The Syndicate Recruitment Center

[Letho]

((Here’s the deal. I want this to be an IC thread. So if you are interested in any of these missions, you can post here ICly and ask the barkeep about a certain mission (say the correct passwords, you don't have to have a real reason to know it) and I’ll reply with more info. I intentionally didn’t give a lot of info so I could give the details to the interested through IC dialogue. You don’t have to elaborate in your posts if you don’t want to; hell, if you don’t feel like it, you can write just one sentence. Just make it IC like the Bazaar threads for example. I just thought this would be more interesting then the usual. Also, the claimant of each mission can decide how many people he wants to take with him/her, but don't make it too crowded.))

Barrel of Monkeys was a wretched place. The simple fact that it was a tavern made it clear that it wasn’t the most pleasurable place to be. The fact that it was located in the Slums District only further confirmed that. And the fact that it was a front for Radasanth Crime Syndicate made it one of the most infamous places in Radasanth. The law had no jurisdiction here, the Syndicate paying a pretty penny for what seemed like total immunity in this little subterranean mud hole. Here, in the smoky tavern that was secluded under a large abandoned warehouse, the lowest of the low gathered, criminals, murderers, rapists, the grime and the slime of the streets coming in for a pint. Serving these drinks was a one-eyed innkeeper, a scrawny looking ex-rogue that could still split a hair with a dagger and was still faster then the vast majority of Althanas. He was Syndicate’s frontman, the peddler of their illegal jobs. Only, to get him talk about a job, you had to speak the proper password.


Beer on the rocks ((Claimed by Witchblade))

Wosey Jales was one of the most infamous crooks that stalked the Corone innocents. By the time he was twelve, he killed both of his parents and buried them beneath the chickenhouse. By the time he was fifteen, he already had a two thousand gold pieces as a price on his head because of his thief escapades. By the time he was eighteen, he was a full time assassin for the Syndicate. But by the time he was eighteen and a half, he was a convict. He is currently in The Iron Fort, one of the most protected Corone prisons, serving the first out of his twenty-five years. It is your job to rescue him from the Fort. If you agree, you will be provided with the blueprint of the prison, but the infiltration and the extraction is up to you.

Rewards: A vlince cloak with minor chameleon enchantment.


Whiskey, and hold the olive ((Claimed by Poison))

Generally, the Syndicate and the Corone government are at somewhat of a standstill. The Syndicate stays away from the official convoys and locations and in return the government gives them a bit more leeway when it comes to their criminal activities. However, Gawain Derun, the Minister of Defense and Securtiy, is starting to stir the pot, insisting on firmer measures for the criminals, especially those from the Syndicate. We need to make an example out of this man and recently a perfect opportunity for it presented itself. The Minister will hold a speech at the opening of the autumn fair in Gisela and it is here, in front of entire realm, that we want him to fall. Keep in mind that he keeps security tight around him and that there is a rumor of a Scarlet Brigade agent keeping watch over him.

Rewards: Five plynt poisoned projectiles of your choosing, the venom being strong enough to maim a man temporarily and kill him within an hour if not treated


Wine, shaken not stirred

With the closing of the year, time comes for the taxes to be collected. For this purpose the Corone government sends out its collectors throughout the baronies which always return with laden coffers. However, when the taxes are collected, the acquired gold is always guarded by whole regiments of soldiers. Instead of attacking these convoys, we need somebody who would pose as tax collectors and gather the money from the oblivious citizens. You will need to intercept the real collectors and their personal bodyguards, dispatch of them and steal their documents, then proceed to collect the money from one of Radasanthia counties. Keep in mind that Corone Rangers tighten their patrols during these days so you might run into some serious opposition.

Rewards: A share of the loot, 800-1000 GP, depending on how successful you do your job.


Water, straight up ((Claimed by Alberdyne_Cormyr))

The Tylmerande barony is most renowned for its production of pearls. The secret to the production of these jewels isn’t just in the special type of clams that is specific for the Tylmerande coastal area, but also the combination of additives that the pearl divers use to make the clams produce these precious stones faster. Recently, the Syndicate was contacted by a merchant that has connections to Alerar underground market that has a need for pearls. However, this merchant is even more interested in this procedure that would enable him to make a farm of clams of his own. Your job is to get either the pearls or the recipe (or hopefully both) for him. Elves are very protective though and ever vigilant when it comes to their precious stones, so you will have to find an efficient way to sneak past their keen, watchful eyes.

Rewards: A piece of jewelry (ring, bracelet, earring, necklace) with an ability to cast a magic spell of your choosing.


Ale, with milk on the side

AKA ‘Pick-and-Roll’. Slaves are currently hot merchandise, especially since the local law is working more and more diligently on breaking the slave trade. Most of the slaves have to be imported illegally, making their price high and their availability low. Several of the local slave traders are tired not making a profit this way and decided to take a risk in recruiting some of the locals to do their slave ‘picking’. You are to acquire a dozen of healthy individuals, aged 13-25, half male, half female and deliver them to the designated rendezvous point. Should you get caught or followed, the deal is off and you are left on your own. However, should you accomplish this mission, the traders won’t forget to return the favor.

Rewards: A damascus weapon of your choosing

Optional: Should you choose to acquire the slaves from the conservative region of Akashima, you get an additional item made of plynt.
The weather-worn barkeep spat in the glass mug and continued to shine it with a filthy rag, his one eye observing the tavern interior with what seemed like an indifferent look.

[Daggertail]

A pirate without a ship wasn’t the kind of person to survive alone and Eris started to feel the fact when her tenure on Althanas as a thief and bandit. She needed something extra to get her ship and that extra might be a patron; no matter how much she hated the idea of serving some land lover crime boss but she could get some connections to help get a ship or maybe some friends that could confuse the coronian fleet if they got too close.

But at least the job sounded fun, something in the warm coast and clams. Eris couldn’t help but smile, most jobs would be done in some dank city and yet the golden opportunity would have her soaking up rays.

She just had to tolerate the tavern first.

It wasn’t the worst tavern that Eris has ever been but it was one of the lower ones. A place that Eris wouldn’t go without business and so she was here for business and wanted it over with so she could have an adventure on the coast.

“Water, strait up”

((Sure Ter-thok, I'll do this quest with you.))

[Witchblade]

Things had been slow lately. The forests of Concordia once again bringing about that mundane feeling they always did after spending too many solitary hours within them. There was only so much a forest could do and one could only listen to the happy chirping of those fucking birds for so long. After that, things grew boring and monotonous and blood needed to be shed to alleviate the boredom. Things needed to be done, time needed to be wasted. The usual, so when the halfling ambled into this seedy tavern she knew what she was looking for; work. She didn’t need it and half the time she didn’t want it, but it took away the boredom and it gave her more than the sound of the voices within her head to listen to. Besides, there was a chance she’d be killing people and killing was always fun.

Sliding up onto the barstool, Witch waited for the barkeep to notice her. A burly, mean looking man with only one eye.

“What can I get for you?”

He seemed to give her a once over but she was hidden in the shadows of her cloak, he’d catch nothing but glimpses as she sifted her position. Perhaps, even just the faintest sight of a face hidden in shadows with a mouth sown shut.

“Beer…on the rocks.”

[Ter-Thok]

Ter-Thok was really sick of taverns. On a planet without movie theaters, or arcades, or country clubs, or even strip joints, it seemed like people just naturally gravitated into these seedy dives. Gods forbid they go out and get a job, maybe spend some time with their family: no. They would sit in a dank little hole and pour de-liverizer down their gullets.

And it seemed like most business was done in these damned taverns, too. The demon hopped up on a stool by the bar, his eyes just barely able to peer over the knife-scarred surface. "Hey! Cyclops Samwise, over here. I want, uh..." Ter-Thok unfurled the crumpled cocktail napkin that had been clutched in a fist just moments ago, " 'Water, straight up.' "

((Awesome, this ought to be fun.))

[Letho]

((Ter-Thok, these are intended pretty much for as many as the original claimant wishes to take with him/her. I’ll just wait for Daggertail to edit in her IC post before replying to you both.))

Things had been slow lately. The forests of Concordia once again bringing about that mundane feeling they always did after spending too many solitary hours within them. There was only so much a forest could do and one could only listen to the happy chirping of those fucking birds for so long. After that, things grew boring and monotonous and blood needed to be shed to alleviate the boredom. Things needed to be done, time needed to be wasted. The usual, so when the halfling ambled into this seedy tavern she knew what she was looking for; work. She didn’t need it and half the time she didn’t want it, but it took away the boredom and it gave her more than the sound of the voices within her head to listen to. Besides, there was a chance she’d be killing people and killing was always fun.

Sliding up onto the barstool, Witch waited for the barkeep to notice her. A burly, mean looking man with only one eye.

“What can I get for you?”

He seemed to give her a once over but she was hidden in the shadows of her cloak, he’d catch nothing but glimpses as she sifted her position. Perhaps, even just the faintest sight of a face hidden in shadows with a mouth sown shut.

“Beer…on the rocks.”Otocar was in the process of pouring himself another whiskey in the jigger when the cryptic woman approached. Her face was hidden by the shadow of a cowl, but the operational eye of the sinewy rogue was too trained, too experienced, too sharp not to see beyond the darkness. After all, this ability to see all was what cost him an eye and two fingers on his left hand. Today he saw a rather frigid face whose largest opening was sewn shut, and neither surprised him. He’s been around several blocks in several different realms and saw more peculiar things then wenches with tied lips. Not even when her voice resounded in his head, reciting the proper password, did he flinch. Instead he finished pouring the liquor, downed the shot glass and got up from his chair to lean on the bar.

“That’s quite a strong beverage you’re asking. I would advise you not to proceed with it alone. Not that I care one way or the other if you get the job done.” Otocar said, his two-fingers-short hand disappearing beneath the counter and retrieving a rather large furled piece of paper. He slid it over the bar surface and into her hands. He continued in a hushed tone. “Your package is located on the second lowest level of the dungeon. It’s marked on the prints. The security isn’t exactly top notch, with a bishop and six pawns on each level. We don’t want them plugged, that would be more trouble then the package is worth. Once you extract him, take him to the docks. There will be a ship there waiting for him.”

He finished, his face failing to reveal any kind of emotional reaction. This was all just a job to him. The fact that it consisted of recruiting people to do illegal activities failed to phase him. “One last word of advice: beware of the hounds. They usually patrol the premises and are usually very hungry.”

[Letho]

A pirate without a ship wasn’t the kind of person to survive alone and Eris started to feel the fact when her tenure on Althanas as a thief and bandit. She needed something extra to get her ship and that extra might be a patron; no matter how much she hated the idea of serving some land lover crime boss but she could get some connections to help get a ship or maybe some friends that could confuse the coronian fleet if they got too close.

But at least the job sounded fun, something in the warm coast and clams. Eris couldn’t help but smile, most jobs would be done in some dank city and yet the golden opportunity would have her soaking up rays.

She just had to tolerate the tavern first.

It wasn’t the worst tavern that Eris has ever been but it was one of the lower ones. A place that Eris wouldn’t go without business and so she was here for business and wanted it over with so she could have an adventure on the coast.

“Water, strait up”
Ter-Thok was really sick of taverns. On a planet without movie theaters, or arcades, or country clubs, or even strip joints, it seemed like people just naturally gravitated into these seedy dives. Gods forbid they go out and get a job, maybe spend some time with their family: no. They would sit in a dank little hole and pour de-liverizer down their gullets.

And it seemed like most business was done in these damned taverns, too. The demon hopped up on a stool by the bar, his eyes just barely able to peer over the knife-scarred surface. "Hey! Cyclops Samwise, over here. I want, uh..." Ter-Thok unfurled the crumpled cocktail napkin that had been clutched in a fist just moments ago, " 'Water, straight up.' "“Well, I’ll be damned.” Otocar said as the two approached him with the same password within seconds from each other. He just finished dealing with the telepathic wench when two figures approached, both asking for Water, straight up, and both looking as if they took a stroll somewhere in Haidia and took several hundreds wrong turns. The redhead female was much easier on the eyes though, much easier then the shrunken demon. “Who would’ve known that the water would be so popular?”

He gestured to the two to come closer together before he pulled his chair closer to the worn counter. His three-fingered hand descended in one of the pockets of his leather waistcoat, producing a flawless marble-sized pearl. “Here’s the deal. We have a buyer for a bunch of these marbles. The only problem is that the fruity folk down in the Tylmerande barony ask an arm and a leg for them. These clam-herders have a headquarters in Fenthar, a town east of Serenti, where they joined up in what they call the White Guild. Supposedly, this is where they store the marbles.” Otocar’s fingers flicked the pearl skywards, then snatched the thing from mid air with his other hand that moved in a blur. The pearl disappeared in his other pocket.

“Get the marbles, get their fertilizer recipe and get to Serenti where the merchant will be waiting for you in our safehouse. They don’t have many sentries around the compound, but the security inside the guild is as tight as a virgin asshole. Allegedly, their headquarters used to belong to a crazed nobleman that kept his riches in a subterranean treasury and this crazy bastard like to construct mazes. But that’s your problem now, not mine.” the scrawny rogue said, finally leaning back on his stool and folding his arms in front of his chest.

“If you don’t get the recipe – which is highly likely – do keep several of those fruits alive. You can shear a sheep several times, but skin it only once after all.” Otocar finished with a wry smirk.

[Ithermoss]

Rakh wasn’t playing by the rules this time – doing so got him nowhere fast, and it was time for a change of scenery. Hromagh’s finger in the mortal world he may have been, may still be, but that didn’t keep him from thrill-seeking. He always wanted to be a part of a heist, jailbreak, or even general monkey business of a similar kind. Grasping his wolf’s tooth, he took on the keen senses of a canine, nothing being lost to his near-perfect ears – a slight fringe of gray fur peppering their tips being the only sign of his change.

Prints? Dungeon? This sounded like fun. Sounded like a job he'd heard mention of before - like Beer on the Rocks. The odd-smelling tribal strolled up to the bar, much to the displeasure of the other patrons. He didn’t smell foul or anything close, just odd – muddy-feet-and-cabbage odd. His mohawk stiff with red clay, and all sorts of teeth and bones dangling from necklaces and bracelets, he approached the counter and eyed the barkeep and robed individual. The lupine features melted from his ears as he released his grip and focus on the tooth charm.

“Beer on the rocks sounds good,” he said with a gambler’s smile, nodding to the both of them. “I’m in.”

He had already eavesdropped on the briefing. Besides, he liked information the same way he liked his selection in loincloths: long enough to cover the essentials, but short enough to keep things interesting.

[Letho]

Otocar both saw and smelled the tribal long before he even approached the bar. The young man with the mohawk was sticking out in the common room filled with shady cloaked characters like a sunflower in a field of lilies. And as if that wasn't enough to distinguish him from the crowd, there was this funky odor following him around, reminding the weathered rogue of the circus gypsies that smelled of pickled greens. For most employers this would be more then enough to call the bouncer and kick the man out, but Syndicate wasn't picky. Men, women, demons, elves, drow, teens, children, royalty, homeless, it didn't matter. If they were here it meant that they meant business because the passwords were entrusted to only the prospective bunch.

"My, my, I haven't seen a tribal since the last time I was in Fallien, stealing the jewels from Jya's Keep." Otocar said, observing the odd man with a wry grin. The man could've been a shaman and while the superstitious folk might be intimidated by the fabled ability to cast curses, the rogue had been around a block or three enough times not be ill at ease with the comical folk that still didn't grasp terms like pants and shoes.

"But we're out of beer and out of rocks. You can share it with the little missy over here, but that's none of my business anymore." Otocar finished, picking up the rag and spitting into the mug, commencing the shining process.

[Tera]

Blue twilight slowly crept to black on the horizon as her body stirred under white linen sheets. Her eyes opened to the form of a lifeless man, his head turned away from her as his shell lay next to her in the bed. She thought for a moment about getting rid of his body, but changed her mind when she remembered that it was he who brought her to this room the night before.

She rose and found her clothes for she knew that there was business to be completed this evening. A letter from one of her old contacts told that there was work to be had at the tavern next door. Her kind of work.

She reached for the doorknob, but hesitated a moment before turning around and looking at the corpse. Better safe then sorry she thought as she retrieved a dagger from his belt and plunged is several times into his chest. No need to alert the locals to a vampire if we can help it. And to ensure it she took the blade across the bite marks she had left on his neck, flaying the flesh open.

She left the hotel and stepped down the street towards the Barrel of Monkeys. A rather less than reputable place that made her question the authenticity of her contacts information. She squinted her eyes in disgust as she entered the doorway, there was no way that this could be a front for a criminal organization.

Either way she stepped up to the bar in time to learn how they shined glasses around her.

“I would like a Whiskey, and hold the olive.”

[Letho]

“Finally something a bit easier on the eye.” Otacon thought with a barely visible smirk as the redhead approached the bar and asked another of the drinks that were on the ‘special menu’. The spindly barkeep measured up the lithe lass with a quick surveying look, his one operational eye seeing more in less then a second then most men saw in minutes. And there was something peculiar about the girl. He couldn’t quite put a finger to it, but his gut was telling him that she wasn’t just another piece of homeless scum in search for some quick cash. Then again, he was a rather aged man; it could’ve been that he just had gastric issues and was wrong about the girl. Either way, she asked for a drink – albeit a rather bitter one – and he was not about to turn the redhead down on account of his gut feeling.

“A whiskey without an olive, eh? For a while there I thought nobody would’ve wanted such a... khm, high profile drink, shall we say?” Otacon said with a sly smirk, finishing shining the mug and placing it behind the bar, in the long line of look-alikes. “Alright, the job is simple. Gisela’s annual fair is a grand celebration of the harvest... or so the yahoos down in Yarborough barony think anyways. The mark will be holding a speech on the opening of this fair. No doubt the pompous prick would be followed by fanfare and all the simple glamour that practically paints a target on his forehead, so he would be really hard to miss, especially once he gets up on the stand and the crowd offer him their ears.”

Otacon shuffled closer to the girl, leaning on his elbow on the bar in front of him and eyeing the nearby customers. Once he was satisfied with the looks on their faces, he continued. “It is then that you must strike him down, when all the eyes are on him and he feel like he has the world in his hand. Whether you do this from afar with a bow or you like to get up close and personal, we don’t really care as long as he goes down during his speech. I would suggest either taking an elevated spot on the roof of some of the buildings or disguising yourself as one of his guards. I would also suggest that you don’t do this alone. Taking him down will be difficult, but escaping afterwards would be even more so.”

“Our representative – called The Reaper – will meet you in Gisela and provide the tools for this task if you need any. A word of warning though; we received a rumor that our target would be escorted by one of the members of the Scarlet Brigade. If that is the case, I would advise to you to hit from the distance and run like the wind unless you have a death wish.” Otacon finished. The rumor was unconfirmed at this point, but if it was true, then the girl was in for a rough ride indeed. The Scarlet Brigade was the group of the most elite warriors of Althanas, sworn to guard the highly ranked officials. Ruthless machines they were, seeing and hearing and knowing seemingly everything, practically invincible. Otacon knew that it was probably not the truth, but in all his life – and it was a lengthy and adventurous life indeed – he never heard that somebody attacked the member of the Scarlet Brigade and lived to tell the tale.

[Letho]

((Added another mission, Whiskey, and hold the olive up for the picking again.))

[Rok the Blade]

Taverns had never been the Dwelling of Choosing for the SpellBlade Rokusho. They were cold, damp, filled with drunkards and frequently held barfights. The stagnant air alone usually made the Knight gag. But there was something good about them for someone like Rok:

They held an indefinite amount of evil, just waiting to be cleansed.

Rok entered the tavern as casual as a man like him could, though his gleaming visage usually set off some of the already present patrons when he walked through the doorway. He attempted to keep a stern look on his face, he tried to be just like all the other cutthroats in the place. With Redeemer strapped to his back, he could barely get through the door! With some skill, though, the knight made his way into the dim lit tavern and calmly looked for someone in particular. He avoided his habit of kindly nodding in Greeting to the people who couldn't seem to keep their eyes off of him. His gaze shifted from table to table, brigand to brigand, and his light eyes finally locked on the single eyed barkeep. Rokusho smiled a little and made his way over to the man, hard as it was. Brushing past tightly knit tables and accidentally knocking over a drunkard, he finally made his way to the bar.

"Give me an ale, with milk on the side. Now." The knight said, in some sort of gruff voice that he had practiced on his stroll over here. He knew that a mission such as this wouldn't be given to one such as Rokusho, if the petitioner knew what kind of man he was. But, with some luck, the barkeep wouldn't.

[Letho]

Otocar just returned to his place behind the bar after kicking out a drunkard that vomited all over one of the tables when a new customer waltzed in, asking for one of the specials. The spindly barkeep didn't respond immediately though. Instead, his eyes looked at the stranger, noting the giant sword and making an introspective jape that spoke of compensation. His one of his hands picked up the filthy rag and threw it over the shoulder, while the other was never far from the dagger resting at his hip.

"You sure you want that one? You look sorta lost to me." The truth was, there was something awry about this man, something that didn't quite fit in the setting. And Otocar was an old wolf; he'd been around and he knew the scent of weird, misplaced things. But he was also not in the business anymore. No, he was just a peddler that distributed the goods if people gave him the right password. And this warrior did just that.

"Fine, fine. You see, one of our associates is in need of some fine... vintage, shall we say," he started, speaking in the usual cryptic manner. "It shouldn't be too aged, between thirteen and twenty-five years of age, half of them male and the other half female. There is already a number of men working on acquiring these. You are at to rendezvous them in the Outskirts."

"Also, the word on the street is that Akashima has quite a good selection; so good in fact, that our associate is willing to throw in a little bonus should the acquisitions hail from that area of Corone. You'll have to talk about it with the rest of the boys though." Otocar finished, his healthy eye carefully studying the reaction of the man, but not caring much one way or the other. His job was simple; listen to the right words and give words in return.

[Kak Zalta]

Upon entrance to Radasanth, Kak was naturally drawn toward the dark, dirty, and scum filled slums of Radasanth and Barrel of Monkeys was perhaps the darkest, dirtiest, and had the highest scum per square foot of anywhere in the slums. Kak loved it.

Walking around at the level of a table top, Kak overheard all sorts of marvelous things. Death, murder, thievery...all the best things in life. Standing with his head just below the bar, a large, well armored knight bearing a massive sword sat down and asked for a strange brew.

"Give me an ale, with milk on the side. Now."

The response was not a strange drink, but instead strange instructions. Hopping onto a stool next to the night, he looked Otocar in the eye.

"This ale with milk on the side sounds like my kind of drink. I would be willing to share a glass with this fine stranger or take a glass on my own."

I don't know if this is proper protocol. I would have no problem working with Rok, in fact it would be fantastic, but I think I could pull it off on my own in grand fashion as well. All parties...thoughts??

[Rok the Blade]

Rok stood there, in front of the speaking barkeep, calmly. Keeping a stern expression and his gaze locked into the man's eyes. The actions were merely a facade, and it couldn't be much longer that he held it. Rokusho's face lightened up a bit when Otocar confirmed his request. The knight replied with a simple nod.

His plan had worked. He would be given the dastardly deed for his efforts, and in return they would get a rightous fist thrusted into their black faces.

Half male, half female. The knight played the words over and over again in his mind. "Apparantly there is no gender discrimination here... Not even in Slavery." He thought to himself. "They'll get their half male and half female, all right. But they won't be there to be enslaved. Oh no, I can assure them that. Evil is just as dumb as it is easy to find. Heh..."

He nodded again to the barkeep, and looked to his side. He didn't realize that there was a man, well, less than a man, eavesdropping. Rok probably just didn't see him because of his height. The gnome stood at half his own height! He could be no less or more then a gnome, he was short like a gnome or maybe a dwarf, but was way too thin to fill a dwarf's pants. And yet, his facial features were much different than your common gnome's, black hair, a sly face, not much facial hair. Not to mention a little more muscular. Rokusho could see no hint of jovial kindness in him, though Rok was not the one to be judging one's character. His job was to accept whatever fate gave to him with open arms first, then judge later. A trait that would have killed many other foolish men, but not for one such as this SpellBlade.

"Well then," The knight began, towards Otocar, "It seems we have another heavy drinker in the house. Come, then, with me outside and I shall share with you my ale." He was motioning for the unusual gnome to follow him out. He would ask questions and relay information to the man once they had left. Best not to hold up such a busy barkeep like Otocar.

"Quickly, now." He said, already heading outside. No time to waste, the blackness must be purged!

[Letho]

((A suggestion for you two. Seeing as it's rather clear that Rok is not out to enslave people but to free them, perhaps you two can write together, but not really work together (since I figure Kak is not the goody-goody two-shoes kind of character). Each of you can be in charge of half of the slaves, sort of making two different stories in a single quest that intersect at the very end. Just an idea.))

[Fenris]

((quick question: i notice that 'ale with milk' is not marked as claimed. it seems like the kind of quest multiple people could do separately; is this the case? i have a very fun idea for fihrinn, lots of good character development :) so yes, i'm kind of hoping it's still open))

[Dirge]

Vigo moved uneasily through the damp streets of Corone. Word was spreading about the 'revolution', about the discent and disgust the people of the island nation were beginning to harbor for their leadership. Taxes were being spiked, people were being run out of house and home just to pay them, and a dark movement was shifting underground. The sorcerer, not one to be out of any loop, found the right people at the right time and took a jump right in.

The Barrel of Monkeys was a tavern unlike any other in most of Althanas, but exactly like those of the Slums. It was run down, broken, and filled with the low lives of Radasanth. It was the perfect place to take quests and find allies. Luckily, the half-elf already had an ally. "I'm going to get the job, wait at a table or something..." Vigo said to the half-imp.

"I'd like an 'Ale, with a side of milk'," Vigo said as the barkeep walked towards him. Hopefully he had said the password correctly.

((Claiming the slave one))

[Letho]

"Who would've known that people wanted to capture slaves to badly?" Bann thought as another person strolled in, uttering the same password. Even back in his days, when the laws against slavery were significantly less strict, it was quite an ordeal to gather the slaves. There was always some hero loitering around, hoping to build his reputation on freeing the week and feeble. Or the weak and feeble would grow a brain and try to break free. Or something else happened. Suffice to say, trucking around with a dozen or two of people wasn't the easiest job ever. And yet even now, when the Corone Rangers keep a watchful eye on all slave trading, this was a mission wanted by many.

"Tough luck," Bann finally said to the stranger, throwing a rag over his shoulder and plucking a dagger from his belt. He made no hostile movement with the weapon; it was not his intention to intimidate anybody. People who got intimidated easily never stepped into the Barrel of Monkeys. Instead he proceeded to clean the grime beneath his nails. "I'm fresh out of that particular beverage."

"You look like you could use some wine though," he continued, casting an inspective glance with his one healthy eyes. "Maybe one that's not stirred but shaken."

((I'm sorry, but 'Ale, with the side of milk' is claimed already. I forgot to edit it in the initial post.))

[Alberdyne_Cormyr]

The Elder Lord Cormyr sent his boy on a task to obtain his first job as an Adventurer. Telling his son that the boy must work alone to achieve his ends the boy prepared himself for his long journey. His family gave him enough supplies to get started on the task and then proceed forward. This was just one of the many duties of belonging to a house of nobles. There were many tasks to complete, and the educational process was oft dangerous and fierce. The boy needed to be a lad of many talents. Alberdyne was one known for never backing down from a challenge. So he accepted. Taking a look at the piece of parchment, Alberdyne was told to repeat a series of passwords given to his Father by highly skilled spies. The members of his once proud family's ancient heritage.

His Family coach left him on the outskirts of the city on his own. Lecherous eyes observed the well-dressed boy casually. The guards watched the lechers recognizing a nobleman's markings when they saw one. They knew what happened if a nobleman's heir were to be killed on their watch. The punishment meant death. A burly guard armored with the attire of Corone's
native militia walked casually over to the boy. His eyes were dark from the seasoned vision of many years warfare experience. Alberdyne eyed the parchments that he'd received from his Father. The guard motioned to boy in a series of mysterious hand gestures that Alberdyne picked up upon. He returned them in kind. Both individuals kept a well-trained appearance about their person as the transaction went on. Alberdyne motioned that he was looking for the head-quarters of an organization called The Syndicate.

The guardsman responded carefully in a constructed dialects of secret gestures. Alberdyne analyzed the hand gestures and finally nodded at the end of the exchange. A large crowd of people went about their daily routine all around the two individuals. Finally, the guard satisfied himself that the boy was no fake. The guardsman carefully lead Alberdyne to an out of the saloon known as Barrel of Monkeys. Alberdyne paid the guard several Gold Coins in exchange for his services and entered the grim place. Keeping to himself he felt the treacherous eyes upon him again. This time it was more vivid in this place that smelled of human waste and liquor. Alberdyne hated the intense smell but opted to keep his concentration on the mission at hand.

Moving his person towards the bar, a few of the patrons located there eyed the mysterious young lad strangely. What could a boy of that age possibly be in such a place for? Alberdyne made it a point not to stare at anyone, but made eye contact with one of the bartenders.

"I am here for work." Shortly after that statement he spoke the passwords he'd been given by his Father's servants. Alberdyne then took out the parchment with the jobs available by the Syndicate. "You sir, my Father sends his regards. He hopes you can be most helpful to me on this day."

[Letho]

The young lordling was an eyesore in the interior of the Barrel of Monkeys. In a place where everybody looked as if they were involved in some underhanded, cloak-and-dagger business, the youth stood out just as a beggar would in on a royal ball. He was weighed and measured by a throng of eyes, some deliberating whether or not they should rob the young peacock while others merely snorted and muttered something about his prissy kind. There was no blatant enmity, though. The only person who was allowed to stir the Barrel sat behind the bar, his one healthy eye watching the out-of-place newcomer.

"Here for a job, ain't ya?" the sinewy, callous-skinned man thought, observing the boy as he strode through the collection of human scum. "Probably here to spite good ole daddy for not giving him that cloak made of gold for his last birthday."

Otocar was at least half right. The lad come asking for "work", blurting out passwords as if he wanted all the jobs and all the spoils as well. Eager young stallion it seemed. That brought a condescending smirk on the barkeep's broken lips. Greenhorns such as this fellow usually wound up in the river, belly up and robbed blind before they ever got a chance to earn a reputation for themselves. But it wasn't up to him to judge. He was merely the peddler of information. If that information happened to kill the boy... Well, no skin off his back.

"You've gotta pick a job, boy. I'm not about to run my mouth so you can say you're not interested. Order something specific or get the hell out of my face." Otocar was a hard, tactless man, with one eye on his customer and one hand on a dirk. He had no idea who the lad is and frankly, he didn't give a rat's ass about it. If this youth tried to give him lip, he'd soon learn that Syndicate was the law here, and that his noble birth wasn't worth as much as a wooden coin.

((So yeah, pick one of the missions. All save the first one are actually open. Those that claimed the last two never got around to doing them.))

[Alberdyne_Cormyr]

((No problem Letho I already know which one I want anyway))

Alberdyne ignored the lecherous eyes analyzing carefully what the veteran warrior told him. There were codes and pass-codes in his speech. A sort of double-speak that Alberdyne's trained ears picked up on. He closed his eyes listening to everything the man spoke word for word. Memorizing every bit of detail, every loose scrap of information. Thinking carefully about the words spake by the man Alberdyne nodded after a long moment of thought. He knew that initially his spoken words were probably crafted in a care-free sort of way, but the boy had little experience on his own. This was his real-world training and the boy knew everything from here on in was for real. Alberdyne visualized the documentation his Father gave him quite carefully.

Remember the mention of golden cloaks.

"Sir no golden cloaks here. But bears do work really hard for their stock especially in the Winter." Alberdyne remembered the old riddle. Then he continued speaking remembering the text word for word. The list of available job offers. Alberdyne knew that the Syndicate's jobs were less than legal--but at this point that didn't matter. The boy attempted to regain his Family's current glory. The current state of Civil War in Corone after the now infamous Gisela Massacre was an ample opportunity for this. "I believe I'm interested in some Water, straight up." Alberdyne said emphasizing the right words. He knew there men in the tavern scheming against him but he could do nothing about that. He'd only hoped that there'd be enough time to escape the nest if things went sour.

The boy waited for a response keeping his gaze to the counter.

[Letho]

The boy spoke some nonsense about bears, but the important thing was the three little words that designated the mission. Otocar heard them already; a bunch of people already spoke it only to wind up not getting the job done. The barkeep hoped that the boy would do better. The buyers were getting restless, and that was never a good sign. Taking a single, perfectly round marble, Otocar let it roll on the smooth bar before he trapped it with his hand.

“Here’s the deal. We have a buyer for a bunch of these marbles. The only problem is that the fruity folk down in the Tylmerande barony ask an arm and a leg for them. These clam-herders have a headquarters in Fenthar, a town east of Serenti, where they joined up in what they call the White Guild. Supposedly, this is where they store the marbles.” Otocar’s fingers flicked the pearl skywards, then snatched the thing from mid air with his other hand that moved in a blur. The pearl disappeared in his other pocket.

“Get the marbles, get their fertilizer recipe and get to Serenti where the merchant will be waiting for you in our safehouse. They don’t have many sentries around the compound, but the security inside the guild is as tight as a virgin asshole. Allegedly, their headquarters used to belong to a crazed nobleman that kept his riches in a subterranean treasury and this crazy bastard like to construct mazes. But that’s your problem now, not mine.” the scrawny rogue said, finally leaning back on his stool and folding his arms in front of his chest.

“If you don’t get the recipe – which is highly likely – do keep several of those fruits alive. You can shear a sheep several times, but skin it only once after all.” Otocar finished with a wry smirk.

((Keep in mind that the info I give you is just one course in which you can take the mission. If you have your own ideas, feel free to go with them.))

[Alberdyne_Cormyr]

((Letho I'm going to be doing that quest with a certain individual. We should have it complete in a couple of weeks. I'll link it up once the quest starts probably sometime this week))

((Here is the link man Water Straight Up (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?p=71001#post71001) ))

Alberdyne decided that he didn't like this Otocar fellow one bit. Still though this was the basic foundation for a business transactions. Alberdyne understood that the aristocracy dealt with plenty of shady types. All they cared about was the bottom line and their hard earned share of the bounty. Alberdyne understood the nature of these greedy mean. Their physical shells meant very little to the aristocracy and they were but a means to an end. Alberdyne listened very carefully to the words spoken, the suggestions given and decided that very likely Otocar might very well be sending the boy and whatever pre-chosen companions to their deaths. A part of the boy's heart whispered mis-trust about the older man. Business was business though and the boy needed to prove his worth to his family.

"Thank you for the suggestion Sir. But I'll be finding my own way to the objects you seek." With those words spoken, Alberdyne felt that his stay was definitely well over its due.

Deciding that he didn't like this spot at all--Alberdyne wanted to venture in here as little as possible. YET--the Syndicate offered challenging work for a stalwart youth like he. It was a chance to prove himself. Alberdyne didn't wait for anymore spoken words from Otocar getting the hint that his very presence probably tried the older man's patience. The crowd in the tavern was already rough as making matters worse. Alberdyne never bothered to make eye contact with anyone. Previous irresponsible adventurers attempted the mission and left things hanging. Alberdyne Cormyr would not fail. With a look of determination on his face, Alberdyne wandered off into the streets and prepared himself for the job at hand.

[Poison]

A heavily cloaked and hooded figure slipped into the Barrel of Monkey and took a seat at the bar. Once settled, it pushed back the hood to reveal a wealth of silver hair framing a beautiful face. It had been a long time since the young woman had been looking for work in Radasanth. In fact, it had been several years. Still, she was pleased to see that it was not entirely too difficult for one such as her to find work that did not involve a bed.

Work had been scarce in other places, so she had finally come back to where she had begun. Although she doubted that many of her original “friends” were still around. She was not here to find them anyway. She’d only had one true friend when she had last been a resident of Radasanth and that person was dead. Caught in a trap, her friend and lover had been hung for his crimes along with three others. Rumor told her that the rest of the small-time syndicate had either escaped Radasanth with their lives or had been caught and sentenced.

That, however, did not matter to her. What did matter was that she find some way to get more gold in her pockets. Lodging was not cheap, and she did not like sleeping outdoors unless she absolutely had to. There were also her personal vices that she still indulged in, even if the flavor was nothing like it used to be. Having a vampire’s thirst for blood only made everything else taste mediocre. The finest of wines tasted almost like colored water in comparison to what her body truly craved. Glancing up at the barkeep, she uttered one short sentence, “Whiskey, hold the olive.”

[Letho]

((Sorry, didn't notice this earlier.))

“A whiskey without an olive, eh? For a while there I thought nobody would’ve wanted such a... khm, high profile drink?” Otacon said with a sly smirk, finishing shining the mug and placing it behind the bar, in the long line of look-alikes. “Alright, the job is simple. Gisela’s annual fair is a grand celebration of the harvest... or so the yahoos down in Yarborough barony think anyways. The mark will be holding a speech on the opening of this fair. No doubt the pompous prick would be followed by fanfare and all the simple glamour that practically paints a target on his forehead, so he would be really hard to miss, especially once he gets up on the stand and the crowd offer him their ears.”

Otacon shuffled closer to the girl, leaning on his elbow on the bar in front of him and eyeing the nearby customers. Once he was satisfied with the looks on their faces, he continued. “It is then that you must strike him down, when all the eyes are on him and he feel like he has the world in his hand. Whether you do this from afar with a bow or you like to get up close and personal, we don’t really care as long as he goes down during his speech. I would suggest either taking an elevated spot on the roof of some of the buildings or disguising yourself as one of his guards. I would also suggest that you don’t do this alone. Taking him down will be difficult, but escaping afterwards would be even more so.”

“Our representative – called The Reaper – will meet you in Gisela and provide the tools for this task if you need any. A word of warning though; we received a rumor that our target would be escorted by one of the members of the Scarlet Brigade. If that is the case, I would advise to you to hit from the distance and run like the wind unless you have a death wish.” Otacon finished. The rumor was unconfirmed at this point, but if it was true, then the girl was in for a rough ride indeed. The Scarlet Brigade was the group of the most elite warriors of Althanas, sworn to guard the highly ranked officials. Ruthless machines they were, seeing and hearing and knowing seemingly everything, practically invincible. Otacon knew that it was probably not the truth, but in all his life – and it was a lengthy and adventurous life indeed – he never heard that somebody attacked the member of the Scarlet Brigade and lived to tell the tale.

[Poison]

Poison was silent for several long moments before she spoke again.

"How many would you suggest I take with me? I'm assuming this fall is to be permanent?"

She did not like the idea of having to work with anyone. However, there was the idea that a Scarlet Brigade would be around somewhere. She had personally never had any runins with the Brigade, but she had heard many harrowing tales. Some from sources that she had known quite well.

"Two other things: one, how will I know this Reaper and two, how do I go about retrieving my reward? For something this risky, it needs to be good."

OOC: I'm assuming the Reaper is an NPC that I can control...?

[Letho]

"What, do you want me to do the bloody job for ya?" Otocar spat at the girl. He had doubts that she might be a bit too soft for the assignment - women usually were - and the additional questions only further supported his initial assessment. The fact that the questions that silver-haired female asked made sense failed to register in his head. He didn't like people with a lot of questions. He liked people that went out and got the job done. But working the Barrel of Monkeys meant dealing with a wide assortment of folk, so he humored her.

"I'd suggest you take as many as you want, wench. Take an army if you want to. If it were me, I'd keep it on the down low, take just as many as I need to do the kill. We don't want a bloody massacre. I reckon another deft man could do the job with you, or two less deft ones. That is, if you plan to hit and run. Which you probably should." He was talking too much already, he realized then. There were other customers waiting and he wasted enough time on somebody who probably wouldn't even be able to get the deed done.

"And you don't find The Reaper. He finds you. He'll have the stuff you want. He's a prickly man, though, so I wouldn't bother him too much." He put a rag on his shoulder and made a move to the other side of the bar. "Run along now. I have a business to run."

((Yeah, you can do whatever you like with The Reaper, even describe him any way you want.))

[Alberdyne_Cormyr]

((Letho I completed Water Straight Up (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=6020) and I'm going to be assisting Poison/Beauty on her Syndicate quests if that's okay. I was told I had to apply for both quests as well))

Wearing the black outfit he received during his last mission, the youth had a decidedly darker aura about him. If this was a good thing or a bad thing, only time might tell. He wore a cloth bandanna around the scar on his forehead, keeping it hidden. His companion, a Demon-Breed named Morlen followed the Syndicate Agent also dressed and covered completely in black. After his successful mission, Dyne Corona expected a little respect. He knew he'd get none. Lecherous eyes observed the duo with followed by murmurs in the crowd.

What happened to that boy?

Was he the same stranger that came before, that treacherous lord-ling?

Dyne heard the whispers in the crowd and found them bemusing. Learning the Dark Mother's secrets from Morlen himself, the boy was allowing his own devils to come out and play. He took a seat at the bar eyeing Ottocar with a sort of deadly confidence this time around. He wasn't the same eye-sore that ventured into the Syndicate's base so many moons ago. Cleaning off his chair with a gloved hand, the youth sat down on his chair for a moment eyeing Ottocar while he worked with another agent. Work came down the pipe-line now.

All knew of Dyne Corona's skills to get the job done. A little noble heritage could be looked aside.

Men like these respected skill.

"I want drinks for myself and my companion. Two of each. I was told I would be assisting someone with one of my drinks." Even his voice sounded heavier this time around. Training in Underwood with the local black-smiths also sought to make this dangerous individual into a warrior. "Ale with milk on the side and Whiskey, hold the Olive."

"By the way Ottocar, mission complete."

As if to verify his mission, the lad brought Ottocar some EXTRA pearls from the shipment to give the man his thanks for a challenging mission out. Originally the Syndicate operatives claimed seven crates, the duo found and stole ten crates of Pearls and kept them in their possession. He handed some of the pearls to Ottocar as a payment for further services with the Syndicate, and also as payment for the drinks. Also--Dyne just wanted to get on the man's good side if he had any.

[Nymph and Dragon]

Twyla strode imperiously into the tavern, sparing only a brief glance at the patron-covered tables around her before she headed for the bar, leaving her purple cloak around her shoulders and her hood up. She didn’t plan on staying for very long. It wasn’t that she was uncomfortable in the grungy setting, she was actually quite at home amidst the ranks of filthy drunks, but she had limited time to accomplish her mission before a certain inhibitor returned from his realm and put an end to her query, and she was hoping to be long gone by the time that happened.

The nymph sat down at the bar and rested her forearms primly on the edge of the counter as she waited for one of the barkeeps to notice her. In her bright clothing, with a sheer pink scarf across the lower half of her face, it didn’t take long.

“Yes, you can help me,” she began without waiting for him to speak. “With the hope of avoiding the impression that I’m some kind of drunken cat-lover, I want ale, with milk on the side.”

The order sounded stupid to her own ears, but she kept her gaze intently focused on the bartender’s face, watching him as if the expression alone could tell her what she needed to know.


((I'm taking Alberdyne's place in the group doing this mission.))