Ken nodded to Neva; "I'm sure he'll take a bit of a cut.  We may be able to handle some of the stuff ourselves and save a bit of money.  No need to get crazy though as cutting corners is sometimes the same as cutting your throat."

In reply to Ken Jenkins (msg #254):

Neva nodded.  "It is good to pay their prices.  They have to make a living and sometimes...sometimes that is all they get.  If you deprive them of their income they will put back up more defenses against us and then it will be harder to find out more information."

In reply to Neva Alexovna Morozova (msg #255):

Ken finishes his whiskey.  "I don't grudge him his profit.  We just need to be careful as our budget is fairly limited."

Green Park Village Hotel, Val Preszar

2000 Hours

The sun slipped down behind the ever-present clouds. There was a short burst of rain in the twilight hours, a regular occurrence. It was over in a half hour.

There was a call from Stanley. He said he had a friend who was a registered pilot. He just got back from guiding a tour and Stanley thought he would be a good fit for the team. Did they want to meet them at the Outback in a half hour? The man's name was Blake Renfield.

GM Notes: Anyone going to the bar tonight? This would be a great place to meet Blake.

Sounds like an idea. Ask Stanley to set it up. Who else wants to come?

In reply to Linus Spruance (msg #258):

Neva nodded.  "I can come.  Perhaps I should slip in a little later or earlier than you and sit off to one side so that I might hear or observe others as you talk?"

First impressions are always important, that’s what strikes you as odd.  It like this guy does not care.  Dirt and dust, not a clean spot on his person as he strides into the cantina.  Not old, but defiantly lots of miles.  And the eyes, they always seem like be looking, shifting.  Like, he’s looking for the fire extinguisher or an escape hatch.  Zippers and snaps, that’s what you zoom in on next, the leather and pockets on his jacket are equal in quantity, 50/50.
You wonder what he could be keeping in all those little zippers and snaps.

He walks up to your group, flags down the bar-keep. “Beer and catch of the day.” As he throws him some money.
He looks at you all.  “Names Blake, Blake Renfield.  Hear your looking for a pilot…..”
As he grabs a chair and sits down.

"Good evening, Mr Renfield," said Linus. "I'm Linus Spruance." He introduced the others.

"Stanley recommended you quite highly when we asked about a pilot for our expedition. Please can you tell us a little about your background and experience."

In reply to Linus Spruance (msg #261):

Before Neva could find a "safe" place to sit and observe she found herself being introduced to their potential pilot.  She nodded and gave him the once over that seemed to take all of him in at once.  She noticed that he seemed to prefer tons of pockets which she could certainly relate to.  What was more interesting was whether or not those pocket flaps were fastened or not.  She didn't say much but just watched and listened.  Two of her specialties.

The bartender shows up with the meal and the warm beer.
“Blake, please call me Blake.  Did a few in the scouts, then the same old story with a funny twist, Boy meets girl, boy falls for girl, boy quits job for girl. “

Takes a bite of the meal, and chases it with a swig of his drink.

“betcha wondering what happened next. She rolled me, took every credit I had, and took off.  Now I’m stuck here, till I can get back out into the black”

Taking another bite, “So, what’s your all deal….”

In reply to Blake Renfield (msg #263):

Neva shrugged.  "Starting over myself.  Been down on luck.  Finally woke up and remembered who I was.  Now trying to put my life back together."

2135 Hours

Stanley, their Gog friend, excused himself to go talk with the human bartender. He ordered a round of Mirayn beers. The bartender hesitated, then poured whatever was on tap into a tray of glasses, with a pitcher.

The decor of the Outback was run-down 70's tavern. A few neon signs, worn-out stools, scuffed booths, chugging Air Conditioner, B-and-W Televistion tuned to sports with the volume off. Tobacco was a big export for this continent, so the room was filled with cigar and cigarette smoke.

Ken slipped into the bar a bit behind the others.  Seeing the group talking to a stranger he surmised that it was the Scout that Lorain had arranged to join the party.  Ken had worked with the Scouts in the past on recon missions, the Scouts providing long range intelligence for Marine strike forces or operating covert ships for stealthy infiltrations.

"Hi, I'm Ken Jenkins.  I got stuck here when my money ran out before I was able to find anything worth selling."

"Me, I'm retired Navy, now running a bar in Capital City. A whiles back, an old friend, Jothan Messandi, a professor of antiquities, turned up, research the Sky Raiders. He stopped just the one night, then headed out here... Didn't hear any more from him. Then the other day his daughter turned up. She hasn't heard beans from her dad either, and has decided to go a-looking. I'm here to keep an eye on her, I think Jothan would want me to.. he cares for her deeply, if he's not been in touch, he may have got into difficulties," said Linus.

2230 Hours

Begging off due to work, Stanley made his apologies and departed.

The salaray on offer for Blake was Cr75 a week, standard pay for support personnel (guard, porter, etc.) on an expedition like this. Typically, he'd get 3 weeks up front.

After Linus, Ken and Neva had been there a while, an old man stumbled into the bar. Not just age but some kind of wasting disease ravaged his gaunt frame. He said, loudly, "I'm Lindon Green! Old Lin. Someone here wants to know about the Messandi's expedition... I was on it!"

No one looked up at this, other than the bartender, who quickly found something to do in the back room.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:54, Fri 04 May 2012.

Not completely sure if this fellow was on the level or not, Linus waved.

"Over here. I'm the guy wanting to know about the Messandi expedition."

He got up and moved to another table, giving the impression that the others were casual acquaitances rather than part of the same group.

In reply to Linus Spruance (msg #269):

Neva noticed the barkeep moving towards the back which was typical of them and yet her nerves just wouldn't settle down.  She looked over at her comrades and muttered.  "<sub>The bartender just had to go into the back at this precise time.  Think he is contacting somebody again?  Think next time we should pick a different meeting place?"

Finishing his dinner, Blake gets up when Green walks in.
    “Well,  I’m in, but put me in a different vehicle then Green, if you plan to hire him, he stinks of death”
Blake go to walk out to the veranda,
    “going outside to smoke and get fresher air”, as he pulls a pipe and a tobacco pouch out of one of his pockets.

Blake also noticed that the bar-keep went into the back, thinking to himself “hm, lets go out around back to see what he’s up to”

Blake left to go have a smoke outside. It was muggy and raining in the darkness. Mirayn was often like that; perpetually overcast and frequently raining.

There was no one in the rear alley and while there was a streetlamp at the mouth, it was poorly lit. The rear door of the bar was closed, to keep in the air conditioning.

Inside, it wasn't clear if the bartender was using the phone, as there was one at the counter. However, there could be one in the back, too, no way to be certain.

Meanwhile, Lin helped himself to a glass of beer. He had a coughing fit.

"Damn jungle rot. Fungal infections. Antibiotics ain't workin' worth a damn 'gainst it."

He wiped his mouth on a handkerchief. Contrary to expectations, it wasn't spotted with blood. Sipping the beer, he continued.

"Anyways, I was on the Messandi expedition. Looking for Tlaynsilak, the City of Golden Walls. Got a map and diary. It's all yours... just 300 credits."

Linden looked at Linus, reddish watery eyes intent. His skin was ravaged by a some disease, blood vessels broken under the skin.

But... Linus had heard a hundred stories like this. For that matter, he'd been offered a dozen "treasure maps" to "Golden Citys" and the "Citadel of the Sky-Raiders". Some had looked real, very real indeed. It was the story that had led Neva to this Godforsaken jungle world where it always rained and the sun never shone in the sky.

"So... tell me about this expedition. How did you get caught up in it?" asked Linus.

Lin coughed some more.

"Mind if I wet my whistle a little, mate? There's a sport."

He poured himself another glass of beer from the pitcher on the table. It was now empty.

"Too bad. Well, I was hired offworld through an agency on Kokkelen. League of Suns. Met Messandi at Mirayn Starport with everyone else. His crew were all off-worlders. Everyone."
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:15, Sat 05 May 2012.

"Right, so you were the sole local with knowledge of the ground truth? What did they say they were after?"

Linus looked round for the bartender to order another pitcher of beer.

In reply to Linus Spruance (msg #275):

"I'm not a local. Like I said, no locals on the expedition. All off-worlders. Pilots, guides, everyone."

"Messandi was after what his book says. The Sky-Raiders. We headed up the Nahanir river. Long ways."

Neva figured enough time had gone by and when she didn't see the barkeep return, she quietly pushed back her chair and muttered something about needing some air.

She stepped outside and pulled her coat around her, pulling up her hood.  The coat was worn and had seen better days but it fit in this surroundings of dark of night.  She casually strolled towards the alley way in the rain.  She stopped she stopped when she saw a figure there and hunkered down in the typical street person huddle, keeping her eyes out on both the street and the alley.

"Sorry, got confused. So, why were you invited? And why are you still here?" Linus is, despite himself, getting absorbed in the tale.