The Olympian Barcade and Restaurant

[Felandria]

"Yes. I search for someone. Passed a man in a porcelain mask through here?" The lizardman looks grim, and there is murder in his eyes as he mentions the masked man.

Sierra furrows her brow.

I don’t think I’ve seen anyone like that, I think I woulda noticed that mask you describe.

She places a sauce basket on the bar, with various bottle sauces for his meat.

[bc56]

The lizardman takes one bottle of sauce, sniffs it, then pours some onto his meat. "He murdered three of my kin." There's a pause, as Kothar eats. "The food tastes good. How much costs it?"

[WarforgedTank]

Sierra lights the cigar for the stranger and slides him an ashtray.

So, what brings you around these parts?

The man smiles, the brim of his hat sitting low enough the rest of his face stays covered.

"Lookin' fer work, actually. Bounty hunter by trade. Know anyone who needs someone found and is willin' ta' pay a good price?"

He takes the cigar from his mouth, and taps it into the bowl, then takes a heavy drag, exhaling the smoke away from the bartender and the gentleman who'd taken a seat next to him. He nods in greeting towards the reptilian humanoid.

[Felandria]

The lizardman takes one bottle of sauce, sniffs it, then pours some onto his meat. "He murdered three of my kin." There's a pause, as Kothar eats. "The food tastes good. How much costs it?"

It’s (a perfectly reasonable cost that the lizardman can easily afford).

Something to drink?

- - - Updated - - -

The man smiles, the brim of his hat sitting low enough the rest of his face stays covered.

"Lookin' fer work, actually. Bounty hunter by trade. Know anyone who needs someone found and is willin' ta' pay a good price?"

He takes the cigar from his mouth, and taps it into the bowl, then takes a heavy drag, exhaling the smoke away from the bartender and the gentleman who'd taken a seat next to him. He nods in greeting towards the reptilian humanoid.

Can’t say that I do, perhaps my boss might, but not me personally.

[bc56]

Kothar already bought a drink. He's still holding it. He slaps several silver coins on the table, the payment for the meal, and a hefty tip. He turns to the bounty hunter. "I pay you to find a person?" He's thinking of the masked man.

[WarforgedTank]

Kothar already bought a drink. He's still holding it. He slaps several silver coins on the table, the payment for the meal, and a hefty tip. He turns to the bounty hunter. "I pay you to find a person?" He's thinking of the masked man.

The stranger turns to the lizardman. He takes a drag off the cigar, then exhales.

"Sure can stranger. Just a few questions before I finish my drink and my cigar."

The stranger takes off his hat, and set it on the bar. He has a handsome face, or used to, before whatever took a swipe at him. 3 scars made by what was very obviously a paw of some sort cross over his right eye, blinding that eye. His other eye is a piercing shade of blue. He wears his facial hair in a close trimmed beard, but he hasn't shaved in a couple of days. His hair is of medium length, and dark brown, hanging behind his ears.

"The names Jonas. I've only got 3 questions. Am I tracking him, or are we? Dead or alive? When do I get paid?"

Jonas takes another drag off the cigar.

"My fee will be determined by how you answer those questions friend."

[bc56]

"I named Kothar, we track together, and dead. You get half down, half when done." The lizardfolk might seem somewhat unnerving to those inexperienced with his kind, but I don't expect the bounty hunter to be put off easily.

[Felandria]

Meanwhile, Sierra quietly produces a cheese plate for the duo.

[WarforgedTank]

Meanwhile, Sierra quietly produces a cheese plate for the duo.

Jonas grabs a piece of cheese off the table, and sets several stone coins on the table.

"All sounds in order. One request. I take a trophy off the kill. I like mementos. Not sure what currency yer usin', but I'm usually paid in silver. And my usual fee for dead is the targets weight in the stuff. But seein' yer comin' along, 1000 silver pieces should do it."

Jonas takes and eats another piece of cheese.

[bc56]

Kothar picks through his coin purse, and pulls out 10 platinum coins. "That worth 1000 silver. We hunt masked man. He looks like this." Kothar retrieves a piece of chalk from his pack and draws an image of a mask on the back of his shield. The mask covers only the upper face, leaving the mouth exposed. "It made of white porcelain, with swirling red pattern. He wears matching armor, never takes armor or mask off, not even to sleep. His hair long and black, skin pale. Mustache, like this." Kothar draws a mustache under the mask. It's short and bushy. "He about 6 feet tall."

[WarforgedTank]

Kothar picks through his coin purse, and pulls out 10 platinum coins. "That worth 1000 silver. We hunt masked man. He looks like this." Kothar retrieves a piece of chalk from his pack and draws an image of a mask on the back of his shield. The mask covers only the upper face, leaving the mouth exposed. "It made of white porcelain, with swirling red pattern. He wears matching armor, never takes armor or mask off, not even to sleep. His hair long and black, skin pale. Mustache, like this." Kothar draws a mustache under the mask. It's short and bushy. "He about 6 feet tall."

Jonas reaches into his pack, retrieves a piece of charcoal and a torn piece of paper. He copies the drawings down, and slips the paper back into his pack.

"Well pardner, sounds like we have an agreement."

Jonas stands, placing his hat back on his head. He tips it to the waitress.

"Thankee ma'am."

Jonas turns to the lizardman as he lights another cigar.

"Lead the way to the last place you seen this feller and we'll get started."

[bc56]

"Thank you." With that, Kothar will lead the way to a street corner in Inside

[Hattish Thing]

A sleek, black vehicle parks itself in front of the restaurant, still running as several individuals clad in dark, vaguely modern uniforms step out. Once these grim men have evacuated the vehicle, a final figure exits, his appearance quite different than all the rest. Tidy locks of well-groomed, wheat-colored hair fall over his unhealthily pale forehead, peppered and lined with streaks of gray, while almond-shaped eyes of cold and calculating gray peer out at the world from behind ornate circular spectacles of silvery siccatite and brilliant onyx gemstone. His unhealthily pale skin is perfect and unblemished, however, many late nights spent without suitable rest have caused dark circles to manifest beneath the figure's prying, bird-like eyes. In addition to his sunken and uncomfortably focused gray eyes, the man possesses a large, hooked nose and dark lips permanently set to smirk.

Although the man's physical appearance is relatively unremarkable, his equipment and garb stand out. The man is clad in an extravagant gray greatcoat, lined with thick fur. The well-worn coat is decorated with lines of faded silver and gold, wrapped tightly to his frame and fastened by glittering golden buttons. Beneath his enormous coat, the man wears dark-colored military dress, decorated with crimson clasps and ornamentations which all depict the same somewhat ominous-looking symbol.

After a moment, he steps into the restaurant, followed by his men. He smiles, somewhat charmingly, towards the nearest individual who appears to function as staff.

"Excuse me, vhould you h-happen to know if Miss, er... F-Felandri is in? I s-seek an audience vhith her."

---

Spoiler: Art:

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[Felandria]

A sleek, black vehicle parks itself in front of the restaurant, still running as several individuals clad in dark, vaguely modern uniforms step out. Once these grim men have evacuated the vehicle, a final figure exits, his appearance quite different than all the rest. Tidy locks of well-groomed, wheat-colored hair fall over his unhealthily pale forehead, peppered and lined with streaks of gray, while almond-shaped eyes of cold and calculating gray peer out at the world from behind ornate circular spectacles of silvery siccatite and brilliant onyx gemstone. His unhealthily pale skin is perfect and unblemished, however, many late nights spent without suitable rest have caused dark circles to manifest beneath the figure's prying, bird-like eyes. In addition to his sunken and uncomfortably focused gray eyes, the man possesses a large, hooked nose and dark lips permanently set to smirk.

Although the man's physical appearance is relatively unremarkable, his equipment and garb stand out. The man is clad in an extravagant gray greatcoat, lined with thick fur. The well-worn coat is decorated with lines of faded silver and gold, wrapped tightly to his frame and fastened by glittering golden buttons. Beneath his enormous coat, the man wears dark-colored military dress, decorated with crimson clasps and ornamentations which all depict the same somewhat ominous-looking symbol.

After a moment, he steps into the restaurant, followed by his men. He smiles, somewhat charmingly, towards the nearest individual who appears to function as staff.

"Excuse me, vhould you h-happen to know if Miss, er... F-Felandri is in? I s-seek an audience vhith her."

---

Spoiler: Art:

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Sierra greets the group.

Oh, my, yes, I do believe she is here somewhere, I shall let her know you wish to have a meeting with her.

Can I get you all anything while you wait?

[Hattish Thing]

The figure nods curtly as his entourage moves close. Confidently, he glances about the place before clearing his throat, seemingly unimpressed with the establishment.

Finally, he speaks, his tone quiet but intense.

"Tea, b-black."

[Felandria]

Sierra departs momentarily, then returns with the tea.

Felandria will be ready for you in a moment, you can head to the back to her private booth.

It’s easy to spot.

[Hattish Thing]

Kramolagh blinks as a plate weighted by a cup of dark tea is provided to him, a somewhat concerned expression upon his angular face. Gesturing for a pair of his finely dressed guards, the gray-coated figure steps into the private booth, glancing about curiously.

[Felandria]

As they approach the circular corner booth, they will spot her.

Felandria has her long red hair in a ponytail and is wearing this suit

Spoiler

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With matching lipstick and mascara and a black choker around her long neck.

She stands next to her booth to greet her guests.

Good afternoon, gentlemen.

Welcome to my establishment, hope you are well.

She will bend down to shake their hands, a little more so than usual, as she is a couple feet taller than usual, partly because of the heels and partly as a business tactic.

She waves them into the booth, which has a set of steps next to the seat so they can climb into it, as the booth is built for her specific needs.

And she will swiftly slide in herself into the dead center of the booth.

[Hattish Thing]

Kramolagh takes in the booth with a pleased expression upon his face, shaking her hand somewhat slowly. He remains quiet as he grows accustomed to the large booth, crossing his legs as he lowers himself onto the nearest chair, facing the tall, red-haired woman. Once he's grown comfortable in his seat, he sets his tea down and offers a small, charming smile towards Felandria, tapping at the chair.

"Mm, you hafh a l-lovely establishment. As beautiful as zhe woman who runs it, I vhould say."

--

The man continues to smile for several seconds before reaching cautiously into his coat, retrieving a black folder. Gingerly, he sets it upon the table before removing his thick leather gloves, setting them to the side. He clears his throat before opening the folder to the first page and gently pushing it towards Felandria, sipping at his tea.

"Now, shall vhe b-begin?"

"I am a representative of a-an institute of higher learning dedicated towards making zhe vhorld a b-better place. Zhis folder contains a number of h-highly classified documents vhich detail t-the innermost vhorkings of vhat vhe call zhe "Apocrypha Project", a d-directive vhich promises to change zhe vhorld."

"However, vhe need your help."

[Felandria]

Fel picks up the folder in her hand and holds it up close so she can read the comparatively tiny writing.

I would ask why you need my help, but that’s obvious.

She gestures at herself and giggles slightly.

But I don’t know what it is you’re intending here.

Care to explain?

[Hattish Thing]

The folder proves somewhat difficult to decipher, for each of the documents within is mired in highly complex scientific jargon. There are several pictures contained within the folder, however, and these perhaps provide a bit more context to the red-haired godling. Those particular pages depict several individuals; men, women, and children in various states of illness, as well as massive generators, enormous testing chambers, and vats of greenish fluid as large as entire cathedrals. The rest of the folder contains information directly related to this "Apocrypha Project", which seems to be a directive headed by this strange organization based around attempting to cure particularly lethal diseases and afflictions by using what the papers refer to as "synthesized divine essence".

Kramolagh leans forward a little, still smiling charmingly towards Felandria as he slowly stirs a small spoon within the murky depths of his cup. He laughs politely when she does, though he attempts to remain as professional as possible despite her friendly conversation.

"Zhis may s-seem complicated, if you've any questions, feel f-free to ask, Miss. Due t-to a recent breakthrough, vhe have determined zhat some outer b-beings form as pearls do, wrapping a fragment of d-divine power in a pleasant sheath. Our recent experiments suggest zhat extracting e-enough of zhat divine ‘grit’ from mythic sources and combining it under exacting conditions could potentially result in zhe c-creation of vhat we refer to as a stable "god-fount". Zhis entity vhould be, effectively, a synthetic d-divinity."

"Fully capable of curing zhose who vhould otherwise n-never survive, zhe s-success of zhe "Apocrypha Project" vhill revolutionize modern medicine. However, our r-research is both expensive a-and highly dangerous, and vhe require something from you zhat no other can provide. A genetic s-smple of your divine structure, little m-more zhan a hair, or a bit of blood."

"As much as I am l-loathe to mar an otherwise extraordinary being..."

[Felandria]

The folder proves somewhat difficult to decipher, for each of the documents within is mired in highly complex scientific jargon. There are several pictures contained within the folder, however, and these perhaps provide a bit more context to the red-haired godling. Those particular pages depict several individuals; men, women, and children in various states of illness, as well as massive generators, enormous testing chambers, and vats of greenish fluid as large as entire cathedrals. The rest of the folder contains information directly related to this "Apocrypha Project", which seems to be a directive headed by this strange organization based around attempting to cure particularly lethal diseases and afflictions by using what the papers refer to as "synthesized divine essence".

Kramolagh leans forward a little, still smiling charmingly towards Felandria as he slowly stirs a small spoon within the murky depths of his cup. He laughs politely when she does, though he attempts to remain as professional as possible despite her friendly conversation.

"Zhis may s-seem complicated, if you've any questions, feel f-free to ask, Miss. Due t-to a recent breakthrough, vhe have determined zhat some outer b-beings form as pearls do, wrapping a fragment of d-divine power in a pleasant sheath. Our recent experiments suggest zhat extracting e-enough of zhat divine ‘grit’ from mythic sources and combining it under exacting conditions could potentially result in zhe c-creation of vhat we refer to as a stable "god-fount". Zhis entity vhould be, effectively, a synthetic d-divinity."

"Fully capable of curing zhose who vhould otherwise n-never survive, zhe s-success of zhe "Apocrypha Project" vhill revolutionize modern medicine. However, our r-research is both expensive a-and highly dangerous, and vhe require something from you zhat no other can provide. A genetic s-smple of your divine structure, little m-more zhan a hair, or a bit of blood."

"As much as I am l-loathe to mar an otherwise extraordinary being..."

Felandria leans over, looming over Kramolagh.

This is all very fascinating, you suggest that you can synthesize divinity?

I mean, this seems very admirable, to help sick people and all.

But....

I would need additional information before I agree to help you.

[Hattish Thing]

The figure in the gray coat continues to smile politely, boldly standing firm despite Felandria's looming appearance. Although his entourage of bodyguards seem somewhat on edge, he reacts calmly, merely blinking a few times. The figure clears his throat before responding, his straightened posture utterly impeccable.

"More zhan s-suggest."

"Ask away."

[Felandria]

The figure in the gray coat continues to smile politely, boldly standing firm despite Felandria's looming appearance. Although his entourage of bodyguards seem somewhat on edge, he reacts calmly, merely blinking a few times. The figure clears his throat before responding, his straightened posture utterly impeccable.

"More zhan s-suggest."

"Ask away."

Okay.

One.

These sick people, were they sick before you found them?

Two.

Is helping the sick your sole intention, or do you have other plans?

And three.

Felandria stands up.

Are you fully aware of the consequences of creating false gods?

[Hattish Thing]

As Felandria speaks, the man in the gray coat listens politely, fingertips placed against one another in a sign of confidence. His expression remains neutral, the light bathing his deep cheeks in shadow, reflecting off of his large, onyx spectacles. When she finishes, he nods for several seconds as if carefully formulating a response.

Finally, he speaks.

"Of course."

"Vhe have every intention o-of dedicating any d-discoveries produced by zhe "Apocyrpha Project" towards zhe good of many. Zhe s-success of such an endeavor vhould no doubt reverberate throughout zhe s-scientific community, frankly, zhis may be zhe most important directive e-ever pursued by man. The possibilities are endless, vhe simply have n-no way of predicting vhat doors zhis project may open."

"As for your f-final question, vhell... I've a bit of a philosophical question for y-you, in response."

"Zhat term you used, "f-false god", could you define it f-for me?"

[Felandria]

As Felandria speaks, the man in the gray coat listens politely, fingertips placed against one another in a sign of confidence. His expression remains neutral, the light bathing his deep cheeks in shadow, reflecting off of his large, onyx spectacles. When she finishes, he nods for several seconds as if carefully formulating a response.

Finally, he speaks.

"Of course."

"Vhe have every intention o-of dedicating any d-discoveries produced by zhe "Apocyrpha Project" towards zhe good of many. The s-success of such an endeavor vhould no doubt reverberate throughout zhe s-scientific community, frankly, zhis may be zhe most important directive e-ever pursued by man. The possibilities are endless, vhe simply have n-no way of predicting vhat doors zhis project may open."

"As for your f-final question, vhell... I've a bit of a philosophical question for y-you, in response."

"Zhat term you used, "f-false god", could you define it f-for me?"

Felandria sits back down.

Well, it sounds like you intend to make your own gods.

And actual gods do not look kindly on those who claim to be one of them.

Now, perhaps you would like to answer my first question.

Are you making anyone sick intentionally in order to experiment on them.

[Hattish Thing]

Kramolagh allows himself a wry grin here, exposing a few unusually sharp teeth. He licks his lips for half a second before leaning back, continuing to tap his fingers against one another. "No, I vhould not have it. Zhe vhorld is f-full of zhose who suffer, Miss. Even in as wondrous a place as z-zhis, zhere is no shortage of zhose afflicted with ailments of zhe b-body."

"Let us continue down zhis path, shall vhe? Your r-response intrigues me."

"Vhat is a god?"

[Felandria]

Felandria considers the question a moment.

A god is a divine creature, they create and protect life.

They are worshipped by followers, they protect and care for their flock and punish the wicked.

They are immortal and they are eternal.

Divinity can be earned, divinity can simply happen, divinity can come from nothingness.

What I’m asking you is, are you intending to make these people healthy, or make them gods?

[Hattish Thing]

The man leans forward at this, resting his elbows on the table. He glances deep into Felandria's eyes from behind the onyx lenses of his starmetal spectacles, his eerie gaze piercing through the glass. "Precisely. Vhat zhis project could potentially r-result in the creation of..."

"Vhel, it matches your s-specifications perfectly."

--

He rubs his hands together. "I'm afraid zhe transformation into a deity is still h-hypothetical, at zhis point in time. Project Apocyrpha is f-focused primarily upon zhe c-creation of, not zhe transformation of. Should vhe succeed, zhose who have elected to participate vhill be h-healed."

"Zhey will go about zheir lives, f-forever grateful to men and women like us."

"Zhey will remember your contributions."

[Felandria]

Hmm.

See, it’s that middle bit that troubles me.

I really don’t like the idea of creating gods all willy nilly, how can you or anyone else be sure they could handle the power?

I really want to help you heal the sick, but I can’t justify distributing synthetic divinity like aspirin.