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<blockquote data-quote="Goonalan" data-source="post: 4788314" data-attributes="member: 16069"><p>The Friday Knights in Sellswords of Fallcrest</p><p></p><p>Part 7: The Goose.</p><p></p><p>Cathal strides out of the Blue Moon Alehouse and back into the night, but only for a short perambulation. Actually what he does is exit the front door of the Inn, complete a half-circuit of the place, and then head back in through the back door, to a less crowded bar. The latter circuitous route is employed in order to confuse anyone observing his movements- his paranoia is ingrained. Situated in the midst of the smaller bar Cathal searches- looks left, then right, then left again. Eventually he notices the very small hunchbacked man, beneath his line of sight, tugging at his mail.</p><p></p><p>It's 'The Goose', his employer [1]. The Goose, it is said, hit every branch of the ugly tree on the way down.</p><p>“Is it done?” The small man slurs, not through alcohol but for effect, he's aiming for a mystery wrapped in an enigma but hitting annoying far too often. He balloons his cape, which is far too big for him, and disappears momentarily beneath its bulk. Cathal waits, eventually the Goose surfaces.</p><p>Cathal nods.</p><p>“Good.” He slurs and clasps his hands together and rubs, “mwah...”, head back he goes to laugh.</p><p>“Shut up” Cathal offers, and lets his hand rest on the hilt of his blade.</p><p>“Right.” The Goose nods and takes a sip of his Pina Collider [2], the umbrella almost takes his eye out.</p><p>“Right.” Cathal confirms and wishes himself elsewhere, seconds later he grants his own wish and stalks off.</p><p></p><p>He gets about ten paces heading for the exit.</p><p></p><p>“And don't forget to bring the Beggar King's [3] head back”. The Goose shouts over the noise of the now silent, and staring, bar.</p><p>“Oopsie.” The Goose turns swiftly away swirling his cloak about him, he disappears into its voluminous folds, well... not quite, but leaves all eyes on Cathal.</p><p>“Kord, give me strength.” The Warrior mutters and grumbles, then quick-smart dashes for the exit.</p><p></p><p>“This way.” Kullervo motions towards the dog-leg left, “I saw something down here.”</p><p></p><p>Kullervo edges forward past the sprawled body of the swordsman, Del Amitri; around the corner the alley opens out into a small courtyard, just as he had said- the young Rogue looks behind him, Cathal tugs at his beard and then nods for him to go on. </p><p></p><p>Kullervo creeps forward; the rain is becoming torrential, he wades through filthy water, almost over his boots. A low mist roils and coils- it appears to snake and curl from the odd-shaped object ahead, he proceeds with caution.</p><p></p><p>There are windows here, on the floor above, the shimmer of light, clearly the place is inhabited. He waits a moment, silent- focussing on the sounds of the night, only the rain- no other noise.</p><p></p><p>He creeps forward some more- the alley ends in a fountain/statue affair, all angles- hard to make out what it actually is. The entire structure is covered in rot and a thick black tar like substance- clearly it has been here some time, and has suffered over the years. Kullervo turns around, indicates to the others that it is safe to approach.</p><p></p><p>From around the corner Cathal and Ignaran wade forward into the tiny courtyard, the mist clings to their legs and lower bodies.</p><p></p><p>Ignaran gets half-way and then suddenly stops, the mist is red, or else it has a red tinge to it. He holds out his left hand, swirls it through a thick patch of the fog, brings his hand up to his face to see a greasy red liquid; it looks like blood.</p><p></p><p>“Careful” the Druid whispers, and moves forward to join his compatriots before the strange statue cum fountain.</p><p></p><p>The stone basin of the fountain is full to overflowing with filthy water. Towering over the basin is some sort of statue, clearly a thick-set creature, winged perhaps, although…</p><p></p><p>Cathal moves forward, digs the end of his longsword into the thick black mould-like growth and levers a chunk free - beneath is an intricately shaped and sculpted reddish stone. He prises some more of the filth away, then suddenly realises what it is, or rather who it is, that slumbers beneath the slime.</p><p></p><p>“Kord save us, that’s…”</p><p></p><p>CRASH</p><p></p><p>The Friday Knights spin round, the sound came from behind them, back down the alley. Kullervo gulps- audibly.</p><p></p><p></p><p>[1] The Goose is an information Broker, a Go-Between, a Middle-Man, Mr. 10%- actually it's more likely to be Mr. 50% but don't tell Cathal. His motto, which he whispers to himself on occasion, is “half the reward and none of the risk.” The Goose, it has to be said, gets things done. For instance, if the Shadowmen (the largest Thieves Guild in Fallcrest) wanted the Beggar King permanently taking out of the picture. Then rather than attempt such a task themselves, or even employ a third party directly - and this is only an example mind - they would instead simply employ The Goose to expedite such a trivial matter. The Goose would, of course, have to find a gullible group of wannabe heroes and convince them to complete this incredibly dangerous task for half the original reward, or less. Obviously the above is just an example of the kind of thing the Goose gets up to, a-ha-ha... hm, as I say, just an example - honest. </p><p></p><p>[2] Pina Collider, a Dwarven Alcopop, made from the flesh, juice, pith - and maybe a little of the rind, of a perfectly ripe pineapple - smushed up with ice, to which is added a heaped spoonful of 'Mama Molasses Sweet Sucre', a twist of lime and a good glug of 'Old Daktari Imported Rum'. Add umbrella and serve. What could be more luscious, more mellow and more fragrant? It's like being kicked in the head by a big man wearing huge fluffy slippers.</p><p></p><p>[3] The Beggar King, an anonymous and foul smelling individual to whom all beggars, and associated non-tradespeople - the lame, the blind, the cursed and the confounded pay tribute. The Beggar King, it is said, hears every whisper in the city - which may account for the extra guards present at his fortified abode when the Friday Knights come calling - more of this later.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Goonalan, post: 4788314, member: 16069"] The Friday Knights in Sellswords of Fallcrest Part 7: The Goose. Cathal strides out of the Blue Moon Alehouse and back into the night, but only for a short perambulation. Actually what he does is exit the front door of the Inn, complete a half-circuit of the place, and then head back in through the back door, to a less crowded bar. The latter circuitous route is employed in order to confuse anyone observing his movements- his paranoia is ingrained. Situated in the midst of the smaller bar Cathal searches- looks left, then right, then left again. Eventually he notices the very small hunchbacked man, beneath his line of sight, tugging at his mail. It's 'The Goose', his employer [1]. The Goose, it is said, hit every branch of the ugly tree on the way down. “Is it done?” The small man slurs, not through alcohol but for effect, he's aiming for a mystery wrapped in an enigma but hitting annoying far too often. He balloons his cape, which is far too big for him, and disappears momentarily beneath its bulk. Cathal waits, eventually the Goose surfaces. Cathal nods. “Good.” He slurs and clasps his hands together and rubs, “mwah...”, head back he goes to laugh. “Shut up” Cathal offers, and lets his hand rest on the hilt of his blade. “Right.” The Goose nods and takes a sip of his Pina Collider [2], the umbrella almost takes his eye out. “Right.” Cathal confirms and wishes himself elsewhere, seconds later he grants his own wish and stalks off. He gets about ten paces heading for the exit. “And don't forget to bring the Beggar King's [3] head back”. The Goose shouts over the noise of the now silent, and staring, bar. “Oopsie.” The Goose turns swiftly away swirling his cloak about him, he disappears into its voluminous folds, well... not quite, but leaves all eyes on Cathal. “Kord, give me strength.” The Warrior mutters and grumbles, then quick-smart dashes for the exit. “This way.” Kullervo motions towards the dog-leg left, “I saw something down here.” Kullervo edges forward past the sprawled body of the swordsman, Del Amitri; around the corner the alley opens out into a small courtyard, just as he had said- the young Rogue looks behind him, Cathal tugs at his beard and then nods for him to go on. Kullervo creeps forward; the rain is becoming torrential, he wades through filthy water, almost over his boots. A low mist roils and coils- it appears to snake and curl from the odd-shaped object ahead, he proceeds with caution. There are windows here, on the floor above, the shimmer of light, clearly the place is inhabited. He waits a moment, silent- focussing on the sounds of the night, only the rain- no other noise. He creeps forward some more- the alley ends in a fountain/statue affair, all angles- hard to make out what it actually is. The entire structure is covered in rot and a thick black tar like substance- clearly it has been here some time, and has suffered over the years. Kullervo turns around, indicates to the others that it is safe to approach. From around the corner Cathal and Ignaran wade forward into the tiny courtyard, the mist clings to their legs and lower bodies. Ignaran gets half-way and then suddenly stops, the mist is red, or else it has a red tinge to it. He holds out his left hand, swirls it through a thick patch of the fog, brings his hand up to his face to see a greasy red liquid; it looks like blood. “Careful” the Druid whispers, and moves forward to join his compatriots before the strange statue cum fountain. The stone basin of the fountain is full to overflowing with filthy water. Towering over the basin is some sort of statue, clearly a thick-set creature, winged perhaps, although… Cathal moves forward, digs the end of his longsword into the thick black mould-like growth and levers a chunk free - beneath is an intricately shaped and sculpted reddish stone. He prises some more of the filth away, then suddenly realises what it is, or rather who it is, that slumbers beneath the slime. “Kord save us, that’s…” CRASH The Friday Knights spin round, the sound came from behind them, back down the alley. Kullervo gulps- audibly. [1] The Goose is an information Broker, a Go-Between, a Middle-Man, Mr. 10%- actually it's more likely to be Mr. 50% but don't tell Cathal. His motto, which he whispers to himself on occasion, is “half the reward and none of the risk.” The Goose, it has to be said, gets things done. For instance, if the Shadowmen (the largest Thieves Guild in Fallcrest) wanted the Beggar King permanently taking out of the picture. Then rather than attempt such a task themselves, or even employ a third party directly - and this is only an example mind - they would instead simply employ The Goose to expedite such a trivial matter. The Goose would, of course, have to find a gullible group of wannabe heroes and convince them to complete this incredibly dangerous task for half the original reward, or less. Obviously the above is just an example of the kind of thing the Goose gets up to, a-ha-ha... hm, as I say, just an example - honest. [2] Pina Collider, a Dwarven Alcopop, made from the flesh, juice, pith - and maybe a little of the rind, of a perfectly ripe pineapple - smushed up with ice, to which is added a heaped spoonful of 'Mama Molasses Sweet Sucre', a twist of lime and a good glug of 'Old Daktari Imported Rum'. Add umbrella and serve. What could be more luscious, more mellow and more fragrant? It's like being kicked in the head by a big man wearing huge fluffy slippers. [3] The Beggar King, an anonymous and foul smelling individual to whom all beggars, and associated non-tradespeople - the lame, the blind, the cursed and the confounded pay tribute. The Beggar King, it is said, hears every whisper in the city - which may account for the extra guards present at his fortified abode when the Friday Knights come calling - more of this later. [/QUOTE]
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