Of Wealth and Taste

[Isida Kep'Tukari]

*Vestra gazes about the place, her eyes dashing from one creature to another, from being to being, to see if anyone returns her gaze.*

Huh, send me here and then leave me be? I rather think not. It must be a test of sorts... but do I trust one that delivers a message without context or meaning? But if it is a trap, there is no cage that can hold me for long... she thinks, and then begins to mill through the crowd, trying to pick up any hints of conversation, or to notice anyone that seems to be coming towards her.

 

[Eluvan]

Each of the four looks curiously around the place for any sign of their would-be employer, but in the crowded square it is somewhat difficult to tell who might be in any way relevant to the messages they each received. The place is thronging with all manner of different beings - humans, tieflings, genasi, elves, dwarves, aasimar... There's even an illithid, gliding softly and regally through the crowd that parts in waves for it. Suddenly, the sender of the message makes himself known. A measured, smooth voice with a cultured accent that none of the four can quite place echoes inside the head of each of them: there's a cab parked at the spikeward end of the square. The driver's expecting you, and you'll be met and given details inside.

Sure enough, parked at the spikeward edge of the square is a four-horse cab, the ponies pulling it all handsome and well-groomed and the cab itself painted in a smart black and silver colour scheme. The driver, a middle-aged human dressed in a shabby trenchcoat that is rather incongruous with his vehicle, sits patiently looking straight ahead of him.

 

[Isida Kep'Tukari]

Vestra spies their set rendesvous and glides over. Those standing nearby will see is a tall, and incredibly thin woman with long, straight red hair emerging from the crowd. She wears it long and loose, and it reaches nearly to her knees. Her skin is pale and sprinkled with freckles, as well as elaborate tattoos that cover her shoulders, arms, hands, collarbone, neck, sides, hips, legs, and feet in flowing, abstract designs in colors of deep blue, brown, and red. She wears vests, short trousers, and sandals in pale colors of taupe and beige, with a dark leather backpack on her back. Her green eyes sparkle with good humor and confidence.

"Hello there," she says politely to the driver.

 

[Boddynock]

Dante cocks his head to one side, "listening" intently to the message. "Right, Hord - there's our contact. Time to find out what this is all about."

He looks around carefully, noting the faces of the people around him, careful to avoid the distraction which could be fatal in unknown circumstances. No-one else, however, seemed to give him more than a cursory glance. Even the psicrystal on his shoulder did not elicit much interest. Well, that was fine by him.

Moving gradually spireward, Dante keeps his eyes open. Hordan continues to scan the crowd for significant - and interesting - characters. As he dawdles his way towards the coach, Dante sees the tall woman step up to it and greet the driver. He pauses in his movement, smiling wryly at his assumption that he was the only person to have received a summons. "Well, Hord, I wonder who else our mysterious employer wants on his 'team'."

"You'd better not delay too long, or you might not be on the 'team' at all. After all this mystery, you wouldn't want the coach to leave without you!"

"No, you're right, Hord, I wouldn't. And that in itself is interesting - and a little unsettling! Nevertheless, I think I'll take a moment or two longer to see who else might be looking to some potential employment."

Matching actions to thoughts, Dante makes a slight detour, scanning the crowd again, senses stretched, always observing the coach, yet never seeming to be more than a casual observer of life in the square.

 

[Eluvan]

The driver nods a greeting to Vestra, tipping his tall, bent hat in perfunctory politeness. He then slips down from his perch at the front of the coach and moves around the side to open the doors. The decor in the coach's interior is sumptious - fine leather seats, oak panelling, and black silk curtains. It is even carpeted, in a dark wine red. A small glass hemisphere is inlaid into the far wall, glowing with a magical light that pleasantly but rather dimly illuminates the interior of the coach. Sitting in the coach already is a middle-aged man, extremely handsome and impeccably dressed in a dark red coat embroidered in gold thread in strange and intricate patterns. The fashion he wears is some years out of date, but it is clearly a statement rather than a faux-pas - he found the style he likes, and he will wear it whatever the fickle tides of fashion may decide. His complexion is olive, and his eyes are a deep brown. His hair is short and black, a few grey streaks starting to appear towards the sides. He is smoking a pipe, and the smoke fills the carriage with a deep, strange smell almost like incense rather than any normal kind of tobacco. He smiles slightly at Vestra and nods politely. "Please, do step in and have a seat. My name is Arilleus."

 

[Synchronicity]

Davian Immersmere

A wry grin tugs at Davian's lips on reception of the mental message. 'Well, whoever our would-be employer is, he certainly has a flair for the mysterious. This could prove interesting.' He also ambles over to the coach, his grin only widening as he sees the tall woman enter it. 'Excellent! This isn't just a private party, then. New friends to make, and all that.' His anticipation high, Davian nips in after Vestra, throwing the coachman a jaunty little wave as he goes.

 

[Isida Kep'Tukari]

"Well, you certainly know how to interest me, Sir Arilleus... hello now, who are you?" she exclaims, the first to the well-dressed man, the second to the fellow that jumped in the coach behind her.

 

[Synchronicity]

Davian Immersmere

Davian grins at the woman's question and offers a neat bow to the inhabitants of the coach. "My name is Davian, dear lady. I am an explorer of the unknown, a retriever of baubles and trinkets, a remover of inconvenient pitfalls and obstacles, and, in my own particular way, something of an antiquarian."

Davian straightens up, still grinning, and offers a glance at the other inhabitant of the coach. "All of which I'm sure you're aware of, friend Arilleus, for I doubt there'd be another reason for a body to hire me." Turning his attention back to Vestra, Davian continues, a twinkle evident in his eye as he plays the role of the fop to the hilt. "But do forgive me. I interrupted rather abruptly. My apologies for disturbing your conversation." With that, he sits down in one of the seats, toying idly with his monocle in one hand as he looks at the other occupants of the coach, his impish grin not even slightly diminishing.

 

[Ferrix]

Garant tips his hat up, it having slipped low obscuring his gaze of the crowd. Across the way he makes out the four-horse carriage at the spireward end of the square, nearly missed it. He ventures slowly across the square, meandering and attempting to avoid the large masses of people throbbing through the square.

Noting the arrival of others, Garant pauses for moment, can't trust these berks to keep my hat on for me, he thinks, his way of saying he'd rather work alone, but a berk I'd be for trippin' up this rhyme. He peers his head in, lifting his hat at the lady already within the vehicle, "seems the party is already started, name's Garant Se'l-D'ahn for your treasuring needs."

 

[Isida Kep'Tukari]

Vestra nods at both, curious at her new companions. "Garant, Davian, good tidings and fair travels to both of you. It seems the mysterious messages I, and I presume you two as well, have been getting have been coming from our host, Arilleus," she says cordially, nodding to both of the mysterious men.