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Arcanis: Gonnes, Sons, and Treasure Runs (COMPLETED)
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<blockquote data-quote="talien" data-source="post: 5066190" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>City Under Siege: Part 8c – Aftermath</strong></p><p></p><p>A black-clad figure stepped into the Last Resort at precisely midnight. A nervous Bobbin Brandydale met him at the door.</p><p></p><p>“You must be Mr. Ducayne,” he whispered so as to not wake the other guests. “It’s an honor to have you here sir.”</p><p></p><p>Ducayne nodded, his pale lips curling in a feral smile. “The pleasure is mine. I take it you did not object to my requirements?”</p><p></p><p>Bobbin shook his head. “Not at all.”</p><p></p><p>Ducayne was dressed in a black fedora, trench coat, leather pants, gloves, and boots. Two pistols hung from either hip. He waited until Bobbin got the hint that he should repeat the instructions.</p><p></p><p>Bobbin cleared his throat. “You’ll have the Imperial Suite all to yourself. The door has already been painted according to your instructions. Automatic withdrawals will be made from your account at the Vault, to be paid in gold the first of each month.”</p><p></p><p>“Very good. I think our arrangement will work nicely.” </p><p></p><p>Bobbin led the strange man up to the Imperial Suite. It consisted of four rooms, the first being a reception area, complete with furniture Ducayne had purchased. </p><p></p><p>Whoever he was, Bobbin knew he was wealthy. He guessed that Ducayne was a Coryani escaping the war; although his manner of dress suggested an Altherian, his pale skin was more akin to a Milandisian. And yet he had a hint of a Canceri accent. He was probably an adventurer.</p><p></p><p>Ducayne hesitated at the door. It was painted with the words: DO NOT DISTURB in red. </p><p></p><p>“In the past, I am aware that you have suffered some unfortunate…incidents, here.”</p><p></p><p>Bobbin spread his hands over his apron to wipe the sweat from his palms. “That’s true. Between the samat attack and Coombs’ bombs, the Last Resort has suffered quite a bit of damage. But thanks to our arrangement, we’ll be able to pay off all the old debts. Unfortunately, orc labor’s not cheap anymore.”</p><p></p><p>The stranger allowed a slight smile. “Those days are over. From now on The Last Resort is under my protection.”</p><p></p><p>“That’s…comforting, sir.”</p><p></p><p>“That is all, Mr. Brandydale. Thank you for your time.”</p><p></p><p>Bobbin nodded and stepped backwards. Before the door closed, a squeaky voice reached his ears.</p><p></p><p>“So I gotta stay on watch all day in here, boss?”</p><p></p><p>“Not just here, Skiz,” said the man who called himself Ducayne. “I have other work for you to do…”</p><p></p><p>Then the door closed and Bobbin was glad he could hear no more.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 5066190, member: 3285"] [b]City Under Siege: Part 8c – Aftermath[/b] A black-clad figure stepped into the Last Resort at precisely midnight. A nervous Bobbin Brandydale met him at the door. “You must be Mr. Ducayne,” he whispered so as to not wake the other guests. “It’s an honor to have you here sir.” Ducayne nodded, his pale lips curling in a feral smile. “The pleasure is mine. I take it you did not object to my requirements?” Bobbin shook his head. “Not at all.” Ducayne was dressed in a black fedora, trench coat, leather pants, gloves, and boots. Two pistols hung from either hip. He waited until Bobbin got the hint that he should repeat the instructions. Bobbin cleared his throat. “You’ll have the Imperial Suite all to yourself. The door has already been painted according to your instructions. Automatic withdrawals will be made from your account at the Vault, to be paid in gold the first of each month.” “Very good. I think our arrangement will work nicely.” Bobbin led the strange man up to the Imperial Suite. It consisted of four rooms, the first being a reception area, complete with furniture Ducayne had purchased. Whoever he was, Bobbin knew he was wealthy. He guessed that Ducayne was a Coryani escaping the war; although his manner of dress suggested an Altherian, his pale skin was more akin to a Milandisian. And yet he had a hint of a Canceri accent. He was probably an adventurer. Ducayne hesitated at the door. It was painted with the words: DO NOT DISTURB in red. “In the past, I am aware that you have suffered some unfortunate…incidents, here.” Bobbin spread his hands over his apron to wipe the sweat from his palms. “That’s true. Between the samat attack and Coombs’ bombs, the Last Resort has suffered quite a bit of damage. But thanks to our arrangement, we’ll be able to pay off all the old debts. Unfortunately, orc labor’s not cheap anymore.” The stranger allowed a slight smile. “Those days are over. From now on The Last Resort is under my protection.” “That’s…comforting, sir.” “That is all, Mr. Brandydale. Thank you for your time.” Bobbin nodded and stepped backwards. Before the door closed, a squeaky voice reached his ears. “So I gotta stay on watch all day in here, boss?” “Not just here, Skiz,” said the man who called himself Ducayne. “I have other work for you to do…” Then the door closed and Bobbin was glad he could hear no more. [/QUOTE]
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