The Merchantry

[Caysim Winters]

The man came through the door of the pub. The cold hair coming with the rain made a way through the door as it was shut. A chill crawled up his spine causing him to shiver a little. The water form the weather outside plastered his coat for the most part, but the loose drops shook their way off of him through his gesture. The long jacket was then taken off as he felt the warmth of the room called for it not to be needed any longer. It was hung on a rack standing next to the door. His walk to a table commenced then.

The sat at a table. Papers were then taken out of a leather pack that he had been carrying with him. He stroked his long black beard as he stared at them for a moment. They were flipped back and forth as he carefully went over multiple sheets. After a few of them had been turned, a thin pair of spectacles were revealed from a coat pocket on his vest. Between that and the beard, it reflected quite well, the mans age as he sat there.

“Welcome to the Peaceful Promenade, sir. Can I get you anything?” The lovely bar mistress said.

“Yes, I would like to have a glass of Cori’az Rum, please.” The man said with a smile as he looked up at her directly when he spoke.

The bar maid simply just nodded and walked away from him to return with his drink a few seconds later. While she was away at the counter of the tavern, his eyes scanned the room, looking at the various different types of people there. Most were the rough bunch, but others looked so valiant. That left to him in deciding what exactly he would need. The chivalrous man would be trustworthy, but would he be able to do what needed to be done? The ruffian could do anything, but was he going to be able to be kept in line? There was still time to determine what was left there for him while he waited on the ones that he had already invited to speak with him.

“Here you are sir. Will that be all?” The lady asked.

“No, m’lady. Could I have you place these at different tables please, and possibly one posted on the wall? I would much appreciate the kind gesture.” The man asked with a calm and peaceful voice.

“Sure can, sir.” The bar mistress said, taking a few of the papers from the polite man.

The papers posted around the Peacful Promenade, read as such:


Attention:

The Merchantry will be extending contracting possibilities for any who are interested. The tasks at hand are for the merchant guild and problems arising in the country of Fallien. The Merchantry have a post of trade established in the port city of Ras Arid, but due to rising tensions between Outlanders and the Jya, trade with the people there is becoming threatened. Due to the location of the town, people depend on The Merchantry to supply goods that are normally impossible or rare to find in the deserts of Fallien. Backed by concerned citizens who both rely on The Merchantry for jobs and supplies, the need for protection has been called for.

For any interests in this proposal, please contact the liaison. Ser Omni Hiatry.

The Merchantry.

[Balgar Grimeye]

Balgar stepped into the inn, pulling up his belt by its buckle as he glanced around, chewing on some tough jerkey. He fetched himself a mug of ale by the bar, expressing but a few grunts at the welcoming barmaid as he gave her the coin.

The dwarf's metal rattled lightly as he went for a nearby table, seating himself heavily in a stool that croaked disturbingly under his weight. As he took a swig of his ale, some of it trailing down along his beard, he spotted a paper posted on the table. Balgar's eyebrow shot upwards, as he leaned in over to pick up the frail little piece of paper and eye its contents.

"Hrmmhmh.. Merchantry -- will..." Balgar paused, narrowing his functioning eye as he coulden't read further.

"Blast that impossible scribble!" Balgar scowled and cursed, slamming down his mug on the table. He arose to look around him, and adressed the nearest person to him.

"Oi! Read this fer me, will ye?"

[Caysim Winters]

“Yes, I can.” The old man, Omni Hiatry, said to the dwarf.

The old man looked over form his old wooden chair and peered down at the piece of paper that the Dwarf was asking for him to look at. To his surprise it was the notice that he had just passed out moments before around the bar. A smile creased his face as he read the words aloud to the dwarves warrior. It was quite a coincidence that he had already found someone that had been interested enough to take the time to find out about it. His glasses were pushed back to his face as he looked up after the last word left his mouth.

“So, what it basically says, sir, is that this group is hiring for some hired swords. They are known as The Merchatry. It’s a merchant guild that is based out of Corone, but their main trade is performed down in southern island nation, Fallien.” Omni said with a clear voice.

“For anymore information, you will need to find the man it says, Omni Hiatry. It just so happens that I am this man, sir. Have a seat, please. I can explain this all to you.” Omni said as he motioned the Dwarf to the seat across the table from him.

[Balgar Grimeye]

Balgar handed the paper to the old man, stroking his beard slightly as he listened. He squinted an eye at the mention of "hired swords", an obvious trigger-word to him.

As Omni Hiatry revealed his identity, Balgar looked at first a bit surprised.
"Well then. Seems ye're in luck," he said, as he sat down on a nearby chair and took the axe that was on his back to lean it up against the table. Then he raised a finger towards Omni Hiatry pointedly, placing the elbow of that arm on the table:
"I be one o' tha meanest sell-swords about." He exposed a crooked grin, revealing some of his golden teeth (and lack of them).

[Caysim Winters]

Omni sat back a bit at the oddly mannered dwarf that had just spoke with him. He was filled with both happiness and disgust at having found the dwarf. The happiness came from an actual mercenary, or sell sword, having interest into the matter that had fallen on Ras Arid. The disgust came form the lack of a full row of teeth, and actual teeth on that matter. He couldn’t help, but to stick his finger to his lips with an urge to feel his own teeth at a physical response of seeing the dwarfs.

“Well, a sell sword? That’s quite the occupation we are looking into, sir…” Omni said with a pause as the dwarf had failed to mention his name.

“I am, what the Merchantry would best describe me as, a recruiter. I have come to this pub looking for individuals, such as yourself, who will be best fitted for the job at hand.” Omni said with an air of pride.

“Have you ever been to Fallien, Mr….?” Omni asked with another pause at the absence of the mans name.

[Balgar Grimeye]

"Balgar Grimeye, and aye! I have been there a-plenty." Balgar turned his head and spat on the floor, leaving a gooey black spittle on its wooden planks. He then turned his gaze back on Omni, in a searchingly manner with his dead eye.

"So, what do ye need muscle fer eh? An' what's tha pay?" he asked, cutting right to the case.