for Black Eel Bend, you'll have to go to the west end of the Promenade and then cut down to the inner harbor along Fleet Street. The Bend runs along the east side of the inner harbor--keep your wits about you, it can be a rough place."

[evyldead]

Niomi chuckles at the last part of what Braundlae has said, "Braundlae, I have this strong man right here to keep my wits for me. Alaric the mighty mage, and he's all mine. Niomi winks over to Alaric. They don't sound like the type of people to give light jobs since it is Premium pay. Niomi swirls a ring of sustenance on her finger that Alaric has given her, and she looks like she's thinking of something Trick,may I get some food and drink? Hope you don't mind I call you Trick. Simple, easy to remember and a good name for my favorite barkeeper.

[Dexam]

He grins and turns to serve the tiefling who had sat down on the next stool, pausing ever so slightly to give the tiny pair of ruddy horns a suspicious look. The ale is pulled quickly, and it froths merrily in the glass as the bartender sets it down before Krieger. Lightly hopped and smelling faintly of cherry blossoms, it is no doubt a seasonal specialty from one of the local brewers. "May it be as good to you as you are to grace my establishment, sir," the server mouths the formality without any particular enthusiasm, pocketing the coin with a deft flip of his wrist.


Krieger sneers slightly at the barkeep's attitude, returning the suspicious look with a mocking, yellow-irised stare of his own. He picks up the ale and examines it. Glass? Fancy.. The warrior is more used to places that serve from cheap clay mugs or wooden tankards. He takes a swallow of the ale, and pulls a bit of a face. Having been raised on the far more bitter ales of the north, he's yet to acquire a taste for these fruity flavours that the brewers of the warmer south insist on inflicting upon their products.

Still, it's refreshing enough. He takes a second, longer swallow of the brew.


"Name's Braundlae," the keeper rejoins with a chuckle. "And if you're looking for Black Eel Bend, you'll have to go to the west end of the Promenade and then cut down to the inner harbor along Fleet Street. The Bend runs along the east side of the inner harbor--keep your wits about you, it can be a rough place."

The travel-stained teifling listens in to the conversation, not even bothering to conceal his interest. He then gives the couple asking the questions a second look, running an appraising and judging eye over the pair.

[Mordae]

"You can call me anything you like, miss, so long as your tab gets paid on time." Braundlae chuckles jovially. "I've been called things that'd make the hair stand on the back of a dragon, and it hasn't got any."

[evyldead]

"You can call me anything you like, miss, so long as your tab gets paid on time." Braundlae chuckles jovially. "I've been called things that'd make the hair stand on the back of a dragon, and it hasn't got any."

Niomi laughs at what Trick has said, "How much do I owe ya for food and drink? And if you got any other problems yourself I would be happy to help you out.

[JanusJones]

"Oh, I find I make more friends than foes. Reckon it's my sunny disposition." Tam gives a broad smile to the sailor and nods his thanks.

He proceeds to #13 at the same long-legged, easygoing pace. An ounce of preparation being worth a pound of cure, as the old mercenary saw went.

[Mordae]

"Four silver pieces, lass, assuming you're paying for your beau there. And I'll take your offer under advisement. If I had a silver piece for every adventurer as offered to help out here, I'd be a much richer man." He takes a rag and starts absently wiping off wet stains on the bar, all the while keeping an eye on the other patrons--particularly Krieger.

---

It's not hard for Tam to locate #13 Black Eel Bend, and though he spots a few furtive shadows in the alleys nearby, nobody decides to challenge the big goliath. The building is a rather nondescript two-story stone structure, with tall, thin, arched windows on each floor that flank the weather-worn wooden double doors that provide means of entrance. It'd be easy to pass up except for the brass numerals embossed on the doorknobs, and the large sign hung overhead that depicts a brass lantern illuminated within by burning oil--a common symbol for guides, except this one has crossed swords filigreed upon each of the lantern's glass panes. By the look of the painted sign relative to the rest of the structure, it's clear that the former is quite new; it has not had years of weathering from the salt haze of the Inner Sea.

[evyldead]

"Four silver pieces, lass, assuming you're paying for your beau there. And I'll take your offer under advisement. If I had a silver piece for every adventurer as offered to help out here, I'd be a much richer man." He takes a rag and starts absently wiping off wet stains on the bar, all the while keeping an eye on the other patrons--particularly Krieger.

Niomi says to Alaric "I got this one hun." and she winks at him, then hand Trick a small pouch of eight silver pieces. "That should cover the bill and the tip, and there must be something that you must need help with." Niomi looks over to who Trick keeps looking at, Niomi says quietly only for Trick can hear her "Whats wrong with him that you gotta keep an eye on ?

[Mordae]

Braundlae leans in casually and scoops up the silver. "Aw, nothing. Old habits that die hard, I suppose." He pockets the coins with a smile and looks over to where the well-dressed patron with the dragon embroidery upon his chest is resting with his feet up on the table. "Sir, if you'll wait but a moment, I can have one of the boys down to polish your boots, as you like it."

[JanusJones]

Tam takes a long lean across the street from the door, filling his pipe and lighting it with a practiced spark struck from a rocky callous on his knuckle. As the smoke begins to perfume the morning air, he settles in to wait.

[Kelvin360]

Coran lets out a chuckle. "I appreciate the offer, but they'll be well worn again soon enough, I fear." He addresses Niomi: "If you still hold interest in these Brass Lantern folk, would you mind my company? I'm not overly suited to sitting about for long, even in so fine an establishment as this."

[evyldead]

Niomi looks over to the man talking to her, "And who might you be ? And I would love some more company if this is pretty bad work, and pretty bad work calls for more people then just me and Alaric over here. Isn't that right love?"

[Dexam]

He takes a rag and starts absently wiping off wet stains on the bar, all the while keeping an eye on the other patrons--particularly Krieger.
The ex-mercenary notices the bartender's attention being directed towards him, and chuckles to himself. He waits until he catches Braundlae's eye, and offers a sly smirk and a wink as reply. Downing the rest of his ale in one long swallow, he slams the glass down on the bar.

"Another," he declares. "Also meat, bread, and cheese." The demands are followed by a gold coin sent spinning throught the air towards the bartender. Krieger resumes his undisguised eavesdropping on the couple, closely observing the tall man who has joined them.

[evyldead]

Niomi stands up and looks full of energy "Well we certainly can't take on a "Premium Work" with just us 3. We will wait for more people to seek interest in this.

[Kelvin360]

Niomi looks over to the man talking to her, "And who might you be ? And I would love some more company if this is pretty bad work, and pretty bad work calls for more people then just me and Alaric over here. Isn't that right love?"

"Coran Torcio, not-so-humbly at your service." He flashes the pair a grin with his usual flair, but does not apply a trace of charm. Given the slightly furtive looks he's giving Alaric every few seconds, good money says that it's just because he doesn't want to make it look as though he's making a move on someone spoken for.

His enthusiasm deepens along with Niomi's when she stands. "I agree with you, but we can't be the only ones with an interest in this. I might even go so far as to say that anyone else who comes to Black Eel Bend qualifies as an ally by default."

[evyldead]

"Coran Torcio, not-so-humbly at your service." He flashes the pair a grin with his usual flair, but does not apply a trace of charm. Given the slightly furtive looks he's giving Alaric every few seconds, good money says that it's just because he doesn't want to make it look as though he's making a move on someone spoken for.

His enthusiasm deepens along with Niomi's when she stands. "I agree with you, but we can't be the only ones with an interest in this. I might even go so far as to say that anyone else who comes to Black Eel Bend qualifies as an ally by default."

Niomi looks over to Krieger, not trying to hide it, "Well there might be one other person who has not been hiding to focus in on my discussions here so far." Niomi gives a half smirk to Krieger.

[Dexam]

Niomi looks over to Krieger, not trying to hide it, "Well there might be one other person who has not been hiding to focus in on my discussions here so far." Niomi gives a half smirk to Krieger.

The teifling chuckles. "Who says I'm interested in joining your little gathering, sweetheart?" he asks in his slightly gravelly voice. An eyebrow arches suggestively. "Mayhaps I'm just interested in you..."

[JanusJones]

Enjoying the sunshine, Tam takes out a flask and accompanies his smoke with a bit of the dark, black rum the Sharkjaws favored.

[evyldead]

The teifling chuckles. "Who says I'm interested in joining your little gathering, sweetheart?" he asks in his slightly gravelly voice. An eyebrow arches suggestively. "Mayhaps I'm just interested in you..."

"Oh my, well I'm taken by this man here." Niomi leans on Alaric and kisses him. "If you are interested, I'm not interested in you so there would be no point in me now would there." Niomi gives a half smirk to him.

[Kelvin360]

"Is your interest piqued enough to tread her path, I wonder?" Coran asks, exchanging coy dodging one-for-one. "Something tells me not. What trade come you from, though, that allows for such confidence in your manner?"

[Dexam]

"Oh my, well I'm taken by this man here." Niomi leans on Alaric and kisses him. "If you are interested, I'm not interested in you so there would be no point in me now would there." Niomi gives a half smirk to him.
"I'm sure you are, darlin'... frequently, " he replies with a leer. "But don't be judgin' the quality o' the blade 'til you've unsheathed it from the scabbard, if you catch my drift." Kreiger looks Alaric up and down, and smiles. "Besides, the more the merrier; and I'm sure I could show him a trick or two." He winks, then chuckles to himself at his ribald jokes.


"Is your interest piqued enough to tread her path, I wonder?" Coran asks, exchanging coy dodging one-for-one. "Something tells me not. What trade come you from, though, that allows for such confidence in your manner?"
"Depends on who's doin' the asking, big man," the teifling drawls. Twitching aside his travellers cloak, he reveals an array of swords, knives, and other assorted weaponry. "But let me assure you that the cutlery ain't just for show."

[Mordae]

Alaric looks a bit stiff and offended, and his hand half-dips into his sleeve before Niomi smoothly handles the friendly tiefling's overtures. Shaking his head with a bit of a rueful smile, he relaxes and has another sip of his beverage.

"Now now, it's not time to be displaying tools of the trade!" chides Braundlae. He lowers his tone and looks at the tiefling. "I'll not be turning a patron in to the Purple Dragons, but unless you've had all your hardware there peace-bonded, perhaps you'd best be moving along and getting your formal paperwork of employment from the Brass Lanterns, before someone less understanding decides you're in violation of her Majesty's laws."

[evyldead]

Alaric looks a bit stiff and offended, and his hand half-dips into his sleeve before Niomi smoothly handles the friendly tiefling's overtures. Shaking his head with a bit of a rueful smile, he relaxes and has another sip of his beverage.

"Now now, it's not time to be displaying tools of the trade!" chides Braundlae. He lowers his tone and looks at the tiefling. "I'll not be turning a patron in to the Purple Dragons, but unless you've had all your hardware there peace-bonded, perhaps you'd best be moving along and getting your formal paperwork of employment from the Brass Lanterns, before someone less understanding decides you're in violation of her Majesty's laws."

Niomi looks over to Trick "Right. I'm ready to be moving on, waiting on Alaric here." Niomi goes to lean into Alaric's ear and whispers very quietly that the sound of the bar will make it hard for anyone to hear it but Alaric "I'll be keeping a close eye on that guy, and don't worry about the tiefling, he is over-compensating with all that weaponry. At least you don't need to." Niomi smiles and giggles a little bit. Letting Alaric know she is still his no matter who comes along and not to be offended by words of rude people.

[Kelvin360]

"That remains to be seen." Coran remarks, eying the assortment with a shrug. "Hereabouts, such things tend to be more useful within their scabbards than without, so I'll cast no aspersion on either recourse. I've an inkling that any talents of yours might render them unnecessary at any rate, yes?" Having nothing to do with his hands, he rests them behind his head, waiting to see if the tiefling takes the compliment in stride.

[JanusJones]

Tam has leaned into the doorway and closed his eyes, basking in the sun.

They'll have to open up shop sometime. Might as well enjoy the weather until they do.

[Dexam]

Alaric looks a bit stiff and offended, and his hand half-dips into his sleeve before Niomi smoothly handles the friendly tiefling's overtures. Shaking his head with a bit of a rueful smile, he relaxes and has another sip of his beverage.

"Now now, it's not time to be displaying tools of the trade!" chides Braundlae. He lowers his tone and looks at the tiefling. "I'll not be turning a patron in to the Purple Dragons, but unless you've had all your hardware there peace-bonded, perhaps you'd best be moving along and getting your formal paperwork of employment from the Brass Lanterns, before someone less understanding decides you're in violation of her Majesty's laws."
Krieger dips his head in a bow towards Braundlae. It is difficult to tell if he is being mocking or not. "Right you are, your lordship; in which case I'll be makin' that order of mine 'to go', if it please you." He considers for a moment. "If it don't please you, then I'll be havin' the return of my hard-earned, thanks."



"That remains to be seen." Coran remarks, eying the assortment with a shrug. "Hereabouts, such things tend to be more useful within their scabbards than without, so I'll cast no aspersion on either recourse. I've an inkling that any talents of yours might render them unnecessary at any rate, yes?" Having nothing to do with his hands, he rests them behind his head, waiting to see if the tiefling takes the compliment in stride.
"Oh, I'm a man of many talents," the teifling replies loftily. "And who knows; if you're lucky you might just get to witness a sample in the future. 'Cause you're right," he grins suddenly at the trio, with genuine mirth. "I am curious about signing up for these Brass Lanterns," he turns his cat-eyed gaze to Niomi and Alaric. "No offense to you two, but I usually prefer my lasses - and lads - with a bit more meat on their bones." His grin suddenly turns sly. "Still, if we're going to be workin' together and you decide you need a third to share your blankets, consider my offer to be standing... or kneeling, or lying down - whatever position takes your fancy, really."

He turns his attention back to Coran and extends a hand in a 'warrior's clasp', rather than a handshake. "Krieger Volstaad, formerly o' the Blood Wyvern Mercenary Company and points beyond."

[evyldead]

he turns his cat-eyed gaze to Niomi and Alaric. "No offense to you two, but I usually prefer my lasses - and lads - with a bit more meat on their bones." His grin suddenly turns sly. "Still, if we're going to be workin' together and you decide you need a third to share your blankets, consider my offer to be standing... or kneeling, or lying down - whatever position takes your fancy, really."

"to settle this matter I only prefer the human meet." As Niomi looks to krieger. "Names Niomi Shengee and she looks at the two guys infront of her. But we all should work on this together, more people to get this done faster the pay, right? So who's in?

[Kelvin360]

Appearing more amused than anything at the tiefling's randy suggestions, Coran swings his feet off the cloth and stands, returning the proffered gesture heartily and smiling fully at the lot of them. "Coran Torcio, beater of the many-split path. Always on the lookout for interesting compatriots, and it seems I've succeeded again. Glad I am to make your acquaintances."

[ScaryTerry]

Arlen catches the bartender's attention. "How much for the eels and the ales?" he asks when the man arrives.

As he pays his bill, Arlen ponders the little alliance that's been developing next to him. Typical adventurers: brash and good-humored, eager to swagger into a new situation. He smiles a little to himself - although it's not exactly his style, it's always entertaining. After so many months aboard a merchant vessel, he'd almost forgotten how enjoyable the soldier-of-fortune life could be.

He stands from his stool and turns to the motley little gathering.

"Sorry to break in on your talks, but if you're seeking extra hands for the Brass Lantern venture it happens I'm in need of something to occupy my time and fill my pockets." He smiles. "I'm not carrying near as much steel as you--" nodding to the smirking ex-mercenary-- "but I can fight when it's called for. And anyone who's sailed or soldiered with me will tell you I'm good luck to have around."

[Mordae]

Braundlae bustles around the bar to address Arlen's query. "Five silver in all, good sir, and thank you kindly." He pockets the coins as soon as they change hands and, gathering up the used dishes in a careful stack, he returns to the bar by way of the kitchen, where a scullery boy is hard at work scrubbing pots, pans, plates, and silverware.

Alaric raises an eyebrow at the sailor's boast. "Are you talking run of the mill good luck, or Tymora-in-your-back-pocket good luck?" he inquires with an accommodating smirk.

[evyldead]

Braundlae bustles around the bar to address Arlen's query. "Five silver in all, good sir, and thank you kindly." He pockets the coins as soon as they change hands and, gathering up the used dishes in a careful stack, he returns to the bar by way of the kitchen, where a scullery boy is hard at work scrubbing pots, pans, plates, and silverware.

Alaric raises an eyebrow at the sailor's boast. "Are you talking run of the mill good luck, or Tymora-in-your-back-pocket good luck?" he inquires with an accommodating smirk.

Niomi chckles at Alaric and looks over to Alren to await his response.

[ScaryTerry]

Alaric raises an eyebrow at the sailor's boast. "Are you talking run of the mill good luck, or Tymora-in-your-back-pocket good luck?" he inquires with an accommodating smirk.

"I can't speak for Tymora and I doubt a goddess would fit in my pocket, but there is one looking out for me, so you're not far off the mark. Selune, the Light in Darkness, keeps watch on my travels." As he speaks the name of his goddess, Arlen taps his forehead and points to the sky, a brief gesture of faith so well-practiced that it passes in a single fluid flicker and takes up only a fraction of an instant. A few stray flakes of salt fall from his sea-weathered sleeve as he moves.

"And maybe more to the point, I know a thing or two about extending her blessings to those I travel with."

[JanusJones]

Tam yawns. The sun and rum have worked their magic, and for such a well-advertised mercenary guild, they seem to be awfully relaxed about setup. He refills his pipe and enjoys a second smoke. When the bowl is lit and glowing, he digs around in his belt pouch and produces a leather-bound book, dog-eared and worn, and reads to pass the time.

[Kelvin360]

"A man of the cloth?" Coran asks, intrigued. "I wouldn't know about luck, but having a deific representative along could be useful. I can't speak for us all - know only that I take no umbrage with your presence."

[Mordae]

"Well, I suppose a priest of such a venerable institution as traveling companion wouldn't be bad," Alaric concedes with a nod. "So is this all of us, then? If so, I'd humbly suggest we stop wasting the good master's bar space and try to beat the crowd that will no doubt show up for this offer."

[JanusJones]

Tam looked up from his book. He wondered where the crowd was. This much advertisement, and still no draw; made him wonder if there wasn't something he didn't know keeping folks away.

He sipped his rum and got back down to the book. A good read - the military annals of Hesparian, a commander from more than an age ago. Man was a genius on the field - Tam learned something every time.

[Dexam]

"So is this all of us, then? If so, I'd humbly suggest we stop wasting the good master's bar space and try to beat the crowd that will no doubt show up for this offer."
"Let's check, shall we?"

The teifling warrior climbs up onto the bar and calls out across the room, "Anyone else here lookin' to sign on for this little shindig? Anyone? No? Right," Kreiger jumps down. "Now let me find out just who I have to stab to get my order filled, and we can be on our way."

[Kelvin360]

"I'll agree there. Though I might suggest anyone with a thirst have a last flagon to go, if possible. Odds are we won't have much time for taverns once everything is set in motion."

[evyldead]

Agreed, let's get moving then.

[ScaryTerry]

Arlen scoops his pack from the floor next to his feet and shoulders it. "My thirst is satisfied for the moment. Let's go see what the Brass Lanterns have for us."

[evyldead]

Yes let's get a move on this. Niomi looks at everyone and awaits their response.

[Mordae]

With everyone in agreement, the newly formed quintet pays their dues to Braundlae and heads out into the crowded streets. A couple of burly-looking men pass them by on the way in to the tavern, and Niomi's sharp ears pick up the sound of tearing paper as Alaric leads the way through the mass of natives and travelers that fills the Promenade.

Beads of sweat are prominent on the wizard's brow as he skillfully nagivates his home town in the early summer heat, cutting down side streets and winding through alleys on the gentle slope toward the harbor. Despite knowing the shortcuts, there are so many people that the transit takes quite some time. He and the others arrive at Black Eel Bend only a few minutes before the appointed hour to find the street nearly deserted, save for a goliath leaning against a building on the opposite side with a book in one hand and a pipe in the other.

[Kelvin360]

Coran raises his arms and adopts a friendly posture when his group approaches. "A pleasant after-noon, sir, and all that it brings." He tells the much larger man. "Am I to reckon that we all come here for the same purpose? There does not appear to be an oerlarge crowd, at present..."

[JanusJones]

Tam glances up, closing the book, and removes his pipe from his mouth. He turns to look across the street, then back.

"No, indeed. Reckon the rest of the city knows something we don't."

He grins, a flash of white in a dark-skinned face.

"It has me awfully curious."

[evyldead]

"Maybe they are here for the job as we are?"

[Dexam]

"Maybe they've just got better things to do." The wiry teifling has his hood back up despite the heat. In fact, he doesn't seem to be in the least bothered by it. He pulls out the cold smoked sausage, half wheel of cheese, and loaf of bread purchased from the tavern, and begins to make a late lunch. As he does so, he scans the street and building, noting locations of entrances, potential escape routes, and possible ambush points.

"Had any sign of our prospective employers?" he asks Tam, silently appraising the Goliath.

[Mordae]

While the group is across the street chatting, the door to number thirteen opens part way, and a medium-framed human man pokes his shaggy blond head out into the street for just a moment. Leaning back inside, he speaks to someone unseen. "Told you. I'll put money on the Watchmen, or the Green Hand."

"Don't be such a ridiculous conspiracist," retorts a much deeper voice from within the building. "Most likely your advertisements were just not enticing enough."

"Fine. Next time you can make the signs." The first man swings the door shut, the slapping of the portal against its jambs ringing down the street of stone-faced buildings.

[Kelvin360]

Coran gives the door a sidelong glance. "Hm. They seem awfully shy. Shall we knock?"

[evyldead]

Niomi watches as she hears these people talking. "I say we go give them a knock."

[JanusJones]

Tam taps one hand lightly on the door.

It shakes.

[Mordae]

The door creaks back open, and the blond man with the veritable mane looks out again. "Hello, yes?" he says before realizing he's staring at sternum instead of face. Slowly, he cranes his neck to look up at the looming goliath. "That is, can I help you? Are you here for..." he falters, and his eyes drift down to take in the faces of the others standing outside his door.

[evyldead]

Niomi walks forward, "Were here for that post you put up the the Inn."

[JanusJones]

Tam grins - a flash of shocking white in his rocky grey face - and puts a large, flat hand on the door, opening it to step inside.

"What else? If you're still hiring, we're what you've got, I reckon."

[Dexam]

"Gods' damned freakin' amateurs," Krieger mutters to himself as he stows the remnants of his lunch, though still loud enough for all to hear.

He strolls up to the door and attempts to peer inside. "Couldn't you at least pretend to be a moderately successful business that requires the services of professional adventurers?"

[JanusJones]

Tam grins at the man. "Aye."

He turns back to the now open door, shouldering his way in. "We're here. Roll out the red carpets and strike up the band." He winks back at Krieger. "Better yet, pour us a drink. All that waiting was thirsty work."

[Dexam]

Krieger turns back to face Niomi, Alaric, and the others with an evil grin on his face. "Ooooh... I like him," he says, pointing at Tam. "Can we keep 'im?"

[Kelvin360]

Coran shrugs and shakes his head. "If he so desires. And here I was worried that our crew wouldn't be eye-grabbing enough. Even if we still aren't, we certainly don't lack for personality. It does strike me as odd..." He addresses the two 'employers'. "You don't really seem to want the company, even if you were expecting it. I don't suppose this is a loaded venture?"

[JanusJones]

"Keep me? HA!" Tam, halfway in the door and stooped, ducks back out as his head snaps back with the sudden, explosive mirth.

He pats the man, who barely reaches his chest, on the head - a gesture both congenial and careful. "My mother always said you could only keep what you could out-wrestle and afford to feed - and downlander, I've eaten meals bigger than you." This with a friendly smile. He's clearly enjoying the banter.

He turns back to the men in the doorway. "This one's right - we're clearly the only ones in town who don't know how bad this thing smells, so why don't you let us in before we catch wind of it?" He shakes his head as he looks at the assembled motley crew, then turns back to their prospective employers. "Lucky for you, I like long odds. And these - I reckon they're the only ones aside me crazy enough not to turn around right now. We've waited enough - let's have a sit and a drink and a story, aye?"

[Mordae]

The flustered door-man is about to muster a response when he's rudely yanked back into the house. A slightly taller, wiry fellow with bowl-cut black hair and a handlebar mustache takes his place. "You're here for the notice, I take it. Capital. Don't mind Wilkes, he's good at what he does--which isn't this." He brushes out a few wrinkles from his blue and white particolor tunic and pulls the door open all the way so that Tam can fit better. "I'm Hamm, and this is our new headquarters building. Step inside and we can go to the study--first door on the left here, it's the only space that we've managed to fully clean."

The interior is old, dim, and dusty, with cobwebs trailing along the railings of the three-sided balcony and sheets covering the furniture. A cavernous stone fireplace on the opposite wall from the double doors sits cold and black, where it might have once given heat and light to the two-story foyer. Narrow staircases on the left and right of the room provide access to the balcony. There are a handful of closed doors leading to other rooms, but the door indicated by Hamm is open to a more brightly lit space that smells faintly of incense.

Wilkes lingers in Hamm's shadow for a moment before parroting, "Yes, please do come in. I'll bring up a cask of ale from the cellar." Then he strides toward the smallest door in the room, which leads under the left staircase, and opens it to head below.

[Kelvin360]

"Cozy." Coran remarks. "What displaced you from your first choice of locale?"

[Mordae]

"Actually, we're quite new, and this was the best locale we could afford with our modest budget." The one called Hamm presses forward to the lit side room, which is in much better condition.

The spacious study is lined floor to ceiling with bookshelves, save the narrow windows on the front wall which let in a limited amount of sunlight and the rectangular stone fireplace in the back wall which provides flickering orange-yellow brightness to the rest of the room. A dozen oaken chairs bound in red leather are arranged around a long, polished oval table that occupies much of the floor. Those with sharp eyes can easily see the indentations in the pale blue of the velvet rug that covers much of the parquet floor, suggesting there was once a desk and armchair between the windows, but those furnishings are no longer present. The bookshelves, while carefully dusted, are mostly empty.

"Please, have a seat, everyone. I'd advise you to wait until the room fills, but judging from the streets outside that probably isn't about to happen. Welcome to the headquarters of the Brass Lanterns Guild, Suzail's newest--and, gods willing, soon to be most prestigious--chartered mercenary company. You may have heard we are but poor messengers with swords, but I assure you nothing could be further from the truth. To prove it, we've already managed to acquire a handful of handsomely paying commissions, and are finding that we need a bit more manpower to carry them out." Hamm pulls back one of the chairs and sits down, plaiting his narrow fingers as he rests his wrists on the table and looks over the motley sextet.

[Kelvin360]

"I've only recently arrived here," Coran admits, taking a seat with a longing glance at the barren shelves. "Is this business a common one in Cormyr?"

[JanusJones]

He nods to Coran. "Their business surely ain't. Whatever they're sending, they've got someone after stopping them who's so rowdy only ignorant fools like us show up when they post a job."

Tam waves a hand at the room, grinning. "So who's paying to shift what where? And who's stopping it from happening?"

[Dexam]

"Keep me? HA!" Tam, halfway in the door and stooped, ducks back out as his head snaps back with the sudden, explosive mirth.

He pats the man, who barely reaches his chest, on the head - a gesture both congenial and careful. "My mother always said you could only keep what you could out-wrestle and afford to feed - and downlander, I've eaten meals bigger than you." This with a friendly smile. He's clearly enjoying the banter.
"With a mouth that big, you best be careful you don't bite of more'n you can chew," Kreiger quips. "'Sides, I reckon I'd put a bit more fight than ya mama's over-cooked beef," he flips his hood back as he enters the building, revealing the two pointed onyx horns that jut from his temples. "And with some food you need t' watch our for the spikes."


"Please, have a seat, everyone. I'd advise you to wait until the room fills, but judging from the streets outside that probably isn't about to happen. Welcome to the headquarters of the Brass Lanterns Guild, Suzail's newest--and, gods willing, soon to be most prestigious--chartered mercenary company. You may have heard we are but poor messengers with swords, but I assure you nothing could be further from the truth. To prove it, we've already managed to acquire a handful of handsomely paying commissions, and are finding that we need a bit more manpower to carry them out." Hamm pulls back one of the chairs and sits down, plaiting his narrow fingers as he rests his wrists on the table and looks over the motley sextet.

"A messenger without a sword is either a mage, a fool, or both," Kreiger sneers. "Tells us about these commissions, and why exactly y'need more man-," he glances at Niomi and winks. "Aye, and woman-power to carry them out; and I'll be the judge of handsome them payments might be. While you're at it, I'm sure you won't mind allowing me to give your charter a good ol' once-over - just to make sure everything's all above board and legitimate-like." He gives a sickly grin, a not particularly pleasant sight.

[evyldead]

Niomi walks in with everyone else staying by Alaric. She looks back to see if anyone is following (Ill roll OOC if need be) and keeps walking in. As Kreiger says that she responds, "I think we have enough man power on this get together. I would love some other woman power. BUT. other woman adventurers are the bitch-y type and I don't want to deal with that as of yet. So I think me as the woman power is good for now. I mean hw hard can this job really be?

[Mordae]

Hamm nods vigorously to Krieger. "I'm glad you agree with our position. Unfortunately, by the laws of Cormyr, all weapons must be peace-bonded except those worn by licensed mercenary groups and other duly appointed representatives. This puts the guild of messengers in a distinct bind, as we're basically forced to hire outside muscle--at our own cost--or let the people with free swords poach our business. And of course there's the third option, traveling at risk; but we've lost enough of our guildsmen to criminals who can take advantage of our quandry." His eyes drift to the door as a rolling rumble heralds the approach of Wilkes with the cask; the latter man nudges it with one foot as he carries four empty wooden mugs in each hand. Hamm continues to speak while his comrade sets the half-sized barrel on end and starts to pull pints.

"Now, to your other queries. Most of our lost business goes to a couple of particular mercenary groups: the Watchmen and the Green Hand. Neither of them protested particularly much when our application to form our own for-hire order was submitted; in fact, it was the Purple Dragons who suspected the Brass Lanterns were a mere pretense. I can't blame them particularly much, but if you ask some of the messengers' guild's darker-minded members--like Wilkes here--it's entirely possible that one or more of the interlopers might have nudged the matter to the Dragons' attention. So the business of establishing ourselves as a valid mercenary group is vital to our larger interests, and as such the matter of putting adventuring folk such as yourself to work in our name is something we've worked hard at. Most of our advertising materials are torn down within a day of being posted, and last month there was an ugly incident in the street out front where a cart of manure spontaneously caught fire. But that is hardly here or there for your purposes; you want to know what it is that we're hiring you to do.

"There are three commissions, of widely varying character and urgency. The first is a call from the town of Waymoot, to the northwest, whose local rangers are seeking men-at-arms to deal with a massing of orcs in the nearby reaches of the King's Forest; the rangers intend to launch an expedition in about a week. The second is right here in Suzail; apparently there is a visiting nobleman from Marsember who our patron suspects is a dragon cultist, but the Purple Dragons refuse to investigate as the baron is a state guest of the Regent, ostensibly on official diplomatic business to gain an exemption from the royal tax for shipping spices to the capital. And last but certainly not least, the Lady Lord of Arabel is in need of assistance that even we here do not know the full details of, save to say that the commission comes to us from one of our own members--her herald, Westar, is high ranking in the guild--and it is of sufficient delicacy that Westar was obliged to look outside Arabel for aid."

Hamm pauses as the round of tankard is delivered to the table by Wilkes, and then takes a deep draught before looking at the newcomers. "I assume that you will have more questions, since that is the way of questions."

[JanusJones]

Tam accepts the proffered pint with two fingers, downing the tiny cup like a shot and setting the empty mug back in front of Wilkes with a nod and a meaningful wink.

He holds up the other hand, ticking fingers off.

"Which one's quickest, which one pays best, and which one you want doing first. That's about it."

He looks around at the assembled crew. "Dunno 'bout you lads - and lass -" this with a grin, "but if you're good enough, we may be able to split the pot and do three times the work in a third the time. I'm game for any job with some action guaranteed - reckon I'm not the sort to investigate. I'm more a hammer than a hand, if you follow."

[ScaryTerry]

"Dunno 'bout you lads - and lass -" this with a grin, "but if you're good enough, we may be able to split the pot and do three times the work in a third the time. I'm game for any job with some action guaranteed - reckon I'm not the sort to investigate. I'm more a hammer than a hand, if you follow."

Arlen looks over at the cheerful hulk.

“Can’t say I feel the same. Mysteries are mother’s milk to me – bringing light to the shadows is what I’m called to. I’ve no problem with an honest bash-up, but if it were up to me I’d want to look into the baron or the troubles of the Lady Lord.”

He shrugs.

“Of course, it’s not up to me alone. What do the rest of you think?”

He looks at the others seated around the table.

[Kelvin360]

Coran begins to bring up his tankard to his lips, but pauses and frowns in thought at Arlen and Tam's comments. "I don't exactly see a path I prefer..." He says slowly. "I fancy myself adaptable enough for any of those. So I suppose I'll make myself available to any of us who lack companionship, whether we all adopt the same task or part ways. Though, of course, I'd much enjoy getting to know all of you at once, I should think."

[Dexam]

Krieger accepts a mug of ale, but does not yet drink. "So, what happens to your little venture here if we refuse to sign on, and your recruiting continues to be as successful as it has been prior to this gathering? A merc company that can't fulfill its commissions? Reputation in this business can be the difference between starvation and full purses." He pauses a moment, considering. "As to the commissions themselves, it's possible that if we do sign on, we could have a crack at more than one, depending on urgency. Is this call-to-arms likely to be an extended campaign, or is it a quick break-'em and scatter-'em job? Who is the patron calling for the investigation into the suspected wyrm-hugger? And how long is this noble scheduled to stay in town? The job for the Lady Lord intrigues me the most - having a backer with influence is always a handy arrow to have in your quiver - so a few more details might encourage me to stick around..."

[evyldead]

"I am also intrigued by this, and would like to investigate more on this. I can gather more information on whatever we need and stick to the shadows doing it." Niomi looks to Alaric, "Are you willing to help love?" She looks around to everyone at the table awaiting their response.

[Mordae]

Alaric nods. "You can certainly count on my assistance in any profitable venture--unless my duties to the Tower pull me away."

Hamm lets the conversation play out before addressing the questions in turn. "Obviously, if we are unsuccessful in fulfilling our commitments, the venture will fold, and we'll be back to cutting our margins to pay for professional support. So we're motivated, financially speaking, to make sure your team succeeds. As for the duration, I think a single group may manage to handle all three:

"The orc-clearing expedition is intended to be a quick strike, not an occupation, so I could see that one done inside of a fortnight. And it does not begin for another week, leaving you time to investigate this supposed diplomat--provided you're quick about it. The mission for her Ladyship in Arabel was not described as time-critical, so a few week's delay could probably be tolerated."

[Dexam]

Krieger sucks on his teeth for a moment, contemplating, considering.

Eventually he reaches a decision. "Welp, sounds like we might have the beginnings of a plan, then. Before I'm signing on dotted lines for this venture, is there anything you wish to know about me?" He looks at the others. "Err, about us, I guess..."

[Mordae]

"Well, you're clearly not working for our adversaries in commerce, or if you are, our organization is doomed regardless. Beyond that, I could care less if you are servants of the Spider Queen so long as you obey the laws of Cormyr and cast the Brass Lanterns in an honorable light." Hamm grins and takes a draught of the ale. "Provided you're successful, we can probably hire some servants and provide you with livable quarters here in short order."

[evyldead]

"I am starting to like this. Well I don't know about you guys, but when and where do we start?"

[Dexam]

"Well, you're clearly not working for our adversaries in commerce, or if you are, our organization is doomed regardless. Beyond that, I could care less if you are servants of the Spider Queen so long as you obey the laws of Cormyr and cast the Brass Lanterns in an honorable light."

The teifling smiles faintly. For the Brass Lanterns to hire without references, a demonstration of skills, or even a querying of backgrounds reeks of desperation.

"I'll have that in writing; signed, sealed, and sigil-marked for preference. Do that, and you've got yourself a new partner. Then we can get down to the real nitty-gritty of the details; advances, shares of gains and battlefield spoils, expectations of service, and what-not. And more details about the first mission, of course."

Kreiger eyes the others and suppresses a sigh. Their eagerness shows that this is probably their first time doing the merc recruiting dance.

[Kelvin360]

Coran brings the tankard up to his lips again, but pauses and raises an eyebrow at Kreiger's requests. Well, we seem to fit evenly, here. We have the one who's eager to begin, the one certain to negotiate everything, the one unsure what to negotiate at all, and once again I find myself in the unenviable position of being the observational loon in the corner. This will definitely be interesting.

He places the full mug down on a nearby surface and scratches his left eyeridge. "For future reference, it may be best to start imitating the Magehounds for all of your informational needs; I'm told they have documents prepared with all of these questions already answered. You don't have any scribes left over from your, ah, glory days? What happened to all of your employees, exactly?" His tone is inquisitive, even slightly concerned, as opposed to mocking. "One doesn't acquire lucrative contracts out of thin air, and you already implied that there was more to the guild than the two of you - you said you'd lost enough employees, to criminal activity, not all of them. So I find myself wondering exactly what their duties are. For that matter, what are yours?"

[Mordae]

"Done and done," Hamm responds to Krieger's request before turning to Coran

"The Guild of Messengers has scribes in plenty, and we have pre-drawn contracts on one of those shelves over there." He gestures vaguely to the bookshelves along the doorway wall. "And there is certainly no shortage of guildsmen, even as we've had more than a dozen casualties over the past six months--and yes, all in the line of duty, whether it be muggers or bandits or orcs. Recall that, as I said earlier, the Brass Lanterns and the Guild of Messengers are officially separate entities, though we hope to share membership eventually. Members of the Guild of Messengers are officially sanctioned by the crown to carry and deliver missives throughout the kingdom, and the guild's number includes couriers, heralds, post-masters, and a good number of scribes. Some of our more highly placed guild members were able to secure initial funding and some political muscle from their patrons to establish the Brass Lanterns as a licensed mercenary company, but to keep expenses low the Company is what you see here: two men and an empty building. Wilkes and I are charged with recruiting proper mercenaries to be the seed corn, if you will, to grow and establish the reputation of the Company; once we have the solid foundation, we can deputize our messengers as mercenaries, giving them the official sanction to carry unbound weapons so they can better protect themselves from these hazards of duty." Hamm eyes Coran over the rim of his mug of ale. "Does that satisfy you?"

[Dexam]

Krieger takes a long swig from his tankard. "So, tell us about this nobleman from Marsember, then. For starters, what makes your patron think that he's a dragon cultist? And what kind of proof will they accept that the Baron is or isn't a cultist?"

Knowledge (Local) roll, for anything that Krieger might already know about the Cult of the Dragon: [roll0]

[Mordae]

"Well, the nobleman is the Baron of Moonever, a smaller holding to the east of Marsember. Our guildsman who operate along the Bluemist Trail report that there are dozens of cultists operating with impunity in the town, but there's been no request for Purple Dragon assistance to quell the activity. Therefore, our patron suspects the Baron himself is either a bought man, or a cultist himself. Proof of either would be sufficient, being that you can't prove the negative--that he is clean, that is. You don't need to abscond with the evidence, but you'll need to be discreet enough that the Baron doesn't become suspicious and dispose of things before the authorities can be summoned. Our patron holds enough clout that the Dragons will conduct a search on his say-so, but it would be an embarrassment for him at court if the net were to come up empty."

[Dexam]

Krieger puts down his tankard and begins cracking his knuckles as he thinks. Those paying attention to the teifling would notice a small tattoo of a black scorpion clearly visible against the greyish skin of the back of his right hand.

"Moonever? That's about 50 miles east of here, yeah? Two and half, maybe three days trek; half that on horseback... a couple-a options, then. Observe 'im here in Suzail and see if he gets up to anything blatantly Cult-ish; or hoof it to Moonever and have a poke around while he's not home. First option has less chance of paying off; second option carries the risk of spooking the Cultists into hiding any evidence of their activities if we slip up, which means the Baron can deny anything thrown at 'im." He raises a slightly condescending eyebrow at Hamm. "Sound about right, yeah?"

Quick question regarding time-keeping: you mentioned earlier that the orc campaign starts in about a week - are you using the Faerun tenday? Or did you mean 7 days?

[Mordae]

"That sounds about right. Now, he's conducting most of his business up at the castle, but he has a ship, the Zephyr's Kiss, docked down in the east harbor across from the royal navy slips. That might be a way to get close to him without, you know, getting close to him." Hamm shrugs and looks to Wilkes, who shakes his head with a blank expression.

It's the ten-day. Sorry for being lazy.

[Kelvin360]

Oh, let's see what happens if I put naivete on full display, shall we?

"What does having access to his ship grant us? Does he make a habit of spilling secrets to his sailors?"

[Mordae]

Hamm shrugs. "Look, I'm just telling you what we know. Maybe he's got some damning papers or cultish relics in his cabin. This is why we're hiring professionals and not trying to do it ourselves." He glances over to Krieger. "You asked about payment. Seems to me your little troupe could finish these three missions inside a month, so how about a fifty crown per day retainer for each of you, and you keep whatever spoils you find? We'll pay half in advance and the balance when the three commissions are complete."

[Dexam]

"One hundred," Kreiger counters immediately. "Let's face it: the Arabel mission is a complete unknown; if we do the first mission right there won't be any spoils to speak of; and orcs aren't known for the quality of their gear."

[evyldead]

"I think we can do this in a month."

[Mordae]

"If you want a guaranteed hundred crowns a day, I think it's fair we expect a share of whatever you do collect. The orcs pillaged any number of towns and looted the remains of dozens of Purple Dragons and adventurers during the course of the Goblin Wars; it can't all have disappeared. And the personal gratitude of her Ladyship is not to be overlooked, should you succeed in Arabel. So, fifteen hundred each in advance, and the balance upon completion, offset by half the market value of whatever spoils you acquire--as determined by the average of two independent appraisers hired by you and us, if necessary? Do we have a deal?"

[Kelvin360]

"I'd as soon negotiate individually, if it's all the same to you. One doesn't speak for the all if we've only just met." Coran gives Kreiger a brief glance, but no follow-up expression. "I'd advise we find a way to split the spoils at the time of gathering amongst the five of us evenly now, and then each notes whether to dispense with half their share for an increase in the cut. If one of us wishes to trade certainty for an off-chance like I do, I don't think it should be mandated into a communal decision. At least, not in that respect.

If we want to reach a consensus toward the well-gotten gains now, I might put forth an even split on coin - the bare excess of a few coins or so staying in a pot until they can be distributed as such - and a 'circle' on less conventional goods; magic items, baubles and the like granted one by one. And if any individuals wish to trade after the fact, if only between themselves, that's their business. I can't really say it sounds agreeable as I proposed it, but what do you all think?"

[Dexam]

Krieger gives an oily smile.

"I'm not presuming to speak for everyone," he returns Coran's glance. "I'm just advising against accepting the first offer. That said, I'm sure we can reach an agreement that we're all happy with. Let's keep this simple, shall we? One thousand in advance, one thousand on completion of the three missions. Any spoils gets pooled and divided evenly, with one share for each member of the team and one share for the company. Naturally, if anyone has their eye on a particular trinket or shiny from the gains, they can opt for it as part of their share rather than just coin."

His cat-slit pupils scan the faces of those present, coming to rest on Hamm. "Sound fair?"

[evyldead]

Niomi looks satisfied with that idea. "I very much do like that idea. We should all split the coin evenly and any valuable trinket that catches anyone's eye can opt out of coin for that. But what if there are two people who want said trinket? Is it a vote of the paty of who it will better serve?

[Dexam]

"Then the two should fight over it 'til someone yields or is killed," Krieger says, his expression deadly serious.

He then grins, pointy teeth showing. "We're all adults here; I'm sure we could figure something out. Bid for it, toss some dice, split a deck of cards, arm wrestle, drinking contest, offer something in trade, or the person who gets it has to pick last in the next divvy. Or if all else fails, that item goes to the company and neither person gets it."

[Kelvin360]

"Well, looks like we might want to appoint you spokesperson after all." Coran notes cheekily, raising his glass (though he still hasn't taken a sip). However, his tone doesn't carry as much jest as one might expect from the comment. "I can certainly agree to all of that, and it looks like I'm in the majority. What are your thoughts, Silverstar?" He looks to Arlen.

[Mordae]

Alaric offers a sly nod to Naomi before his gaze drifts over to Tam; the oversized man seems a bit annoyed by all the haggling, and his mug of ale remains untouched on the table. The wizard quickly looks back to his paramour rather than locking eyes with the goliath.

[Mordae]

Arlen shrugs. "The terms sound as good as any we're likely to get. And I've no doubt that should any of us decide to betray the rest, the remaining five will make sure it doesn't happen twice. I'm in."

"Well then, that's settled. I'll have a scribe record those terms, but in the meantime I'll be happy to provide you with your commissions. That way, you are no longer bound to keep your weapons, well, bound." Hamm grins at his own play on words as he stands and crosses to one of the bookshelves to retrieve several sheets of paper along with an inkpot and quill. "Sign your name at the top, and I will sign at the bottom as a duly registered representative of the Brass Lanterns."

[Dexam]

Krieger visibly relaxes at being told he is no longer required to bind his weaponry. He begins the laborious task of removing the peace-bindings from his veritable armoury - a process that takes a good minute or so. By the time he's complete, everyone else has signed their commissions.

With a crack of his knuckles, he picks up his commission and reads it thoroughly. Finally, he reaches for a quill and signs "Krieger Volstaad" on his commission, followed by a curious sigil that the knowledgeable would recognise as an arcanist's mark.

"Right," he says with a nasty grin. "Let's go commit some criminal trespass in the name of justice. By which I mean, we've got a ship to break into and search."

[Kelvin360]

Coran is just about to take his first sip of ale when the contract his slid to him. He sighs softly and sighs with a flourish. At Krieger's enthusiasm, he grins. "That sounds much like just my sort of line. Though, I'd just as soon see if talking us aboard gets us anywhere first, unless the majority deems that cripples our chances of a follow-up."

[Mordae]

"Splendid!" Hamm exclaims after the last of the commissions is signed. "I'm sure the gods will grant you success. If you need our assistance--I'm sure you won't--you know where to find us." He waves to Wilkes to show the group to the door.

Outside, the afternoon has given way to evening, and the half moon is fairly visible in the sky above. There are still only a handful of pedestrians in this quarter, and those who do walk by do so quickly and with eyes toward every alcove and alley.

"Straightaway to the east harbor, then?" Alaric inquires of his new guild-mates. Tam only grunts and looks off to the side, not particularly interested in the conversation or the wizard himself.

[Dexam]

Krieger helps himself to a skin full of the ale before the group departs. "Just never know if it'll come in handy," he explains. "And if the night turns out a bust, it needn't be a complete waste."


"Straightaway to the east harbor, then?" Alaric inquires of his new guild-mates.

The teifling nods. "Let's go have a gander at this Zephyr's Kiss tub."

[Mordae]

The group moves through the harbor district, cutting eastward toward the naval slips at the far end of town. Tam's hulking presence, along with the general number in the group, ensure there are no disturbances from the few flitting shadows that watch their movements. About a half hour before sunset, Alaric points the way out into the open square just west of the designated harbor. The crowd here is thicker, mostly longshoremen moving goods about and sailors making their way to the many alehouses that practically line the square. Dozens of ships are tied to the piers. "I suppose we may have to ask the harbormaster," Alaric muses dubiously as he stares out across the forest of masts.

[Dexam]

Krieger, once again cowled in his weather-beaten traveler's cloak in spite of the heat, nods. "Good a place as any to find this tub," he rasps in agreement, scanning the busy dockside. "That, or start asking some of these sea-dogs and wharf-rats if they know where she's tied up." The gestures to the sailors and longshoremen crowding the harbour.

[Kelvin360]

"I suppose it depends on which option is least likely to arouse suspicion. What are the odds the harbormaster might have a connection to this cultist?"

[Mordae]

"Even if he's not, sailors are a talkative lot. Word might get back that someone was poking around. Maybe we should just split up and have a gander ourselves." Arlen offers an affirming nod to Coran.

[Dexam]

"Good a plan as any," Krieger shrugs. "Either way, one or two asking about a ship will attract less suspicion than a large group o' folks. Meet back here in half an hour, and we'll see if anyone's found it."

Without waiting for a reply, the teifling mercenary wanders off into docks, scanning the ships as he goes.

[Kelvin360]

Putting some of his natural assets to use, Coran dons the expression and gait of a bemused newcomer (which isn't difficult for him to pull off) and starts looking for one of the less rowdy (and preferably drunk) sailors. "Begging your pardon, but I seem to have lost my way, and my friend might already be off - know where I can find the Zephyr's Kiss?"

Sense Motive to find a decent mark: [roll0]

Gather Information: [roll1]