A Quest Into High Society

[Dante]

The small crowd gathered around Dante roared as he threw his head back. The dusty street’s occupants were taking time out of their day, a break from monotony, to cluster and watch the stranger try and swallow weaponry. The grubby faces of children were the nearest to him, all watching completely enraptured by his act. The even grubbier faces of adults were tightly packed behind them. Some were as excited as the children. Some clucked disapprovingly although they didn’t take their eyes off of him for a moment. Some youths just watched in admiration. The performer performed for all of them, both he and the blacksmith behind him about to make some money. The small pot in front of them was already beginning to fill with coins.

Dante himself was in quite a mood that morning. For the first time in his life, he was free. Although that actually wasn’t true because he had escaped from his masters the night before. Either way, it showed on the man’s face. His smile was extra wide and crooked as he tried to rev up the crowd’s enthusiasm. Dante had slept in the forest that night. He had climbed up into a tree and slept in the branches. As uncomfortable as this was, it was the best sleep he had had in a long time. He supposed that it was just child like excitement over his new found freedom, but either way he was going to enjoy it.

The hefty blacksmith shoved another sword into the palm of Dante’s hand. Even through his black fingerless gloves he could feel the awkward surface of the pounded metal. He mentally shrugged it off. Having misgivings about his materials was only natural, but he had best get used to the quality of swords he was going to swallow from that day forward. No longer was he going to be handed the well crafted blades he was used to. Despite all of this, the entertainer allowed himself to have misgivings about the cleanliness of the thing he was about to put into his mouth.

Giving his provider a look as dirty as the sword he was handed, Dante righted himself. After brushing some dark hair out of his kohl lined eyes, he proceeded to wipe the blade down on his black pants. The crowd tittered and giggled. He grinned again, and once again theatrically threw his head back. Opening his mouth wide, he proceeded to slide the sword down his throat point down. The little children screamed and clutched at each other. The act required strict control of throat muscles. Given that in order to reach the stomach the blade must first pass the heart and lungs, he was in no particular hurry to down the thing. The performer made sure that his head was far back enough to allow the sword straight passage so it didn’t scratch his throat.

The sun was glaring into his deep blue eyes, so Dante shut them. He heard some muttering in the crowd, but ignored it. Suddenly he felt a firm hand close around his, and pull the sword up and out. The performer snapped his eyes open and stumbled backwards. There was a group of three green clad men surrounding him, daggers flashing. Dante righted himself, and looked at them.

“Can I help you?” the entertainer made sure to pick up the bowl of money and pour half into his bag.

“Come with us.” The smallest one said in a nasal voice

“Put the daggers away,” Dante said, hands in the air “I promise to behave…” he winked at the better looking one of the trio

“No.” the pipsqueak said, and gestured for the entertainer to follow

“Damn you.” Dante sighed, and hefted his pack onto one shoulder

They found me… So much for freedom… Good bye all chances of adventure… The entertainer was sure his masters had tracked him down. He turned back to his audience, ready to make a dramatic exit.

“Good bye, my people!” he said and took a bow, “Until next time!”

His crowd of people clapped and laughed. Everyone loves a rogue. With that done, Dante turned and followed the terrific trio. Silently, they passed some dark wooden houses. The man kicked angrily at the dirt under his feet. He had been doing so well. The tiny one opened the door to a dark room. Dante was caught off guard when one of them smacked him across the face. He was only given a second to recover before he caught the fleeting glimpse of another blow aimed at him. Not knowing what else to do, he flipped. Bending over backwards, the hand flew past him. Dante brought his lower half over to complete the move, and in the process kicked away one of his assailants.

Standing upright, ready to run, the man closed his eyes and winced as blinds were simultaneously raised, temporarily blinding him. Somewhere in front of him, he heard a deep chuckle and a clap. Rubbing his eyes clear, he made out a chubby man also decked out completely in green.

“Take a seat, my man!” the vast being said, and gestured for him to sit on the floor.

The room was completely bare except for dust that adorned every inch of the wooden walls and floor. Still quite picky about hygiene, the entertainer tried to wipe away as much dust as he could with his foot before sitting down.

“Do all of you imbeciles dress in green?” Dante asked dryly, never one who could keep his mouth shut.

The grin instantly disappeared off of the host’s face. “Just keep your mouth shut, my good man, while we assemble the rest of your team.” The terrific trio flocked to their master’s side, crossing their arms, and forming a protective circle around him.

“As you like it.” Dante said while gesturing lazily in a mock servant manner, causing his dark red sleeve to flutter.

[Fenris]

The group of thugs emerged from the doorway again, and the pipsqueak started chattering with them about where to find the next creature on their list.

They were unaware that that creature had found them.

"You're late," Fihrinn said tiredly, leaning against the wall of the house with his arms folded. The men spun around and brandished their knives. He glanced at the blades, then at the men, and rolled his eyes. "Please."

Sweeping his tail casually, in time with his stride, he spun and strode through the doorway. "Let's get this over with," he said to the fat headmaster. "Time is vastly more valuable than anything you can afford." He approached the acrobat in the center of the floor and bowed. "Greetings."

[Ravenok Kinnes]

Ravenok downed another mug of ale easily, the dirty hobo standing next to him with his jaw low. The bum was probably wondering how the monk could drink ale like that without feeling it's dizzying side-effects. He was like a thirsty dwarf!

"Damn... That's good." Ravenok bellowed loudly after wiping the frothy foam from his dark and full lips. The liquid passed coldly down his throat and it felt fantastic, it was so hot in that tavern! He glared at the thin bum next to him, pretty much telling him to get the hell away. Slamming the mug down on the small wooden table he sat at, the freelancer pulled out a couple of coins from the folds of his tunic and tossed them near the mug. That was enough for the day... Perhaps he could drink a lot without getting dizzy or sick, but he was no dwarf. Ravenok leaned back in the small stool he was perched on just as the tavern door bursted open. The bright sunlight that flooded the room was almost blinding, the only light in the room prior to the entrance of some green garbed man was that coming from the candles and lamps littered around the room.

The green man was small, short and had a dirty little rat face. He looked around the room, his beady eyes dashing through the already present patrons. He didn't seem to be looking for something in particular, maybe a type of thing. When the rat man's eyes caught Ravenok's body, they locked onto his muscular form as if in a vise. He grinned, showing few and yellow teeth, and quickly made his way to the freelancer's table.

"Hmm... Ye look like ye'd be the type o' man that'd be into'rested in work, eh?" The man said in a squeaky voice, almost proving that he was indeed some form of transformed rat. His lack of intelligence showed easily, it poured from the man's mouth. Bad grammar, a terrible grasp on common Tradespeak... A scoundrel.

The gaze that was response to the rat man's question was cold and annoyed. What nerve this man had to walk up and talk to Ravenok like that! The monk thought of killing the man... Maybe he would, in due time. But he couldn't here, he knew the law. Ravenok's gaze seceded and changed to an inquisitive grin, "What's it to you?"

"Ah got a job fo' ye," the rat replied, "But tah hear the d'tails, ye gots to come outside wit' me."

Hmm... Ravenok sat reluctantly, looking the man up and down... So, well, green. He was a freelancer, after all. The sign of work usually attracted people like Ravenok. But, this green man just had some sense of depth behind his words, like he was saying things but the real meaning of his words was hidden behind. He couldn't quite put a finger on it, but the monk just didn't feel that the green man was trustworthy.

"No." Ravenok replied, "Now get the fuck away from me."

The rat man looked at the monk with empty eyes. A few seconds passed before he simply shrugged. "No prob..." were the words that came out of his mouth before he turned and retreated out of the dim tavern. Ravenok was left with a dumbfounded expression. He didn't leave with a fight, surprisingly. He didn't persevere, and the freelancer had almost hoped that he would, just so he could get some fun out of yelling at him. Something still didn't seem right about things, there's no way a man like that would just leave such a good work force like Ravenok behind so easily. Oh well... Maybe he was just dumb and confident that he could easily find another.

-----------

He waited about ten more minutes from making his own exit out of the tavern. It was still pretty bright outside, the light forcing his arm up in front of his eyes as he opened the door. He supposed he could go find some work elsewhere, some real work. He stepped out of the door and shut it slowly, looking around. It was only ten minutes later, maybe that green garbed man was still waiting for him?

Wow... Ravenok wasn't mistaken. He came to the fact quickly after he heard the word "Sleep" muttered in some squeaky voice that he wasn't alone. He spun to his side, and saw the green garbed man standing there, arm outstretched. His fist was clenched, and a small ring with a shining jewel enlaid in the center was around his index finger.

The monk didn't know what it was, but he knew that the man had just condemned himself to death. Ravenok's hand opened and cupped, and he could feel a warm ball of fire forming in his grasp. But he didn't feel that good, his vision blackened, and he was forced to shut his eyes. He felt the unfinished ball of fire slip out of his hand and onto the ground below, probably just dissipating when it hit the ground. He couldn't see anymore, and he felt dizzy. The freelancer tried to mumble some curses but all that came were some grunts. Large hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him up just as he began to feel himself falling to the ground below. They couldn't have been the rat man's. Then he became completely unconcious... Unable to protect himself from the fate that awaited him...

---------

When the monk opened his eyes, he noticed that he was in a room that was only lit by the light that inundated the room from the open blinds. He was kneeling on a dirty wooden floor, the form of a thin man sat next to him. He could see barely, but when he tried to move his muscles and get up, he couldn't.

"Hehe... He woke up earlier than expected." Some voice said, the words echoed in the freelancer's mind.

"Yah, boss," A squeaky voice said, Ravenok recognized it and was immediately full of anger.

"Say 'ello tah yer new bodyguard!"

[Javet]

The Salvarian Embassy of Scara Brae was long departed from the usual; gone were the paper pushing aristocrats and hawty stuck up diplomats in favor of kindly priests and monks and the occasional stern faced paladin. The main body of the building was indeed enormous, a single small facet of the Church of the Eternal Sway her in a land miles and many degrees away from it's usual. The ceiling rose nearly out of sight, cooing birds perched in the rafters, left to coexist with the worshippers and those seeking sanctuary in peace. The united voices of a practicing chorus, gathered at the altar in their white and red robes, faded, then swelled powerfully in unison in Salvic, belting out a well known hymn with vigors. The heavenly sound swept down the middle of the pews, down through each seat to accompany the silent folk with their heads bowed, filling every nook and cranny that even the light of a thousand spread votive candles could not reach. The song filled even Javet Yradechae's ears, indiscriminate of it's listener, and it brought to his face a faint smile; before it fell once again into his usual, worried frown.

Vacation (no, peregrination, he swiftly reminded himself) was indeed an excellent opportunity to relax from his usual stressful search-and-arrest missions, or quelling the occassional uprising, but after a month of lounging around, he couldn't help but feel lazy. Perhaps he was just a workaholic, but bad habits tended to die hard, and he didn't have the steel to slay the beast. So he did the only thing he could think of in such a situation; he sought out the embassy in Scara Brae, where his feet (and a ferry, to be less dramatic) had taken him. He had slept comfortably the night before, his position in the Order of the Holy Constellation had afforded him that. A hot meal, a mattress that wasn't stuffed with straw, quarters that kept the cold out. Today, he sat in the tremendous chapel, dressed in a clean, pressed white robe, his red sash cast carelessly over one shoulder, sheathed sword across his lap, his hammer on the floor, out of sight.

"I'm afraid that if Sir Belnin Vaer ordered you to take a leave of absence, I cannot issue you any work from the Church." Javet sighed in exasperation, letting his head fall backwards hopelessly, long brown hair cascading free down the back of the pew. The priest with which he had tried to requisition work from was dressed in common vestments; the same color as the paladin, though his head was cleanly shaven, without even the slightest hint of stubble. A tattoo of the Ethereal Sway was branded across his forehead, showing his eternal devotion to the religion. "H-however, young sir, I did manage to find you some...independent work." Javet's head instantly popped up, a big grin plastered across his face. He leapt to his feet, his brand thumping to the pew cushion, and snatched the priest's hands, shaking them vigorously. "Oh, father, thank you so very much! Without my duties to occupy me, I've felt so useless. Exactly what kind of work did you find for me, though?"

The large doors to the chapel creaked open slightly, and three men clad in green entered. Their eyes scanned the pews for a moment before they spied the priest. "Ah, well, there are your employers at the moment, my son. I'm sure they'll be happy to explain the situation -- oh, my word..." As the men approached, they drew shining polished daggers, their paces quickening as they approached. The bald man began to move to them, surely to warn them that they were in a house of God, but Javet stopped him by tugging on his arm, his other hand picking up his hammer. "Don't worry, this will be over quickly. I'm sure they will be happy to explain themselves when --" But the paladin had no time to finish, for the time of words had passed perhaps the second steel was drawn. The nearest of the men thrust his dagger forward as Javet pushed the priest aside, stepping to the side as he lifted his arm. It closed tightly around the man's wrist, trapping his weapon, and his other hand rose, bringing the shaft of the hammer down hard on the man's shoulder. It popped loose, and he let out a sharp yelp that the paladin cut short with a sharp glare. The other church goers and chorus hadn't noticed the little skirmish, and the other two in green backed off, sheathing their weapons. "What business do you have brandishing blades in a Church?" They stood their ground, surprisingly, even daring to smile. "We but wanted to test you. We didn't want any unskilled, dead weight for this task." Frowning again, he nodded, releasing who nervously rubbed at his dislocated arm.

"Don't do it again, or you'll find a much harsher power than I can muster coming down on your heads."
_____

"Ah, the last of the team has arrived!" Javet slipped into the room before the other three, glancing around with disinterest. A handsome man that had surely stolen quite a few girl's hearts in his time sat near the chubby headmaster, who had a small ring of cronies circling him, standing at attention. Also, a drowsy man had just begun to wake up upon the dusty floor, and a furred, humanoid canine greeted the handsome man. Javet's armor clinked and clacked as he moved over the groaning, ancient floorboards, one hand perched indignantly on his hip. He was now clothed in full paladin regalia, sans the sash of course. That was to be worn strictly when on Church business, and this was nothing more than a freelance job to occupy his time. "So then, exactly what business brings us all here?"

[Dante]

“Greetings to you too,” said Dante amiably, standing and returning the bow.

He looked over the newcomer who was most obviously not fully human. The creature possessed many fine wolf-like aspects. The performer made a mental note to ask the creature about himself before they parted ways. Dante was always one who loved to learn about new peoples and cultures. Suddenly the door to the room burst open and a lump. Dante jumped back, not quite sure what to expect. On closer examination, he realized that it was a sleeping man. It appeared that the sleeper’s clothes were enchanted, due to the fact the lavender tunic and black pants shone in the dim light.

Dante watched the man slowly begin to wake up. He smiled to himself, and bent over the stranger’s sleeping form. He was surprised to find himself looking at two separately colored eyes, one black and one red. The entertainer disguised his surprise and relaxed. It became apparent his company was not slaves. This would mean his owner’s hadn’t found him after all.

“Hello, there.” Said Dante while smiling, looking down on the man.

When he righted himself once more, he found himself looking at a paladin. The entertainer guessed the new man’s occupation by his official looking garb. The newcomer himself appeared to be a teenager, but Dante could tell from his eyes that it was not so. The entertainer couldn’t help but admire his hair, which was lengthy. He had personally always wanted to grow his hair that long, but it hadn’t been permitted.

“So then, exactly what business brings us all here?"

The king of green seemed to come alive at those words. His round face brightened up, and his beady eyes glinted. He waded through his lackeys and stood in front of the four men. He clapped his hands, and at his bidding a dark chest was brought into the room. Dante ached to know what was in the chest. It just looked so, secretive. However, the entertainer stood his ground and pretended not to notice the chest.

“My good men.” The ring leader began, “As you know there is a high society family called the Evergreenes. They have long been the keeper of a relic. The importance of said relic is not relevant. All that you need to know is that you have to get it and bring it back here. You see, us hooligans” he chuckled as though the word ‘hooligan’ was funny, “have been employed to have the relic. But, us merry band of men do not have the means to obtain this. So we want you to do it for us. The Evergreenes are hosting a ball this evening. We want you to slip in. Now for the endurance of the ball, enjoy yourselves. Dance, make merry, drink, whatever you wish. MAINTAIN YOUR COVER! At the end of the ball, however, you must find Sir Evergreene. Then you should make small talk, charm him if you will, but most importantly get him to drink. He has a weakness for wine so it shouldn’t be too hard. Get him to bring you into his confidence and then find out where the relic lies. Next step: get the relic. Then bring it back here to us. Any questions?”

Dante pondered the whole assignment. Being sent back into the arms of people who could possibly know his former masters wasn’t exactly what he needed. Yet maybe it would be safest that way. Who in their right mind would expect him to do such a stupid thing? A crooked smile made its way over his face. Besides, a ball sounded like a lot of fun. He looked back and forth to his teammates. The man supposed he could work with them. They seemed like a level headed bunch.

“Question.” He said, briefly raising one hand. “Why green? Green isn’t really your color…”

The man in charge ran a hand over his face for a moment, opened his mouth as if to reprimand him, and then decided mid way it wasn’t worth it. Ignoring Dante’s outburst, the man used his foot to slide the chest toward the group. With a grating sound, it edged over to them, causing a good sized cloud of dust to rise into the air. The headmaster coughed a couple of times as a result.

“Inside you will find your disguises,” he wheezed, “There’s noble dress in there. I believe they have your names tagged to the appropriate costume but I can’t be sure. Now I understand that not all of you know how to act like nobles. However, this shouldn’t be a problem for Dante over there. He’s been a slave for most of his life, so he probably knows the general gist of it. When in doubt, copy him.”

Dante pulled some hair out of his face, trying not to grind his teeth. Why had them man just revealed his former station? The entertainer highly doubted any of his companions would respect him after that. Angrily, he glared at the man for a moment, and then strode over to the chest and wrenched the top open.

[Fenris]

Fihrinn smiled as the acrobat returned his bow. Courtesy seemed a rare thing in these parts--or at least, in the circles he frequented.

The smile turned to a frown, however, as the green-clad men ushered in the rest of their employees. One had either been drugged, or knocked out in some other fashion--but either way, he had been brought against his will. How they expected him, or any of the others, to work with someone they'd kidnapped was beyond him. And the other man...

A paladin.

He nearly snarled on first sight of the warrior, but managed to catch himself. Few such soldiers populated Scara Brae, and for that he was thankful. They reminded him all too well of his life on the streets of Salvar. Several had tried to kill him, there, to cleanse the "heathen" from their domain. Perhaps this one wouldn't mind if Fihrinn tried to beat his head in, in the name of his god...

But he squelched the thought.

One thing he liked about the paladin, though. He got to business.

“So then, exactly what business brings us all here?"

Fihrinn listened closely as the fat man relayed their assignment, sweeping his tail back and forth along the floor like a metronome. "The importance of said relic is not relevant?" The importance of anything was always relevant. They were one in the same. And anything worth paying someone else to steal, from nobles no less, was certainly important, and therefore equally relevant.

He also noticed that the green man failed to mention not only his own name, but the name of his employer. He doubted he would divulge that information if asked. It was a thing worth knowing, though. Fihrinn preferred to know whose dirty work he was doing, especially when he would end up taking the brunt of the Evergreenes' wrath when the relic was found missing. Yet another investigation to dodge.

And finally, neither did the man's comment about the acrobat, Dante, or Dante's responsive glare escape him. The look elicited a furtive, sympathetic glance. So. You too were once a captive.

As Dante opened the chest, however, his thoughts returned to the business at hand. There was little chance the man would simply tell them who they were working for--but the way he didn't tell them could divulge almost as much.

"And who is your employer?"

[Ravenok Kinnes]

The monks vision only took a couple more seconds to clear. He didn't know whether it was due to some resistance to the spell put on him, or just the sheer willpower to move, but the muscles in Ravenok's body tensed in one swift motion and sending him to his feet.

His dark eyes caught that of the small rat man who he had met only the lords know how long ago, it couldn't have been long because it was still bright outside.

"You motherfucker!" He roared as he took a quick step forward, fists tightly clenched. The pompous man in the center, the one who seemed to be the "boss," calmly threw up a hand to stop the freelancer's advance. Ravenok did stop when the hand was thrown up, but not really because of that. He looked around finally, realizing that he wasn't alone in the dust-covered room. Several men, dressed in similar green garbs, stood next to the Head Guy and made Ravenok realize that he would have some difficulty in getting to the rat faced man, who retreated to the far end of the room. He looked back and to his sides, and saw that there were some people not dressed in green clothing there as well. A confused look crept onto Ravenok's face, brows furrowing.

"What the hell is this?" The freelancer barked, not easing his muscles one bit.

"Easy there, merc," the boss said, in a calm, cool and confident voice. Sooner or later he would find that his confidence was misplaced, "You're awake, and sooner then expected. I must apoligize for my men's rash actions, you'll have to know they meant no harm. We simply needed you, my friend."

The look on Ravenok's face was still that of confusion. The man talking to him seemed to have some sense of cleverness, cleverness that wouldn't work on Ravenok. What did he take him for? A mindless Brute? The monk had no difficulty deciphering this man's words, but decided to listen on anyway. "For what?" Ravenok asked. The future plan that was relayed to the group of non-green men had been before Ravenok was fully awake, and at the time all that came into his ears were quiet muffled words that he couldn't hear.

The plan was quickly layed out for the freelancer, giving the general details for what needed to be done. It was not until Ravenok heard the word "pay" that he became interested though. There wouldn't be a day when this Mercenary would do a job for free. When Ravenok had asked the boss how much, the only answer he got was "enough." A meagerly satisfying word, but enough to make Ravenok go ahead and help out. He wasn't one to deny a seemingly easy job. This one in particular did not even seem to have any fighting come along with it. An easy payday.

He made his way over to the chest where their outfits had been layed out, each with their names on it. Shoving the man who was already there sifting through to the side so he himself could look. He wanted to see what he would have to throw on first, but after seconds of pushing and shoving outfits aside with names that he had never heard of before, he found the bottom of the chest.

"Where the fuck is my outfit?"

[Javet]

'A former slave?!' Javet's eyes widened as he looked over the darkly dressed man, finally registering the metallic slave collar bound around his neck. 'Calm down now, rationalize. Not all slaves are escapees, some have managed to buy their freedom.' He sucked in a deep breath, pressing his hand against his chest. His head was swimming, and the words of the rotund employer were having trouble registering in his head. In Salvar, if you were a slave, it meant you either had a debt of sorts to pay, or you had become property. Either way, it wasn't just disrespectful to escape from that bondage, it was against the law. As many reassurances he tried to give himself that the black haired man had acquired his freedom legally, and hadn't simply shirked his responsibilities. As his mind finally began to settle, he turned his attention back to their instructions -- and had another, immediate panic attack.

The weight of the situation hit him hard. 'He wants us to engage in an act of deception? More so, he wants me, a paladin, bound by an oath of law, to stoop down to common thievery? Looks like I get to perform my job after all!' The fat man's henchmen had begun to eye him suspiciously when they'd noticed his reaction to the revealing of a slave in their midst, but when he began to fumble with the buckle that bound his hammer to his belt, their own hands went to their daggers. However, Javet again sucked in another great, dusty breath, and shut his eyes tight, the gravity of it all coming down on him this time. Here, in this barren room stood at least a dozen men, counting tubby and his minions, who would be very opposed to being arrested. Sure, he was a paladin of the Church, but even he wasn't so skilled to down twelve men alone. Grumbling, the words a jumbled mess, he tapped the side of his temple with the heel of his gauntlet. The cold metal was not as soothing as he expected it to be. It only succeeded in making his fast developing headache work, but the pain served well to jar him, if but briefly, from his blunt view. With another deep breath, the atmosphere in the room calmed considerably. 'I suppose everyone does something skirting the law every once in a while. Not to mention, I've a feeling that if I brought even one or two of these men to the authorities here in Scara Brae, the repercussions from breaking a direct order from Lord Belnin would be dire.'

Kneeling down in front of the trunk, the plate on his knee thumping against the worn floorboards, Javet thrust his gauntleted hand into the cloth inside, snatching up a few tags as he went. 'We have a...Dante Nix, Fihrinn Cuartù Armunn-Aoradh...that's one hell of a name. And...Ravenok Kinnes.' As he set down the last tag, the monk with the mismatched eyes dug down into it, immediately cussing out his frustrations that no clothes were to be found with it. 'That solves one mystery. Fihrinn Cuartù certainly sounds like a Modadh-Duine name if I've ever heard one...though I haven't heard many. There isn't much I know about them, aside from the fact that the Church and I share the snows with them. So then, Dante Nix must be the name of the former slave.' He glanced over his shoulder at them, not even sparing a warm smile. 'Now then...where am I? Javet...Javet...aha!'

The paladin stood in one smooth, easy motion, backing away from the trunk as he lifted his own garment from it. It was common Salvic noble dress; a white shirt under a long, expensively decorated coat bleached to a near glowing snow white, with a short, stiff collar, and white pants. The coat was embroidered with red thread. 'Paladins are usually nobles, so it'll be a simple task for me, at least. And what's more, I'll have good reason to keep my armor. Javet sighed, his frustrations dissipating, and tucked the garb under his arm.

[Dante]

Dante saw the sleepy man heading towards him, and then felt a sharp pain in his ribs as he was pushed aside roughly. The performer stumbled back only one step. Having acrobatic training under his belt helped with the whole balance issue. Maybe I have to examine my companions once more… he thought to himself, and took a step back to survey the room again. The wolf like humanoid give him an empathetic look. The man returned the sympathy with a grim smile. He rubbed his side as he turned to look at the paladin. The paladin seemed to have mixed feelings about the whole former slave thing, but the look on his face eventually settled into acceptance.

Dante hadn’t forgotten Mr. Pushy. He quietly made his way over to the side of the room where a guard was standing. He watched as his target got pissed off and strode away angrily. Lightly, the entertainer plucked a torch from the guard’s hands. Smoothly, he strode up behind the mercenary and blew. Fire breathing at the palace did have its uses now and then. Dante made sure to aim at the mercenary’s legs, and kept the size of the flame small enough not to do any damage. The man immediately turned away, not bothering to check whether he had even hit his mark, and promptly put the torch out with one hand. It wasn’t really important. What was important was that the mercenary know it would be wise to not ever touch him again. Grinning, he handed the burned out torch back to the guard and walked back to his former place.

“No!” shouted the head-honcho, throwing his hands into the air “Don’t do that! We need all of you completely unharmed! Are you a fool?!”

The entertainer considered saying, I was, last week, but decided against it. With a gay laugh, he bent over the chest and saw that the Paladin had found his outfit and seemed quite resigned to the task. Dante stuck his hand into the chest, rather tentatively. Given the cleanliness of everything he had encountered that day, he wasn’t sure he wanted to just go rooting around inside. Although he realized that it was rather ridiculous of him, he still couldn’t shake off his dislike of dirt when it could be avoided. Not that he was a good cleaner. He had always been the first one to unorganize his living quarters. Dante peeked over the edge of the vessel and flipped over a couple of name tags until he found his own, pinned neatly to a folded pile of clothing. He tugged on it, and up came the clothes, all tied together in a little bundle. Given the fact that they were clean, pressed, and not green, the former slave decided that they had probably been stolen exactly as they were that moment. Using nimble fingers, he unknotted the string and held the clothes out to see what they were.

The man was looking at a decent set of clothes. There was a shirt with full sleeves that gathered at the wrists, the color of parchment. The pants were a dark hazel color, which Dante noted would bring out the color of his hair nicely. They looked a bit long for his smallish stature, but he planned to tuck the ends into his boots so it wouldn’t be a problem. There was a forest green vest to go over the shirt, and last but not least, a black velvet ribbon with which to tie his hair back. Dante tried not to be so fashion knowledgeable, but learning how to put oneself together appealingly was part of the entertainment business.

“Can I keep the hair tie?” asked Dante, almost jokingly but not quite.

“Um…okay, fine.” Said the leader, and coughed again. “Oh and Ravenok, you don’t have a costume. We couldn’t rob enough nobles in time, so you’re just going to have to go as a bodyguard. Pick one of the three fine gentlemen to guard. You can go as you are.”

[Fenris]

Fihrinn sighed softly. This was the reason he tended to work alone. A nervous paladin, a brash mercenary, and a rather childish acrobat. This would be a job to remember. Their cellmates would laugh themselves to death...

Doing his best not to flinch away from Dante's burst of flame, he stooped forward and slipped the remaining bundle from the chest: a black suit, woven from high-quality sifan, and a matching cape with silver embroidering like stars. Fitting. With a bit of luck--and perhaps some subtlety--he'd hold on to them.

As he stood upright again, his tail stopped its sweeping. "But before we get into such particulars," he said, staring fiercely at the headmaster. "You didn't answer my question."

[Ravenok Kinnes]

((This is shorter than usual, but I am just doing this to move things along and let you guys go through another round. I'm afraid I can't do anymore for the next 10 days))

Ravenok stood up slowly, feeling heat on his lower legs. For the most part, the small flames just merely glanced off of his black steel greaves. Normally it wouldn't have mattered, if say, it were the middle of some fight. But here, the man did it without much reason. Did he want to die? Or did he want to get this little soiree over with?

He turned to the Jester, realizing that there was no outfit for his muscled form in that chest, and glared at him. He stared for a good long while. If this were any other case, Ravenok would be wrenching his neck at that moment, but now they were surrounded by men, several of whom looked like able fighters. This man was also supposably going to be some sort of "partner" on this quest. He wasn't really paying attention when the Boss screamed out after the little fire show. He was an idiot if he though a little fire could hurt one such as Ravenok. Heh, he deals with fire everyday!

"Does this little bitch think he is funny?" The freelancer thought to himself after Dante made the little joke. He was already beginning to loathe the man. A smart ass, a joker, and most of all... Weak. Ravenok's death gaze trailed over to the pompous boss when he stated that the monk was to play the role of Bodyguard. A sly smile crept it's way onto his previously angry face and he looked again at Dante.

"Him." The freelancer said, looking at Nix.

[Javet]

Tapping the iron clad finger of his free hand against his thigh, Javet began to mumble to himself, ignoring the others. As a paladin, he had some cursory experience in attending receptions and other such functions, but he was admittedly less than able in a social setting. Given time, he was sure to develop into a workaholic, and one day die with his hammer in his hands. People like him, so absorbed in his work as a paladin, did not die from old age. No, their deaths came from a scoundrel's dagger slipped between the ribs, or a poisoned bolt into the heart. It was easy to make enemies in this day and age, and often times, those enemies had ties so deep in the underground that they'd grown roots. Back in the world that wasn't dominated by his endearing, straight forward, and blunt view of the law, Javet mumbled something that the others would be hard pressed to make out, and pressed a hand against his stomach, where a layer of flexible steel refused to yeild to his gauntlet. Beneath that shell, his stomach stirred restlessly.

He could remember one ball in particular that his social gracelessness had culminated into ruin. It was perhaps two years ago, new to the Order of the Holy Constellation. A Salvic Noble, just another ina sea of them, had been holding a ball in thanks to the Order for capturing a criminal that had been intent on assassinating him. Feeling awkward wiithout his armor, not used to the lightness of his own body, Javet had chosen to sit off to the side for most of the night, drinking, drinking, drinking. He wasn't sure what was in the green bottle, then into the fluted crystal glass, but he knew it was too strong to be simple champagne. As people began to wander off the dance floor and towards the tables he was sitting at, flashing smiles at him, his stomach began to turn restlessly as it did in these situations. Glass after glass tipped to his lips, the amber liquid rolling down his tongue and splashing down his throat with a burning sensation. The lights began to seem too bright. Every time he turned his head, the world seemed to turn just a little farther with that glance, as though to escape from his sight. He giggled as he tapped at his thigh, realizing how numb he was everywhere. It didn't occur to him that he'd had too much to drink until a young woman with dark hair like the night sky outside approached him to dance. No more than a minute of toddling around and laughing abrasively did he lean in and slurred out some words to the girl. He wasn't sure at all what he said, but suddenly, he was a half an inch of the floor with her knee in his groin, and he could certainly feel that.

Groaning at the memory, Javet pressed a hand to the side of his face. Even though it had brought him scorn on that night, he certainly wished right now he had a few tumblers of whatever that amber drink had been in him. Scowling, his eyes finally refocused. "I'm sick of waiting. When are we going to go?"

((Sorry for how late I am, but with the holidays and all...yeah.))

[Dante]

The head honcho pointedly ignored wolfboy's question. The green clad leader considered it a very over rated question and not exactly one he wanted to answer. Why, he asked himself, do they always ask that question? He would have thought that money should be enough of an incentive to just do the work but no. There was always one who asked that question. As if it mattered, really.

Dante smiled as the angry mercenary glared at him for an extended amount of time. Something told him that he was being analyzed, but the entertainer didn't really care. The mercenary could analyze all he wanted but would probably reach the same conclusion as everyone else: normal entertainer. Ravenok, was it? Yes, it was. He was most obviously an easily angered person. That was good to know. Very, very good to know. The former slave knew he was good at bugging the hell out of people when he wanted to. It was a gift. However, he also knew that as a free citizen he had no worth. No sum of money was going to stop some barbarian from altering his straight nose. The fact that he had been worth something as a slave was what had stopped the majority of his enemies, but that was no longer. The entertainer was without armor now.

His eyes widened in surprise for a moment when the mercenary requested him as his assignment as body guard. This was obviously going to turn into a game of pay back. Dante knew that he could be smarter and let some wounds to his pride slip, but it was no use. Even he could tell that they would be slighting each other back and forth for the remainder of the mission. Dante grinned a bit wider. It was going to be fun. And as long as it did not get in the way of the mission, why not? Partners in pain then.

"I'm glad you want me, gorgeous" Dante said while batting eyelashes at his new bodyguard, "You have no idea what that does for my self-esteem."

Dante looked over to see that the paladin's face was adorned with a most pained expression. It looked as though the man had some bad memory flashing through his mind or maybe some anticipatory anxiety. Maybe he was one of those men without grace or ease when it came to social occasions. The entertainer pitied him, and decided to try and be helpful. If his teammate got stuck or into a bit of trouble, he would help out if he could. Maybe a drink or two at the party would calm his nerves. He made a mental note to suggest it later.

"I'm sick of waiting. When are we going to go?" Dante heard the paladin say

"Now!" said the head honcho and snapped his fingers,

The former slave suddenly felt strong hands usher him forward and past the threshold into the next room. Off to the side there were small purple curtained areas, obviously erected for modesty reasons when it came to changing disguises. It looked as though the place had been used quite frequently, so the green beans must have bean disguise enthusiasts. The room was also wooden and bare for the most part as the first room had. These windows, however, had heavy curtains drawn over them. This of course, came as no surprise given the room's purpose. What was the point of a disguise if passerbys could see you putting it on? The dim was fought with small candles hung up high on the walls. It was enough.

"I am capable of changing on my own!" snapped Dante

He pulled away from the men attempting to follow him into a curtained off section. Unlike many of the street bums they probably hired for their dirty work, he knew exactly how to put himself together. There was no need for fear that he would put his vest on backwards or another such mistake. The disguise would be without flaw. He pulled his boots off, and placed them side by side up against a wall. After slipping out of his own clothes, he began to unfold the ones he had brought in with him.

Dante tugged the parchment colored shirt on first. The light fabric felt strangely airy and smooth compared to anything else he had worn. The sleeves fit nicely, but the body was a bit unshapely. No wonder the noble who owned this wore it with a vest. The entertainer would have bet money that a doting wife without style had sewn it for him and forced him to wear it. He almost laughed at the thought. Quickly, he threaded his arms through the green vest and fastened it so it was tight against his body. Now the dastardly shapelessness of the shirt's body was hidden. Huzzah. Stepping into the dark brown pants, he was not surprised when his first evaluation of the piece had been correct. A bit too long. He strapped his own boots back on and tucked the pants into the top. With nimble fingers, the entertainer pulled his hair back with the black tie leaving just a few strands free to frame his face.

The former slave stepped back to gather up his clothes when he felt something hard underfoot. He reached down and brought up a piece of flattened copper. Well, well, something to look at himself with. The men who had employed him were definitely disguise fanatics. Dante looked at his reflection for a moment and then used one finger to fix some of his eye makeup. Then he was done.

He gathered up his clothes and folded them neatly. Stepping out of the changing area, he handed them to a young green-clad boy who stood waiting, arms held out for them. It saddened him that the rogues had begun hiring ones so young, but he quickly pushed the emotion away. There was nothing he could do about it. Even if he could convince the child to return to a straight life, there were always dozens more.

"If those are missing or harmed in any way when I return, I'll hunt you down myself," Dante warned cheerfully, patting his little helper on the head

Happily he strode back into the first room. It was empty except for one green clad man. The entertainer looked out of a window and saw a horse carriage parked by the side of the building. It was most likely their ride. Dante wandered up to the window and stuck a hand through. He patted the grey horse on the neck while waiting for the others.

[Fenris]

((apologies for my absence!))

((and hint taken, Dante. Perhaps I can create some background-plot of my own?))

Fihrinn sighed. Information would not be forthcoming...he'd have to find it on his own. He made a mental list of any nobility or people of wealth who might have a score to settle against the Evergreenes, or an interest in relics...

And then another thought occurred to him. Perhaps there wasn't another employer at all. The green-clad jesters certainly had the look of a cult...perhaps they desired the relic for themselves.

There wasn't enough now to know for sure--but in due time, answers would come.

He glared at the men about to usher him into the changing area and proceeded of his own accord, muttering to the ringleader, "I may be awhile. It would be best to send the others on ahead."

Safely behind one of the curtains, Fihrinn closed his eyes and let out a long breath. No matter how often these shifts became necessary, he still hated them. He clenched his teeth as the pain started and slowly began to retract his fur.

[Taskmienster]

This thread has been sitting for a full year. Since no response has been made to create activity I am going to be moving this. If you would like it to be reopened please feel free to PM myself or another admin and they will be able to move it for you back to Scara Brae.