PM to join [The Spinning Coin] I. The Stage And The Players

[Razkar]

1st Day of Summer
The Spinning Coin
Noon

"You have something for me?"

Gene Duval's cold, indifferent eyes glanced up and took in the tattooed savage on the other side of the bar. Razkar had to admit, he did oddly respect the complete lack of fear in the human's eyes. The Myrian had stared down and slaughtered many of his race, not to mention Dhani, Akalak, Yukmen and Zith... yet there he stood, calmly drying that mug, like Razkar was collecting for a charity he had no intention of donating to.

He also liked the fact that, like Razkar, the human didn't fuck around when he didn't need to.

"Over there."

Gene didn't even point: he just tilted his head a little bit a certain way, bushy eyebrows somehow managing to convey the rest of the direction. Razkar followed his gaze across the roiling interior of the Coin... and saw The Smoker, waiting at a corner table.

Then his brow creased. The hulking form of The Brute - Ekvan, remember? - was seated next to him, already shooting a look that would have put Razkar on a slab.

Wonderful...

The sellsword made his way across the raucous bar, marveling that even that this time it was already teeming with revelers like flies over a ripe corpse. Every table was occupied, some more than others, games of cards or dice or other forms of chance he did not understand going on everywhere.

He passed one where four men drummed at an upturned bowel... then flipped it over to reveal monumentally annoyed snake, poisoned fangs dripped, coiled on a pile of gold mizas. Razkar paused, wondering what the game was... until he saw the four men snatch out, hesitantly and recklessly in equal measure, trying to grab the coins.

Even more men and women were around them, cajoling and insulting and threatening and shouting, betting on each man. Betting on deaths or just amputations...

Razkar shoot his head as he continued his weaving walk. And they called him a savage.

"Myrian." The Smoker said with a smile that even Razkar knew was fake. "How fare thee in the new season?"

"Better for knowing what work is." Razkar said, words terse but spoken with a gentle shrug of his shoulders. "We not friends, human. Not you, and certain not him." he jerked a thumb towards Ekvan without even looking "You pay me to do work. So I do work. Now... tell me what is task?"

"Mind your mouth, you-"

"Ekvan, see that that we aren't attracting undue attention."

Once again, Razkar was oddly surprised. He'd taken the Smoker for little more than a puppet when they last met: an obvious distraction and mouthpiece for his true master, the unnamed "bodyguard" that had not done most of the talking, but had made all the decisions. A bodyguard that was not noticeably absent...

Ekvan muttered something in a tongue Razkar didn't recognize... but he obeyed. The chair scraped and screeched on the wooden floor and he lumbered over to a nearby beam, glaring at anyone who dared come within ten feet of their table, ensuring that what was spoken there was done so in confidence

Or thereabouts.

"Seven days from now, a caravan will be coming into the region." The Smoker said after he refilled his pipe. Razkar leaned closer, absorbing every word and smacking awake his brain to follow the Common. "It's cargo will be slaves from Ravok. Do you know what the... attitude, towards slavers is in Syliras, Myrian? Or, more accurately, the attitude held by the Knights?"

Razkar paused fractionally, instinct telling him that the Knights would probably abhor the practice... but who knew what the barbarians thought? His experiences in Riverfall taught him that even a place that crowed of its enlightenment could still keep thousands of souls chained and oppressed. So instead he just shook his head.

"They despise them." The Smoker said with a tiny smile, and Razkar sensed this was some kind of advantage. "Ravok runs on the trade, practically, and that city is controlled by the Black Sun, sworn enemies of the Knights. Slavers that set one foot in the Citadel don't live long enough to set another, and when caravans go through the Kabrin, well... suffice to say they aren't guaranteed the same level of protection as others."

Razkar took this in, but in a detached fashion. The background was fascinating, yes, but what did it have to do with his work? He'd already deduced that he would probably be either attacking this caravan or protecting it, so why not get to the point?

The Smoker seemed to pick up on his restlessness and gestured at him with the end of the pipe, something Razkar guessed was a favored physical tic of his.

"You, and some others, are going to attack it."

Now was the time for questions, Razkar knew, and the Myrian settled back in his chair, staring into nothing, thinking, turning it over, seeing the flaws... or trying to.

"Caravan will be on Kabrin Road? Knights will be there. You say Knights hate slavers, but they will stop attack, no?"

The Smoker nodded slightly, grimacing as if conceding a point. He reached into a pocket as he spoke, searching for something.

"It depends on what wing or company is on patrol, really, but broadly... yes, you're right. They would probably free the slaves immediately once the battle was over, but Knights being Knights-" Ah, a note of distaste. Not a fan of the shining heroes, are we? "-they would also butcher both the caravan's guards and you and your fellows without distinction, too. Fortunately, those who lead and sponsor the slavers know this..."

He spread a map onto the table, rodent eyes flickering around briefly to make sure no-one else was looking. They wouldn't dare, not with the hulking Ekvan silently interrogating everyone that passed.

"... and that is why they won't be on the Kabrin."

Razkar leaned closer and saw a surprisingly and elegantly detailed map of the city... and all surrounding it, he supposed. Fascinating, really, how men could trap land and forests and mountains onto paper. He wondered if there was some djed behind it...

Then the sellsword frowned, banishing those thoughts, following the Smoker's finger as it stabbed into the huge, blank area to the north-east of Syliras, framed by the telltale black line of the Kabrin Road.

"Once they pass the Lykalov Mines, here, the caravan will veer off the road and go through the Bronze Woods, cutting straight through it, heading south-east. They will most likely-" Razkar frowned at those words. He was a soldier trained by soldiers, and most likely stank of uncertainty, which bred mistake "-keep going until they cross the Avitar River, here, rejoining the Kabrin far east of Syliras and away from the most regular Knight patrols."

Razkar nodded slowly, digesting these facts and trying not to let it nag at him how the Smoker and his true master came by this knowledge. Some turncoat, most likely, since these barbarians would gladly slaughter their own children for gold. But could it be trusted, and could Razkar trust them?

The life of a sellsword, boy. What were you expecting?

"So, we attack, we kill all guards... what about slaves?"

The Smoker hesitated. Later, Razkar would regret he did not pick up on that, perhaps press that tiny tell, listen to that gut instinct that told him something was being hidden. But he didn't.

"Set them free. They'll be alone in the Woods, true, but they will be free, and that's better than being in chains, right?"

He chuckled and the Myrian chuckled back. Base savage, the human thought, so easily put at ease. But unfortunately this "Razkar" had a brain in his head, which he found both amusing and vexing. Still, the man's skill with a blade was masterful, so he was tolerated.

"I suppose so. That is broad plan," Razkar said with a sweep of his hands, then closed them together, fingertips touching the table, "But what are details? How many men for us? When we move? Where meet? Where attack?"

The Smoker settled back into his chair with a curious smile that made Razkar a little nervous. Almost like some duty was being passed to him that the Smoker was rid of. Once again, though, he didn't work it out... but he soon would.

"That, dear Razkar, is largely up to you."

"... what?"

"You heard." That came from Ekvan, looking away from his duties as a human (roughly) guard dog to glare resentfully at the Myrian. "You're in charge, though fuck knows why..."

"As I said last time, Myrian," Smoker said forcefully, glancing at his muscle for a moment before turning back to Razkar, "We want to keep you on your toes. Ten gold a day is impressive pay for any sellsword, anywhere. You have to earn it, and that means you'll do more than just swing a sword for us. Or an ax."

His hand reached into his pocket again and a word and well-traveled letter, obviously read and re-read many times, was placed onto the table.

"Information. The key to our business. The planned route of this caravan. You can have the map, too, to better plan. You can use some of the sellswords in my employ, including Ekvan-"

"That be enough?"

The Smoker cocked his head and Razkar thought he looked like a falcon. No, more like an owl: perhaps not as martial and fierce as a raptor, but definitely more knowing.

"I would have thought you'd appreciate the challenge, Myrian?"

Razkar was in no mood to waste words or have his ego stroked: "Can't spend shyke in next world. They be enough?"

"We think so." Again that uncertainty, but Razkar just clenched his jaw and swallowed it. "You'll have surprise on your side, after all, and-"

"What if I use own people?"

That gave both The Smoker and The Brute pause. Ekvan turned his shaggy head and frowned at his superior, perpetual hostility now replaced by concern. The Smoker raised a hand slightly, clever mind already whirring behind his eyes.

"Why would you need more, Razkar? You'll have ours."

"Feel better if it was people I knew."

"And who do you know here, Razkar?"

"People."

The Smoker was a gambling man, but telling a bluff was something he had yet to truly master, and that was when it was a human sitting across from him. When it was a Myrian, the task was even harder, and much as he scoured that scarred, tattooed and pitiless face for some hint of a lie... no... nothing but stoic confidence.

"... fine. But they won't be... on the payroll, as you are, if you follow. They'll get payment from us, a small payment, and whatever they can loot from the dead. Deal?"

"Deal."

The Smoker seemed to buy it, but Ekvan... no, that animal bastard knew the real logic behind it. Not intelligent, perhaps, but Razkar knew that kind of primitive cunning. He'd seen it before, and knew that educated, erudite men too often dismissed it, and were killed by it. Ekvan knew why Razkar had added them little condition, and his brown eyes darkened in anger...

Don't trust me, do you, Myrian? Well, you fucking shouldn't. Go ahead. Get some scum between the two of us. Out there in the woods, won't make a fucking difference...

"Four days." Razkar said bluntly, pocketing the map and the letter. Little else needed to be talked over, at least for the moment, and the longer they sat, the more people took note of them. "Four days, and we meet here so I can gett sellsword you say. Then we go."

"You're sure? That's not long to-"

"I am sure." Razkar got to his feet, Smoker blinking back his astonishment as he was... yes, he was actually being dismissed! Or close to it. "You want me to earn? I will earn. That mean I will do on my own. For four days. Then I come back, and see you here." His eyes flickered to Ekvan, and his lips quirked in a lopsided smile. "You, too."

A grunt answered him but the Smoker just nodded, and Razkar turned, heading for the bar, mind racing. Goddess, what was he thinking? He wanted his own people out there in the wilderness, sure, but who? Who did he know? Just a handful of people, and most would be no help.

Edri? No, he would never drag here out there among the thugs and murderers, even if he was one. Sigrun? A fine female, for sure, but a mercenary? A killer? No, he did not see that in her eyes, and part of him was glad for it. Kisetukai? His friend, the boy Ethen? Well, they were squires, so what did that tell him?

Kaie? Well, yes, she was a possibility... in fact she'd probably be eager for a chance to spill some honest-to-Myri blood once again.

He cursed savagely to himself in his native tongue as he got to the bar. Here was was, instead, alone and surrounded by...

Razkar blinked, and realized what he had to do. When all you had to work with was scum and trash, that was what you used. You just had to make your intentions plain... and that would require some help. And the best help in the barbarian lands, Razkar was fast learning, was always paid for.

Gene Duval walked over and placed an ale before the Myrian, but got twenty gold mizas in return. He blinked at it, notorious composure not faltering for a moment, then looked back up.

"What's that buying?"

"You to put word out for me. Lot of sellsword come through here. Must ask you for work."

"Think you mean 'about work', but yeah, I get your meaning." He weighed the coins in his hand, tossing them up and down a little, making the mizas dance. "For this... what am I telling people?"

Razkar thought for a moment on this. "Words are... job for sellsword. Good money. They to come back here at noon... three days from now... and look for Myrian..." he looked around a little frantically, plan forming as fast as the words could leave his lips, before pointing at a far booth "... at that booth. He will give detail of job. Good?"

"Eh, I've heard worse. And better." Gene Duval pocketed the mizas and nodded shortly. "I'll put the word out to anyone that asks. But they gotta ask, Myrian. I'm not a petching advertising agency."

Razkar nodded, and the human watched as the stein was raised, placed up to his lips... and up... and up... and...

Down. Razkar smacked his lips and gave him a big smile.

"Good ale."

"Tastes like piss and we both know it."

"Good today, though."

A tiny smile from the stoic human. Razkar almost fainted. A few chimes later he stepped out into the street beyond the Spinning Coin, almost blinded by the sunlight as he always was when he left that vile tomb. Three days for the word to get around.

Time to trust in the grapevine...

Three days later

The Myrian sat in his booth and waited. Through the smoke that filled the Spinning Coin, belched by a dozen pipes and torches, his tattoos and piercings were still plain to see.

He wore breeches and sandals and a harness strewn with blades and that was all. His cloak sat next to him and he was puffing at his own pipe, a precious bowl of Taloba Grey wafting in grey tendrils out into the filthy air...

The Myrian waited, and hoped silently. Three days had passed, and his own preparations and plans had been decided now. He needed only to see what fish his bait had drawn.

OOC :

Alright, guys, so, not the simplest premise, I'll grant you, but I think I made this realistic. You'll have to role-play asking Gene about any work going for mercenaries, and he'll tell you that "a Myrian" is hiring. Then he'll tell you where and when to meet him. Well... it's explained in the roleplay, so as long as you followed that, should be pretty clear.

Everything else will be explained as we write together. I'll be PMing all of you to alert you to this, and once everyone is assembled, we'll get it going.

Reciept:Tip to Gene: 20gm

[Kaie]

Timestamp: Second Day of Summer, 513 AV Upon entering one of the only free standing buildings in the city, Kaie was given the Spinning Coin's boldest greeting. Her nose was assaulted with scents of sweat and smoke, all rolled into a back drop of hollering gamblers begging the gods to play the games in their favor. No doubt there was plenty of vice circulating this crowded warehouse. If prospective employers couldn't be found here, they just didn't exist in Syliras, period. "Show me the money." She thought, brown eyes darkening in the dim light with audaciousness. The Myrian scanned the room, searching faces in the crowd. To say she was experienced in sellswordsmanship would be a blatant lie. In fact, she hadn't a clue where to even start. Should she find some obscure, sketchy group in that cliche, dark corner? Suddenly, the most obvious fact dawned on her. Who knows the crowd and the circulation of cash better than the man who oversees it himself? All she needed to do was find him. Which would be a challenge considering she'd never really met him. Sure, she'd stopped in the place once or twice and run into the guy, but that hardly counted. To be frank, she was pretty drunk too. All she had was a name. Or so she thought anyways. What was it again? Something barbaric. Ah, yes. Gene. The red haired business man with the beard. Now, where would one find him? Bold brown eyes found the long expanse of the bar and the answer was clear. There was no better way to monitor your enterprise than from afar with a good vantage point. She moved swiftly, weaving through the bodies and avoiding the congregations around entertainment. Finally, she found that familiar wooden counter top she knew too well from working at the Stallion. That being said, the ale here was shyke too. Eventually, she found her man. Bronzed arms folded to rest on the counter top as she leaned over it casually. She glanced him over to be sure she had the right guy. His hair was messy and his facial hair was overgrown, in desperate need of a shave. This savage woman wasn't here to judge though, it'd be best to just cut to the chase. Gene seemed to catch notice of her unwavering gaze, meeting her intense pools with deadened ones. He didn't say a word, but his expression was expectant. The Myrian was getting the feeling her forte was in the fighting, not the speaking part of the gig. Whatever, she'd do the talking. "I hear you're the man to talk to about finding some... Employment opportunities." Gene crossed his arms looking at her, nodding his head somewhat as an invitation to elaborate before he lost patience. Kaie wanted to get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible. She was impatient by nature and just wanted to get to the task. "Got anything for me?" She asked casually, turning her head to the side as she asked the question. Still unsure about the protocol for this kind of thing, she didn't want to attract unwanted attention. She wasn't pierced and tattooed as heavily as her counterparts, but her skin tone and attire would give her race away. Assuming her company knew what a Myrian really looked like, not the absurd descriptions in rumors. Gene seemed to come closer and shrug his shoulders. Seeing he reacted to what she said, she slowly turned her head back to face him. He slammed a mug down on the counter for a guy not too far away from her, but his gaze never left her. "You'll find another Myrian at the far booth. Talk to him. He'll give you what you want. Be there by noon on 4th." He said gruffly, flickering his eyes toward the back of the room as guidance. And that was that. He turned from her then, moving on to other visitors. Kaie narrowed her eyes in a combination of wonder and curiosity at the information he provided her. Another Myrian? There was only one other she'd seen since she was stuck in this Myri forsaken city. That was several days ago though and he was probably long gone. It couldn't be the same one could it? Maybe not, but either way a child of Myri was somewhat easing to her mind. In a violent, straight forward sort of way. She stared at the empty booth with conflicted thoughts before stepping back out into the city... Two Days Later.... Uncertainty still dominated her thoughts, but let Dira take her if it showed in the way she carried herself. Confidence radiated from her like light from a bright flame, surrounding her as it usually did. Feet moved firmly through the warehouse toward the back of the room. Her sights didn't dare deviate from that far booth. Gene had told her to be there at noon, but for her own sanity's sake, she arrived a few chimes prior. No way would she miss this rare chance. Smoke billowed up from the seat in slow moving tendrils from a hidden pipe. She was close and her mind was plagued with thoughts. Who was it? Walking through the mist of smoke, she stopped beside the booth to meet her mysterious potential employer. Immediately, her lips curled up in a pleasant, crooked smile. "Well I'll be damned..." She thought as she saw the unmistakable tattoos and piercings that defined the pipe smoker. Razkar. Last she saw him, he was kicking the ass of some arrogant squire in the fighting pits. There was no misunderstanding he was highly skilled. She arched a brow in surprise and admiration. If this was going to be her comrade, she didn't care what insane suicide mission he set her on. She was already sold. She slid into the booth to sit across from him, her intensity certainly still present. As glad as she was to see another of Myri's followers, she was aware this was business. At least they wouldn't have to worry about any barbarians overhearing their discussion. Might as well get down to it. "I see Myri has guided your hand well. Now, what about those blades?" She inquired with a coy expression, looking at him through the soft stream of pipe smoke. Finally, she was able to speak in their native language without any kind of barrier. Just easy, flowing speech. Of course she was still cryptic with her wording. Really, it was a little pun off their previous goodbye. A bit taken from their culture's farewell. Both knew what she was there for. Blades were for cutting throats. It was about time she spilled first blood. A darkness clouded her brown eyes despite her initial playful comment. She was ready. All she needed was his acceptance.

[Razkar]

"I see Myri has guided your hand well. Now, what about those blades?"

Razkar saw her approaching, and had to blink a few times before he was certain that his mind wasn't playing tricks. But no; it was her. Tanned, lithe, moving like a predator through the morass of humanity, none daring to get in her way. Razkar hadn't seen much of her abilities, but her race alone was enough to deter any of the drunken, lecherous humans or prowling pickpockets from trying her.

Good. We can use that. The pragmatic side of his mind chimed in as he let another stream of smoke loose into the air. What? Use a female? Yes, borderline-sacrilege in the jungle... but we're no longer in the jungle, are we?

"Part of me hoped you would hear of this," he said, happy to be using his own tongue, gesturing to the seat opposite him with his pipe, "though I didn't think you would. As for the job... we'll wait for the others to arrive."

The female quirked an eyebrow as she slid into the seat and Razkar shrugged.

"What others arrive, anyway. We'll give it half a bell." His eyes were already scanning the crowd, almost hungrily. "If they don't show by then... they aren't worth waiting for..."

OOCAwesome, first piece cannon fodder... er, I mean, valued comrade arrived! Like Raz said, we'll wait for the rest before we continue.

[Des]

513 Av Day 4

Des walk into the den of inquity that was the spinning coin. Upon entering the mix of smoke and alcohol assaulted his nose. Holding his hand over his nose, walks down the stairs and to the bar looking around at the various drunks and gamblers to see if he had any companions. He sees a drunken Myrian next to the tattooed man with piercings who matched the description another mercenary gave Des. The rest however seemed to be here just to get drunk and give their money away. Turning his attention back to the tattooed man, to get a idea of who he will be working with. He looked battle harden and tough as nails though no mans an island and Des hope he had a plan or this partnership will end abruptly.

sliding through the crowds of drunkards Des makes his way to the man's booth. leaning on the side of the booth looking at the main floor, watching the lost and the hopeful lose themselves in a physical or monetary manner.

I'm not agreeing to any contract until i hear what it is were doing, where it is happening and how we are going about it.

[Fubuki Kouri]

Fubuki Kouri The Great Bazaar, 19th of Bell, 3rd of Summer 513 A.V "So... uuhm... Big Sis, what are we doing here?" Two ghostly female figures could be seen standing upside-down on the stone ceilings of the Great Bazaar, both of their hair defied gravity and kept flowing down their back even though their position was akin to a resting bat. "Hmmm? This is fun, you know, Rena? Ehehe~ Just look, watching those people went about their business, always in a hurry, and in a crowded place like this, interesting events are bound to happen~" The taller and older of the two figures spoke. Kouri held her little sister's right hand with her left as they observed the clamoring sea of bodies below. "Oh oh! Look Big Sis! Someone is fighting there!" The smaller ghost jumped up and down in excitement as her violet eyes locked themselves into a rather intriguing scene down below. Two muscular men were brawling with each other, fists flying, kicks launched, and bruises were made. "Ahahahaha! Yeah! They look funny, right? Ahahaha!" Kouri put her free hand near her mouth to stifle her giggle, but it came out nonetheless. "Ehehehe~ Yeah!" Rena giggled along with her adoptive older sister as well. "You know, Big Sis... I never knew we can uhm... do this you know?" She gestured to herself and older sister's manner of... 'standing'. The smaller ghost wasn't yet familiar with the various powers and abilities her ghostly state could perform. "That's why I'm here, Rena~ I can teach you lots of things! Now... let's observe someplace quieter, people often talk strange secret things there~" Kouri mentioned about the empty narrow alleys of the Great Bazaar than the seldom ventured by people. From her experience, those alleys were a prime location for... 'dubious' parties to exchange messages and not-so-legal deal. "Okay, Big Sis!" Rena nodded excitedly. And then the two ghostly sisters 'walk' on the ceilings, heading to a more secluded part of the Great Bazaar. Five chimes later "So uhm... Big Sis, we just stay like this?" Rena asked curiously about her sister's method of... 'observing'. Their figure was now buried under the stone floors except for a part of their head from their forehead to just below their eyes. Rena looked around and found they were in a rather empty alley, far from the crowded masses of the Bazaar. "Yes, Rena~ Now then sssh... be quiet..." Kouri spoke in a low voice, their form might not almost invisible to the usual crowd, but their voice still hauntingly echoed in the alley. "Okay... Big Sis..." Her older sister was going to show her something interesting so obey her she shall. Twenty chimes later "..................." "..................." Both sisters went completely silent as they saw three fishy looking men approaching the alley, one skinny, one of medium build, and the third one could give even an Akalak a match in terms of muscle mass. The three men then leaned their backs on the stone wall and began conversing with each other. "You know, I was at the Spinning Coin two days ago..." The skinny one made the first statement. "Yeah, and?" The medium build one quipped. "Grmph..." The largest of them merely scoffed. "I'm not finished yet. Now you see, I overheard a conversation between The Smoker and a savage, a big damn savage with tattoos and piercings like his body was some kind of canvas or something. Anyways, I managed to catch some gist about it, a slaver caravan is approaching here from Ravok or something... and Duval wanted them dead. They are hiring mercenaries or something..." The skinny one told them what he gathered. "Dunno more... the Spinning Coin was petching noisy as usual..." "Mercenaries? Should the knights be handling those kind of things just fine?" The middle one seemed to notice the odd development from his skinny comrade's story. "Grrrrmph..." The muscular one grunted. "I dunno, man, I dunno. So, are we participating? Could ask Duval about it, I guess." The skinny one offered to his friends about the shady employment opportunity. "Nah, man. You crazy? If the knights know about this, our ass are petching dead. Ya hear me? Dead!" An immediately look of disapproval graced the average-build man. "Hrmph!" The large one also seemed to disapprove of the offer. "Whatever, man, whatever. I'm just telling ya guys about that, no need to get your petching temper on me. Ah, shykes. Let's go to the Stallion. I wanna get petching wasted" And with that, the three men left the scene. Once the men were no longer visible, both of the phantom sisters rose up from the ground. "Big... Sis? Big Sis, are you alright?" Rena was rather worried when she noticed Kouri was still completely silent with her eyes slightly glowing dangerously crimson. "B-big Sis..." She was slightly terrified, did she do something to make her angry? "I'm... alright, Rena. Just a bit... upset that's all. Slavers... huh... Rena" Kouri slowly looked at her little sister, smiling as gently as she could to ease the tense atmosphere. "Come on, let's get you home..." "O-okay..." Rena held her sister's left hand tight with both of hers and both of them flew upwards, phasing through the ceiling and leaving the Great Bazaar. The Spinning Coin, Noon, 4th of Summer 513 A.V Another busy day at the gambling establishment. With people risking fortune and sometimes limb and lives for a chance to gain an abundant amount of riches. Crowds gambling, patrons drinking ale, and guards keeping watch. Duval drank another mug of ale as he observed his fine establishment. All in all, it was a rather ordinary day for him except for the heavily tattooed Myrian sitting in the far booth and... the translucent little girl with extremely long white hair, blood red eyes, and the bloodstained dress she wore. Duval was also sure that this odd little girl just rose from the ground in front of him, acting as if the stone floor were a surface of water. "Yes?" Duval merely put down his mug and raised an eyebrow at the little girl, no hint of fear could be sensed from his voice. He knew this girl was one of those ghosts, spirits of the dead, phantom bla bla it doesn't matter. If the girl proved to be trouble, he would kick her out personally... one way or another. Living or dead, you don't mess around in The Spinning Coin. "Greetings, Sir" Kouri lifted the hem of her dress, bowed slightly, and curtsied to the ginger-haired man. She was acting extremely polite considering the nature of the establishment she was in. "I heard you are looking for a sellsword..." "And I assume you're interested? I'm not one to prod, you may be a ghost but you still look like a little girl to me and as far as I'm aware, little girls play with dolls and tea cups; but eh, who am I to judge? Go to that booth and you can find two Myrians, one male one female. Just go talk to them or something" Duval procured another mug of ale and proceeded to drink it. If this girl wanted to play 'soldier' then so be it, it's not his problem. "....." Kouri simply nodded, she didn't care much about this Duval anyway. All she wanted to do was to slaughter those petching slavers and to do that, she needed more info. Her crimson eyes then locked itself into two bronze-skinned people at the far booth. Madame... Kaie? She immediately recognized one of them, it was her friend; the one whom she met at the Great Bazaar and had a fun time threatening one of Kale Belmont's work drones. The other one... I feel like I've seen him before... Kouri jumbled through her memories, trying to find pieces of info about the heavily tattooed male Myrian near Kaie. Oh yeah! Madame Reina told him his name was Razkar!! She found it. This male Myrian was definitely the one Edreina was talking about a season ago. One couldn't really miss his... intimidating look, tattoos, and piercings. Kouri was rather excited to meet Kaie and Reina's friend, but she knew the situation she was in and kept herself composed. She was getting better at controlling her emotions. Ever since she met Rena, she was forced to mature for the sake of her adoptive little sister. Calming herself, she vanished from thin air and appeared less than three feet near Madame Kaie and Sir Razkar. "Hello, Madame Kaie. It's me, Kouri. And... I'm pretty sure that you're Sir Razkar, Madame Reina told me about you..." As she made herself known, she also curtsied to both of them. "I'm... interested in joining. Those slavers... needs to die..." Her eyes glowed slightly crimson as she tried to keep her rage and hatred for those slavers under control. Kouri absolutely abhors oppressive authority and tyranny. She barely tolerated the Syliran Knights, heck... she even wanted to murder a certain dark-skinned arrogant squire of the order. A certain squire with multiple personalities and Kouri would love to literally split apart his body for each of his 'personalities' to use. That would be good... yes. And slavers were not better than monsters and pests that deserved to be eradicated.

[Kyra]

Kyra arrived in the Spinning Coin in the late evening of the third day of Summer. The young kelvic stepped inside the building, her long blondish hair loose and flowing freely over her shoulders. The men's dark blue vest that she wore young loose on her slender frame, as did the black pants of the same outfit. People might wonder why she was dressed in the clothing of another gender, but the answer was simple really, the clothing that she had were all of the fancy sort, and nothing one should wear when out looking for trouble.

In truth Kyra never intended to enter the place again after what happened the last time. The kelvic had only just re entered the city after a trip from Ravok and was curious about what it was. Once inside she had witnessed something extreme and after asking a very innocent question, she was tossed into the cage to fight against a four-armed woman. The fight didn't last long and no one died, as it had been interrupted by a squire come to save the day. Even so, Kyra had swore never to enter the place again.

But over time, her thoughts of that day changed, and after spending the rest of the season in the city with little to do, suddenly her memories of the fight weren't as bad. In fact, she wanted more now, she craved the excitement that she had felt then. And so, for this reason, she returned to the Coin, looking for another fight. It didn't matter who, or even if it was the same crazed woman from before, Kyra just needed to battle. The kelvic made her way through the crowds and into the room where she remembered the fight had taken place, but to her disappointment there was no one in the cage.

There was a lot going on, many other types of betting and games, but no one was fighting. Kyra sighed in disappointment and wandered over to the bar and took a seat. She was bored even more now, and had no idea of what she could do for fun. Gene Duval was at the bar as he was mostly and noticed Kyra. Most men noticed the kelvic blonde, but Gene remembered her from the night in the last spring where she had made him good coin, although she had no idea of this.

"I didn't expect to see you here again. Not after the way you ran off with that squire fellow." the man said looking at her from behind the bar.

"I didn't intend to, not at all. But..I've been bored lately and I was looking for..entertainment." Kyra answered staring at him with unblinking eyes.

"Well you've come to the right place. There is plenty to be found, just look anywhere." Gene replied as he picked up a mug to use.

"Actually..I was looking for a fight." she answered back plainly.

"No fights today, but if you're looking for coin, I have something else that might interest you."

Kyra nodded, thinking it was worth a shot and more coin was always a good thing. "Alright then, what is it that you have for me?"

Gene leaned closer towards her so that others couldn't hear what was being said. "There's a Myrian looking for sellswords to work for him, he says it's good coin too."

Kyra blinked curiously and stared at the man. "What is a Myrian?"

Gene glared a bit, but answered her anyway. "Skinny guy, dark skin, and covered in tattoos. He'll be back tomorrow if you're interested."

The girl nodded and simply walked off without another word. There was more she wanted to know, more she need to find out, but she doubted this was the person to ask. She returned the following day and headed back to the bar where Gene directed her to the shady spot in which the Myrain was waiting. Kyra sauntered over, squeezing hands and pushing off whatever human attempted to cop a feel. She was used to it now, and being able to understand body language helped her to see things before they happened.

She found the booth and first noticed a man seated there covered in tattoos as Gene had told her. Sitting with him was another with dark skin, but this one was female. Kyra glanced over and saw that the ghost girl was there as well...how odd she thought. Turning her attention back to the tattooed man, Kyra spoke in the common tongue. "Well hello, you are...looking for mercenaries for a job, yes?"

[Razkar]

A shadow fell across the booth. That's the thing about shadows, you see. Even small people can cast them. Because when Razkar looked up to see what was casting the light over him and his sister, he saw a young boy with a mass of spiny hair standing before him.

"I'm not agreeing to any contract until I hear what it is we're doing, where it is happening and how we are going about it."

Razkar blinked. He looked the boy up and down, very slowly. The tattered cloak, leggings and sleeveless shirt, all in a deep, imperial purple. The bow across his shoulder and the exotic, wavy long dagger at his belt. The cold, hard features that matched his tone.

The Myrian took all this in... and snorted softly.

"You want me to clap for that?" He said with a shake of his head. "Only idiot agree to thing when not here. But I decide when you hear." Razkar turned away, tone bored, taking a fresh drag on his pipe, "You hear what others here, when they get here. Until that, sit down and not say more stupid thing..."

Whether anger or embarrassment or outrage clouded those delicate features, Razkar neither knew nor cared. He was already looking past the young tough, scanning the bar for new faces, and-

"Fucking shit!"

The air clouded, morphed, grew thick... and then limbs. Razkar's eyes had time to widen and his hand snap to his gladius before two young, impossibly pale and etheral girls were suddenly before him.

But the light in the taller one's eyes was not that of a little girl. Or one who was fully sane.

"Hello, Madame Kaie. It's me, Kouri. And... I'm pretty sure that you're Sir Razkar, Madame Reina told me about you..."

The male's head snapped to Kair, who looked mildly surprised but nodded her head in greeting. Oh. Good. Then she could see them too and he wasn't going fucking mad. His grip lessened on his blade as Reina was mentioned. Edreina, he knew... and she knew these... creatures?

"What are you?" He knew he had a facade to maintain here, but he couldn't help the words that came out slowly, suspiciously, face frowning as he looked down... and saw the beings' feet weren't touching the floor. "Are you... spirits?"

"I'm... interested in joining. Those slavers... needs to die..."

Razkar blinked a few times, ran it through his head again... no, he'd definitely heard her right. She was shimmering and smiling in a way that stank of nightmares and knives in shadows and her sister looked on the verge of crying and going insane... but... there was a crystal-clear thought in Razkar's head.

Could be useful.

"Well... take seat," he said, and then briefly winced as he realized the idiocy of the statement, "And wait for rest. Then hear about..." Suddenly his eyes narrowed suspiciously, all fear and shock shorn from his face. "And I not say slavers..."

There was no time for further interrogation, however, and even as that word entered his head, Razkar's id rolled its eyes. Oh, and how would you have pressed her? Thumb screws? Dismemberment? Another figure detached itself from the raucous crowd and approached the booth.

Another female, but definitely more... well, solid, shall we say. Pale hair, pale skin almost like parchment eyes glittering and gold and-

Slits. But more like a cat than a snake, much to Razkar's relief. He'd rather have Zith and Yukmen at his side than fucking Dhani... well, perhaps not the Yukmen, but you get the idea. The female moved like a cat, too, lithe and confident, muscles rolling with every step and unafraid when she stood before him.

"Well hello, you are...looking for mercenaries for a job, yes?"

Razkar nodded. Finally, a little civility (his eyes flickered to Des) and normality (then to... where the petch did those little demons go?). The Myrian gestured to one of the few empty spaces at the booth.

"You hearing correct. Please sit. Others be here soon..."

... and if this keeps on, we're going to need a bigger table.

OOC:Should have a couple more coming, guys, so we'll give it a few then continue. Des, you really need to clean up your posting: there were sentences there that just plain didn't make sense, and you gave no indication as to how you even found out about Razkar's job. Give it a little more thought next time.

Please understand I don't mean to sound unnecessarily harsh, mate, but if someone doesn't tell you then you won't improve. I hope you understand

[Solin]

After standing line all day and signing forms for employment, Solin needed a drink badly and a place away from lawfulness of Syliras. He heard of the Spinning Coin last time he was in Syliras, but he had the need or the want to venture this far into the city before, but today, he was looking for quick money, so he heard the Spinning Coin was the place to find it. Solin opened the door, and he was immediately hit by rush of smoke escaping the confines of tavern. As he walked into the room, he could see bar off to his right side with tables upon tables of card and dice games. The room was packed full with gamblers of all walks of life, but Solin wasn't here to gamble his life saving away. No, he knew seedy places like the Spinning Coin breed jobs that most folks would want to keep under the table from the authorities. Solin wasn't a burglar or murder, but he knew the best way to a lot of coin was to work as a sell sword. The Kelvic never lived his life the way normal humans live, so he figured what was the point now. It wasn't like he had a bond mate to worry about even though he had the annoying urge to find one.

Solin immediately walked to the bar, and he saw a man with reddish blond hair sitting on a stool smoking a cigar. He didn't want to bother him, so he flagged down the bartender. He was approached by a brown hair woman, and he said softly, “Can I get a mug of ale?” Suddenly, the kelvic heard the large man next to him comment, “The ale here taste like watered down piss, and it has the same color of piss too.” Solin glanced at the man for a moment and turned back to bartender, “Why don't you bring me to mugs of the finest ale.” The bartender smiled at him and went to fill his order. The Kelvic leaned up against the bar, turned to the man with the red beard, and asked with a hint of amusement on his face, “So why do you think it tastes like piss?” The red hair man blew a puff of smoke into the air and said plainly, “Do you think I would waste my hard earned money on these kind people? Petch no! I would them rather them piss their money away at the tables while they drink the cheapest beer I can sell them. It all about the mizas, boy.”

Solin listened to the man talk about the ale and business for a few chimes. Eventually after the conversation was over, the bartender brought over the two mugs of ale and set them in front of the kelvic. Solin placed the money on the counter, and he slide the mug over to the smoking man. When he grabbed it, Solin lifted the frothy brew up to his lips and took a sip. The owner was right the ale did taste like he brewed it with sewer water, but Solin didn't care since he was trying to forget the bureaucracy of the knights at the moment. Solin put the glass down, and he said to the man with a half grin, “Well at least, you are a honest man.” The red bearded man tapped the ashen tip of the cigar in the tray and said with a smile, “You don't look like the gambling type, boy. What do you need from Gene Duval?"

Solin looked at the man, and he took another sip out of his drink. He looked at the man named Gene, and said simply, “I am looking for mercenary work, and I figured this would be the best place to find it.” The human looked him over and said with a smile, “Well, you are straight to the point. OK, I know the Myrian named Razkar is looking for sell swords, so why don't you come back in three days and talk to him.” Solin downed his drink till the mug was empty, and he stood up and said to red beard human, “Enjoy your drink, Gene Duval.” The man tipped his mug to Solin as he walked out of the bar.

Three Days Later

Solin heard of Myrians, but he never had much contact with them in Zeltiva and Riverfall. He knew they were a race of warrior humans in the jungles of Falyndor. Also Solin heard rumors in Riverfall about them. A old Akalak warrior said they were cannibals, but he wasn't the kind of person to believe every rumor uttered in drunken conversation. Solin walked into the bar, and he scanned the bar for the Myrian until he saw a copper skinned man with red, blue, and black tattoos all over his body. Solin started to walk up to him, and he knew the Myrian wasn't the kind of man to be trifle with by the way he carried himself at the table. Solin saw a few others already at the table. He saw a Myrian woman who was equally as intimating looking as the male counterpart, black haired human, and a silver haired woman. As he got closer to the table, he tilted his head slightly to the side because he thought he noticed a translucent little girl standing by the table too. Solin shook his head and thought it could have been the trick of the lights. When he made it to the table, Wrapped up his his dark blue cloak, he was dressed from head to toe in his buckskin leather armor, quiver and short bow on his back, and his tulwar strapped to his side. He gave a slight nod to the other three, and the kelvic eyes thought he saw the young girl once again, but he figured something was in smoke other than tobacco. He looked at the Myrian and said simply, “My name is Solin Valhir, and I am a hunter. I heard you are hiring mercenaries, so how much for the job?”

[Des]

Des pauses briefly taking in the mans words. His manner of speech reminded of the pervious owner of his bow. Des turns to the man at the booth. Momentarily the man and Des look at each other face to face and for a small moment Des lets out a toothed grin. Turning back to the crowd he begins to think to himself about being in the mans command for the time until the job is complete. ( he knows how to keep people in line which shows leadership and you have to be smart to be a good leader, so he must have a plan).

Satisfied with his future employer/co-worker. Des leans off the stall and walks to a nearby seat looking over to the ethereal girl. She seems friendly but something tells him to be careful around her.. If she still retains her image of a her or even her sanity. Taking his seat still looking at the ethereal girl he does not want to offend, but their something about her he can't put his finger on it.

[Daelyn Caliban]

Summer 3, 513AV

The Spinning Coin, home of the most unsavory characters that the Fortress City had to offer. Daelyn went every few days to ask about his sister and the man who had taken her. If there were anyone with any information about it, he was sure they'd frequent The Spinning Coin. It was just that kind of place. And even if no one had the information he was after, he was sure to find a little extra work. The clientele usually needed fighters, and their victims usually needed doctors. It was a win-win for him.

He entered the building, hood pulled up despite the heat. No sense sullying his decent reputation by being recognized at the petchin' Spinning Coin. Who would want their doctor moonlighting in such a petchin' cesspool. He chuckled to himself and approached the bar. He dropped down at one of the seats and waved for the barman. One Gene Duval, center of unsavory knowledge and encyclopedia of unsavory characters.

"Gene," Daelyn said, reaching into his pocket. They'd met before, shortly after Selene had been taken. He removed a gold miza and her picture. "Any word?"

The older man took the coin and made it disappear into his pockets, before studying the picture for the thousandth time. He shook his head.

"What about the man with the eyepatch?"

Another shake of the head. Daelyn sighed. What did he even pay the old man for. His eyes dropped to the bar, and then back to Gene's face, hooded and dangerous.

"Is there at least any petchin' work I can get?" Daelyn said, growling angrily. He was frustrated. There never seemed to be any leads on his sister's whereabouts, and he knew that every day she was gone put him that much further from finding her. Gene looked at him, scratched his chin, and nodded.

"Aye. There's a Myrian been askin' around for lads like you. Ain't got a lot to lose and're handy with a blade. Seems like the kinda thing ye'd enjoy," Gene said, pulling a rag from his belt and wiping the bar. "Said he'd be back tomorra."

Daelyn nodded and rose from his seat. He left The Spinning Coin and headed for home.

Summer 4, 513AV

Two days in a row.

Had he degraded so far that he had to visit The Spinning Coin two days in a row? Ivak help him if that were the case. He pulled at his sleeve thinking of Ivak, making sure the flames were covered. No sense starting a brawl. Especially not here. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

He did his best to ignore most of what was happening, eyes scanning the room for a Myrian. He'd never met a Myrian before, but he'd heard about them. His Aunt Esther had considered herself something of an expert on them. He chuckled at the memory of his eccentric aunt. His eyes scanned the room a second time.

Nothing.

Perhaps Gene had been mistaken...or perhaps Gene'd lied. Daelyn wouldn't put it past him. He was ready to give up when he saw a break in the crowd. Through it, was the Myrian, sitting at a booth with a small crowd gathered around him.

Great. Nothing like being in a mercenary band led by a Myrian. This is going to be petchin' fantastic.

He sighed and pushed his way over to the booth. When he reached the table, he nodded at the Myrian and spoke, eyes scanning over the faces of those who were soon to be his compatriots.

"Daelyn Caliban. Lifesaver," he said, eyes twinkling mischievously. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad...

OOCSorry for the wait. Life's been a wee bit hectic the last couple of days.