Joseph, merchant (Solo?) (Let me know if you want in and we can do something)

[redrout]

The busy marketplace rang with cries from shopkeepers, crowding nearly too close in the streets of Scara Brae, now bustling with people late in the morning. Joseph’s voice rang out in the throng, calling for the passersby to see his wares.

“Here you go gentlemen!” he yelled, standing on a stool and shaking a piece of red cloth. “This is the finest silk from elvish weavers, sure to impress the ladies, and at prices like these, you can still take her somewhere nice for the night!” A couple of potential customers let out hearty laughs at that one. He smiled wide, knowing that his words made people feel at ease. When people began to turn their heads away, he started up again, calling out his wares.

By midday, he had sold a good amount of product. He enjoyed the merchant life, it let him see the world, all it’s races and cultures. It was slow going at the moment, most people were looking for food to eat or other goods on other streets. He sat down, holding a ream of fabric and calling out to people, usually around noon they came by every few minutes. His eyes locked on a young man with tousled blond hair, wearing clothes that betrayed him as lower middle class, but Joseph had been around enough people of different walks to know he wasn’t as he appeared. For one, his face was too clean and shaven, and he walked just a bit too tall, like a man who won first prize in a race. Joseph pinned him as a noble; and nobles only meant one thing, money. He called out a bit.

“Hey you! Young man, have you ever felt linen from Raieria? It is the smoothest thing you’ve-” He interrupted Joseph’s sales pitch with a harsh shushing sound. He spoke with the telltale accent of nobility.

“Listen I don’t have much time here, do you have any, Salvarian cotton?”

The barest hint of a smile touched the edges of his lips for a second when he heard those two words. There was, of course, no such thing as Salvarian cotton, but what passed for it went for a lot of money. Joseph leaned back in his stool and pulled out a spool of ordinary thread. “Why of course, my good man, I only carry the finest wares, you know!” He held out the spool, exchanging it for a bag of coin, a big contract, if he was right. The young man spoke again in hushed tones.

“Listen, I need this done fast, and if you double cross me, I’ll-” Joseph clapped him on the shoulder, hard.

“I’m sure it’ll be everything you heard about!” He dropped his voice to a much lower tone, pulling him close. “Now get out of here before somebody notices you.” He pushed the young man away and called after him, wishing him well. He fondled the bag full of money for a second before slipping it into the small bag on his back. Inside would be a name, and other necessary details, as well as a time and place. It would be half now, and half after he’d made the kill. The store was a front, and though it made a bit of money and he enjoyed it, his skills as an assassin made him real money. He dared not peek at the bag now, but he wondered what it had in store for him. Perhaps he would visit that tavern he’d heard about after he knocked off for the evening, Heavy Hearth Inn, was it?

[Cards of Fate]

Vincent grinned ear to ear as he sipped his flagon of ale. The trip to Scara Brae had been a long one, but the payout was another recruit for the Tarot Hierarchy. His Boss, the very attractive Leona Stevvains, had blown into his library like a bad storm about a month ago with dire words on her lips. Another card of fate had shown itself in the small island nation and it was to be his job to find them. This normally wouldn’t be an issue if the scholar didn’t have a backlog of mission reports from the last BILLION other recruitment missions she had also sent him on. So here he found himself in a very familiar little burg hunting down a card and catching up with old friends. Despite his dread for another recruitment mission, he had been told the name of his candidate ahead of time. This was going to be fun.

“Salvarian fucking cotton…” Vincent found himself muttering amused. “That’s so obvious its funny.” He took another sip and thought for a moment about the hilarity of his situation. He had been sent to recruit an assassin, it was an easy plan. Call him to kill someone and then show up afterward mysteriously and throw as many vapid fate related clichés as he could and then walk away with a new recruit. That was boring though. Instead he had simply called a hit on himself, no big deal. The note was something of an after though really, a rough sketch of him and where he would start the night at. All he had to do was wait for the would be assassin to show up and begin the plan.

The scholar had decided to set himself up by the bar in The Heavy Hearth Inn and had ordered a drink and some form of “Meat” stew that tasted vaguely like otter. The crowd had begun to die down a bit, most of the citizens had to be up early tomorrow to get ready for an upcoming festival. Anyone lingering was either a traveler or a bum, and most were already heavily in their cups. All Vincent had to do was foil an attempt on his life, easy as cake.

[redrout]

Joseph walked briskly down the streets of Scara Brae, whistling to himself as the night encroached from the front and the sky was set ablaze behind him. The parchment, which he’d pocketed for the moment, had only three things scrawled on it; Heavyhearth, Tonight, Nightfall. The paper also bore a rough sketch of his mark’s face on it, which he'd memorized beforehand. He whistled a happy tune to himself, he mused that the cool of the twilight was relaxing as the last bit of light was disappearing behind him. There was an alley a ways back that looked promising to him as a place to do the deed; but provided that he couldn't lure the unsuspecting man there, he'd have to improvise. He was good at that. He walked up to the iron-banded wooden door of the Heavy Hearth Inn, hearing soft commotion. He opened the door, which creaked on old hinges into a small bar area with tables farther in which surrounded a large fireplace bounded by large hewn stones, large enough to sit on with one’s back to the fire. He smirked, heavy hearth indeed. He looked for an open spot at the quiet bar, noticing only one blonde among the three there nursing their respective drinks. He approached, sitting beside the doomed man and flipped a piece of silver on the table, asking for mead. As the tender grunted affirmatively and turned to fill a mug, he turned to his left to see shaggy blond hair atop light olive skin, contrasted sharply by a large purple robe. He smiled a bit and spoke, extending his hand.

“Forgive me for asking, my good man, but I am a clothing merchant by the name of Joseph, and I can’t quite place the fabric you’re wearing, would you mind telling me what it is?”

[Cards of Fate]

Vincent paused for a moment, a smile flashing across his lips. “Why my good man you call yourself a clothing merchant and do not recognize the rare and very exquisite Fallien Wool!” he began in a falsetto. “It is only the finest of clothing materials! It’s stronger than N’Jalen spidersilk and even makes your sister look beautiful!” he jested elbowing the wood be assassin playfully, giving him a wink. “Why in fact I have some right here if you would like to buy it! Any merchant worth their salt has to carry some for good luck!”

He rose to his feet with a flourish as he pulled out his cane and twirled it. “You see ladies and gentlemen I am the amazing Perelli! Fine provider of silks and miracle elixirs. He reached into his jacket and retrieved a small vial of yellow liquid. “Behold! My miracle hair tonic! Puts hair on anywhere you put it! Your face, your head, your chest your…” he trailed off with a sheepish grin as he left joseph in the dust pirouetting through the bar as he continued his pitch.

Several vials left his hands in exchange for a few coins as he cooed his venomous lies. He got to the door before someone managed to shout. “OI THIS SMELLS LIKE PISS!”

“IT LOOKS LIKE PISS TOO!” Another chimed.

“IT IS PISS!” One finished.

“And this a load of bullshit!” Vincent cackled pulling out a sealed jar filled with brown liquid and smashing it on the ground. “Actually I lied again, its bullshit and lamp oil!” he grinned striking a match and lighting the noxious fluids ablaze blocking the door. “JUST LIKE SALVARIAN COTTON YOU HACK!” Vincent called out disappearing in smoke. “Find me and let’s dance some more…”

The game was afoot, and Vincent had the upper hand.

[redrout]

The moment his mark said ‘Fallien Wool’, Joseph knew he’d been had. He mentally cursed as ‘Perelli’ turned and drew a crowd around him, all fawning over his obviously ridiculous wares. Joseph jumped to his feet, sending the stool clattering behind him, sound lost in the commotion of exchanged gold; vials and coin alike. He planted his feet and watched Perelli closely, drawing a dagger from his left hip, holding it backhanded. A fucking set-up, how am I this dense? His gaze darted around the room, trying to find another person not focusing on the merchant, perhaps looking to strike at him. He began to make a move on the robed man as he approached the door amidst the commotion of the men realizing what they’d paid for, and just managed to jump back as the entire room went ablaze, including many men’s heads, and not a few men’s trousers as well. Perelli disappeared through the door amidst screaming, throwing a last remark back at Joseph. It stung, but only a little.

A madman, I’ve been hired to kill a madman, Joseph thought as he yelled from outside the inn.

“I am NOT a hack, you dim-witted piss peddler!” He yelled after him, jumping over the fire at the door as he began to smell burning flesh. His contracts had mostly been easy. Go here, kill this man, make it sneaky, or an accident, robbery, or whatever; but it was mostly waiting in a bedroom or buying drinks that made his money. The moments for excitement were too few and far between and he smirked a bit, emerging to the night, just as people began to gather to watch and fetch water for the fire. It was easy to spot his mark again; fire drew a crowd like no other, and there was only one person not watching it. He gave chase and drew his second dagger as the man disappeared around a corner, thinking to himself. Death comes for us all, friend, yours closer than mine, I hope.

[Cards of Fate]

Vince cringed for a moment as the entire bar began to go up in smoke behind him. “Whoops.” Me muttered sheepishly as he sauntered away grinning. The look on everyone’s face at his little show was quite the thrill, and he was having quite the fun time on this mission. He saw his pursuer out of the corner of his eye as he leaped through the fire and began to follow him. ‘Oh goody’ Vincent found himself thinking as he walked through the moonless night. ‘I was really hoping I didn’t just kills him, Leona would flay me alive.’

He chuckled and picked up his pace as he turned a corner into a particularly dark alley and disappeared in a flash of blue light. He reappeared on the dark rooftop stretching slightly. Time to watch his unwitting recruit flail for a bit. He watched the would be killer turn the corner and scratch his head looking around. He was perplexed, where could his quarry have possibly gone? Surely such a madman could not just up and disappear like that. He chewed his lip slightly before turning around and heading back the way he had come. Such a madman could have easily set up a false trail…

Vincent simply grinned ear from ear as he rubbed his hands. The hunter had become the hunted.

[redrout]

Joseph turned into the alley, ready for almost anything. He was not ready, however, for a flash of blue light and the disappearance of his contract. He took two steps back, letting his eyes adjust after the flash. When his vision cleared, the man was gone, as well as any trace of him. He approached the spot where he’d been, looking up for any handholds or ledges he could have used to escape. Fucking magic, he thought as he walked back out the alley, still gripping his daggers in case he’d been led there as a trap.

Madmen aren’t cowards, he mused as he sheathed his daggers, approaching the dying fire. Most of the Inn had been destroyed, save the hearth, which still sat in the ashes of the building constructed around it, lending a bit more weight to it’s name. The fire hadn’t quite reached the tavern area though, which was mostly built of stone. Steam rose in billows from the inn, and a large crowd had gathered, either to watch the spectacle or to help put it out. He navigated the throng easily and unnoticed until he had walked into the ruined building through what remained of the door. There were a few bodies being carried out as he entered, taking with them the rancid smell. The last remains of smoke rose in tendrils from the crossbeams of the once-thatched roof, now barely more than supports, since the straw it was made of burned like paper.


Joseph thought as he looked around, a tad disappointed that he missed his chance to strike. His mark had been smart and skilled, and Joseph didn’t really think that ‘Perelli’ would allow him another chance to make the kill. He looked around for fragments of vials, maybe a piece of his robe, but found nothing; save the bar, which was mostly intact. Well, that kid probably wants his money back, I suppose, Joseph thought as he glanced at the bar, surprised to see his mead still sitting there, like it had never been touched.

Well, at least a little bit of luck goes my way, he thought as he grabbed it and drank, wondering just where in the world that odd fellow had run off to. Madmen didn’t run away, unless they weren’t madmen after all, which made him wonder just what the fuck was going on.

[Cards of Fate]

Vincent watched the assassin from afar, keeping to the shadows of the town making sure he wasn’t spotted. Many of the people in the bar who had seen him light the fire were probably dead, or incoherently babbling about piss in vials and a snake oil salesman; but he was not going to take any chances of being lynched just yet. He watched his prey enter the tavern once more with slight confusion. “Why would anyone want to hang out in a ruined bar?” he muttered to himself as he wove his way through the crowd that was beginning to disperse.

When he managed to get behind the tavern in a dark alley that smelt of ash and charcoal he concentrated for a moment and disappeared in a blink of blue light, reappearing on the rafters above his target. He watched silently as he watched the man drink his ale. “Really?” he asked tilting his head. “You lose the trail and you just give up? A scowl crossed his lips. “What. A. Rookie. Mistake.”

The scholar grinned and stretched. “Looks like you’re not getting any of that kill money Mr Cotton Balls.” Vincent turned around and to add insult to injury shook his butt at the failed assassin. “What a shame, I was even going to give you a bonus!”

[redrout]

Joseph looked up to see that damnable lunatic, shaking his ass and calling him names from the rafters of what had once been the attic. His eyes narrowed. Now I’m just being played with, but fuck it all if I’m letting him do that. He slammed the sturdy wooden tankard on the bartop, mead splashing everywhere.

“Your ass is mine this time!”, he yelled, throwing the mug at him, which he dodged expertly. That was to be expected, but it allowed him the critical time he needed to jump up, plant his foot on the bartop and leap backwards at him, extending his arm as Perelli tried to dodge a second time, latching on to his ankle.

Gotcha, he thought with a smirk as they both fell to the ground, crushing an ash-covered wooden table, throwing dust into the air. He felt a boot solidly connect with his face, pain exploding from his nose as he reflexively struck with his dagger, feeling it connect with something at the end of his swipe. He rolled to the side and hopped to his feet, drawing his other dagger, holding both of them backhandedly. Joseph peered through dust and a possibly broken nose, his weight on his back foot, holding both daggers out defensively to the silhouette several feet in front of him. Perelli’s words turned in his mind unbidden, lending more confusion to the situation at hand.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked, more accusatory than inquisitively.

[Cards of Fate]

Vincent mentally kicked himself for letting the assassin get the drop on him. Perhaps twerking was not the best rafter activity when taunting a foe. The two tumbled down as the charred wood finally gave way and vincent watched in horror as Joseph brough a dagger to him, and sliced the laces of his boots. He silently thanked whatever merciful god that had saved him as he slipped free of his loosened shoe and rolled forward. The man had asked him a question, and he had to regain his composure to give him an answer.

“Well I guess I could start by telling you my name is not Perelli.” he chuckled slightly at his own joke before he continued. “Nor do I actually try to sell vials of horse piss for a living, or carry flammable jars of bullshit regularly. Twas all an act, a ruse if you will.” he bowed dramatically, removing an imaginary hat as he did so, flourishing his arms.

“In fact I’m not a salesmen at all! My name is Vincent and I’m a scholar of sorts for a very...eccentric group of people who have very...eccentric goals if you will.” Vincent rose to his full height and glanced at his destroyed boot between the two of them. “Seeing that you managed to ruin my favorite boot, I think you’d make a...skilled addition to our team. I thought as much when I hired you to try and take my life.”