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Post by Harrier Wren on Jan 3, 2017 22:47:27 GMT
At a crossroads north of Therien stood a caravanserai, a walled enclosure like an inn wrapped around a large courtyard. An anonymous note had drawn Harrier to one of the rooms. The straw mattresses had been shifted aside in favour of wooden chairs. A handful of disreputable types, most with their faces covered, occupied the chairs or stood along the walls. Harrier pulled her dark hood lower over her face and took the last empty chair.
A similarly robed man stood at the head of the room. He clapped his hands briskly and the door shut.
"Thank you all for coming," the unknown man said. "Thieves, assassins, necromancers even: your work speaks for itself. South of us lies Therien. It's loyal to the fallen Empire. It waits for a lost heir who doesn't exist. It's guarded by men who were unmatched ten years ago, plus their obsessive students. Its people are happy and docile and under tight control. Speaking against the Empire is a crime, though the Empire no longer exists. Therien is in a position to control and distribute trade through the center of the continent. Instead, it's in denial. Gentlemen, ladies, and so forth: your mission is to make Therien far more amenable to open trade with the Free Cities. I do not say I hail from there, only that in this instance their benefit would also be mine.
"And yours. Twenty now, two hundred if you make a dent and survive, and two thousand for the individual or group which makes the most impressive progress toward clinching the desired result."
Harrier whistled. Two thousand was no joke. Even two hundred would sustain her for a while.
@kendric
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Post by Kendric Blayde on Jan 4, 2017 2:52:11 GMT
"And yours. Twenty now, two hundred if you make a dent and survive, and two thousand for the individual or group which makes the most impressive progress toward clinching the desired result." Kendric smiled as he sat back in his chair. He sat against the wall near the window, his head leaned against the rough wood. Twenty would let him get just enough supplies to make getting the two hundred possible. Therien wasn't an easy place to practice his trade, the Guild's population there consisted of a couple of long noses that kept themselves clean except for passing information to slices on the trade roads. There wasn't a lot of trade going on out of Therien, but a lot of information flowed in and out. Kend looked over the others in the room, aside from a few characters, most kept themselves cowled and hooded. He didn't, whether it was pride in his abilities or simple hubris, Kendric didn't cover himself. He Wore his typical clothing when he was among his Guild or like minded people. "How do we contact you once we've started denting their...economic wall?" He asked. With a group such as this, the promise of pay paled in comparison to the fact of getting paid.
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Post by Harrier Wren on Jan 6, 2017 2:57:51 GMT
@kendrick
Harrier glanced at the thief and nodded. "It better be something good," she agreed, eyeing the hooded speaker. "I've been through there a couple of times, and the local powers that be control just about everything. No qualms about looking anywhere, and they know where to look. They've got a few very good magicians, too - mostly battle types, but I wouldn't put it past them to have bureaucratic sorcery or even the genuine article on loan from the Council of Magi. All that to say, magical means of passing messages are vulnerable to detection."
"Nothing as vulnerable to breakdown as that," said the hooded man. "Send a letter to any random name, care of the Grizzled Goose Tavern in Pakellan. Make your letter innocuous; make your true message every fourth word, starting with the second line. Not the most flexible or rigorous system, but more than enough for our purposes. Responses would arrive within four or five days, in the same cypher."
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Post by Kendric Blayde on Jan 7, 2017 2:29:31 GMT
Kendric listened and nodded. As the man had said, it was a simple cypher to use, but surprisingly strong and difficult to crack. With the ease of long practice at such things, Kendric wrote the cypher into his memory. Absently he wondered if the cypher would work even after the job was done, were someone to need to make contact with the hooded man for a reason or another. He figured it wasn't a bad bit of knowledge to keep handy, depending on how the current job went. Kendric was presented a problem, internally, however. He didn't want to involve the Guild on this, doing so could expose the little in roads they've made in the city. No, he'd have to take this risk on his own. Were it to work out, he'd be able to increase the Guild's standing based on the work he did, and if it failed he was just one cog in the machine of the Guild. It'd be nice to have help on it though. He looked over at the woman who had spoken up. She seemed to not be a skull duggering thief, as he was, nor any other type of typical cut throat. He figured she had some tricks up her sleeve that'd help him. He watched her for a moment, before turning back to the hooded man to let him finish his spiel. When the talking was done, and people were leaving, Kendric walked up to her. He had contemplated slipping her a note, but figured a reverse pocket pick might make her less than amenable towards him. Thus, he attempted the direct route. "Buy you a drink downstairs?" Kay
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Post by Harrier Wren on Jan 7, 2017 15:50:42 GMT
Kendric BlaydeYou didn't last long in these circles without being able to read people -- or if you appeared hesitant. Harrier made a snap decision that he probably wasn't going to use her skin for clothes. You never could tell for certain whether someone meant you harm, but she had backup for that. She rubbed her ornate ring with her thumb as if scratching her palm. The spirit in the ring stirred to life, a quiet presence in the back of her mind, a cooling of the metal against her skin. The ghost would watch her back. As the meeting concluded, the front two legs of her chair hit the floor and she stood up. "Sure," she said. The way she'd been sitting, he would have a pretty decent idea of what she was, physically at least: human, smallish, lean, wearing hard leather and a belt of many pouches. Her only visible weapon was a long knife. She'd kept her hood low over her face, though, and she stayed that way as she followed him out of the meeting room. The caravanserai offered a good variety of food and drink, as befitting a trade road's waystation near a wealthy kingdom. In short order, they were ensconced at a corner table. She kept her back to a wall as she sipped from a brown bottle and eyed her new acquaintance. "Harrier Wren. Necromancer." This close to the Council of Magi, just a few days' travel, that admission could get her killed.
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Post by Kendric Blayde on Jan 12, 2017 18:12:25 GMT
Harrier WrenKendric walked in a way that seemed utterly relaxed, but his hands were never far from a weapon, and his eyes were sharply inspecting the area as they walked from the meeting room. He walked abreast of the cowled woman through the caravanserai, and led her to a small place that served good drink and spicy food from the East. As the woman sipped from her brown bottle, Kendric took a wedge of pita bread and a small bit of hummus and tossed it in his mouth. He took a moment to chew and peruse the people around them, though he swallowed abruptly when the woman identified herself as a Necromancer. After his initial shock, and noting that no one was coming near enough to them to over hear, he smiled and nodded. "Harrier Wren, I am Kendric Blayde of the Guild." He responded. As she had been in the meeting, she likely knew of the Thieves guild, what had started out as a small group of thieves and cut throats a couple of centuries prior had spread out with branches in many cities across the country. To openly identify oneself as part of it was practically a crime in and of itself. He did so as an olive branch, she had put her life into his hands when she identified herself as a dealer in death magic, so he responded in kind. "What do you think of the mission our mysterious benefactor laid at our feet?" He asked, smiling as he grabbed another wedge of pita, hummus, and popped it in his mouth.
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Post by Harrier Wren on Jan 14, 2017 2:58:47 GMT
"The Guild? The Guild? I've never met one of you before." She grinned faintly. "Far as I'm aware, anyway." The smell of the garlic in the hummus tickled her nostrils in a pleasant way, but she didn't like to eat in public for reasons of, admittedly, paranoia. The drink was an exception, and then only because she'd kept a close eye on the barkeep's hands as he served it. And she wasn't poisoned yet, and the spirit in her ring had made no alarm. She set about ignoring the hummus and pita. "I think if they're telling the truth about the payout, they're looking at shelling out four or five thousand. That's a lot to bank on a venture where so much could go wrong. The cipher is good, all the trappings are solid -- but why let us know about each other? One man with a good memory and a talent for sketching could flip all of us to the powers that be in Therien, and make a lot more than twenty-two hundred in the process. And that's just one possible exploit. No, I can't put my finger on why, but my gut says the plan is supposed to go wrong at some point." Kendric Blayde
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Post by Kendric Blayde on Jan 16, 2017 13:30:12 GMT
Harrier Wren"Yes, the Guild." He replied with a smile. He then listened to the rest of her statement as he finished chewing. Kendric nodded as he chewed thoughtfully. He took a sip of the ale he had ordered and, after he swallowed, looked out at the carvanserai. "I'm glad I'm not the only one who was thinking along those lines." He turned back to the necromancer and smiled. "Do you think our contact is going to make it go wrong, or is just counting on it?" The difference between trying to cut loose an independent operator so you didn't have to pay them, and just counting on one of them becoming a problem for everyone else was a small one. However, in Kendric's line of work, it was the difference between a traitor and a planner. Kendric couldn't tell yet if he thought their contact was a traitor or not. Deciding that would help decide how Kendric would go about this job.
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Post by Harrier Wren on Jan 17, 2017 2:57:46 GMT
Kendric Blayde"I'd say the latter, but I've only got one reason to think that." Harrier slugged back another drink and eyed the half-full bottle. "This plan's already immensely complicated. It's a lot easier to let those complications take their toll than it is to add another layer of machination and hope that doesn't go wrong. Therien is more paranoid than I am, right down to the bones." She set her bottle on the table and leaned back, hooking her thumbs in her belt. Still, though, she kept her hood up to conceal most of her face from random eyes. "Depends whether our employers are smart or not. And I suppose it depends on any number of factors I don't know about. Far as I can tell, though, they're just waiting for someone in the Therien courier service to notice all those bland letters going to that one inn outside Pakellan, from a whole random assortment of people. Or for someone in that room to get drunk and trust the wrong person, or for any number of other elements to break. "Still, I admit I'm tempted to find out the hard way. I used to know my way around memory-enhancement charms, and the opposite is an option. What say we look in on our friend tonight, you ask a couple pointed questions, and I clean up the..." She tapped her temple. "...mess?"
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Post by Kendric Blayde on Jan 18, 2017 12:57:10 GMT
Harrier WrenKendric smiled, and though there was humor in it, the smile was a dark one. He nodded for a moment and took another pita wedge and hummus. He chewed it quicker than the others, and washed it down with the ale. "I say that is an excellent plan..." He paused and thought for a moment. He had been planning on undertaking the challenge anyway. He could always use the coin, but the prestige within the guild was worth more. If he were to be able to crack Therien just a little more, let the Guild operate there more freely, he'd be one step closer to the top. However, the necromancer brought up some good points, and one was something he had not thought about. He hadn't thought what a sudden influx of letters to a specific, random inn would do to the paranoid guardians of Therien. That decided the matter, Kendric would trust Harrier. "Half after the mid night watch calls clear, they will be in the witching hour, and far more tired than alert..."
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Post by Harrier Wren on Jan 18, 2017 14:25:07 GMT
Dun dun dun... HALF PAST MIDNIGHT They sat in Harrier's room, just waiting. When waiting grew old, Harrier rubbed her ornate ring and muttered a scrap of a poem. "I sent out a shade to look around," she explained as a vague outline floated through the door. "Mathquil, report." The spirit hissed. <<It is as you say, Mistress. Both guards are awake but not alert. The man you describe is fast asleep beside a slattern. Return me to my rest.>> Harrier nodded decisively. "As you wish." The spirit lost cohesion and funnelled into the ring like a slim finger of smoke. Harrier stood and adjusted her cloak. "He said both guards are awake but not alert, and our employer and a prostitute are both asleep. If you knock out the guards and the woman in a way that won't leave a mark or wake up the target, I'll tweak their memories. Then I'll set up the a ward of silence in the bedroom so we can ask some questions. Sound like a plan?"
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Post by Kendric Blayde on Jan 20, 2017 17:14:11 GMT
Kendric smiled, then sat fully upright from where he had been leaning against the wall.
"That doesn't leave a mark you say..." Kendric loved a challenge, and this certainly was one. He detached a large pouch from the belt at the small of his back, and began to look through it. Inside were a host of small vials, each marked with a rune, each as peculiar as the last. He pulled a vial from the pouch and held it up to the light.
"I've got enough of this for the guards..." he mutters, then moves to the pack he had brought with him. He pulled some materials out and with deft fingers combined some powder and the liquid, then set about wrapping it up in a thin vellum pouch. He shook it vigorously for a minute, then set it aside.
"Now...what do I use on the prostitute..." He would normally have chuckled at the impromptu pun, but he was working now. He looked through his vials, then pulled one with what looked like black sand grains in it. With a smile now running across his face, he pulled another two vials out, one with a clear liquid and one with a bright orange liquid. He grabbed another vellum pouch, and mixed the liquids together inside it. Next, he poured out a measure of the black grains and crushed them with the flat of a blade. Holding his breath, he put the grains in the mixture and closed the bag.
"OK, this first one for the guards." He said, shaking the first pouch vigorously, then pulling on some gloves. He put the mixture within on a pair of sling stones, then set them aside. "Once we are inside, I'll hit the prostitute with this, it'll leave a lingering smell of rotten eggs, but should knock her out for a while."
He looked up to Harrier to see if she approved.
"Shall we?"
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Post by Harrier Wren on Jan 21, 2017 6:10:28 GMT
Kendric Blayde"I think we're in business." Harrier made a note never to cross him -- part of the rationale, she was sure, for letting her see him at work. Slingstones painted with some kind of contact knockout drug, a pouch of unknown chemistry: she'd been educated, and well, but this was far beyond her and in a different field entirely. She wondered if Elbion's scholars of physical sciences or medicine would have any more insight on his work than she did, or whether they'd be similarly lost. "Just aim true. Slings aren't the most accurate of weapons. Then again, what do I know? This is your area of expertise." She unlatched the door and adjusted her hood, then crept out into the hall. The door to the hooded man's room was down the way and around a corner. A small table sat in the corner, bearing a candlestick. A muttered spell, a simple cantrip, dimmed the candlelight but didn't snuff it out entirely, so as to avoid notice while giving Kendrick some useful gloom. She glanced back. "You're up."
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Post by Kendric Blayde on Jan 25, 2017 17:00:51 GMT
At her words of caution, he smiled. He picked up the sling stones with the tips of his gloved fingers and moved to the door. He slid out into the hallway, silent and graceful beyond what his stocky stature would have suggested. He slowly moved to the corner, and sidled around the table to peer down the hall. After a heartbeat, his right hand blurred twice, first to throw the stone in it, and then to take and throw the stone in the other. In the silence, two dull thuds would be quickly followed by two slightly heavier thuds. Kendric moved forward and picked up the two sling stones, carefully putting them into an empty pouch. With time their potency would diminish, but he'd wash them when he got a chance anyway. No use having an accidental mix of chemicals. He then gingerly removed his gloves, pulling them inside out and hanging them from the back of his belt before pulling the small pouch. He held the pouch with his left hand, and gingerly tested the door handle with his right. The handle lowered slowly, then stopped after a soft click. Kendric slid the door open just enough to let him in, which would be more than enough for the necromancer. He waited for a moment, transferring the small pouch to his right hand as his left palmed a throwing dagger silently. Then he moved to the side of the bed where the prostitute was laying, then paused again. He looked to his hooded companion, and waited for her nod. When she did, he would whip the pouch at her chest. The bag would rip, letting a noxious vapor into the air. The woman would not wake, but the room would fill with the smell of rotten eggs. Harrier Wren
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Post by Harrier Wren on Jan 29, 2017 20:53:33 GMT
Kendric BlaydeNo sling required, then, just a quick and accurate hand. She didn't miss his deft and careful maneuver with the gloves, nor the equal precision of his maneuver with the pouch, nor the throwing dagger he palmed. This was not, as they say, his first carnival. She closed the door behind her and murmured a word. A flicker of half-seen mist left her ornate ring and passed through the door: Mathquil the shade, who would stand as sentry. Ignoring the stench, Harrier moved about the room to each of its corners in turn. She whispered a snatch of poetry in a forgotten language, repeating a stanza at each corner. Once the silence-ward was in place, she came to stand beside their slumbering employer. Memory-charms were de rigueur in certain academic circles. Admittedly, they were usually for enhancing one's own recollection, but they could also be used to blot out a competitor's memory at a crucial moment. She'd always been one to make ritualized versions of spells, and this occasion was no exception. She placed small, pungent pouches on either side of the bed, and one each behind the headboard and footboard, so the four pouches enclosed him in a diamond-shaped pattern. She began the little ritual, ready to trigger it as soon as they were done. She laid a little knife alongside his neck and glanced up at Kendrick. "Ask your questions," she said as the employer's eyes fluttered open.
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