[Nexus] The Black Dragon's Den XIII

[Artemis97]

http://i62.photobucket.com/albums/h107/sjunderw/Other/Den.png

This old warehouse by the docks and on the edge of the city slums has numerous secret passageways and tunnels leading to it. When you walk in, either from the street or below, you see a freshly cleaned interior that actually looks somewhat welcoming, however, as a seedy hive of smugglers, pirates, and home of the local wererat assassin guild; this is a rough place to have a drink.

The back half of the building has been converted into a set of rooms, used by those who need a bit of privacy, whether to have a private card game, hold a secret meeting, or just to get away from the world while enjoying a dose of some of the more exotic items the Den serves. We don't care what you do here, just don't leave a mess. Just keep in mind, the walls are a little thin back there, and can be listened through (or busted through), so be careful.

The gambling scene is lively here, with craps, three-dragon ante, and darts, among other things. There are certainly not knife-fights held in the ring in the basement. Come early for a ringside seat. Gambling is permitted. Anyone caught betting against themselves will be killed, or worse. So don't do it.

The servers are all NPC goblins. They are: Blackeye, Hooktooth, and Daggernose.
The cook is a goblin woman named Sicklewort.
The NPC bouncer is Gnarl, the orc.

Floorplan:http://img845.imageshack.us/img845/8938/sdenfloorplan3.png
The menu is as follows:

Drinks

Common Drinks
All the common drinks are available in an extremely wide range of qualities, brands, and prices. Just remember- you pay for what you get.

Absinthe
Ale
Beer
Brandy
Coffee
Hard Cider
Kumis (Fermented milk)
Mead
Rum
Tea
Tequila
Vodka
Whiskey
Wine

Specialty Drinks
The specialty drinks are either crafted here or ordered specially from other sources. Normally they are higher class and more palatable, but that is not always the case...
Black Shadow-
A strong concoction guaranteed to send a chill down your spine at any temperature.
Damned Soul Nectar-
Yummy. Damned souls. Perfect for demons, devils, or anyone else lacking a conscience.
Devil Brew-
It tastes good, though drinking it will gradually corrupt your soul to evil.
Drow Spiderblood Wine-
A specialty drow wine with a strong bite, and a hint of spider venom. Alcohol isn't the only thing you have to worry about when drinking it... but it does taste good.
Firewine-
This wine is created in a way that literally leaves the top simmering and flaming. Only recommended to those who have a good fire resistance. However, it is extremely warm and has a fairly sweet taste.
Frenzywater-
You want to know what it is like to see red? Frenzywater will having you raging like a barbarian.
Goblin Thudrud Beer-
A favorite of goblins... but described by others as smelling like a rotten, flaming cow.
Hearth Brew Mead
This is a sweet mead with raspberries, rhubarb and some kind of ingredient that makes you feel warm when you drink it.
Ichor Liquor-
A mixture of blood and alcohol made especially for our vampiric friends. It can be served neat, on the rocks, or specially heated to 98.6 F.
Liquid Agony-
A drink brewed and distilled from the agony of victims, and quite sweet and tasty, but very addictive.
Mindflayer Mead-
A special brew for those squid-headed fellows. Also appropriate for Zombies, or anyoen else who likes the taste of brains.
Mushroom Wine
An Underdark drink fermented from mushrooms. It has a good deal of sugar added to it and tastes sweet, but may cause hallucinations...
Orc Kragg Liquor-
Strong. Disgusting. Manly.
Poisonbite Cocktail-
This brew is mixed of several poisons and rum. It induces extreme euphoria, and will drain the drinker's strength and mental capacities for a day or so.
Rat Mead-
This foul concoction is meant more for drinking games, and less for taste. You'll need a strong stomach to keep it down.


Other

Food
Like the drinks, the food ranges in quality and price... the menu is currently under improvement.
Bread-
Crusty, burnt, soggy, or rotten. It's not your choice. A better bakery is "under construction" in the back. Thanks to a newly built brick oven, the bread is actually quite good now, baked fresh daily.
Dragon Steak-
This tender, extremely tasty steak is excellently prepared, but its source is undisclosed...
Fish of the Day-
The catch of the day, or yesterday... be sure to specify "fresh."
Puffer fish liver-
Tetrodotoxin, anyone? Extreme poison is ahead.
Soup-
Most common soups are available, but pay for what you want, or you'll get something else. Served in a bread bowl.

Mushrooms
Our mushrooms are well acclaimed for their taste and subtle poisons. If you have enemies, make sure they you didn't get something other than what you asked for...
Amanita-
A hallucinogenic mushroom that is fairly toxic. May cause nausea, sensory distortions, mood changes, and loss of equilibrium. Retrograde amnesia frequently results following recovery. Serious poisonings cause delirium, seizures, or comas.
Chanterelle-
An edible but unremarkable mushroom. Available pickled or dried.
Lorchel-
Also known as false morels (due to similarity in appearance), eating these raw results in extreme liver failure or death. Properly prepared, however, they are quite delicious. Available both raw and parboiled (properly prepared).
Morchella-
Also known as morels, these very prized and tasty mushrooms are available raw.
Omphalotus-
This mushroom looks the same as the Chanterelle. It is extremely appealing in smell and appearance, but has a mild toxicity that will lead to vomiting and cramps.
Oyster-
Unlike other mushrooms, this one has no confusing look alikes, and is prized for that quality alone. Served raw or stuffed.
Porcini-
Also known as Boletus ("superior"), the porcini is highly regarded and is served raw or sautéed with butter.
Portabello-
While edible, this is either described as plain or only slightly sweet. Available raw or stuffed.
Psilocybin-
This mushroom is famed for its hallucinogenic effects, while lacking dangerous toxins. Available raw and dried.
Shiitake-
These mushrooms are normally added to ordered soups. Available dried or raw.

Drink Additives
Buy them for your drink, or for someone else's drink... everything goes here.
Doze Pill-
A combination of magical energies and herbs guaranteed to put the drinker to sleep in a few minutes.
Hanger's Drop-
Ask for this in someone's drink to put them six feet under. Commonly means poison, though other methods can be bought depending on the target.
Happy Juice-
As seen in Malleo's shop. Turns the hair pink, and makes the drinker extremely happy.
Wonder Trip-
A mixture of magic and poison that causes extreme hallucinations and delirium which are not directly harmful or toxic.

Other Additives are available, you just have to ask.

Other Drugs
If it doesn't get you drunk, and it isn't a mushroom... we still sell it.
Arhtorvin
A gray powder made by different magic plants, Arthorvin is extremely calming. It is ingested, and numbs emotions and reactions.
Baccaran
A paste made of numerous, undisclosed substances, this is a mild hallucinogen that becomes more powerful as it is used in repetition and increased dosage.
Dreammist
This drug is formed into a tea, and then the vapors are inhaled. It causes incredibly beautiful and wonderful hallucinations that make the world seem dull in comparison. Overdose is extremely debilitating, as is directly drinking the substance.
Devilweed
A tobacco-like substance that is moderately addictive and makes the smoker skittish and more easily confused. Users enjoy it because it glazes over the memories of whatever happens during its effective.
Luhix
A powder made from plants grown in the abyss. It is sprinkled on self inflicted wounds- initially it causes intense pain, then numbs the body entirely. It is one of the most addictive substances known amongst the planes, but overdosing even a little may cause terrible, painful death.
Mertoran Leaf
This leaf is dried and treated. It is not very addictive, but it is cheap, popular, and boosts confidence. Ingested, not smoked.
Redflower Leaves
These leaves are only moderately addictive, but are known to give a boost to hand-eye coordination, making them popular among those who often engage in knife tossing or dart throwing. They are consumed raw and chewed.
Sannish
This blue liquid is made out of unknown ingredients and causes euphoria. It has a tendency to stain flesh and anything else it touches. Overdosing causes intense numbness.

This is by no means the limit of what we can get our hands on, just ask and we'll see what we can do.

Games
As a new addition to the Black Dragon's Den, there is a back room where all kinds of gaming take place. Goblins generally oversee the games and make sure things are fair... but everyone here can be bribed. Best to keep an eye on things yourself.

Card Games
-Coming Soon-

Dice Games
We provide all of the dice used here... unless you slip them out of our sleeve. "Better" dice can be bought with a quiet word and a few coin, though we don't provide protection from those who find out that you've used them.

Coin Pass
This is a simple dice game played with a pair of six sided dice, and is generally best with four or more players.
Each player puts out two coins (generally one type of coin is chosen, copper, silver, gold, or platinum) and then, in turn, each player rolls the dice.
If a player rolls a one, they take one of their coins and place it in the pot.
If a player rolls a six, they take one of their coins and pass it to the person on the left. This continues until only one player has coins, at which time they take the pot.
If a player has no coins left, they have one round to wait for someone to pass them a coin (by roll of a six), after which they can buy their way back in. You can only buy your way back into a game once.

Serpent's Eyes
This game is played with a pair of six sided dice, and a game board in the shape of the world serpent.
http://i62.photobucket.com/albums/h107/sjunderw/Other/Serpenteye.png
Before the game begins, the number of rounds to play are determined, though the game may end ahead of time, or when one player runs out of coins/chips. Generally people play with a large number of rounds (double digits).
A round is completed once every player has rolled the dice once.
The dice start with the player closest to the seven on the board.
When a player rolls the dice, he does one of three things.
If he rolls any number 3-11, he places a coin on the corresponding number on the board, or, if the number is already filled with coins, they take the coins off of that number.
If he rolls a 2, he places a coin on every number on the board.
If he rolls a 12, he takes all coins from the board.


Warship
This game is played with five dice for each player. The person who rolls first is normally determined randomly.
The goal of the game is to create the best 'ship', where a 'ship' is a straight formed either forwards (1,2,3) or backwards (3,2,1). To create a straight, you roll the dice, and choose anywhere from 0-3 numbers from them. Your first chosen die is your starting number (IE, a number on either end of a straight), the second die chosen has to be the middle number of your straight, and the third die chosen is the last of your straight.
You have three rolls of the dice to form a straight. Whenever you choose one of these die, you remove it from the dice you roll to get the next number.
The game progresses like this:
1) Each player places an amount of money agreed on when the game starts.
2) Each player rolls the dice once, chooses any dice from their roll that they want, then either adds in the money first agreed on again, or passes from the game, but leaves any money they first bet in the pot (Note that everyone can see what die you have chosen, if you have chosen a die already).
3) Repeat the second step once more, then every player rolls the dice once more, and the person with the ship with the highest straight wins. If someone creates a ship one the first or second roll, they still bet, but do not have to roll until the last round (which is only done in case of ties).

If no one has a straight, the winner is based on the person with the highest number set aside (with only players with dice set aside competing). If there is a tie in highest numbers, they go to the second die set aside (with only players with two dice competing). If there is a tie between set aside die, they proceed with the same process into the dice they last rolled (excluding those set aside)

If two people have the same straight, they compare the numbers rolled on their last turn (not including the ones placed into their "ship"). The person with the highest numbers wins.

The winner takes all money in the pot. Generally, more than one game is played at once.

Other Games
These may be more or less 'games' as such... but are just as entertaining.

Darts
Bet on how well someone will throw, whether they can do it with their eyes closed... with their left hand... or if they can dodge a knife- it's all good. There are a few different dart boards, so any number of rings and scoring areas can be played with.

Knife Fights
We hold knife fights here every once in a while, down in the basement. To surrender or death. Place your bets, folks.
-No current list of PC fighters. Contact management to arrage something 'formal.'

Previous Threads
The Black Dragon's Den (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=165827)
The Black Dragon's Den II (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=171233)
The Black Dragon's Den III (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=174933)
The Black Dragon's Den IV (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=180536)
The Black Dragon's Den V (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=188036)
The Black Dragon's Den VI (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=195805)
The Black Dragon's Den VII (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=206103)
The Black Dragon's Den VIII (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=219840)
The Black Dragon's Den IX (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=229336)
The Black Dragon's Den X (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=243700)
The Black Dragon's Den XI (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?301076-Nexus-The-Black-Dragon-s-Den-XI)
The Black Dragon's Den XII (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?383134-Nexus-The-Black-Dragon-s-Den-XII)

[Morty]

Dipsnig arrives there, riding on Viima. He's head that the Den is reopening, and he figured it's as good a place as any for a private meeting with a possible business partner.

[Artemis97]

Dipsnig will find Raril out front, scrubbing grime from the windows, shirtless and singing something in high elvish. A drowess in blackened chainmail and blue steel plates stood near by, watching him and looking annoyed. Spotting the goblin the drow dropped the sponge into a suds filled bucket and waved. "Dipsnig! It's good to see you!"

[Morty]

"Hello, Raril," Dipsnig says as his large wolf carries him closer to the bar. "I've heard that my favourite seedy dive was reopening."

[Earl of Purple]

An unusual black van is pulling up outside. The windows have been covered in metal plates and then painted to match the rest of the van, including the front windscreen. A periscope ascends from the roof above the driver's seat, providing vision for the driver without letting sunlight in. The driver is a dark-skinned human male in his early thirties, wearing a posh business suit. His sleeves bulge from the metal bracers he wears underneath his jacket, and pewter rings decorate his fingers. He has ear-piercings as well, and the earrings are small pewter studs. He'll disembark first, walking around the vehicle to open the back door and let out a short figure heavily robed and cloaked. This figure is not so short to be a goblin or halfling, and not so stout to be a dwarf, so is probably a short human or maybe elf. The last to disembark is a massive half-ogre, armed with a massive club reinforced with steel bands and studs. The human looks at the half-ogre. "Stay here and guard the van. Nobody is to touch it until we come back, and the survival of anybody that tries is not necessary."

[Artemis97]

"Yeah, I've been allowed to come here to work and 'make myself useful,' but they're keeping me on a short leesh." Raril jerks his head towards the lady drow.

He watches the van pull up with mild interest, but doesn't seem surprised. The drowess looked a little more on guard, though, dropping a hand to her swords and watching the half-ogre.

"Come on in, folks. Please excuse the dust. We're just polishing things up now. There's still plenty of food and drink to go around, though." Raril says with a smile.

[Orm-Embar]

A tired-looking human male trudges up the road. There's not much special about him; maybe a trifle taller and broader across the shoulders than average, for a human, with a round face wearing a somewhat weary smile. His head and face have been shaved and dark stubble is growing in. He wears a long, quilted jacket - grey with red and black at the seams, long sleeved, high collared, knee length and gathered in at the waist - over a red shirt, tucked into black breeches over heavy black boots. It all looks dusty and worn, if well cared for. He carries no obvious weapons, not even a blade at his thick black leather belt, which might seem strange as the overall effect is that of a uniform of some sort. However, he does carry a short walking stick, and lugs a sort of heavy-looking sack behind him. The sack floats in the air a few inches from the ground. It's full of things that clank and rattle against each other. A couple of sword hilts stick out of the top of the sack.

The human brushes past the black van and its guardian with a glance and pauses at the doorway to the Den. It takes him a minute to maneuver the sack inside, as it's an awkward thing. Then he makes his way through the dim interior, bumping into a chair or table or two along the way but not getting into any fights, until reaching the bar.

"What have you got to cut the dust?"

A short negotiation follows. The human puts a few small coins on the bar - a Fair Amount plus a Decent Tip. He doesn't flash the contents of his purse where it can be seen, however. Then he takes his jar of kumiss to one of the unoccupied tables, kicks the sack under it, kicks a chair out to sit in and another to put his feet up on, and leans his staff against the table. Seated, he drinks while looking around with interest. He looks pleased with the kumiss. Those who notice such things probably note that he didn't sit with his back to a wall, meaning he's either a tourist, or foolhardy or confident for some other reason.

[Interaction welcome]

[Morty]

"I'm glad to hear it. Looks like my potential business partners are here," Dipsnig says, dismounting and waiting for them to approach.

[Artemis97]

"Best of luck to you." Raril wishes the goblin. "Let me know if you need anything. For now, I think I'm going to grab a bite to eat." Raril tips his hat to Dipsnig before heading inside, his guard following after him. The drow picks up his blue silk shirt from where he'd abandoned it over the back of a chair and shrugs it on before heading for the bar.

"Daggernose, can you get me a plate of stuffed portabellos and a glass of some Fireamber?" He asks the goblin behind the bar. Raril looks back at the guard and asks "Do you want anything? No? Alright then..."

With a sigh, the drow makes his way to his usual seat by the fireplace to wait for his order. Noticing the new customer, he gives a polite wave. "Hello. I don't believe we've met before. I'm Raril Xar'Cha. I own this place. I do hope you're enjoying it."

[Earl of Purple]

The human gets a glare from the half-ogre as he walks past the unusual van, but no further action is taken.

The Terrisman and his heavily cloaked and hooded companion approach Dipsnig. The individual not cloaked in robes bows deeply to Dipsnig. "Greetings. This is the Night Queen, and I am Doreaus, her Voice. I hope you will not mind my presence, but the Queen was born without vocal chords so I shall translate her gestures." The Night Queen nods her head when she is mentioned. "When we are private, she shall reveal herself more fully."

[Morty]

"Let's not waste time, then," Dipsnig says as he leads the way to one of the back rooms.

[Earl of Purple]

The Night Queen and Doreaus follow Dipsnig to a back room, and will let Dipsnig enter first, though if he insists on them going first, Doreaus will enter whilst the Night Queen waits outside, just to ensure it's not a trap by the goblin.

[Morty]

Dipsnig enters the room and takes a seat at one side of a table placed there. No trap is sprung, obviously.

"Let's get to business, shall we? I was led to understand that we can strike a deal regarding MERC's operations in Skyside."

[Earl of Purple]

Private Room

The robed figure takes off her cloak and the enveloping robe. Underneath is a fourteen-year-old girl with short black hair and green eyes that flash gold. She's wearing an 'I heart Skyside' t-shirt and a pair of knee-length shorts. Her arms are marked with stars, circles and crosses, all branded in, whilst the word 'EVIL' is visible as a scar on her left thigh, carved on a long time ago. "Indeed, we can. The Night Queen is willing to provide MERC with additional bodies and enforcers. Mostly street-level thugs, but we have access to more exotic individuals as well. We will do this for a cut of protection rackets, and no interference in our other business. Primarily drugs, and no slaves, since we know your stance on that." The Night Queen is primarily observing, having told Doreaus what to start with.

[Morty]

[Private Room]

If Dipsnig has any misapprehensions about his business partner's appearance, he keeps them to himself.

"I should clarify that our goal is to take over as much of the city's security forces as we can. Either by removing them, or simply making them work for us. A cut of the profit we earn from this and a measure of protection are an acceptable trade. What other 'exotic' individuals do you have access to?"

[Orm-Embar]

[By the Fireplace]


With a sigh, the drow makes his way to his usual seat by the fireplace to wait for his order. Noticing the new customer, he gives a polite wave. "Hello. I don't believe we've met before. I'm Raril Xar'Cha. I own this place. I do hope you're enjoying it."

The newcomer was lost in thought for a bit there. Not the safest strategy in this neighborhood, but with some luck maybe he'll live long enough to know better. Anyway, he raises his drink in the drow's direction, and still smiling faintly, says, "Good evening to you, then, sir. It's a fine comfortable place you keep for a poor traveler to rest a bit. Bo is my name." He studies the drow for a moment.

[Earl of Purple]

Private Rooms

The Night Queen notes Dipsnig's lack of reaction to her appearance and smirks slightly. Oh, something else: her shadow stands out deep and dark, as though it's being cast by a full moon.

"Exotic individuals include certain specialists; we have a small ninja clan, a number of Ferrings and Mistings, and the Night Queen's magical advisor has a group of students in the arcane arts. It also includes particularly powerful non-human individuals, such as the half-ogre outside, three half-demons and a pair of gargoyles. Others, too." The half-ogre is not actually available, as he's the Night Queen's personal bodyguard.

[Artemis97]

Raril is lean and handsome with dark blue-black skin and eyes that glitter like rubies. His silver-white hair was bound back in braids beneath a wide-brimmed hat, which was lacking its usual feather. Unusual for a drow, he carried no weapons, visible or otherwise, however there was that guard. She stood nearby, eyeing the man with suspicion. The drowess was certainly armed, a paiir of longswords at her sides and a hand crossbow clipped to her belt. She wore blackened chainmail which bore a golden spider on its web over a blue field, the symbol for House Xar'Cha.


"Well met." Raril smiled. "I'm glad you like the place. I had to close it, temporarily, due to... ah... family matters." He frowns, but then waves a hand dismissively. "Not important. Its open for business now, that's what matters."

[Morty]

Private Room

"All would be useful," Dipsnig says, nodding with satisfaction. "The opposition we're likely to face is varied. You'll have to explain to me what Ferrings and Mistings are, though."

[Orm-Embar]

[By the Fireplace]

"Ah, family," Bo says with a knowing grin. "They can be difficult. Believe me, I know." He considers the drowess on guard and his expression turns serious, just for a moment. Looks like she knows what she's about, that one does. Then his faint smile reappears.

"You wouldn't know a place I might be able to sell some junk, would you?" The sack sounds a metallic clank and rattle as he gives it a shove with his foot. "Need to earn some coin if I'm going to keep paying for your fine drinks here. Might need to find a place to stay too," he admits.

[Earl of Purple]

Private Room

"Exiles from my world. Ferrings can store things in metal- speed, strength, weight, wakefulness, nutrition- making themselves slower, weaker, lighter, sleepier, or hungrier in order to draw on that stored attribute later. There's specific rules on what is stored in which metal; pewter is strength, and I could give a demonstration if required. Mistings metabolise metals to empower themselves with supernatural abilities, greatly increasing their strength with pewter, their senses with tin, able to telekinetically push or pull metal objects with steel or iron, finding others that are burning metals with bronze or hiding the abilities of those around them with copper, even enhancing or reducing emotions. I understand less of Mistings than I do Ferrings, and neither is a whole list. We have no Twinborn- that is, individuals that are both Mistings and Ferrings- which is a pity since their abilities are greater than simply a Misting and a Ferring, especially since a Ferring or Misting only has access to one of the metals each." From Brandon Sanderson's Mistborn trilogy, and I don't think I've seen one in the Nexus outside my control.

[Morty]

Private Room

Dipsnig nods.

"So long as they can help, the hows and the whys aren't that important. Now, let's talk about some details. How open do you want our cooperation to be once we make our move in Skyside?"

[Earl of Purple]

Private Room

"The Night Queen doesn't mind out agreement becoming common knowledge, so long as it is not advertised and she remains anonymous. Particularly physically anonymous, with no description of her circulated. Her family still live and some may wish for her return." People will figure out who exactly are supporting MERC in Skyside anyway, either through simply recognising some of the individuals, capturing and torturing somebody to tell, or with bribery, but not all the members of the Night Queen's inner circle know her true name to keep that secret.

[Morty]

Private Room

"Then we'll keep it as discreet as possible for as long as we can," Dipsnig says. "Do you have any questions for me?"

[Deathkeeper]

A large figure walks up to the bar, hooves clacking on the floorboards.

The newcomer is a brown-furred minotaur, seven feet in height without counting his up-pointing horns. His coat is short but kept neat, especially this time of year. He's clad only in some armored leather pants. Now, he has plenty of gear in his satchel, but unless someone can tell it's magic that isn't particularly obvious.

He gives the fellow a small, friendly smile as he takes the seat next to him. His large size isn't particularly comfortable on these small seats, but he seems rather used to it, considering the booze with a twitch of his tufted tail.
"Hope you don't mind, friend." he says.

[Orm-Embar]

[Fireside]

Bo looks the minotaur-looking creature over and keeps smiling - although he has to look way up to do it. "Not at all, welcome." He even goes so far as to shove the chair with his duffel bag on it out of the way a bit. Bo's seen a few stranger things even in his own command. Not many, but still. Also he knows that good manners are better than weaponry any day.

[Deathkeeper]

Fireside

Krayger lets his bag drop to the floor against the seat. He extends a three-fingered hand to the fellow. They're scarred and calloused from years of wielding weapons.
"Krayger. You order a drink yet?" he asks. Krayger has always enjoyed meeting new people in bars. He isn't entirely sure why.

[Orm-Embar]

[Fireside]


"Kumiss." He holds up the jar, takes a sip. "I got a taste for it when we occupied the grasslands. What are you having?"

[Deathkeeper]

Fireside

"Something big or something strong. I generally need either to actually feel it. I've a soft spot for ale, myself." says the bovine fellow, with a wave to the bartender to make it so.

[Orm-Embar]

[Fireside]

Bo waits a decent interval for Krayger to get a drink.

"You from around here? Or know this city? There's one or two things I'd like to know - if it's not a lot of trouble."

[ef87]

Fireside

Thomas waves the bar tender down and requests two shots of Whiskey and a beer as a chaser.
Say, are we allowed to have a cigar with our drinks?

[Deathkeeper]

Fireside

Krayger nods. "Lived here quite a while. What is it that you need?" he asks, taking a pull of his drink.

[Orm-Embar]

"Cigar? Good idea. Well met, stranger." Bo nods to the newcomer and takes a cigar from the bartender as well, leaving coins on the bar. A small knife appears in his hand and vanishes again, leaving the end of the cigar cut cleanly, and then he puts it in his mouth and draws hard on it - the cigar catching alight apparently on its own. Once he's gotten it streaming smoke appropriately he turns back to Krayger again.

"Just a few things. First, where can I sell this junk -" he indicates the duffel bag full of clanking metal bits, with a couple of sword hilts sticking out of it.

"- and second, just wondering, what are the local laws concerning killing bandits. Who attacked a traveler in the forest without warning. Or so I assume. If that's a matter that needs to be reported to a local magistrate..."

[Deathkeeper]

Fireside

Krayger shakes his head.
"No, I doubt that will be an issue. As for junk, there is a junk yard in the city that might buy scrap metal. Otherwise, various shops should buy blades and the like." he offers.

[Orm-Embar]

[Fireside]

Smoke streams out from the cigar in a long, satisfying wave. "Good, very good. I'll just unload all this and not carry it all around." Bo sits and smokes, looking content. Things are looking up. He might be almost broke, but that's a temporary problem only. No doubt there will be something else tomorrow.

"I owe you one," he says to Krayger.

[Earl of Purple]

Private Room

"Yes, several. First, are you expecting to face any militarised vehicles? Secondly, would it be possible for me to stand in on any tactical meetings for any missions that we are providing muscle?" The first means they need to either go about buying/converting/stealing their own, or trying to obtain more heavy weaponry. The second is because, as head enforcer, he has a good idea of what the Night Queen's thugs can do.

[Deathkeeper]

Fireside

Krayger waves him off.
"Nonsense. It's just advice. Doesn't cost nothing." he insists.

[Orm-Embar]

[Fireside]

"Consider it a small favor for a small favor then. And at least let me buy the next round," Bo replies, and directs a look at the serving staff that says two more of the same, please.

"One other thing, then. Well, a couple of things. About the only honest work I know is soldiering or sorcery, or both - so I'm wondering if this realm settles disputes by mercenary armies, champions' duels, or some other way that might mean employment for an ex-soldier who doesn't want to turn bandit or policeman."

Bo takes a drink, and gestures with the jar at the room around them, most of its shadows being filled with rough customers. "Looks like plenty of those sorts here. Good prospects for the press gang."

A few of the meaner looking prospects stare back at him, apparently not amused. "Anyway, I suppose what I'm asking is just a general idea of how the law and the politics work around here."

The next round arrives at last, and Bo continues. "And the other, of course, is this. You look like you've been in a few fights yourself. Can you tell me where to go, or who to talk to, that might be hiring for that sort of work?" After a moment, he adds, "Temporarily, at least. I'm not looking to start my own mercenary company. Or a construction company either, although I suppose I could, given time. But that kind of enterprise takes capital, contacts, a reputation. I'm just looking for work while I learn something of this city and its ways. Because it seems likely that I'm not going back for quite a while."

[Morty]

[Private Room]

Dipsnig's ears twitch as he considers it.

"It is entirely possible that we'll face vehicles, certainly. As for meetings... my lieutenants and I prefer to keep them confidential. But we'll keep you well-informed of any plans and operations that involved your resources. With enough time for you to raise objections and such."

[Deathkeeper]

Fireside

"The answer is generally 'all of the above' here. I'm part of a mercenary company myself, but we aren't welcome in this city anymore, on account of our size. Spooked the government. Or maybe Dipsnig said something bad about Vyrn's haircut last year, who knows with them? They take recruits, but it does limit you, being stuck in just this city. I could get you licensed to work with our group, even if we can't do 'direct' business in this city." says the minotaur, with a smile that indicates that he's not just in the city to sample its ale despite any laws.

[Orm-Embar]

[Fireside]

Bo thinks it over, but not for long. "Sold. Won't be the first time I've been asked not to act up in a city. Tell me where to find your outfit, and I'll head there tomorrow, just as soon as I unload this collection of gear," he indicates the duffel bag with a cheerful grin. "Hopefully that will bring me enough to pay any reasonable licensing fee. But that's just a detail, I'll work something out."

With that, he finishes his drink and stubs out the remnants of his cigar. Looks like he's ready to head out now, nighttime or not.

[Deathkeeper]

Fireside

Krayger nods, and will give him directions to the main Merc HQ or the Riverside office, whichever he prefers.

[Orm-Embar]

[Fireside... and out into the Night]

With that, Bo politely takes his leave, giving a small bow to Krayger, a small wave to Raril Xar'Cha, exchanging a wary look with the lady drow apparently standing guard over Raril, and a last amused glance at the more sullen and hostile looking of the shadowy clientele in the bar.

At his come-along gesture the duffel bag floats up and follows him out the door, hovering a foot or so off the ground. Off to find a junk shop! Or dealer in antiquities! After that he'll show up at Merc HQ, if only he doesn't get lost or mugged along the way. He doesn't look too worried, however.

[Earl of Purple]

Private Room

"And if I join MERC, become a member myself? Then could I attend these meetings?" They have nothing against providing people for suicidal diversions, so long as the leadership is aware it is a suicidal diversion. Recruiting bottom-layer thugs and dealers is easy; the heavy-hitters and specialists are harder to find.

[Morty]

Private Room

"No. My meetings with my lieutenants are confidential, even to other MERC members. However, if it's an issue, we can arrange to consult you before utilizing your resources," Dipsnig says.

[Earl of Purple]

Private Room

"I would like to retain control over how my resources are used. If you wish my people in a fight, which you know we cannot win, then I would like to know this, also why it is necessary, and then I shall send in who I choose. This is why I wished access to your meetings. But, the Night Queen told me to accept what has been offered. The consultation, being kept well-informed, and so on. And I shall accept it. I do not like it, but I do." The Terrisman looks at the Night Queen as he speaks, and she smiles. He's plainly uncomfortable with the arrangement, yet it seems the young, horrifically scarred girl has enough power to make him swallow his objections and continue regardless.

[Morty]

Private Room

"I am not interested in cannon fodder, or wasting troops on fights I can't win," Dipsnig says. "Regardless, it's a deal. Here's to fruitful cooperation." He extends his hand towards the Night Queen.

[Earl of Purple]

Private Room

The Night Queen smiles and will take Dipsnig's hand and shake it. Her grip is strong, and covered in slaver's calluses from the whip. Her hands are also nearly corpse-cold; she hasn't fed for a few days, to heighten her senses and reflexes, just in case it was a trap. Her smile, meanwhile, reveals even white teeth, with a pair of notably pointy canine teeth. Afterward, Doraeus will also try to shake Dipsnig's hand. His grip is weak, almost flaccid, to begin, but quickly strengthens as he stops storing strength in his numerous pewterminds. Not as strong as the Night Queen's, though, but much warmer and slightly softer.

[Morty]

Private Room

"Pleasure doing business with you," Dipsnig says. "We'll inform you once we make our move."

[Earl of Purple]

Private Room

The Night Queen makes some words with her hands in British Sign Language. "It was a pleasure doing business with you, too. The Night Queen eagerly looks forward to possibilities of future collaboration." Doreaus translates. The Night Queen will replace her concealing outer robes and cloak before they leave, but they will not stay in the bar. Skyside's too far away for their drive to be easy.

[Morty]

Dipsnig likewise leaves, carried away by his wolf.

[Artemis97]

Raril shakes off the unexpected deadtime that had fallen over him and frowns. The drow had the sense he'd missed some good conversation. Oh well, at least his food had arrived. Raril tucks into the mushrooms he'd ordered, occasionally sipping his wine, contemplating what he needed to do next.

[Morty]

Some time after meeting with the Night Queen, Dipsnig arrives in the Den again. He has another meeting to attend to... this time a more secretive one.

[Orm-Embar]

Bo strides into the Den, looking somewhat more prosperous than before - head freshly shaved and oiled to a gleam, coat and boots clean, smile looking refreshed rather than weary. With a nod to those he might recognize from the other day, he heads for a seat at the bar. There he calls for rum served plain in a glass.

[Morty]

As he waits for another of his business partners to arrive, Dipsnig decides he might as well get himself something to drink. Even tough the waiters are not his kind of goblin, he does feel a bit at home in the Den. His massive grey-furred wolf lies down under his feet as the mercenary sits by the bar.

[Orm-Embar]

Bo gives a small nod to the stranger as he takes a seat. Though the other customers might not have strong reactions, Bo gazes at the wolf with great interest. After a moment, the air before his eyes takes on a slight and unobtrusive shimmer, like heat distortion, as he looks for signs of enchantment, charm or possibly even transformation. (Which may or may not produce reliable information.) The glass of rum stands forgotten on the bar while this goes on.

At last he turns and asks, "Kindly forgive my curiosity, sir, but is that - ah, creature - a guard or a pet?"

[Ashen Lilies]

An attractive twi'lek woman with pale blue skin walks into the Den. In strict defiance of sterotypes, she's dressed from neck-downwards in a sleek suit of armor (http://static1.squarespace.com/static/52b4a2cfe4b0c23eed655fe1/52bb3425e4b0d5ba0725cf5b/52bcc0efe4b0ab2b060fd549/1388101875437/BH_Sheet01.jpg), painted a dull mudbrick yellow color, with brow under-armor. Her left headtail is coiled stylishly around her neck. Her eyes are a hard grey color, with a black spiked crescent tattoo orbiting her left eye socket. A heavy blaster pistol in a holster hangs at her hip.

She walks over and sits to the right of Dipsnig, not saying anything to interrupt the other person.

[Morty]

Dipsnig's right ear twitches towards the Twi'Lek as she enters. Sent here by Atilla, most likely. Earlier than he expected. But it won't hurt to make some conversation first. Just to keep up appearances.

His wolf is, as it turns out, entirely non-magical. He does have some magic about him, but it's entirely a result of his collar being enchanted for protection.

"This 'creature', as you put it, is my mount. But also a pet."

[Orm-Embar]

Bo glances at the armored figure as she approaches and after a brief hesitation, nods, before turning back to the wolf's rider. "Interesting, and not something I've encountered before. Although I haven't been here very long. I've heard a lot of stories about how my unit fought a campaign with giant dog riders once, but that was a long time before my time. Never seen a riding wolf before. Can you tell me his name, and how you acquired him?" Bo actually has a lot more questions than that. Given a chance he'll ask about how such wolves are raised, and their training, equipment and a lot more, but then again he's not insensitive to social cues - if the other doesn't care to share, he'll drop it.

Just for a moment there, something about the woman in armor troubled him. Hopefully the questions will cover that up.

[Arkhosia]

Raril shakes off the unexpected deadtime that had fallen over him and frowns. The drow had the sense he'd missed some good conversation. Oh well, at least his food had arrived. Raril tucks into the mushrooms he'd ordered, occasionally sipping his wine, contemplating what he needed to do next.
A young woman takes a seat nearby, ordering a mug of... coffee, of all things. Her dark red locks trail down her back in a french braid, bangs shading her right eye slomewhat. With jade irises the freckled woman looks about the den, her lightly tanned skin clad in a backless black dress that shrouds most of her thighs and lets crimson stockings do the rest of the leg covering. White boots with black heels shield her feet, snow-white sash encircling the woman's waist.
If raril's nose is particularly good, he may catch the scent of blood upon her.

[Morty]

The goblin quirks an eyebrow.

"His name is Kullervo. One of my employees tamed him and helped me train him. It's only fitting for a goblin of my stature to have his own riding wolf... or two. My name is Dipsnig Razortooth, by the way. Although if you haven't been here long, you probably haven't heard it yet."

[Orm-Embar]

"Wish I could have brought a mount of my own," Bo replies, "but they would never have fit through the portal. Flying mount, too much wingspan." He sighs. "Ah well. I suppose if I want to fly I'll just have to do it the hard way."

"Anyway, I am called Bo. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Dipsnig Razortooth. What do you mean by stature - rank? Sorry for all the questions, but as I said, I've only recently arrived in this place. Most of what I know about it came from old reports. Unreliable things," he adds.

[Morty]

Dipsnig wonders briefly it that was a height crack he heard.

"I'm the leader of MERC. The biggest and oldest mercenary group in the Nexus. I've been one since forever, really."

[Orm-Embar]

(Not a crack, just a clueless question, not knowing if he meant wealth, social position, government job, military rank... )

Well. That's something to chew on, all right. Bo finishes half of his rum while thinking it over. "Guess I work for you, then, or with you, or something. I just recently took out a MERC license."

Pretty embarrassing for someone who's had rules drummed into them forever, unknowingly drinking with and questioning the boss. Bo knows one way to deal with discomfort though. His smile fades away and is replaced with a perfectly calm and blank expression.

[Morty]

Dipsnig's ear twitches.

"Hmm. Yes, I think I remember the description of someone like you pass my desk recently. You made the right choice by signing up with us. A mercenary's trade is a dangerous one, and we make sure it's a bit less so."

[Orm-Embar]

Bo shrugs. "I like the life. And it's just about the only honest work I know how to do, for now."

[Morty]

"A mercenary's life is a good one. Of course, I haven't been that active in a while. Nowadays I'm a businessman. Who sometimes shoots people," Dipsnig says. "Do you have an interest in becoming a full-time member, or just licensed work?"

[Orm-Embar]

Bo nods and raises his glass, saying "Here's to business."

"The thing is, I just got out. Feeling free for the first time ever. I'm starting over. And we don't know much about each other yet. So my thought was to go out and work independently. I've got a couple of leads on small jobs. If it turns out we get along, time enough later to talk about something more permanent."

"In the meantime," he adds, "keep me in mind if there's work I can help out with. Military magic, and if that fails I know which end of a sword to hold." Although he's not actually carrying a blade.

[Ashen Lilies]

The twi'lek has since ordered a Romulan ale and is sipping the bright blue beverage... carefully. Her demeanor suggest that she's not eavesdropping intently, but with how close she is it's probably the case that she's at least casually overhearing the conversation, though she seems to be content in her own space.

[Orm-Embar]

The human seems to be done talking for now. He takes out a cigar and sticks it in his mouth, and it seems to light itself. He exhales the sweet-smelling smoke and watches it drift and pool in the air about the bar as if the random patterns mean something. In fact he's gone back to considering some of the odd jobs he's heard of. Small-time stuff, and in this neighborhood, they tend to have somewhat sinister associations. Like the debt collection thing... what they really want is a leg-breaker... easy enough... or...

There's the bodyguard assignment... sounds boring, but you never know.... trouble won't start when you think you're ready for it... best to openly carry a weapon or two... look the part...

Or the warehouse job... loss prevention, they called it... definitely hinting at some kind of criminal gang... like the sound of that one, keep the intelligence gathering sharp... learn about this place too...

That bounty hunting advertisement... no, looks like it might be a front for something else, probably slave-catching... contemptible... not going near it, unless it ends with burying slavers in shallow graves...

In other words, Bo is getting lost in his own thoughts.

[Morty]

"I'll certainly keep you in mind, then. Now, it's been a pleasure, but I'm afraid I have some business to attend to," Dipsnig tells Bo before turning to the Twi'Lek. "Hello there. I believe we may have a mutual acquaintance."

[Ashen Lilies]

The twi'lek smiles slightly. "We do." She says, her voice a rich buttery caramel. "We can talk in a private room. Do you have one booked?"

[Morty]

"I have. Follow me," Dipsnig says, and leads the way to the back. There, he takes a seat behind a table, which is the room's only real furnishing. His wolf sits on the floor next to him.

[Ashen Lilies]

[---> Private Room]

The twi'lek follows, looking around at the room when they enter. As Dipsnig takes a seat, the twi'lek pulls a round device off of her belt, and places it in the air, where it quickly rotates, then flies off to a corner of the room. There's a light on the device, and a flicker in the air, and a full-sized hologram of a hutt wearing a flamboyant orange vest should appear in the middle of the room. Unlike most Star Wars holograms, the image of Attila is full-color instead of a monochrome blue, though the color is slightly washed out. The twi'lek leans against a wall.

"Ah hah!" Exclaims the Hutt boisterously as he appears. "Forgive me for not appearing in person. I thought sending Captain Vellia here would be more discreet." He gestures in the direction of the twi'lek leaning against the wall. "Good that we finally meet!"

[Morty]

[Private Room]

"Given the circumstances, discretion is only to be expected," Dipsnig says. He takes the appearance of a hologram in stride - he expected the Hutt to use such means of communication. "Our meeting, indirect as it is, is indeed fortunate. I believe we have much to offer each other."

[Artemis97]

A young woman takes a seat nearby, ordering a mug of... coffee, of all things. Her dark red locks trail down her back in a french braid, bangs shading her right eye slomewhat. With jade irises the freckled woman looks about the den, her lightly tanned skin clad in a backless black dress that shrouds most of her thighs and lets crimson stockings do the rest of the leg covering. White boots with black heels shield her feet, snow-white sash encircling the woman's waist.
If raril's nose is particularly good, he may catch the scent of blood upon her.

Raril's nose was indeed keen enough to pick up the scent of blood. He sniffs a bit, his red eyes soon honing in on the woman. Had she been fighting? Was she injured? Or was she a vampire? She was drinking coffee and not ichor, so the last was probably out. Strange, she seemed just fine.

The drowess guarding Raril wondered why he was staring at the human woman, then rolled her eyes, figuring he probably found her attractive in some way. Raril noticed this and shook his head at the guard then muttered a single word in drow. Blood.

That caught her attention and she tensed, dropping her hands to the swords on her belt. Raril held up a hand, signing something, and the guard relaxed, but only a little.

[Arkhosia]

Raril's nose was indeed keen enough to pick up the scent of blood. He sniffs a bit, his red eyes soon honing in on the woman. Had she been fighting? Was she injured? Or was she a vampire? She was drinking coffee and not ichor, so the last was probably out. Strange, she seemed just fine.

The drowess guarding Raril wondered why he was staring at the human woman, then rolled her eyes, figuring he probably found her attractive in some way. Raril noticed this and shook his head at the guard then muttered a single word in drow. Blood.

That caught her attention and she tensed, dropping her hands to the swords on her belt. Raril held up a hand, signing something, and the guard relaxed, but only a little.
The woman sips her coffee with relish, eyes and ears keenly surveying her surroundings. Her back straightens subtly as she catches the movement of the guard in the corner of her eye, wariness in her jade eyes.
As the woman crosses her legs and takes another sip of the caffeinated brew, Raril's wary gaze may detect the source of the smell: the patron's black right heel bears a shine to it.

[Artemis97]

Ah so that was it. She'd stepped in something. Or stepped on someone. Heels could do nasty things to a man. Raril shook the thought clear from his head and pushed himself up from the chair by the fire and walked over to the lady.

"Excuse me, Miss." Raril says, producing a clean hankerchief from his pocket and offering it to her. "I'm afraid you must have stepped in something unpleasant on the way here." And he'd just scrubbed the floors, too.

The drowess guard watches them both from where she stands, thinking the woman was observant, if a bit paranoid. She hoped she didn't react badly to Raril approaching her. She didn't want to defend him. Would be funny to see him get slapped, though.

[Arkhosia]

Ah so that was it. She'd stepped in something. Or stepped on someone. Heels could do nasty things to a man. Raril shook the thought clear from his head and pushed himself up from the chair by the fire and walked over to the lady.

"Excuse me, Miss." Raril says, producing a clean hankerchief from his pocket and offering it to her. "I'm afraid you must have stepped in something unpleasant on the way here." And he'd just scrubbed the floors, too.

The drowess guard watches them both from where she stands, thinking the woman was observant, if a bit paranoid. She hoped she didn't react badly to Raril approaching her. She didn't want to defend him. Would be funny to see him get slapped, though.

The woman flinches at the first few words startled by his approach. She raises an eyebrow at the offer. She glances at the heel of her boot, nodding
It appears I have. If you insist i use your hankerchief I shall, but if the liquid's from what i think it is, I don't think you want any of what's on my heel upon your hankerchief.
The woman coolly responds.

[Artemis97]

The drow shrugs. "It's only a bit of fabric. Though, if you would prefer, I could clean it up with a small spell?" He offers.

[Arkhosia]

The drow shrugs. "It's only a bit of fabric. Though, if you would prefer, I could clean it up with a small spell?" He offers.

The woman shakes her head, accepting the hankerchief.
It's not worth the effort to cast a spell.
She responds, the cloth soaking crimson as she dries the heel.

[Artemis97]

"It's only a cantrip. I can cast those all day." Raril explains casually.

"And yet you've been scrubbing all day long." Says the drowess behind him.

That gets a chuckle out of the male. "Yes, yes I have. Sorry, my name's Raril. I own the place." He introduces himself, offering the woman his hand.

[Arkhosia]

"It's only a cantrip. I can cast those all day." Raril explains casually.

"And yet you've been scrubbing all day long." Says the drowess behind him.

That gets a chuckle out of the male. "Yes, yes I have. Sorry, my name's Raril. I own the place." He introduces himself, offering the woman his hand.

The crimson-haired damsel shakes raril's hand, a small smile upon her lips.
I'm Linde. Nice to meet you.
She responds.

[Artemis97]

"Well met." Raril grins in a friendly fashion. "Sorry about disturbing you. Just thought you'd want to know. Enjoy the coffee." He says beginning to turn away.

[ThirdEmperor]

There is a tug on his leg, and a cough a little too long and involved to be called 'polite'. "Someone to see ya, sir. Keeps asking for our janitor." He snickers, nodding his head towards one of the discrete little doors along the far wall, the neat little private room beyond. "Little guy."

[Artemis97]

Raril chuckles at that. Janitor. Perfect. Wait until his sisters heard that one!

"Right, got some business to do. I'll be back." He says most pointedly to the guard that was following him. Raril shut the door in her face.

[Private Room]

Raril stopped just inside the door with a smile and asked, "Someone looking for a janitor?"

[ThirdEmperor]

[Private Room]

Well, there is quite a mess. The contents of a plate of ratbird sausage, runny eggs and copious puddling grease has been rather savagely mauled, the yolky viscera dripping off the beak of very small creature. He's.. Well, he might be a dragon, but he's very poor one. Polished as they are, his scales are only an unexciting sort of marble gray, the kind that heralds a very obscure kind of breath attack, and no terrible teeth has he. Instead, a bone white beak that stretches back across the top of his face to rise into a crest shot with veins of purple and gold.
Long-necked and perched upon only two legs, the little fellow could almost be a very ungainly sort of bird. But there's intelligence in the eyes, a certain predatory curve to the claws that sprout from the bend of his wings - a secondary set folded beneath the first, both leathery and batlike. He coughs conscientiously as Raril comes through the door, running a knuckleclaw across his beak to wipe up the worst of the mess, and scalding the talon clean with a little tongue of flame. "Yess, greetings.. You would be the proprietor as well as the maid, yes?"

[Artemis97]

[Private Room]

The drow bows with a flourish, "Raril Xar'Cha at your service. I'm the owner and, for now, grunt worker in this place." He takes a seat in an armchair and leans forward. "What can I do for you?"

[ThirdEmperor]

[Private Room]

"Oh yes, I noticed. It happens I have need for the latter." The wyrm pecks casually at bits of sausage, curled around the plate, flicking them high with a toss of his head and snapping them out of the air. His tail flicks, casually taking stock of this beer-splattered drow with his ridiculous bows. "I do hope your companion isn't listening, because I need you to smuggle me all sorts of things out of drow territory."

[Arkhosia]

"Well met." Raril grins in a friendly fashion. "Sorry about disturbing you. Just thought you'd want to know. Enjoy the coffee." He says beginning to turn away.
It's fine, and thanks.
The woman responds. amicable in tone.
Oh, one last thing. Is it rude of one to ask what clan they belong to?

((btw, your inbox is full))

[Orm-Embar]

Bo sees the private room's door slam shut and looks at the drowess with not just one, but both eyebrows raised. To be so unceremoniously separated from her prisoner - ! Or whatever Raril is to her. He looks mildly amused, but then he looks like that most of the time.

[Artemis97]

Clearly grumpy, the guard leans on the wall next to the door to the private room. "Lord Raril Xar'Cha is the eldest living son of House Xabaresh Chaeron." She explains a bit tiredly. Shouldn't people know that already?

[Private Room]

"Scry blocked." Raril says, leaning back to tap on the wall behind him. "And that sounds like something fun to do under my sister's nose. "

[Arkhosia]

Clearly grumpy, the guard leans on the wall next to the door to the private room. "Lord Raril Xar'Cha is the eldest living son of House Xabaresh Chaeron." She explains a bit tiredly. Shouldn't people know that already?

apologies for my lack of knowledge, I've not yet learned of the drow houses and society within the Nexus.
Responds the coffeeholic, sipping her cup shortly afterwards.

[ThirdEmperor]

[Private Room]

"Good." He nods his head to the booth alongside the table, to the crisp white envelope waiting. "I can make that nose a little farther away. There's a concoction in there I made, and on the envelope, a little spell. It'll go poof into whatever sealed bottle she drinks out of. Very discrete."

[Orm-Embar]

A slight shimmer distorts the air around the human's eyes and ears, as his senses are enhanced for sight and hearing. Apparently he's enough of a newcomer to be interested in the drow warrior's story as well.

[Artemis97]

"House Xar'Cha is the most powerful House in the Nexus." The guard explains. "They rule with a firm but kind hand over Delmah Phor."

[Private Room]

Raril gets up to examine the envelope. "And this spell does what exactly?"

[ThirdEmperor]

[Private Room]

It rustles faintly, powder sliding inside with the tilt of his hand. "The spell does what I said. What's inside is love potion, very subtle, works quick. Seeing as she's still a problem, it figured we could skip trying poisons. This will keep her reporting." The wyrm shrugs his wings. "Jusst leaving a few things out on your behalf."

[Artemis97]

[Private Room]

A queer look crosses the drow's face. "Are you suggesting I use a love potion on my sister?" He couldn't possibly be suggesting that. Right?

[Arkhosia]

"House Xar'Cha is the most powerful House in the Nexus." The guard explains. "They rule with a firm but kind hand over Delmah Phor."

[Private Room]

Raril gets up to examine the envelope. "And this spell does what exactly?"

Linde thinks for a moment.
I think I'll look into learning more about the city soon. Unless, of course, you're willing to share.

((Btw, i have a little idea for a drow intrigue plot if you're interested))

[ThirdEmperor]

[Private Room]

"No, your guard." Sighs the scaly fellow, his staring yellow eyes rolling with exasperation. "It's a chaste love draught, I might add. You are simply going to be absolutely her favorite person ever."

[Artemis97]

"Fine." The drowess sighs. "What do you want to know?"

[Private Room]

Raril laughs, loud and long, leaning on the table for support as he catches his breath. "Woo... ok, good that's... sorry, heh, that was some misunderstanding. Right, my ladyfriend out there will have to drink something at some point, provided she doesn't resist the spell. That'll buy us a day or two tops. Maybe more if she's smart, before she gets replaced." The drow explains. "Because she's reporting directly to my sister, and if anything seems off, I'm back to square one."

((that might be neat, Arkh, discuss it in the OOC thread?))

[ThirdEmperor]

[Private Room]

The dragon does offer an indulgent chuckle, but when Raril regains himself, he'll find those bright eyes waiting expectantly. Patiently. "More, I'd pride myself." He really would, from the little swell of breath in his chest as he explains. "That's precisely why I chose this method, simply making her complaint would make her noticeably dumb. With any luck this one was chosen for being bright."
"I can offer more satisfactory freedoms later, when this business is underway. Until then, what I can give you is a stipend of favors and small miracles to round up whatever help you'll need. Gold, only if absolutely necessary."

[Artemis97]

[Private Room]

"Alright, I'm interested." Raril admits, returning to his seat. "Don't worry about gold. I've got plenty to last me. Small miracles, though, I could use some of those. So, if you don't mind me asking, what exactly are you smuggling? I don't trade in people anymore." It was a life the drow had left behind long ago.

[Ashen Lilies]

[Private Room]

"Given the circumstances, discretion is only to be expected," Dipsnig says. He takes the appearance of a hologram in stride - he expected the Hutt to use such means of communication. "Our meeting, indirect as it is, is indeed fortunate. I believe we have much to offer each other."

[Private Room]

"Indeed!" Says the Hutt, chuckling a little. "I always appreciate new chances for business. My current pickings grow quite stale..."

[ThirdEmperor]

[Private Room]

"Alchemical ingredients, especially those related to all those interesting poisons your people hoard beneath the earth. I hope you haven't left those behind." The last of the breakfast vanishes from the plate, the dragon fastidiously polishing his claws against a napkin. "I'll provide the full list later."

[Artemis97]

[Private Room 2]

"What route do you want to take?" Raril asks. "And how much risk do you want? I could probably arrange to smuggle it right through Delmah Phor's Underdark gate. I've also got a tunnel leading to Underside right down in the basement here. In Delmah Phor there's more risk of being caught, but less connection to you or I. Here, the opposite would be true. I'd be putting a lot at risk, personally, but your delivery boys will be less likely to be... how do I put this... in trouble with customs? Though if I can persuade the Matron in charge of the custom house to look the other way, you could move a lot with very little trouble at all."

[ThirdEmperor]

[Private Room 2]

"One way or another." He remarks calmly, supremely unhelpful as he scans the plate for surviving nibbles. "You ought to decide, if you're the one putting your cozy little bar at stake. As for delivery boys, I will be leaving that to you, save for their compensation, of coursse. Magic and bribery, I will provide."

[Arkhosia]

"Fine." The drowess sighs. "What do you want to know?"
((that might be neat, Arkh, discuss it in the OOC thread?))

((Sure, sounds good!))

Just a summary of the city and its houses, really.
Linde sips the brew she so loves, jade eyes shining with interest and calculation. She had to learn how to read people in order to survive, and it's become almost subconscious by this point.

[Artemis97]

The guard begins an overview of the political situation in Delmah Phor, the drow enclave within Inside, the main city of the Nexus. House Xar'Cha was on top, of course, with several houses serving, or claiming to serve, her. The guard herself was from one of those minor houses. Most came from Menzoberranzan, in the underdark of Faerun, but there were other drow houses from other worlds, and some rooted in the Nexus itself. Relations between those families and the 'native' drow was uneasy, but trust, such as it was, was slowly being built. Trust too, had been built between Delmah Phor and the city of Inside. House Xar'Cha and others provided soldiers to patrol the streets and bolster the numbers of the local police force.

[Private Room]

"I'll try with the matron first, see where we get. You can move a lot more product that way. If that fails, we'll pull things through here. I'll need a little time for this, though. Say a week? Do you want to contact me again, then, or is there somewhere I can reach you?"

[ThirdEmperor]

[Private Room]

"A week will do fine. I will have you the full list then, and any small details besides. The point of delivery included." He pushes the plate away, business concluded, and rises to stretch out his wings. "Is this room proofed for teleportation too, or can I leave that way?"

[Artemis97]

[Private Room]

"Oh no, pop in and out as you like." Raril told him. "Before you go, could I ask a favor, however? My wife, I haven't seen her since... all this stuff happened with my family. Can you tell her I'm not hurt? That I'm allowed to be here now, at the Den." The drow's shoulders sagged, and his expression grew sad, desperate. "I mean... if it's not too much trouble."

[ThirdEmperor]

[Private Room]

"I will do my best." He even tries for a conciliatory note, but it's an awkward attempt, full of sympathetic embarrassment for the rapidly collapsing man in front him. There is a twist of smoke from around the dragon's legs, rising higher and thicker as fire glimmers in his scales.
In moments, blue-white fire has overcome the little dragon's shape, a searing shadow in the smog. And then he's gone.

[Morty]

[Private Room - MERC]



"Indeed!" Says the Hutt, chuckling a little. "I always appreciate new chances for business. My current pickings grow quite stale..."

"So have mine," Dipsnig admits. "Well, of course we have a constant, steady stream of revenue from the licenses, now. But I wouldn't be where I am now if I was willing to go complacent with it. Which brings us to my plans for Skyside. As I understand it, you're willing to help with those... discreetly."

[Orm-Embar]

Interesting. The sorceror folds up his spells and puts them away discreetly, scatters a few coins on the bar, then stands and walks out like a man with an appointment somewhere else.

[Artemis97]

Raril picks up the envelope and tucks it into a hidden pocket in his shirt. He then cleans up the plates left behind by the dragon's breakfast and exits the room.

"It was a mess in there." Raril declares, grinning at the guard as he glides past to put the dirt plates in a bus bin behind the bar. That done, he quickly washes up, before returning to his seat by the fire.

[Murkus]

((Closed scene))

Everything has a soul. The Den has a soul, its walls, the bar, the bottles tucked behind. To each object, to each individual thing, there is a will and a mind. A small one, maybe, or a quiet one, but it is there beyond any shadow of a doubt.

This is a beautiful thing to know, and a knowledge shared by a special few. There are some who do not know it so much as they feel it, sense it with an instinct so deep and primal that the spirits can be seduced to their will.

One such person is the lady Zillia, who sits here on this night in a circle of ruffians, chittering bug-faced gangsters, and shadow-squatting monsters of every stripe. She is almost shoulder to shoulder with the very worst the Den and the ghettos of Inside have to offer, and she is handing their asses to them as hats. If one had knowledge, if one understood spirits, these undesirables might accuse her of... cavorting with their deck of cards. The kami - the spirit - inside is an easily coerced one, they'd say, and she's a dirty cheat.

As it stands, she lays out another handful of aces, and the entire table shrivels in a chorus of disbelieving groans and whines.

"Looks like I've won again!" She says, without a trace of smugness on her tongue. "You darlings could use more practice."

There is a moment of rather hilarious silence. Then the table erupts.

"Listen, lady, you--"
"I'm gonna--"
"Woman, you dare--"

"Which is why you can have it all back," Zillia says, holding up her right forefinger. "As charity. For the less fortunate." She winks at the table, and pushes one dainty wrist into the castle of gold before her. The stacks of money fall down and splash out over the table with a sound that could set a tax-collector drooling.

The men look at eachother. As Zillia stands up to take her leave, the table explodes again, though this time with threats, arguments, and demands for a fresh game.

Zillia makes a beeline for the bar, swaying gently on her feet. She stands about four foot nine, delicate, with vivacious curves that fill out her toga-esque a bit too eagerly. The thin garment is cut and tailored with diamond-shaped holes in a number of places, skin on the pale side of fair showing through each window. A skinny neck is the mount and swivel for a very slight jaw, a shapely mouth, eyes of blue. A blush is upon her cheeks, one not born of just excitement from the game. Hair of autumn red erupts from her head and cascades down over her ears like a lava flow, a twin curly lock falling onto either shoulder. The rest is bound up in a sort of giant tail, tied off in seven-inch sections as it tumbles down the middle of Zillia's back.

Zillia purses her lips and rattles her finger on the bar counter, scanning the menu with easy indecision.

[UncleWolf]

At the bar

"Try the Hearth Brew Mead." A man says from next to Zillia with a bit of a smile as he drinks his own. "It's perfect for those who don't mind making fools of ruffians and can look as sweet as you do while doing so." He adds with a grin. Should she look, she'll find a fairly tall man seated next to her, perhaps six foot or a little less in height but broad shouldered and dressed rather neatly in a rather utilitarian dark blue polo shirt and khaki pants. He wears plastic framed glasses and despite the odd red-orange and brown short hair on the top of his head, he sports a bit of salt and pepper scruff on his cheeks and chin, having not shaved for a few days. Overall he looks nice and rugged despite his attire and his amused smile might put her at ease. If she's particularly observant she'll see that he has a nice looking leather banded watch on his left wrist as well as a wedding band.

[Murkus]

At the bar!

Zillia looks at the strange man, her mind a million miles away. Then she does a rather abrupt double take, glancing between her admirer and the menu before settling on him. "Oh! Oh, my, you're trying to flirt with me aren't you?! Let me see if I remember how to do this..."

The strange old nymph looks this man up and down. My, they certainly make these mortals large. He's taller than she when sitting, even if it is on a stool. He wears some very nice shiny things. He's...

"You're very handsome," she starts. One of her curved eyebrows arches. "No, I suppose I don't remember how to flirt at all. But that was very nice of you to say." Zillia smiles. Men have fought wars over lesser displays of teeth.

[UncleWolf]

At the Bar

The man can't help but laugh a bit and he grins at the pretty woman. "It's perfectly fine. I've been out of the game a while myself." He admits before turning on the stool to offer her his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Call me Max." he says. She'll notice that he wears a white leather glove on his right hand for some reason. "And thank you, you're quite beautiful yourself." He adds, his bright blue eyes looking her over closely, practically undressing her with his gaze before he looks up at her eyes again. "So is this all you do in your evenings? Making fun of poker players?"

[Murkus]

At the Bar!

"Max. I am Zillia," says the spirit-creature, extending her hand to fold in his. Her grip is almost electric, live with magic. Her handshake is stiff and heavy on the shake, making her dress shift. The thin garment looks like it would be incredibly easy to peel off, though Max's hungry eyes don't quite seem to manage. "Oh, no, not at all! I am utterly in love with your city, darling. Mortals give me such nice things, play games with me, buy me drinks... Why, what is it you do?" She's sure she's been missing out on lots of things.

[UncleWolf]

At the Bar

"Currently? Buying you a drink. Later, maybe giving you someone to do." He says casually with a smile as he goes about ordering her the drink he recommended for her. She'll have felt that his own touch, even through the glove, was a hungry and powerful one, as if he were a large beast on the prowl. Once she has her drink, he raises his own to her. "But really, I work in construction over at Riverside. I come here from time to time to relax though." He admits.

[Murkus]

At the Bar!

"Hm," says Zillia, appraising the powerful man. "Do all of you plan the night in that particular order?" Hm. Sometimes it's hard to tell if she's being serious, or if she understands just what's going on.

Zillia turns her head as her hand's filled. Odd looking brew. "Riverside." She says, starting to raise her glass. "Curious what it is you darlings think of as relaxing. I've spent the last couple of nights here exhausted." Zillia raises the glass to her mouth and drinks deeply. She squeaks out a hiccup just as she finishes her pull, blinking rapidly.

[UncleWolf]

At the Bar

"Well, it'd be awkward to do it the other way around when we're already at a bar, wouldn't it?" Max asks with a wry smile. "Not that I'd object of course, but we'd proooobably be thrown out. How come you're exhausted? If you need a place to rest I know a place just right around the corner." He says, thumbing towards the door. "I do build things here from time to time and a hotel promised me free nights up to four times a month if I like on short notice."

[Murkus]

[At the Bar]

"You, darling-sweet, visit all the wrong bars," says Zillia, gently sliding her drink back onto the counter. "And you misunderstand." Zillia gives the large man her full smile again. "I said I was exhausted. I could do with some more mortal relaxation!"

Zillia slides to her feet, which Max may have at some point in the conversation realized are quite bare. In a filthy place like this. "Did you build this hotel you're taking me to?" As though their going together was already a foregone conclusion. So foregone, in fact, Zillia can be freely led out've the Den if Max so wishes.

[UncleWolf]

At the Bar

"I think you'll have to show me what bars you're talking about tomorrow then. And well, I designed it mostly. I left construction of it to a crew I contract out to." Max admits as he stands and straightens himself out. After a moment though he removes his glasses. "Before we go though, there's one thing I want to make clear. I'm not exactly human." He says as he pulls off the glove from his hand. The moment he does, his skin darkens to the dark red-orange that's in his hair and the stubble vanishes from his face. He also sprouts four stubby little horns from his brow. "Sorry, I'm not trying to be deceptive, but it keeps people from freaking out initially." Max explains. Despite the changes, he's still very much himself.

[Murkus]

[At the Bar]

Now that is curious. Zillia puts her hands on her hips and appraises him once again, up then down.

"You know, darling, I'll tell you a secret," says the she-fairy, striding toward him and pushing herself up, up on the tips of her toes, still barely reaching the cliff of Max's shoulder. Her mouth isn't quite in his ear, but it's nearly there. And those small hands fall on his chest... only for supporting her, of course. "Neither am I. And I have lived long enough to see far, far less handsome demons. Far less handsome mortals besides." The very idea that she would have freaked out is ludicrous!

[UncleWolf]

At the Bar

Max smiles a bit and attempts to wrap his arms around the woman. "Alright then, in that case, shall we?" He asks as he shifts his arm down to her waist and attempts to walk her out.

[Murkus]

At the Bar

"What a silly phrase that is. How does one respond..." Zillia muses to herself with a shorter giggle. She shifts an arm around Max's broad back, his own around her soft waist, and out the door they go.

[Ashen Lilies]

[Private Room - MERC]



"So have mine," Dipsnig admits. "Well, of course we have a constant, steady stream of revenue from the licenses, now. But I wouldn't be where I am now if I was willing to go complacent with it. Which brings us to my plans for Skyside. As I understand it, you're willing to help with those... discreetly."

[Private Room - MERC]

'Indeed. You'll soon find that my current business partners have little in the way of admirable qualities. It would be a pleasure to stab them in the back... when it becomes appropriate to do so." Says the Hutt.

[Morty]

[Private Room - MERC]

"I am familiar with your business partners," Dipsnig says. "I don't think we'll get along once my group makes its move in Skyside. Knowing that someone will stab them in the back at the right moment would help tremendously. So I think we can reach an agreement, depending on what you want out of this."

[Ashen Lilies]

[Private Room - MERC]

"Merely the opportunity to conduct business with partners not mired in tradition and xenophobia." Says the Hutt. "The destruction of the stranglehold that my people and the Ferengi have placed on Tempest Row is noteworthy enough a goal to satisfy me."

[Morty]

[Private Room - MERC]

Dipsnig nods.

"Our goal, to start with, is to replace as much of the city's private security with our people," he says. "It's bound to bring us in conflict with those who are already in power there. Is there anything you can tell me about your people and the Ferengi? I've done research on Skyside, but I have no doubt there is information I'm missing."

[Ashen Lilies]

[Private Room - MERC]

"My people, the Hutts, and these Ferengi come from different galaxies, but are cut from the same cloth." Attila explains. "In my galaxy, Hutts are renowned for our business acumen and independence. We have a reputation - not entirely undeserved - for being gangsters and criminal underlords, though the fact is that we Hutts are among the few who have been able to remain independent from the Galactic Republic, in whatever form it takes. We are ruthless, strong-willed, sharp-minded, and generally amoral. Slavery is common among the Hutts-" In the corner, the twi'lek shifts slightly, rolling her shoulders before resettling into her lean. "-though I have different views on the matter. I count little among my kind who have any kind of personal bravery, but most Hutts are nonetheless stubborn, outspoken, prideful, and hire many mercenaries to enforce their will. The Ferengi... as repulsive as most of them are personally, I do admit they make for slightly more manageable business partners, as long as you keep your wits about you. Trade and capitalism seems to be a religion for them. They revere 'The Great Material Continuum', and seem to obey laws known as the "rules of acquisition". They are cunning, but cowards and often cheats. They cave much more easily to pressure than the Hutts. The Hutts and Ferengi have a loose alliance in Tempest Row, centered around the spaceport, which is a joint project between them. Neither of them trust the other though, and the Hutts do not even trust each other, as I am proof of. It will be easy to turn them against each other, if you know where to strike without being discovered."

[Reinholdt]

Bar Area

Enter one catgirl. Her thigh high pink boots and two pink bows, one around her neck the other at the end of her tail, are offset by her blue-grey tail and the slim black dress-skirt that comes to just above the boots. Reina will be the first to admit, it's difficult not wearing another two or three layers on top of that. Zombies are real and they are terrifying and why isn't everyone wearing protective hazmat suits all the time? But there's some appeal to the bare necessities and that's how she's illustrated, so that's what she's stuck wearing.

Reina takes a seat at a table and orders some fresh fish, while looking around. The place was familiar and different at the same time. Some definite improvements made here. She smiles a bit at nothing in particular before turning her attention to her food.

[Morty]

[Private Room - MERC]

Cunning, but cowards and often cheats. Dipsnig has heard the same words used to describe his species on more than one occasion...

"Distrustful alliances by necessity are easy to dismantle. Perhaps I could put some of my people on it, when the time is right. Do you know of any entrepreneurs who have an interest in the area but are kept down by your people and those Ferengi? They would be our natural allies in this."

[The Alexandrian]

[That Unnaturally Shady Table In The Corner Over There]

Look! Just - just look at that table over there, guy! It's unnaturally shady! Yeah, there's something fishy about that table! It's - only a crazy psychopath would sit at a table like that, guy! I wouldn't sit at a table like that for a *burp* a million dollars, guy, because - because it's so shady just look at it!

Okay, maybe, just maybe, it'll be alright if you sit at the table for just a minute, guy. I don't think that -

Oh my god! Nicole is sitting at that table! Run for it! Save yourself!

...

Nicole chillaxes at one of the tables in an unnaturally shady corner of the tavern, and by chillaxes, I mean she's literally chilling with axes. Armed to the teeth with axes of all shapes and sizes, ranging from hatchets to double-bladed hero-beheading war axes, she's a sight to be seen (if you like axes, that is).

Draining an icy bottle of cola in one go, Nicole kicks her feet up, leans back in her chair, and does nothing of any import whatsoever (well I guess the cola might've been imported, but you know what I mean).

[Devixer]

The person who enters the Den next hasn't been seen in the Nexus for some time. Cassidy pushes the door open, wipes some dust off of her shoulder, and heads straight for the bar - it's all business for her tonight. She orders a shot of whatever whiskey is both cheap and effective, and glances at her surroundings. Nicole chillaxing only gets a spare look from her, which is probably borderline insulting - look at all those axes!

[ThirdEmperor]

A cloud of dark slips through a high window, crawling silently over the rafters. In a shower of oily, twisting shadow, Adel falls from the ceiling and collapses into shape behind Nicole, a baseball bat hoisted ready back behind his shoulders. He's a strange thing - painfully thin and bleach white like a shiny tooth, and all of him made with candy, from his gumdrop eyes to the toes that don't quite touch the ground. The fangs are thin white gleams of sugar over pale blue lips, his hair a single piece of licorice slicked back with one blobby curl spilling across his forehead.

His clothes are as quiet as his taste ever gets - A black leather jerkin ridged with dripping gold and flecked sapphire, velvet sleeves ruffled and slashed with midnight blue beneath, a belt of green fastening the waist. Bustled blue culottes and dark stockings, down to crocodile skin boots with faux-silver buckles and curled up toes. A frilly cravat drips from his neck.

And plain white gloves, gripping the bat tightly.

He'll be giving that a good, blurringly fast swing at Nicole's skull. Or her head. Who knows if she has a skull.

[The Alexandrian]

Eh, Nicole understands. A working woman doesn't exactly have an excess of time on her hands to fritter away as she pleases. She was probably just paid for a job and can't wait to drown her sorrows at the bottom of a glass of potent amber poison to dull the pain.

Believe you me, Nicole knows that feeling all too well.

Nicole flags down a passing NPC waiter and arranges for a pricey bottle of whiskey and a note to be delivered to Cassidy.

The note reads:
Looked like you were hankering
for a little pick-me-up. Try this
on for size, if you can hold your
liquor.

-Axes Galore

Suddenly, a reconstituted candyvamp with a grudge and a baseball bat materializes behind Nicole.

Swing, batter batter! Swing, batter batter! Swing!

*Yoink!*

The unnatural shade hanging out with Nicole congeals around Adel's baseball bat, attempting to put an end to Adel's shenanigans mid-swing and attempting to nick it thereafter by attempting to yank it out of Adel's hands!

Quite the kneejerk reaction from Nicole, wouldn't you say? Had she been drunk, she might not have been able to pull that off!

Aaaaand that ties up the score at 0-0! Everybody loses! Hooray! *Cue streamers, confetti, and orange slices.*

"Long time, no see, candy. Why don't you knock off the bad giddy child at a party with a pinata imitation and give your feet a break. Hell, if I don't have to raise my voice or repeat myself, I might even buy you a drink."

Smug!Nicole smirks, continuing to chillaxe.

[Devixer]

When the bottle of whiskey is delivered to her, Cassidy picks it up and gives it a weird look. A similar look was given to the note. People didn't just give away drinks, especially expensive looking ones. After a moment, she opens the bottle and takes a sniff. Something had to be wrong.

And then candyvamps and bats! Cassidy groans at the scene, a hand drifting towards the pistol at her hip. "Course it's right after I finally get Renraku off my ass that Nexus crap happens."

[ThirdEmperor]

Adel doesn't care to fight for the bat, dismissing it to the grasp of shadows with a airy wave.
"Eh. Vell, vone must try." The vampire tilts one shoulder, too shameless to even offer the full shrug of non-apology. His smile is small, and sharp, and quite pleased with himself. His flight tilts horizontal, swimming lazily to the chair and dropping down into an instant sprawl - feet landing crossed upon the table. "Such as, you must try harder to be vitty. For some, I vould imagine, life is full of challenges."

"But, vhy not? Rum vith coke. Plastic cup." The last is snapped at a passing waiter, before he returns his gaze to Nicole. "So."

His hand stays in the air for a moment, halfway through a gesture that didn't know what it was going to be. For a moment, an awkward moment weighing what honesty's worth, and then, "Oh hells. AMEN, huh? His eyebrows jump with all the happy conspiracy of shared joke. "Haffing yourself a grand old time trying to kick some life back into the horse?"

[The Alexandrian]

Nicole is sorry to disappoint Cassidy, but her complimentary bottle of whiskey hasn't been spiked with anything whatsoever. That's not to imply that Cassidy wouldn't look good with pink hair - Nicole just isn't in the mood to prank/abduct anyone at this time.

As for Adel...

Refreshingly, Adel is behaving as if he's a vamp after Nicole's own heart even though 1) everyone already knows that he isn't and 2) Nicole doesn't have a heart of which to speak. Nicole apparently finds Adel's flamboyant mannerisms and flippant banter entertaining - as evidenced by the absence of any physical retaliation on her part.

"Challenges, eh? Like overcoming your speech impediment and dressing yourself without a gingerbread man's help in the morning?"

Nicole teases; sauciness reigns.

"AMEN is, well, AMEN, regrettably. You'd think that whipping them into shape would be easy, since there are only about *Nicole counts this number on her fingers while "intensely" focusing on the ceiling above her* one, two, three, four, five, six, seven-ish remaining AMENites. Turns out that branding an org as an evil association attracts more drama queens than anything else and I don't have to tell you how drama queens act when they're living in close-quarters with other drama queens."

"Come to think of it..."

"Do you think I could get away with installing cameras throughout the base and secretly filming the day-to-day interactions of my employees for a reality tv show?"

:smalltongue:

[ThirdEmperor]

"Vhat, that? It's traditional." He shrugs, his gloved hand teeters, tilting out the pros and cons. "You haff to keep your traditions, in this kind of vorld. People vill make you make out as sad and silly, if you don't choose your own little vays, give a little admittance that this is all really very silly. Vhen you stand on top of history, it's all ridiculous." Some of it, obviously moreso. Like all the parts with candy vampires. "So I guess I mean, I don't vatch much television."

"But, haff you found the leak yet?" Adel smiles, a smile full of picturesque innocence.

[Devixer]

After hesitating for a moment, Cassidy sighs. If she was going to get blasted, it might as well be with free drinks, right. She pours a shot and downs it. Her pallette is not very refined, so this whiskey doesn't taste amazing to her.

[The Alexandrian]

But the pricey whiskey does taste better than that watered-down swill she'd be drinking otherwise, eh? It's got a fine kick to it...I think! I've never had the pleasure of imbibing whiskey, so I, unfortunately, wouldn't know!

Cassidy could join Nicole at her unnaturally shady table - if not now, then once she has finished bandying words with the candyvamp.

"The leak?"

Nicole repeats, not quite buying what Adel is selling.

"Greg is dead, but that was ages ago."

If ever there was bad news, this is it. AMEN is already on life-support. If someone's still ratting on them...

"Let's get down to the brass tacks. I assume that you have a name and proof of guilt and that you're here to trade them to me for a service or an item. Very well. What's your price?"

Now Playing: Businesstime Serioustime
Up Next: Murdertime Funtime

[Arkhosia]

Bar Area

Enter one catgirl. Her thigh high pink boots and two pink bows, one around her neck the other at the end of her tail, are offset by her blue-grey tail and the slim black dress-skirt that comes to just above the boots. Reina will be the first to admit, it's difficult not wearing another two or three layers on top of that. Zombies are real and they are terrifying and why isn't everyone wearing protective hazmat suits all the time? But there's some appeal to the bare necessities and that's how she's illustrated, so that's what she's stuck wearing.

Reina takes a seat at a table and orders some fresh fish, while looking around. The place was familiar and different at the same time. Some definite improvements made here. She smiles a bit at nothing in particular before turning her attention to her food.

Nearby sits a fellow female of feline features, charcoal ears standing alert from her braided hair (http://i.imgur.com/yZ9CbZS.jpg) of pale auric color. Clad in a white military jacket and knee-length navy skirt (from which a charcoal tail of feline form trails out), black combat boots laced tightly about the shins of the ebon stocking-clad woman.

You may be wondering why she's clearly aware of the threat of zombies. Well, skirts work as excellent bandage providers (and you appear badass by utilizing skirt bandages too!), and have you ever tried biting through a boot or a military jacket? neither have I, but they're resistant to human teeth. And of course, there's the pistol on her belt and the knife sheathed on her right arm.

Currently the woman has her nose buried in a book, clearly fantasy by the artful cover of a luminous woman in - gasp! - sensible armor!

[ThirdEmperor]

"Vell, maybe I'm only after a smug sense of satisfaction. After all, I must haff my little victories to keep me varm inside, vhen the heart has ceased to beat." Adel suggests, straightening up to take his drink from the waiter's proffered tray. Glancing down, he frowns, and sets the little red plastic cup aside as he pats down his sleeves. "No straw. I thought I asked for vone." At last, from within the bed of white silk tissues filling out his sleeves, he produces a little gingerbread straw and plops it into the drink.

"Vell.." The vampire lifts his cup, nodding out the symbolic toast. His voice lowers, becoming not a sound, but an unmistakable intent in the red glow of his gumdrop eyes. "You did buy me the drink, I suppose. Gordon's been dipping into your vaults, vith the help of all his cronies. I haff the papers. I also haff an idea of vhere ve find him, and his hoard. Half of vhich is mine."

[The Alexandrian]

Nicole patiently waits as Adel takes his sweet time answering her question. Once he has finished relaying his deeply disturbing message, on the other hand...

"All of them?!"

Has Adel ever been up close and personal with a wrathful goddess? If not, all that changes right here, right now.

First, she crushes the ice cold bottle down which beads of crystal clear condensation flow in miniature rivulets. Second, she slams her fists against the table with an explosive bang!

An unholy aura outlines her form, tinting her face blood red. From the table, she rises, magical energy cascading around her in a rage-fueled flurry.

She retrieves a phone from her pocket, flips it open, and presses a button while walking out through the front doors of the seedy yet homey bar, motioning for Adel to follow.

"This is Nicole requesting aerial transport for a VIP and I. ... Gimme an attack VTOL with an armored land assault vehicle loaded up with harpoons attached to its underside. ... Affirmative."

I think that's Nicole's way of saying it's a deal.

[ThirdEmperor]

There's a little roll of his eyes, sticking out his tongue. Quietly. Once Nicole's stormed past, and only after he's crunched up the straw and knocked the drink back, brushing crumbs from his chin. The wadded napkin's thrown on the table along with a handful of silver coins, and the cup. Plastic has turned to fruit leather, landing soggily and slowly crumpling down into a sad little pile.

"I haff things to bring." Adel adds as he catches up at the door, pushing himself from the ground to hover alongside her. "And obviously, I vill not haff the rest of your lot involved."

[Reinholdt]

Reina glances around about half-way through her meal. There was a lady with an axe to grind. She seemed both sensual and terrifying at the same time. Probably best not to get involved, especially considering some sort of candy golem was trying to attack her. Then not and drinking with her. Yeah, that's not something to touch even on a good day. That was some adventure plot hook. Reina's retired from adventures.

Then there was that tall rather skinny... woman Reina thinks. Maybe. The most distinctive part about her seemed to be her goggles. Which were kinda neat. She seemed to be well-armed, but that's to be expected of everyone in BDD. Maybe not as much as axe lady, but enough for a good scrap. Reina gives Cassidy a friendly wave and a matching smile with a side of "Hi."

The other feline in the bar really catches her attention though. Reina squints at her before slowly moving towards her. Step. Reina's sure... step... that she's seen her somewhere before... step. When getting just close enough to peer over the book, she stops and lets out an "Ah HA! I do know you!"

[The Alexandrian]

"Good, because I don't plan to involve the rest of my lot."

A furious Nicole sharply shoots back at Adel. They have to strike while the iron is hot, and she'll have to coordinate her actions with Zefir so that 1) she can secure the vault with Adel and 2) Zefir can secure the traitors before they can escape his net - if Adel agrees to her terms. He is, whether Nicole likes it or not, calling the shots...for now.

The time for jolly cooperation and negotiation with an angry goddess is upon us!

"I..."

"Gather your things and meet me at the top of the parking structure across the road in - how long will it take you to gather your things? Rrrr! I'll hold off on contacting 'my lot' until the target knows we're en route or is about to learn that we're en route the fun way."

[Devixer]

Cassidy lets out a quiet chuckle as she decides to forgo the shot glass, drinking straight from the bottle. "Those AMEN types. Love to see them take on Renraku. Squash of the ages."

Reina just gets a short wave from her. Cassidy's never met her before, why bother with the talking thing?

[Arkhosia]

The other feline in the bar really catches her attention though. Reina squints at her before slowly moving towards her. Step. Reina's sure... step... that she's seen her somewhere before... step. When getting just close enough to peer over the book, she stops and lets out an "Ah HA! I do know you!"

The book-bearing babe responds at first with a startled sound and flinch, the book lowering to reveal her vivid... pink... eyes.
Oh, um, hello! I don't think I know you... though you do look familiar...
She responds, the form of the woman before her ringing a bell somewhere within the web of memory that she's not exactly able to be called towards.

[ThirdEmperor]

Adel tuts, a little inhalation whistling through the gates of his shiny sharp teeth. He holds up a finger. It can't be good news, although the vampire is certainly smiling. "I vill be back in, oh, fifteen minutes. Vhat may be a little longer is getting this done."

"It's a big place ve're going, and you should think - Vacation." His hands arc the shape of the word, wide and excited. A happy little visit to a happy little beach where they serve fruity drinks right out on the sunkissed sand. With a wave, Adel points his colleague towards the bar. "Start this off right, get a little drunk before ve go. You're vay to vorked up right now. Go find something a little less anger and more of the cold burning vengeance."

[Reinholdt]

A two wave minimum before moving on to speaking terms seems perfectly reasonable.

"Well no, you don't know me at all." Reina squints her eyes a little at the new discovery. "But I totally know you! You're Magtok and Elly's kid aren't you? I didn't know she had one. Did she ever make it back? Magtok must've been ecstatic. No wait. Maybe Magtok just used Elly's DNA and grew you in a vat. He does that sometimes. Were you vat grown or natural?"

[Arkhosia]

A two wave minimum before moving on to speaking terms seems perfectly reasonable.

"Well no, you don't know me at all." Reina squints her eyes a little at the new discovery. "But I totally know you! You're Magtok and Elly's kid aren't you? I didn't know she had one. Did she ever make it back? Magtok must've been ecstatic. No wait. Maybe Magtok just used Elly's DNA and grew you in a vat. He does that sometimes. Were you vat grown or natural?"

The fiction-bearing fraulein, face showing feeling of confusion and shortly thereafter amusement, shakes her head.
I'm afraid you have the wrong parents, though the choice of Magtok is rather ironic.
Her voice and visage become laced with resentment as she speaks the following, the last words of her reply
You see, they're Caelynn and Reinholdt

[Reinholdt]

Reina's eyes widen in surprise. Part because Reinholdt baby, part because this person was actively admitting it to random strangers in a dangerous bar. Dammit, the Rein collective never told her anything. Hell she didn't even learn about the triplets until they were one. And who the hell was Caelynn?

"Ah. I was wrong. My apologies then, for interrupting your book." Reina backs away, returning to her seat. At least the familiarity was explained. But Reina definitely would've preferred it if it was an Elly/Magtok happy ending.

[Arkhosia]

Reina's eyes widen in surprise. Part because Reinholdt baby, part because this person was actively admitting it to random strangers in a dangerous bar. Dammit, the Rein collective never told her anything. Hell she didn't even learn about the triplets until they were one. And who the hell was Caelynn?

"Ah. I was wrong. My apologies then, for interrupting your book." Reina backs away, returning to her seat. At least the familiarity was explained. But Reina definitely would've preferred it if it was an Elly/Magtok happy ending.

When you get to adult reinbabby, I think you're cleared of any likelihood to cause an apocalypse (due to genes, at least! :smalltongue:)
It's fine, no need to apologize. Before you go, mind sharing who you are? You look so familiar, the name's practically on the tip of my tongue, so to speak.
She responds, intrigued in Reina's identity.

[Reinholdt]

Got nothing to do with the apocalypse. Reinholdt's already proven that other kids he has won't cause the apocalypse with his second son years ago. It's admitting you're related to him that's surprising.

"Me? I'm the daughter of Zevanna and Irusk. I doubt you've heard of them." What with them being so long dead and a different species on a different planet in a different universe. It's pretty far removed from well known.

[Artemis97]

Raril shakes himself free of deadtime and realizes he's been out for a while and has things to do. Under the watchful eye of his guard, the drow busies himself about the place, leaving instructions with the goblin staff. He then pops into his office and exits a moment later wearing a clean shirt and his signature hat (sans the usual giant feather). Gesturing for the lady drow to come along, he exits the building and goes out into the city.

[Arkhosia]

Got nothing to do with the apocalypse. Reinholdt's already proven that other kids he has won't cause the apocalypse with his second son years ago. It's admitting you're related to him that's surprising.

"Me? I'm the daughter of Zevanna and Irusk. I doubt you've heard of them." What with them being so long dead and a different species on a different planet in a different universe. It's pretty far removed from well known.

Alexis raises an eyebrow.
I mean who are you besides heritage? What's your name, at the very least? Mine's Alexis, but most know me as Blanche.

Reina's words sound rather evasive to Blanche, which makes the feline rather interested in the woman. After all, one who seems so unwilling to share their name upon learning of her heritage has motives.

[Reinholdt]

Yup. And the motive is, don't introduce yourself to someone who hasn't introduced themselves first.

"Oh. I'm Ceridwen Moon. Nice to meet you." That and not revealing you're the genderbent version of an absent father. Because Blanche has enough daddy issues at the moment. She's long since generated a decent cover name for herself considering she moonlights as Invincibelle. Or did at any rate.

"What're you reading?"

[Arkhosia]

Yup. And the motive is, don't introduce yourself to someone who hasn't introduced themselves first.

"Oh. I'm Ceridwen Moon. Nice to meet you." That and not revealing you're the genderbent version of an absent father. Because Blanche has enough daddy issues at the moment. She's long since generated a decent cover name for herself considering she moonlights as Invincibelle. Or did at any rate.

"What're you reading?"

No, Blanche must have ALL THE DADDY ISSUES! :smalltongue:

A History of Remnant. It's about the world I'm from, really interesting stuff!
She responds, always enjoying talking about books.

[Reinholdt]

But at that point, are they daddy issues or mommy issues?

"Are you from the Nexus? Cause I'm pretty sure there was a Remnant here. Or is that a coincidence because the word is a functional name that overlaps in many worlds?" Gah, if Blanche isn't even from the Nexus, then Reina really has double the lack of clue who Caelynn could possibly be. Stupid infinite parallel universes.

[Arkhosia]

But at that point, are they daddy issues or mommy issues?

"Are you from the Nexus? Cause I'm pretty sure there was a Remnant here. Or is that a coincidence because the word is a functional name that overlaps in many worlds?" Gah, if Blanche isn't even from the Nexus, then Reina really has double the lack of clue who Caelynn could possibly be. Stupid infinite parallel universes.

Funnily enough, Blanche and Caelynn are in a bit of a rocky relationship (ew no not that kind),so i guess double mommy issues!

I'm from the nexus, but my heritage is from a world known as Remnant. I lived there for quite a while, actually.
The feline fraulein chuckles.
It's funny, there's so many names and yet we seem to favor just a few.

[Reinholdt]

"Oh, I see." An entire world called Remnant.
Who would name their world Remnant? Maybe some seeded colony of another world perhaps.
"Well that's because everyone everywhere speaks English." It's strange. (http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AliensSpeakingEnglish) And someone in another thread would go and disprove this point a little. :smalltongue:

"So then, you're just reading for fun? Wouldn't you already know the history if you grew up there?" Presuming they have some kind of education system. Which might be a big presumption.

[Arkhosia]

"Oh, I see." An entire world called Remnant.
Who would name their world Remnant? Maybe some seeded colony of another world perhaps.
"Well that's because everyone everywhere speaks English." It's strange. (http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AliensSpeakingEnglish) And someone in another thread would go and disprove this point a little. :smalltongue:

"So then, you're just reading for fun? Wouldn't you already know the history if you grew up there?" Presuming they have some kind of education system. Which might be a big presumption.

Blanche nods in agreement, amicable smile upon her lips as she places her book down.
It's a welcome little oddity, I must say. I prefer not to think about it too much, it feels like looking a gift horse in the mouth.
She frowns in thought. Does anyone actually buy horses anymore, much less gift them (besides rich parents for little girls of course!)?

I was only there for the 10 years I trained to be a huntress, and although there was a varied curriculum, training to defend home was kinda the priority. Besides, there's only so much detail you can put into a class, and the books go into all the neat little pieces of info!

[Reinholdt]

"You know I always thought the point was that a wise man was supposed to look the gift horse in the mouth, lest the horse murder your entire country." :smallconfused:
Why does it mean something you're not supposed to think about? Madness.

"I suppose." Reina wasn't much of a reader anymore. Used to hit books a lot back in the treasure hunting days and there was undeniable hidden tidbits within those pages. It was just soooooo boring to go through. Her least favorite part of the hunt. "Any exciting tidbits about Remnant the world?"

[Arkhosia]

"You know I always thought the point was that a wise man was supposed to look the gift horse in the mouth, lest the horse murder your entire country." :smallconfused:
Why does it mean something you're not supposed to think about? Madness.

"I suppose." Reina wasn't much of a reader anymore. Used to hit books a lot back in the treasure hunting days and there was undeniable hidden tidbits within those pages. It was just soooooo boring to go through. Her least favorite part of the hunt. "Any exciting tidbits about Remnant the world?"

I'll leave that to the wiser men, and keep that in mind for next time. Maybe I'll remember it at a point where I'm smart enough to evade the gift horse biting me during inspection.
Blanche responds, tone good-humored and laced with amusement.
Well, yes, but first you need to know the basic story of my world.
Should Reina not object, Blanche will provide it!
Long ago, when man was born, so to speak, we were preyed upon by beasts known as Grimm that pretty much only seek to destroy. We overcame them with a unique substance known as Dust, gems and sands of elemental properties. We have built many knigdoms, but the Grimm have always been around. It's the job of people known as Hunters and Huntresses to slay Grimm and defend the people of Remnant.

[Reinholdt]

Grimm. Dust. Remnant. Man this world had terrible naming conventions. And Reina thought the Nexus was bad. What is it about names that make them so hard to come up with? They're mostly nonsensical anyways, except for maybe some roots.

"So why do the Grimm seek to destroy man?" It's a reasonable question. Food source? Territorial disputes? Doesn't like the cut of their jib? That must be it. Their jib is just not satisfactory enough and they must be purged.

[Arkhosia]

Grimm. Dust. Remnant. Man this world had terrible naming conventions. And Reina thought the Nexus was bad. What is it about names that make them so hard to come up with? They're mostly nonsensical anyways, except for maybe some roots.

"So why do the Grimm seek to destroy man?" It's a reasonable question. Food source? Territorial disputes? Doesn't like the cut of their jib? That must be it. Their jib is just not satisfactory enough and they must be purged.

Don't forget everyone under a certain age being named after colors! :smalltongue:

Honestly, we don't know.
Blanche responds.
Grimm only seem to target people and what we create, and while they do fight wildlife, we believe that's more territorial dispute than hunting. Honestly, we doubt Grimm even need to hunt humans for food, merely doing so for the sake of killing or a natural urge of some sort.
They're definitely supernatural, so to speak, as they appear to be lured by fear and other negative emotions, and they are definitely intelligent, as Grimm who survive battles learn from how their opponents fight, and some ancient ones don't even antagonize humanity but instead lie in wait for a more opportune time to strike.

[Reinholdt]

Thankfully Blanche hasn't mentioned that yet. Or Reina might just have a headache.

"Hmmm... might not be supernatural. After all, fear and hate and such does produce certain chemicals and pheromones. Maybe that's what attracts them?" Reina shrugs. All speculation really.

"Is that the sum total of the basic story or was there something more?" There is/was some sort of lead up to interesting tidbits. And everyone needs more information!

[Arkhosia]

Thankfully Blanche hasn't mentioned that yet. Or Reina might just have a headache.

"Hmmm... might not be supernatural. After all, fear and hate and such does produce certain chemicals and pheromones. Maybe that's what attracts them?" Reina shrugs. All speculation really.

"Is that the sum total of the basic story or was there something more?" There is/was some sort of lead up to interesting tidbits. And everyone needs more information!

I think the Grimm would need really good noses for that, but I'm a Huntress, not a scientist, so I may be wrong.
Blanche shrugs as she says so, before responding again
.
Well, there is another. We hunters and Huntresses channel a power known as Aura, which is one of those soul-created magical powers, to shield themselves and fight with a unique power called a semblance. We combine this with a chosen weapon, many creating custom weaponry that have rather... unique design and property. I knew a girl in school who fought with a sniper rifle that doubled as a scythe, using the momentum of shots to travel at high speed and generate enough force to slice and swing the weapon because, and I can not stress this enough, it was one bigass scythe.

[Reinholdt]

"That's... I just... I can't... no. No." Reina looks to be on the verge of having a stroke, her hands shaking and gesticulating wildly, her face contorted and seemingly in pain as she speaks with greater fervency, voice becomining high pitched. Blanche seems to have broke her. "Eve no. You just... you just can't. It's just a flagrant disregard for the whole point of... I mean, if it were a shotgun I could maybe understand, but using a sniper rifle for momuntum to get into melee? That's so... ARRRRRGGGGHHH!!!" The catgirl's nearly incomprehensible tirade comes to an end with a scream before she buries her head into her arm on the table and openly weeps.

[Arkhosia]

"That's... I just... I can't... no. No." Reina looks to be on the verge of having a stroke, her hands shaking and gesticulating wildly, her face contorted and seemingly in pain as she speaks with greater fervency, voice becomining high pitched. Blanche seems to have broke her. "Eve no. You just... you just can't. It's just a flagrant disregard for the whole point of... I mean, if it were a shotgun I could maybe understand, but using a sniper rifle for momuntum to get into melee? That's so... ARRRRRGGGGHHH!!!" The catgirl's nearly incomprehensible tirade comes to an end with a scream before she buries her head into her arm on the table and openly weeps.
Blanche watches Reina's outburst of an emotion one can really only describe with the phrase "What The ****?!", and she honestly can't help but find the whole thing rather funny despite it all. One can't blame her for chuckling, honestly!
Sorry, I've never seen anyone else react exactly how the laws of physics feel in Remnant.
She apologizes, embarrassed.

[Reinholdt]

One can and one does. :smalltongue:
Reina lays her head sideways and wipes her eyes with her other sleeve. "No one gives a **** about physics. It's the abuse of the spirit of the weapon... oh never mind. I wouldn't be able to explain it in words. Sorry for interrupting your story." If Blanche can handle Reina's pitiful dejected look, she can continue!

[Arkhosia]

One can and one does. :smalltongue:
Reina lays her head sideways and wipes her eyes with her other sleeve. "No one gives a **** about physics. It's the abuse of the spirit of the weapon... oh never mind. I wouldn't be able to explain it in words. Sorry for interrupting your story." If Blanche can handle Reina's pitiful dejected look, she can continue!

The regret from disapproving looks come later :smalltongue:
Blanche gives a playful little scratch behind Reina's ear, a good-humored little grin on her lips.
I'd at least like to hear you try putting your thoughts into words.
she replies with a sincere tone

[Reinholdt]

Reina narrows her eyes a bit, tempted to bat away the hand. But she relents and allows the ear scritches in the end without horribly maiming Blanche.

At least until she lifts her head and sits back up properly. "Bah. No really, forget it. There's no point in ranting about a world I've never even seen, let alone can do nothing to change. Let's just move on." It's not like she uses sniper rifles anymore anyways. The one godslayer got sold and even before that she moved away from the sniper position when she took on the mantle of Invincibelle. Let the newfangled generation use sniper rifles how they wish. Just... off her lawn.

[Arkhosia]

Reina narrows her eyes a bit, tempted to bat away the hand. But she relents and allows the ear scritches in the end without horribly maiming Blanche.

At least until she lifts her head and sits back up properly. "Bah. No really, forget it. There's no point in ranting about a world I've never even seen, let alone can do nothing to change. Let's just move on." It's not like she uses sniper rifles anymore anyways. The one godslayer got sold and even before that she moved away from the sniper position when she took on the mantle of Invincibelle. Let the newfangled generation use sniper rifles how they wish. Just... off her lawn.

Hey, how would Blanche know catgirl types vary in how like cats they are when it comes to ears? Blanche likes them, and Ceri appears to be the same type of catgirl she is, after all!
Besides, the unintentional irritation lasts for just a couple of seconds (though maybe ear scritches are so bad that it feels like longer XD)

Well, if it helps think of it as a clever way to utilize the weapon's large caliber in an interesting idea. Anyways, her weapon isn't the most crazy or bizarre that've existed. There's a guy who wielded a staff that doubled as nunchucks that were sets of small shotguns because of course they were, and a sort of flamethrower that, I kid you not, had a thermos as its passive form.

[Reinholdt]

Ear scritches are pleasant to Reina. But Blanche was still a mostly stranger who may or may not be after Rein's inheritance fortune via a murder mystery.

Besides, biting the hand that feeds you is a cat's job.

"But those make sense!" Within the confines of short range. And keeping your tea warm. "I never really got into flamethrowers like I felt I should. Something always tickled at the back of my mind telling me to stay away." Mostly because flamethrowers were Stu's weapon of choice.

[Arkhosia]

Ear scritches are pleasant to Reina. But Blanche was still a mostly stranger who may or may not be after Rein's inheritance fortune via a murder mystery.

Besides, biting the hand that feeds you is a cat's job.

"But those make sense!" Within the confines of short range. And keeping your tea warm. "I never really got into flamethrowers like I felt I should. Something always tickled at the back of my mind telling me to stay away." Mostly because flamethrowers were Stu's weapon of choice.
Murder via ear scritches!? :smalleek::smalltongue:
There's a saying that I've heard: A dog is fed an d petted, so dogs assume you must be god. A cat is fed and petted, so cats assume they must be god.

I've always been a Marksman Rifle type. Sniper rifles are just awesome, but being a huntress means you can't hole away and pick off enemies from afar. I like being able to kill from afar if possible, but I need the ability to fight well at closer range too.

[Reinholdt]

No comment. >>

"So then, what crazy impractical weapon do you use to compensate for close range? Hammer shuriken? The flail spork? Maybe a laser that doubles as a laser?" Because a laser that uses recursion to make a bazillion more lasers can only be a good thing.

And also highly distracting. @.@

[Arkhosia]

No comment. >>

"So then, what crazy impractical weapon do you use to compensate for close range? Hammer shuriken? The flail spork? Maybe a laser that doubles as a laser?" Because a laser that uses recursion to make a bazillion more lasers can only be a good thing.

And also highly distracting. @.@

Somehow I doubt catgirls and laser weapons are a wise pairing :smalltongue:
The half-Faunus chuckles at the question.
Well, I have a couple weapons to switch between actually. The ones I use mainly are a Ballistic Chain Blade, basically a chain scythe that doubles as a handheld pistol or shortsword, and a Multiform Marksman Rifle, which is really just a gun with different forms for different ranges.

- - - Updated - - -


No comment. >>

"So then, what crazy impractical weapon do you use to compensate for close range? Hammer shuriken? The flail spork? Maybe a laser that doubles as a laser?" Because a laser that uses recursion to make a bazillion more lasers can only be a good thing.

And also highly distracting. @.@

Somehow I doubt catgirls and laser weapons are a wise pairing :smalltongue:
The half-Faunus chuckles at the question.
Well, I have a couple weapons to switch between actually. The ones I use mainly are a Ballistic Chain Blade, basically a chain scythe that doubles as a handheld pistol or shortsword, and a Multiform Marksman Rifle, which is really just a gun with different forms for different ranges.

[Reinholdt]

Who needs wisdom when you have lasers?

"Well I can't fault someone for having an excess of weapon choices." Really, Reina couldn't even fault the crazy weapons. She's had just as ridiculous ones in the past. Maybe more so.

Oh Vera (http://i455.photobucket.com/albums/qq276/Reinholdt9000/Vera_zpsbspgxhnr.jpg), you shall always be missed. :smallfrown:

"So do you take after your father or your mother?" Someone taught Blanche to carry around psycho level weapons! And Reina couldn't be more proud of them.

[Arkhosia]

Who needs wisdom when you have lasers?

"Well I can't fault someone for having an excess of weapon choices." Really, Reina couldn't even fault the crazy weapons. She's had just as ridiculous ones in the past. Maybe more so.

Oh Vera (http://i455.photobucket.com/albums/qq276/Reinholdt9000/Vera_zpsbspgxhnr.jpg), you shall always be missed. :smallfrown:

"So do you take after your father or your mother?" Someone taught Blanche to carry around psycho level weapons! And Reina couldn't be more proud of them.

The Empire didn't seem to have the wisest leadership, but they seemed to do pretty well. Clearly it was all the giant space laser :smalltongue:

I honestly couldn't say. My father left the Nexus before my birth, something that doesn't endear him to me at all, so I couldn't say anything about his personality. My mother is a lot more spirited and impulsive than I, however, so I suspect it'd be him.
Blanche responds, her voice tinged with bitterness as she speaks of Reinholdt. Who knew unprotected curtaining and lack of knowledge of conception before leaving could cause such enmity? :smallfrown:

[Reinholdt]

Typical Thanksmas miracle it is.

"That right?" Reina supposed there were people out there more spirited and impulsive than Rein. She had her calculating moments after all.

"Well, I had probably better be off. Wouldn't want to distract you from your historical findings too much." Good books are supposedly hard to put down. Or so I keep getting told. Reina stands, leaving a generous tip on the table.

[Arkhosia]

Typical Thanksmas miracle it is.

"That right?" Reina supposed there were people out there more spirited and impulsive than Rein. She had her calculating moments after all.

"Well, I had probably better be off. Wouldn't want to distract you from your historical findings too much." Good books are supposedly hard to put down. Or so I keep getting told. Reina stands, leaving a generous tip on the table.

Blanche takes after Reinholdt but only when he's having those moments, clearly :smalltongue:
Meeting you more than makes up for that, no worries.
The catgirl responds, with a friendly "goodbye" added on. Despite how such a sentence may sound, this is not the start of a crazy weird Oedipus plot. Blanche just doesn't know it sounded flirtatious. :smallamused:

A few minutes after, Blanche herself departs the Black Dragon's Den

[Morty]

An individual strides into the Den. It's a tiefling, with dusky skin and dark hair. His forehead is adorned by a pair of curved horns, and his eyes are bright red. His build is slim and athletic, and he's dressed in travel-worn clothes - a cloak wrapped around a soft leather jacket and trousers. He looks warily around the bar, before taking a seat at a table.

[Shadowcaller]

So many individuals entering the den at the same time since a third person enters now. A dark-skinned woman wearing a long white robe that looks almost too immaculate to exist outside a tv-commercial. It almost floats as she walks despite the fact it's clear she's wearing a black obsidian armor underneath that looks no less unnaturally perfect than the robe. She herself have more mundane human features but not so much that they contrast to her otherworldly clothing.

There is a sense of unrealness about this lady, especially in comparison to this down-to-earth bar. She takes a seat and the robe seem to spread itself perfectly over the chair so she doesn't end up sitting on it. "I think I'll have a... water please. With citrus." She orders from one of the goblins and then takes a closer look around. There were things to learn, even from a place like this.

[Morty]

Ambrosia might spot a travel-worn tiefling not far from where she stands.

"Well met," he says, inclining his head.

[Shadowcaller]

The woman looks up at the tiefling with a smile. "Oh, hello there. Wh-who might you be?"

[Morty]

The tiefling bows slightly.

"I am Fayyaad ibn Haashid al-Zafar. A newcomer to this strange land."

[Shadowcaller]

"I see, how nice. We already have so much in common. My name is Ambrosia Ithil, a traveler just like yourself." She says with a gesture at her armored chest. "But what makes a.. man such as yourself to approach me? I'm not really the most approachable person in the world." Her clothes did make her look rather alien, but they were so much more practical than ordinary clothes.

[Morty]

"I'm going to have to spend a while in this Nexus," Fayyaad explains. "So I need to make myself familiar with it and its people. Besides, I wouldn't call you unapproachable, my lady. You make quite an impression."

[Shadowcaller]

"An impression, sure. But the right one I wonder? Suitable if you like to come off as someone 'holier-than-thou' but less so if you simply want to actually socialize." She gestures at the chair on the other side of the table. "But why don't you have a seat considering you came all the way over here." The scholar grins.

[Orm-Embar]

[Street]

An overly-decorated blue and silver aircar darts into view overhead, tilts strongly and circles once, slowing, and then drops straight down to land near the entrance to the Black Dragon. When the doors swing open and up like wings, Feng Bo emerges and stands next to the car, scanning the shadowed street.

The car looks rather out of place in this setting. It's a recent Skyside model with rental agency bumper stickers promising nothing good to thieves and carjackers, not that those promises carry much weight in this neighborhood. Bo looks it over thoughtfully, makes the ignition keycard disappear into his long red-grey coat, and turns away from the flyer with a small shrug.

[Morty]

"Don't mind if I do," Fayyaad says, sitting down. "Small-minded people might find your appearance intimidating. I'm lucky enough not to be counted among them."

[Shadowcaller]

"Oh really? How fortunate." Ambrosia folds her arms over her chest. "But if I may put you on the spot, what's your more enlightened opinion then?"

[Cyber Punk]

An overly-decorated blue and silver aircar darts into view overhead, tilts strongly and circles once, slowing, and then drops straight down to land near the entrance to the Black Dragon. When the doors swing open and up like wings, Feng Bo emerges and stands next to the car, scanning the shadowed street.

The car looks rather out of place in this setting. It's a recent Skyside model with rental agency bumper stickers promising nothing good to thieves and carjackers, not that those promises carry much weight in this neighborhood. Bo looks it over thoughtfully, makes the ignition keycard disappear into his long red-grey coat, and turns away from the flyer with a small shrug.

[Street]

Holly Dawson disembarks and stands next to Feng Bo. She pats her deceptively small backpack, as if to remind herself of its presence. Her sniper-rifle, a lot of different kinds of ammo, weapon repair kits and various other weapons are contained in the bag, along with a novel and some other items. The only piece visible is the .45 pistol holstered on her waist. Thank goodness for Shadowrun and it's hammerspace inventory.

"Rig it with explosives or some kind of trap. Let's give anyone with ideas a nasty surprise." She offers, pointing to the car.

[Morty]

"I find it curious," Fayyaad says. "Your appearance speaks of someone a cut above the surrounding crowd, moving with a purpose."

[Orm-Embar]

[Street]

Bo raises his eyebrows theatrically high and replies, "I appreciate the offer, but - explosives? You don't have to do that. It's not even my car, just a rental."

[Shadowcaller]

"An interesting interpretation Mr. Fayyaad. I can't deny there is a purpose to my step. But what about yourself? Do you consider yourself a 'cut-above' the rest? You seem to be of noble birth after all." Ambrosia asks.

[Morty]

"I am indeed born to one of the noble families of my homeland, Moran-Ir," Fayyaad says with a nod. "As for whether I'm a cut above the crowd... that's not for me to say. But I certainly strive to be."

[Cyber Punk]

Bo raises his eyebrows theatrically high and replies, "I appreciate the offer, but - explosives? You don't have to do that. It's not even my car, just a rental."

[Street]

"Better safe than sorry. I'd offer to keep watch, but we need both of our eyes. If we're not distracted, I'll keep an eye on it while we're inside. I'll be able to see it, Bo."

Holly gestures to the entrance with her head. "Let's get moving."

[Orm-Embar]

[Street -> Main Room]

"If you're willing to keep a watch out, that's as good as it gets," the sorcerer replies, pleased. He turns and leads the way through the shadows of squat industrial buildings and the pools of light cast by a few unbroken street-side lamps. He's not trying to be quiet and the sound of his boots echoes off the walls as they pass several outcast figures huddled around their bottles, cigarettes, and other, more exotic addictions, and into a doorway to what looks like another warehouse.

Light spills out of the open doorway along with the sounds of glass clinking and people laughing and talking loudly. Feng Bo enters the main room and leads the way to the bar, detouring around a few tables where humans, goblins, tieflings and others sit drinking with dice and cards scattered among them. Along the way he looks about, nodding to a few who he recognizes and looking to see who's new.

"Dark rum for me," he tells the goblin at the bar, "and anything my colleague here wants," indicating Holly. He puts money on the bar.

[Cyber Punk]

[Street -> Main Room]

"Wiz."

Holly follows closely behind Bo, her eyes scanning every single person in the room. She takes a seat at the bar and taps it twice. "Scotch."

[Shadowcaller]

Ambrosia eyes the two new-comers as they enter, colleagues? Didn't look like law-enforcing agents despite both obviously being prepared for a fight. Military perhaps? Either way it probably wasn't her concern. She always kept an eyes out for person of interest however and they weren't talking that quietly...
She turns back to Fayyaad. "That's certainly something to strive for. Hardly something which comes naturally. I strive to do the same myself actually, to improve and change, to try new things. But how did you intend to improve yourself here in the nexus though? A noble such as yourself must have some means."

[Orm-Embar]

[At the Bar]

The man in the red-gray coat maybe hesitates a moment too long on seeing the woman in immaculate black armor and white robes, before continuing on his way to the bar, but that's about all the reaction he shows. Can't go around flinching every time you see someone wearing unusual armor in the Nexus, after all.

When the drinks arrive, he raises his glass in Holly's direction. "Kanpai!"

[Morty]

"To tell you the truth, I don't quite know yet," Fayyaad says honestly. "I am a noble, but I'm an expatriate noble. I had to leave my homeland due to the religious persecution people like me face there. So I have to find a purpose for myself here."

[Shadowcaller]

"May I suggest a job of some sort? I know devoting yourself to a craft could help you find a purpose. Perhaps not the first job but.... there is potential there." Ambrosia suggests.

[Morty]

"I am a swordsman, a pyromancer and trained in the ways of politics and governance," Fayyaad says. "Hopefully there's something to do here for someone with those skills."

[Cyber Punk]

The man in the red-gray coat maybe hesitates a moment too long on seeing the woman in immaculate black armor and white robes, before continuing on his way to the bar, but that's about all the reaction he shows. Can't go around flinching every time you see someone wearing unusual armor in the Nexus, after all.

When the drinks arrive, he raises his glass in Holly's direction. "Kanpai!"

[At the Bar]

Holly hesitates as well, her telescopic gaze lingering on Ambrosia, though she's facing the bar. She does have to turn, just to be sure of what she's seeing. Nodding in greeting to the armored lady, she turns back to Bo.

"Kan-what now?" She grins slightly, raising her glass as well. "I'll assume it's a toast. To the beginning of a wiz friendship, perhaps?"

[Shadowcaller]

"Proficient in the tools of war and politics? You do sound like a politician in the making." Ambrosia says with a smile. "I'm neither or those things or an expert in the subject but those people appear to be. They look like soldiers, or at least members of a military organization." She points out Holly and Bo. "They might give you an idea where to get a job."

[Orm-Embar]

[At the Bar]

Holly hesitates as well, her telescopic gaze lingering on Ambrosia, though she's facing the bar. She does have to turn, just to be sure of what she's seeing. Nodding in greeting to the armored lady, she turns back to Bo.

"Kan-what now?" She grins slightly, raising her glass as well. "I'll assume it's a toast. To the beginning of a wiz friendship, perhaps?"

"I'll drink to that," Bo responds with a smile, and does so - drinks, that is. He doesn't appear to take any more special notice of the woman in armor and her drinking partner, but then again, he's positioned at an angle that could perhaps be keeping them in peripheral vision.

"So, when you offered to keep watch on the car it reminded me about your eyes. I'm not familiar with your modifications but based on the little I do know, it seems they'd be highly useful for, you know, our kinds of projects." He adds, "Which I could definitely have used some help on the last operation."

Sneaking about, avoiding guard patrols, looking into secured files - that kind of thing!

[Morty]

Fayyaad glances at the two.

"They do look like soldiers," he says. "One of them has a weapon I'm unfamiliar with. But that's to be expected in this place."

[Cyber Punk]

[At The Bar]

"Explains the bruises, then." Holly says, smiling back. "You seem to be a short-to-medium range combatant. We'll complement each other nicely." She takes a sip of her drink. Her voice is loud enough that Bo will hear her clearly, but quiet enough that Ambrosia would have to strain her ears to make out her words.

"I know the white irises make it look like I'm blind, but I can see you clear as day. Just with inverted colors, but I'm used to it at this point. How about you? Lemme guess... a mage?"

[Orm-Embar]

[At the Bar]

"Yes," Bo admits. "Battlefield magic and intelligence gathering, mostly. Not the important kind. Just blowing stuff up." He raises his shoulders slightly, testing the bandages around his ribs - ouch. He turns it into a shrug, smiling, "And hand to hand fighting, of course."

He adds, "Wish I had been able to bring my weapons and armor and all the rest of the kit. Could do a lot more with the right gear. A few more personnel would be help too. I have a few ideas for things that need doing when we hit Skyside."

[Cyber Punk]

[At the Bar]

"A brawler and a mage. I guessed right." Holly stares at her drink, then takes another drink of it.

"I can't help with that, omae. I'm on my own for now. Fellow runners are recuperating, back on the ship. As for gear, why not just ask the bossman, Dipsnig?"

((Also, Mort, Holly isn't presently wielding her sniper rifle, unless the unfamiliar weapon is the .45 pistol on her waist.))

[Shadowcaller]

"Everything is strange around here I admit, but it could always be stranger. The majority of the population is still humanoid and some of the technology isn't that outlandish. While it might take time I'm certain that you will adapt to it. I doubt I could provide much for you to do though, I am allergic to violence." The scholar claims. "I am a person of peace."

[Morty]

"What do you do, then?" Fayyaad asks curiously. "Given your appearance, I'd hazard a guess you're a magician, probably of no mean station."

[Shadowcaller]

Ambrosia laughs. "Magican you say? I suppose some would call me that. Not the title I use myself but I have a number of tricks up my sleeves." Quite an understatement but in this form and without her orb her abilities were lessened. "But I work as a scholar, information is my trade and this tome is my lifework." She pats the book held near her hips. "But I don't know nearly as much about this realm as I want to. It's curious in that way, always something new to discover. There are some major players around here though. Those soldiers by the bar for instance? They might be from MERC. The mercenary organization here." She gestures at Bo and Holly.

[Morty]

"Mercenaries..." Fayyaad says, glancing at the two. "I trust their kind about as far as I can throw them. But they're sometimes necessary."

[Orm-Embar]

[At the Bar]

"A brawler and a mage. I guessed right." Holly stares at her drink, then takes another drink of it.

"I can't help with that, omae. I'm on my own for now. Fellow runners are recuperating, back on the ship. As for gear, why not just ask the bossman, Dipsnig?"

"I may just do that, if it's really necessary," the sorcerer replies. "Although I'd like to avoid situations where a frontal assault is the only option."

[Shadowcaller]

"I see little use for violence myself but in your case, they might be the ones that pay for your living here. I admit I myself have too much foolish pride to ever consider that line of work, but the question is if you're as foolish as I?" She smiles faintly. "Not that I should encourage you too much to take a job I disagree with but I'm trying to act like a neutral party here."

[Cyber Punk]

[At the Bar]

"You can count on me to cover you if push comes to shove, Bo. Won't let you get geeked. You should still get extra gear, just in case. Never hurts to be prepared." Holly pats Bo's back gently, making sure to not hit his bruised parts.

She nods towards the tiefling and armored lady. "Super-eyes don't mean super-ears, unfortunately, but I can read lips. Tails there doesn't seem to like 'our kind'. No love for a runner."

She doesn't sound like she minds.

[Orm-Embar]

[At the Bar]

The sorcerer grins. "Not a problem, then. Want to hear about Skyside?"

[Cyber Punk]

[At the Bar]

"Shoot." Holly responds, and focuses all her attention of him. Not all, she can multitask, what with the car and the tiefling+Ambrosia combo that need watching. Most of her attention is on him.

"What intel do you have?"

[Morty]

"I see little use for violence myself but in your case, they might be the ones that pay for your living here. I admit I myself have too much foolish pride to ever consider that line of work, but the question is if you're as foolish as I?" She smiles faintly. "Not that I should encourage you too much to take a job I disagree with but I'm trying to act like a neutral party here."

Fayyaad frowns, but nods.

"There is something to what you say. It may be I will need mercenary work to support myself here. I'm curious, though. I'm not a scholar myself, but the field isn't entirely unfamiliar to me. What sort of thing does one research in the Nexus?"

[Shadowcaller]

Ambrosia raises an eyebrow at Holly's comment but decides to not say anything. "Oh, just about anything that comes to my attention. Especially gods and spirits. But my current research is all about dragons. especially how they reproduce. I'm attempting to reintroduce dragons into my own world you see and it's quite a project." She explains. "As I have learned, there are quite a number of different 'dragons' around here. I'm looking for the kind that exist in my world though, which really is easier said than done."

[Morty]

"I've only heard of dragons," Fayyaad says. "They're old, wise and powerful. They're asleep, I've heard, and humans wake them up from time to time. Why are you looking for dragons from your homeworld here, if I may ask?"

[Shadowcaller]

"To repopulate of course, the dragons in my world are long gone. I would need something pretty powerful to bring them back. I've had a few clues but nothing substantial yet. I keep running into dead ends though. But at least I'm finding possibilities, this world doesn't seem to have any limit to them. So I'm positive I will find something out eventually.Just need to look harder." Ambrosia replies.

[Morty]

"That's... a task massive in scope," Fayyaad says. It's clear from his voice that he's impressed. "Most people would have given up by now. Such perseverance is to be respected, I think."

[Orm-Embar]

[At the Bar]

Bo turns his attention fully to Holly as well, apparently trusting her to watch his back. He gestures animatedly as he tries to describe the place.

"Skyside is a floating city, held up by antigravity generators. It follows the usual organizing principle - a dark ring of poverty on the ground beneath, in the shadow of the city, where the poorest live by whatever means they can, and then the social grade rises with the altitude." The sorcerer's hand rises in an expressive gesture to indicate great height.

"It's a beautiful sight. Silver towers, rising into the clouds. Then when you get closer you begin to see the signs of industry, the spaceports, airports, warehouses and factories where the work gets done. Aircars and dirigibles floating about. The financial district. High above, the wealthy." The habitual smile leaves his face for a moment, leaving a cold mask-like expression. "And slavers."

After a pause, he takes a drink and then continues in a more normal tone. "For all the city's pretty technology and toys, those who claim to rule do not deserve the title. They do not have an honorable ruler to protect and guide the people. Laws, in name only, but no way to enforce them. Military forces, but no police forces. There are private security companies of varying quality, and freelancers."

The man concludes, "Since the boss wants to know more about the private security, I have a few ideas for how to go about finding out -- directly."

[Cyber Punk]

[At the Bar]

Holly listens attentively, not saying a word until he's done. She also frowns when he mentions slavers.

When he's finished, she glances at her drink and downs half the glass. "PMCs eh? I worked for one once. We did a lot of wetwork, but not all the time." She taps the table for a bit. "Alright, Bo. Lemme at 'em. What ideas do you have?"

[Orm-Embar]

[At the Bar]

"Simple, really. Skyside is lawless. Just don't get caught by a stronger enemy." The sorcerer lowers his voice, turning his shoulder in to block out the room, and raises his drink to provide a shield against lip-reading -- all seemingly without thinking about it.

"That makes it a straightforward smash-and-grab mission. Pick a private security company. I'd suggest one that works for slavers because as far as I'm concerned that makes them legitimate targets... and when the survivors try to figure out who hit them, the pool of suspects will be that much bigger. Anyway, they'll have information stored in some manner, either at their HQ or accessible from there. Information about themselves, their payroll, weapons, vehicles and other equipment, and about their clients - who pays for all this - and even about their competition. Hey, they might think competitors did it, who knows."

"So: target, penetrate, neutralize, grab and go. Simple." Feng Bo grins at the other MERC. "The first part is fun. Figuring who's the target, and access. What do you think?"

[Shadowcaller]

"That's... a task massive in scope," Fayyaad says. It's clear from his voice that he's impressed. "Most people would have given up by now. Such perseverance is to be respected, I think."

"I know plenty of people who would think otherwise, but thank you. It's of course more of a long-term goal, not something I can devote every waking hour to. I lack the same thing as you do though, namely funds. Of course, my pride forbids me to accommodate money through what seems to be the usual ways of this plane." She gestures at Holly and Bo.

[Morty]

"I did bring back some funds with me from home," Fayyaad admits. "My family is very wealthy, so they wouldn't just send me away with no means. But I suspect it'll run out quicker than I'd expect."

[Cyber Punk]

[At the Bar]

Holly nods in agreement with the bit about slavers being acceptable targets... and everything else. "Wow, you've thought this out well. I suggest we also..." She looks around and chooses to raise her drink to her mouth instead of trying to change the shape her lips make. That'd just make her words slightly harder to understand.

"... plant some data/evidence at the scene, make it less likely they'll suspect us. Better yet, if we could make it look like an inside job... well, divided they fall." She says, grinning through her glass.

"Sounds wiz! First off, though, the target. That'd give us access. I'm still green to this whole Skyside drek, y'know, but I'm sure we can formulate a plan of action regardless."

((Is Morty running the scene, or are you gonna? SC, perhaps?))

[Arkhosia]

The door creaks open and another steps across the threshold, feminine form adorned in fabric. Ebon shoes and matching skirt pair with a crimson sleeveless sweater, fingerless black gloves extending to just below the elbow as matching tights cling to slender legs. A blade hangs from the maiden's waist, location designating left-handedness, as an umber cloak hangs from her shoulders. What skin is visible is tanned, caramel eyes surveying the inn and tuscan hair in a braid.

[Orm-Embar]

[At the Bar]

The sorcerer nods in agreement. "Good points, all. How are you with tech-based information systems?"

((PM sent))

[Cyber Punk]

[At the Bar]

Holly smiles widely. "I'm no decker, but I know my way round a computer." She says, taking a sip of her drink. "So it's safe to say I'm wiz on a PC/PDA or what have you."

[Orm-Embar]

[At the Bar]

"Excellent," Bo replies, "I was hoping you'd have the right expertise for that part of it." He looks at what's left of his drink, but his thoughts are elsewhere. Still guarding against being overheard, though it should be obvious he and Holly are talking about something serious. Around them the bar's patrons drink, gamble, talk and argue, making enough noise to keep this one conversation relatively private. Although he does glance around to see who's coming in the door, not to be caught off guard.

"As for the target... I've looked at a few. Saber & Nieces Assassins Corp. - but they're more for the bespoke trade. When you care enough to get serious and cost is no longer the issue," he explains, sounding like there is some grudging respect there. At least they're professionals, after all.

"The Chromium Star people, they have a lot of 'bots they use, supposed to be reliable except for maintenance issues. In other words, somewhat unreliable... not that some of the others are much better in that regard." Something about Bo's tone makes "unreliable" sound vaguely horrifying, the kind of bad habit that shouldn't get out in polite company.

"Unending Reach, that's a big outfit, diversified, installs equipment and does surveillance and investigation as well as strong arm stuff. Got their own building and a lot of infrastructure." An inviting target, but maybe too well defended.

"Dedication Consolidated Industries, their motto is 'We put the Dead in Dedication' - nice, huh?" Marketing! He smiles and continues.

"But the one I like the best for this job, that's an outfit that calls themselves Your Private Army. Kind of like an employment agency, only for security people, ex-military, and hopefuls. Their HQ for admin is a separate building from their operations spread, and it doesn't look like a really hardened target. They do a lot of low-level grunt work like day to day patrolling, bodyguarding too, also some training, sometimes real field operations like a corporate takeover, or helping some executive break out of their contract to make a career move. And sometimes catching slaves. Which seems to be allowed in Skyside, somehow," he with a morose look.

Then he brightens up. "Still, if the sneak part of the op goes wrong, that probably means we get to shoot our way out, so I don't see a downside," he grins, and raises his glass to Holly once more.

[Recaiden]

Scarcely has the door closed when it creaks open again, getting out of the way of an incoming patron without needing to be touched. Tahlia's hair is tucked up under a newsboy's cap, arms extending from a sleeveless white shirt into the pockets of jeans.
At the bar, she quietly asks for a cup of tea.

[Cyber Punk]

[At the Bar]

Holly grins. "You've already chosen YPR, haven't ya?" She chuckles. "Chromium Star sounded wiz, too. Unending Reach, if I had a decker with me, but that's hardly an option, right chummer?"

Then she grows serious. "So, datasteal and possibly wetwork. How're we going in? Am I gonna offer you support from behind my rifle, or am I coming with you?"

[Reinholdt]

One dejected looking Reinholdt traveling all the way from Riverside finally reaches the bar, where he slumps into a stool. He manages to order some rum before letting his head thump loudly into the countertop. This proves to be a future detriment when his drink actually arrives. Now he has to decide between keeping his head where it is, which is where he wants it, or drinking, which is what he wants. It wasn't really feasible to do both unless... nope. No crazy swirly straws readily available to that'll do that. Dang. He hates tough choices.

[Orm-Embar]

[At the Bar]

Bo laughs just a bit. "I have to agree, Chromium Star and the Reach are both good targets. Probably better information sources I'd guess. But, I ranked them lower priority because they have the better networks. Building security alarms, cameras, communication systems... but the biggest reason is their, ah, motivation. Fighting spirit. I'd expect them to be coordinated and stand up to fire - guessing, of course, I haven't seen them in real action yet." He shrugs. You just never know. Robots, at least, aren't known for backing down.

To the second part, "We should go in together, I think, and watch each others' backs," the other MERC replies. "Although you have a couple of critical roles, in the data extract and covering withdrawal. All right?"

"As for the way in, just have to breach a door and alarm. I can handle that. Maybe drop us on a roof if the ground looks too well covered. Also, what you said about misdirecting - think we should grab a couple of uniforms from one of these other outfits, first?"

[Recaiden]

A crazy bright yellow swirly straw extends up from the glass, loops around several times, and ends just in front of Reinholdt's face.

If he were up to turning his head, he would see that tea is now being drunk out of a similar straw by Tahlia, a little way down the bar. It's not how tea should be drunk, but it's just too much fun!
"Are you alright, buddy?"

[Earl of Purple]

The door opens, with a bit of struggle from the individual endeavouring to enter.

The reason for this is because he is a red-furred squirrel-like individual, with a long bushy tail at least as long as he is tall... Which is only about thirty centimetres. Sat upon his head is a black felt bicorne hat, with a blue jay's feather serving as a plume. In addition to this rather archaic headgear is a dark green waistcoat, with five badges pinned to the front of it. Slung over his back is a wicker basket with a pair of straps to serve as a pack, and the squirrel-chap carries a knobbly wooden cudgel.

At the moment, he's looking in awe at all the far-larger-than-he people and furnishings in the tavern, though shortly he'll walk to the bar, pushing the cudgel into his pack, and start to clamber up the chair, and from there jump onto the bar itself.

[Shadowcaller]

"I did bring back some funds with me from home," Fayyaad admits. "My family is very wealthy, so they wouldn't just send me away with no means. But I suspect it'll run out quicker than I'd expect."

"Ah, yes. Family. Where would we be without it?" Ambrosia says with a smile. "Still, you probably should go about getting that job while you have the chance. Or you could... find the money I suppose I heard some people descend into tomb-robbing. A strange occupation."

[Reinholdt]

A crazy bright yellow swirly straw extends up from the glass, loops around several times, and ends just in front of Reinholdt's face.

If he were up to turning his head, he would see that tea is now being drunk out of a similar straw by Tahlia, a little way down the bar. It's not how tea should be drunk, but it's just too much fun!
"Are you alright, buddy?"

Hooray! Problem solved. Reinholdt never could fault the Nexus for always having some random solution to minor inconveniences.

He takes a sip through the straw before turning his head and tilting it while refusing to lift it off the bar like it were some sort of pivot point. He eyes Talia a bit through his slightly puffy eyes, trying to determine if Reynard stalked him all this way, before deciding that line of thinking would be a waste of time. "I've been better. Thanks for the straw. How would you like to be a hero?"