RP:A Hasty Arrangement
This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.
This is a Rogue's Guild RP.
A bargain struck at the Hanging Corpse Tavern
This is part of the Hiring with Haste: Stealing From the Dead story arc.
This once-timber tavern has been rebuilt in sturdily vitrified blackstone and imbued with powerful protective magics that prevent occult fire and several other potentially harmful spells being cast within its walls. No effort has been spared to make what might otherwise be a bleak interior comfortable. The bar is made of polished stone with an oaken inlay, the space behind filled with a bustle of attractive barmaids, sundry barrels and a dazzling array of coloured bottles that glint in the light cast by a large wrought-iron candelabrum suspended from the ceiling overhead. Here, the one-eyed Steadman stands, ready to take orders for food or drink. Beyond the bar, stout tables are firmly bolted to the floor, though the high-backed chairs are freestanding. The hearth is a true feature, seeming to be cast from black lava into the shape of a colossal, laughing goblin's head, its maw gaping wide and deep, usually containing a merrily crackling fire. A delicious scent of roasting meats drifts in from the kitchens and a winding staircase leads to rooms upstairs. To the south are set cellar doors, usually kept locked unless a special event is taking place. The walls are hung with thick, richly woven tapestries depicting persons and events in the history of Vailkrin and the Vampiric race. There's also a notice-board near the entrance, where one may leave messages. Unobtrusive but ever-present are the security staff, staunch fighters ever ready to toss troublemakers out.
Kasyr || Something is waiting for Sczaan, seated alongside the taverns western wall, having settled itself at a table with 3 seats. That said, by no means does it appear to be the Kensai. After all, Kasyr is almost never seen without his trade-mark fur-trimmed trenchcoat, his everflowing cloak, his ridiculous neon blue goggles, and a mess of hair that looks like the Kensai had just finished rolling out of his bed- A far cry from what is currently sitting in that chair. The creature that resides within that spot is an altogether grim figure, a trio of dingy black robes hanging tattered from the spectres fragile form, each layered upon the last. Every so often, the entity's head rises up, revealing a bleak abyss beneath it's cowl; A void which begins to spill out in wisps of sulfur and rot scented smoke, only to be quelled when the creature returns it's attention to the table. The only semblance of solidity the creature has, beyond the general form it's robes maintain, is the blackened digits which seem to protrude from it's left hand sleeve- one of which sports a simple gleaming band. Still, the creature seems to fit the moniker of Ashen well enough, and it certainly seems to fixate on Sczaan the moment he enters the tavern, blankly 'staring' in his direction.
Sczaan enters the tavern and scans the room, his face hidden behind his mask and his cowl pointedly covering his half pointed ears. Spotting the being known as Ashen he moves to the table. "Are you the one Jelko said for me to speak to?" he asks. The young half elf glances around worridly, obviously this is his first time dealing with this type of shadows and doesn't truly know what to expect.
Kasyr || The creature emits a rattling wheeze, rythymic in the manner laughter might be- though altogether unpleasent. It's only when the noises stop that it nods it's head briefly, offering up a rasping, "Spectre. . . was it not?"
Sczaan nods, "It is." with that the youth sinks down into a chair across from the being. "I request the aide of some people in your orginization, from what I've heard other than dealing in death your group is also skilled at relieving items from their rightful owners?"
Kasyr || The hooded figure emits a drawn out pair of rasps, before it's head tilts forward towards Sczaan. "We are of many talents. That is one of them. You require?" The sentence is left to hang in the air, the creature continuing to stare at the necromancer.
Sczaan drops his voice, "There is a journal that I need obtained for me. It currently resides with Lorkain and he refuses to sell it." the necromancer glances about nervously, "Can it be done."
Kasyr || The darkness within the entitys hood churns and roils, faint wisps trickling out from those folds, if only to dissipate. It's only after a few brief moments that a noise finally comes, a drawn out, "Hah." grinding out from it's gullet. "We . . . could take on such a task." The creatures form ripples, the proportions of it's body shifting ever so slightly- it's outlines of it's limbs growing all the more emaciated. "We could even provide ...alternatives. Should you provide enough."
Sczaan smiles behind his mask, "Name your price Ashen."
Kasyr ||The figure does not move, though the words grind onwards, "8000 gold, and the job will be done in all haste." A pause, before the entity carefully rasps out, "15000 gold, would provide a...safer, alternative."
Sczaan leans back in his chair "It shall be, I don't have that much gold on me so will have to go retrieve it." With that he rises, "The journal is bound in black and emblazoned with an ornate 'V' in red, it was the journal of Valzahari."
Kasyr || The creatures arm shudders forth towards Sczaan, bending out towards him at an awkward angle, "Safe, or with Haste?"
Sczaan simply responds, "With Haste" The youth then turns to exit the tavern.