The night was cold - hail had fallen earlier in the day - and the city of Guril-Forsihe was shrouded in mist. The streets had grown quiet now that the work of the day was done with, but those in the lounge of Tom's Tubs did their best battle with both silence and chill.

Drink was flowing from the barrels that gave the flophouse its name. Tom was attempting to lead the room in a rendition of a bawdy song, stood atop a table waving his tankard around, his mop of reddish hair flapping in his eyes. Only a few of the room's occupants were responding - a couple of middle-aged sailors well into their cups.

A healthy fire burned in the grate on the left, casting an orange glow across the dirty, cobwebbed walls. One of the rickety, mismatched chairs that served as furniture had finally given up on life and now continued to be useful as firewood.

In a corner of the small, crowded room sat three of the residents. They were young men, but their eyes held shadows beyond their years. Talk was quiet amongst them as they awaited the arrival of their friend.

"Our Tom's going to go far, methinks".

Harry, one of the older-looking of the fellows in the corner (or perhaps the most ill-used), scratched at the bristles on the side of his face and took a look at his nails. "Sick sick sick!" he mumbled.

"You lot said Sikhandyn was on his way. Where the hell is he?" Despite the words, Harry's tone was relaxed and familiar. "There's work to be done."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:57, Thu 04 June 2009.

"Oh, Tom won't be leaving this place to minstrel anytime soon, that's for sure," Jos chimed in.

He piped in one more response after Harry asked after Sikhandyn's whereabouts: "Gor, who knows with that one.  I saw 'im around noon today, so who knows what he could be up to by now.  But he knows to be here, just give 'im a minute."

Diarmuid listened and nodded when it was appropriate. He was splitting his attention between listening and oiling his sword and scabbard. It was still making a sinister metallic sound when he drew it and this apparently something he needed to work on. Beside his chair an assortment of protective and lethal items were waiting their turn for some care and attention.

There was a trace of a grin on his features, but he appeared as watchful as a rat when cats are about.

"I expect it's important matters of the occult he's about." Harry said with a wink. "I suppose we can just sit here and oil our blades while we wait."

"Oh, aye.  What matter of the occult ain't important?  'Specially to Sikh, most of all," Jos concluded.  He pulled out his bowstring and began checking it for any weak spots, or any sections that needed a little more oil.  The bow itself was too big to be examined at the table, so that would have to wait.

Harry raised his eyebrow at his childhood friend. "Jos, you planning on strangling someone, are you?" He nodded at the other man, Diarmuid, still oiling his blade. "At least he's new about town."

Harry leaned his bulky frame back, the chair creaking with the strain, and placed a knee on the table edge to hold himself steady. "Right pair of brigands, you two. No wonder there's none of the fairer sex sat at this table with the two of you here to frighten them off." He took a splinter off the table edge. "Good thing at least one of us has manners." With that comment, Harry started to dig about his back teeth, examining the point of the splinter every now and again.

"Nah, only your fat neck Harry.  And this string won't do the job," Jos shot back quickly.  He did grow self-conscious then, and tucked the bowstring back away.  He craned his neck around to try and spot Sikhandyn if the other man had arrived.

"You do that," Harry said, sucking at his teeth, "and you'll have half the Rethayns and the Breganzas hunting after you. Likely the Kesemrob too. Blood's thicker, like they say, and I've connections which go beyond blood."

Harry rocked forward on his chair and glared at Jos. "As you'd know if you ever listened!"

As he approached Tom's Tubs, Sikhandyn could hear the horrible song - nah, noises - coming from inside the flophouse. Tom, it seemed, was at it again... After facing the bitter cold and the biting wind, the wizard would still have to put up with that final insult to his ears and to music itself.

With a disgusted grunt, the young man entered the crowded room. In an effort to ignore Tom's attempts at singing, he chose instead to focus on the pleasant, sudden feeling of warmth in his body... Sikhandyn's eyes quickly located his friends - sitting quietly in their usual corner, readying their weapons as if preparing to go hunting. The wizard had offered to meet at Simon's house - more spacious, more discreet, less noisy: in a word, more convenient - but for some obscure reason, his mates had grown dependent on Tom and his establishment.

"Good evening, am I late?" Sikhandyn said in a jovial tone as he approached the group. Without waiting for an answer, the young man immediately sat down at the table.

"So..." he continued in a lower voice. "What are we drinking tonight, and what is the opportunity?" he asked, his eyes fixed on Harry.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:17, Thu 04 June 2009.

When Harry talked about not attracting girls Diarmuid looked around, his eyes searching the room. He even looked under his chair. Just then Sikandyn walked in. This didn't stop Diarmuid though.

"I don't know how to break this to you Hal...but.. those creatures standing over there singing along to that execrable song.. well they're not girls. So what did you... Ah, naw forget it."

Diarmuid grinned and slid his sword into its scabbard until he heard a click, it was almost silent now.

"Does a bear?" he said with a grin. Then .."Naw, rest your weary.." said Diarmuid throwing out truncated well known phrases in lieu of complete sentences.

He extended a leg and pulled a chair closer with his foot. "Keep talking, it'll take our minds off the music."

"Yes you are late," said Harry with a scowl, "which means that what we are drinking depends on how much coin you have about you."

"Opportunities is it? Well, nothing like getting to the point, eh? Gather close lads. Lean in."

"First, most urgent for a yay or nay as to whether we'll take it, is a missing person. The silver's a Lady and a nob to boot*. Most distraught, she is."

"The other two we can think about for a day or two. Both are out of town, so we might want to worry abut those bandit stories; new gang. For one, the silver's a man of the cloth and wants escorting out of town. There's an angle, or he wouldn't have asked me, but we don't know what the angle is."

"The last one is going to be a rumble out of town. The silver's a nob again, wants a dam destroying, only it's a new dam and it isn't his. So we can expect to be interrupted."

"So lads. What's it to be?


* Silver = client. Nob = noble

Jos thought about trying to fire back at Harry, but saw that the time for jokes had past.  It was all business for now.  He thought for a moment then, because Harry had been wrong.  He had listened and heard all three jobs laid out.  He wanted more details though.  "Ya think that we could do the first one quick, and then take on the second or third after?  Or maybe somehow take both the second and third together?  Like, say the feller wants to go someplace near that there dam?  Don't get me wrong, the coin is good from one job.  But if we could squeeze in two, I'm all for it."

Diarmuid nodded at Jos's query, apparently of a similar mind.

"We'll also need to cover our backs somehow. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm not looking to become an expendable asset in the ongoing noble maneuvers. If this doesn't go well we need an out, or an some information of value, to stay alive."

"Aye, well," Harry rumbled, "One is heading west, the priest; the other is upriver, the dam. I'm not sure I want to get involved in a land feud either. Not until our operation is a bit more developed. Besides, the rival might be a customer of ours one day."

"As for the lady and her father, I was thinking along similar lines. We could at least start the investigation, promise no more, to see if we are getting somewhere. If we aren't, we suggest she see a priest and get out of it. If we are, all well and good. In a day or two, we see how we are with the other jobs."

"Good? Agreed?"

Diarmuid nodded and started peeling an apple with a very sharp looking knife. He appeared to be blithely unconcerned and nonchalant. A stranger walking in would say he was on the verge of passing out. That was just Diarmuid being Diarmuid though. The outside bore no resemblance to the inside.

"Missing persons seems to be the one. Don't need to destroy anything or assisting a fugitive in a flight from justice when there's other work to be had."

He was about to put a slice of apple in his mouth, but paused in that action to speak again. Diarmuid doesn't speak and eat. He chooses one or the other.

"Of course if he's coming to you he has reason to get out of town. Could be there's a counter ambush on the table there. Purely speculative though."

The apple slice comes up then drops down again. It was going to get to his mouth eventually.

"As for the missing gent, well likely as not he's missing for a reason and rumors could be gotten from the street on that score."

"Say, if that's your area of expertise Hal, what you doing sitting here?"

Diarmuid grinned slowly, his eyebrows rose expectantly.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:44, Fri 05 June 2009.

"Oh, he's gotcha there Hal," Jos chimed in once again.  "I think that'll do us well then.  We start with the missing feller, makin' no promises.  And if it comes to it, we can always take the other feller outta town later."

Diarmuid's apple had made Jos realize his own hunger, and he began to look around for any food that he could snag for himself.  He already knew that he only had trail rations in his own bag, so he didn't bother looking there.

"Tha's decided then," Harry said, "and as for what I'm doing sitting here, why I'm waiting for the drink our occult friend offered to buy me. Helps free the tongue up for investigative work."

Sikhandyn sighed. Either the singing was covering his friends' voices, or their low literacy levels made it difficult for them to communicate their thoughts clearly. Or he was becoming deaf. Anyway - the young man enjoyed their company, and had virtually no other family left.

"Hey... It's pretty clean business!" Sikhandyn said, visibly surprised to hear Harry come up with a legit business proposal - yet secretly wondering what the catch would be.

Sikhandyn then turned to the innkeeper.
"Tom, could we have four cups of wine over here please?" he shouted.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:04, Fri 05 June 2009.

Tom paused mid cater-waul, arms flung wide, blinking almost comically. Shaking his head he roared:

"Wine? What the hells do you think this is man, a tavern?!"

Nevertheless, he clattered down off the table and staggered over to a shelf, where he grabbed four mugs. He proceeded to fill these with ale, then stumbled over to the table, spilling not a little along the way.

He handed round the slightly dirty mugs, then leant on the nearest wall with arms folded, listening curiously. His head wobbled and eyes drooped - the man was clearly the worse for wear.

"This establishment has class!" Harry grinned at Tom, testing the depth of the man's stupor with a verbal prod and reluctant to continue discussing their plans with him listening.

"And you are going to be putting Illiamia out of business with your quality brews." He supped at the ale, foam marking the bristles on his upper lip.