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Malvoisin's Council of Thieves, Act I - The Bastards of Erebus [IC]

Malvoisin

First Post


Vizio's Tavern. It's easy enough to find, standing sadly on a corner of the eastern Rego Scripa. The tavern is commonplace in this part of Westcrown, the kind of place where merchant guards go to relax, gripe about their employers, and look for more work. Or at least, it was until several months ago, when the Vizio patriarch passed away, and the surviving family moved out of Westcrown to go live with kin in distant Corentyn. Today, Vizio's stands apparently empty, its windows grimy, its overhead sign in need of a fresh paint job. A wooden placard stands in one splintered window frame, the words 'Reopening Soon' scrawled upon it in dark paint. The afternoon sun in the sky above marks the time as nearly 4:00. The hour of Janiven's secret meeting is at hand.

OOC: Everyone, please include a physical description in your intial post for the benefit of your fellow players. Have fun!
 
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CanadienneBacon

First Post
[imager]http://img4.imageshack.us/img4/9108/lipx.jpg[/imager]Quinne, who hadn't been to Vizio's in a number of months, forgot that a former squadron mate had once remarked that Vizio's had been boarded up. The afternoon sun beating down on her jet black hair, Quinne cursed under her breath and settled in to wait for Janivan. "Damnable heat. And no ale in sight, either. Mother's milk!" Leaning against the wall adjacent to the door to Vizio's, Quinne passed the time by impatiently muttering a few choice Chelaxian oaths and fingering the links on the length of barbed chain coiled at her waist. After a few minutes of waiting in the heat but becoming irritated with the weight of her chain shirt and feeling the great sword strapped at her back start to dig into her spine, Quinne pushed off the wall in favor of pacing in front of the door, her oaths louder and more heated.
 
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Maidhc O Casain

Na Bith Mo Riocht Tá!
Slip

"A step up from our usual haunts, eh Carafir?"

The petite elf sauntered casually down the street toward Visio’s, violet eyes scanning the area for potential threats. Her friend Carafir, a half-grown pup despite his massive size, heeled at her left and slightly behind.

Satisfied that nothing other than the tall woman pacing irritably in front of the door presented the potential for immediate danger, she approached the boarded up building. Her hands surreptitiously moved over her weapons in a pattern plainly established by long practice – sword, knife, axes, daggers, check. All positioned for quick access, all easy in their scabbards and loops. Despite her black and gray studded leathers, she appeared comfortable in the heat.

As she approached, she stopped momentarily at the corner and turned to her companion. ”Stay.” Satisfied that he’d obey, she propped up the front wall of the tavern with a shoulder, ran a slender hand through her raven hair and turned to the other woman.

”No sign of her yet?”
 
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CanadienneBacon

First Post
Quinne stopped pacing at the raven-haired girl's approach. When the girl got a bit closer, Quinne quirked an eyebrow and silently mused, "Not a girl. An elf." Eyeing the oversized dog, Quinne stood her ground but remained quiet half a beat before replying. Too hot to be bothered to deny she'd been waiting for someone but somewhat nonplussed that she evidently wasn't the only one Janivan invited to the tete-a-tete, Quinne replied. "No, no sign of her yet." Sighing and blowing at a stray lock of hair hanging at her eyes, Quinne grunted with obvious dissatisfaction, "And no ale, either."
 

Scott DeWar

Prof. Emeritus-Supernatural Events/Countermeasure
A young Human man walks around a corner, attire well made, but not showey like that of the fops' choice of fluffy ruffles, his clothing is well stiched and of good comfortable fabric.

He is about average height and weight, but walks with a cirtain surity of foot and balence of stature. the rapier on his side bounces to his even stride. he suddenly notices the two wadies at the Inn, his black hair and pale skin framing his piercing Dark brown eyes.

"ladies", he starts, addressing them with a slight bow," is the tavern re-opening soon? It has been a while since the family closed it." he approachs some, but gives a respectful cusion of distance.

At first glance per the clothing one might suspect a sedintary life, and his slight frame to that of a pampered child, but the ink stains on his hands might indicate one of a member of a house staff, the calasouses and blisters on his hands are reminise of long sword practices, and the fading bruse on his jaw would be that of one who is not afraid to defend himself.
 
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SelcSilverhand

First Post
Merotabahn Trabant stepped onto the road leading to Vizio's Tavern. It wasn't too hard to find, a little flattery in the right ears and some coins in the right hands got him the directions. It took him longer than he thought it would to get there, and the walk wasn't doing him much good. He was already feeling worn out from the hike. His pale face was bright red from the exertion. I should have hired a rickshaw ride out here, or a pony for the day. Too much walking is bad for the humors. he thought sullenly to himself. He continued down the road until he was within sight of the tavern. It looked abandoned, rundown, like everything else around here.

The sight of the others waiting outside brought him up short, even as they turned their attention to his approach. He tried not to look nervous, after all, he hadn't actually done anything wrong yet. He adjusted his enormous floppy hat and waddled forward.

Knowing his own appearence wasn't going to garner much respect these folks, being a gnome hardly ever did, he opted to open with a joke. "Is this the line to get in? I do hope I get a good table." he quipped to the tall folk standing around. Darting a look up and down the street, he lowers his voice and says "I don't suppose I have to ask why you all are here, same reason as myself. Though it seems that we're early, or our mutual acquaintence is late." He took a moment to brush the dust off his bright red and yellow garb, muttering to himself that his attaire was poorly chosen for a covert meeting like this.
 

Malvoisin

First Post
Abruptly, the door to the tavern opens halfway, with the squeal of hinges in need of a good oiling. An attractive, dark-haired woman pokes her head out, and looks around in irritation, fixing those without with a hard-eyed gaze. The woman is recognizable to those who have already made her acquaintance. This is Janiven, the organizer of this clandestine gathering.

"What are you all doing out here, clamoring like a gaggle of hens on the stoop? Get inside before the dottari see you!" Hurriedly, Janiven waves for everyone to enter the tavern. "Bring the dog in too, we don't want anybody asking questions..." Suddenly, Janiven stops talking as her gaze falls upon Marcus. "Wait, who are you? Did one of you others invite him?" She appraises the well-dressed young man suspiciously as she awaits an answer.
 

Shayuri

First Post
Thorn watched, and waited, in the shadows as others gathered near the old inn. The more that showed up, the less sure she was about showing her face. Janiven might not take much issue with the circumstances of her birth, but the odds that would be true of the others declined with each face.

She was especially watchful of the well dressed one.

Then the door opened, and Janiven poked her head out. It was now or never.

Thorn made a quick decision, and edged forward into the guttering, forlorn light of the lamp at the corner. Slim and shapely, clad in black leathers that showed off her form to good advantage, she was at first glance a beautiful, athletic young woman. But the light showed too an unnatural pallor to her skin; not just pale but actually white, and her hair and eyes far too black. She had it easier than some of her 'kind.' No horns, no tail, no hooves...even so, she could only pass for human in bad light, or under cursory examination. In some cases she would draw her hood forward and seek to conceal her features. Now she flaunted them, daring anyone to react as she sauntered across the cobblestones to the inn, one hand perched on her hip perilously close to the rapier that hung there.

"Jan, old friend," she said warmly, grinning a grin that didn't reach her eyes. "You didn't say there'd be so many others. Or that you had such an...eclectic taste in companions."

Noticing her gaze, Thorn turned to look at the almost, but not quite, fop.

"One of these things is not like the others," she says quietly. "One of these things just...doesn't belong. Are you sure you have the right inn?"
 

Scott DeWar

Prof. Emeritus-Supernatural Events/Countermeasure
"What Are you talking about? I saw the sign saying soon to be open and thought this was a line to get in. Is this some sort of employment instead?"
 

SelcSilverhand

First Post
Mero stiffens upon hearing Janiven's pronouncement that she did not recognize the dandy. It's a setup! He began looking around for the expected guards rushing from every corner. The others seemed unsure as well, and now there was another woman suddenly amongst them. She seemed a bit, unusual. Perhaps a bit much powder, or too long spent out of the sun... but maybe something else instead. He returned his attention to the confused young man. He decides to try a bluff and speaks rapidly, "Why yes, this fine establishment will be reopening soon! It will be the finest watering hole in this ward! They're taking applications today, I'm an experienced bartender myself and these others are applying for the position of bouncers, kitchen help, and lovely waitstaff. With the lack of good employment opportunities available in the city we're trying to keep the word from spreading, cuts down on the competition you know. From the looks of you, you seem an educated sort. Books and letters and accounting eh? Perhaps the bar needs someone to balance the books. Say, why don't we all go inside and sort this out?" he puts a particular emphasis on the last phrase for the others benefit. "You should be interviewed first, being an upstanding fellow. After the owner has had a look at you and you're on your way we'll have our turns." He hopes the others will follow his train of thought. Keep up the farce of an interview, then get rid of the dandy so the real meeting can take place. He gestures towards the front entrance and stands by the door to let the women and the man enter before him.
 

Maidhc O Casain

Na Bith Mo Riocht Tá!
Slip

One corner of Slip's mouth quirked up a bit at the tall woman's quip, and she settled in to wait. A new friend, maybe?

With each new arrival her unease grew somewhat. But I'm committed now - in for a copper, in for a gold! Nesra, what a motley crew though. This could be fun!

When Janiven appeared and ushered them in she quietly called Carafir to heel and slipped in the door, seemingly ignoring the goings on between the others.
 
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Malvoisin

First Post
"Jan, old friend," she said warmly, grinning a grin that didn't reach her eyes. "You didn't say there'd be so many others. Or that you had such an...eclectic taste in companions."
Janiven frowns at Thorn briefly, bewildered at being referred to as an 'old friend.' But the moment passes swiftly, and she replies, "Strength in numbers, isn't that what they say? We won't change the status quo in Westcrown on our own. Now, let's get in off the street, and we'll see just who is who." Janiven does her best to usher the tiefling inside.

[Mero] decides to try a bluff and speaks rapidly, "Why yes, this fine establishment will be reopening soon! It will be the finest watering hole in this ward! They're taking applications today, I'm an experienced bartender myself and these others are applying for the position of bouncers, kitchen help, and lovely waitstaff. With the lack of good employment opportunities available in the city we're trying to keep the word from spreading, cuts down on the competition you know. From the looks of you, you seem an educated sort. Books and letters and accounting eh? Perhaps the bar needs someone to balance the books. Say, why don't we all go inside and sort this out?" he puts a particular emphasis on the last phrase for the others benefit. "You should be interviewed first, being an upstanding fellow. After the owner has had a look at you and you're on your way we'll have our turns." He hopes the others will follow his train of thought. Keep up the farce of an interview, then get rid of the dandy so the real meeting can take place. He gestures towards the front entrance and stands by the door to let the women and the man enter before him.
Janiven looks at Mero like he has taken leave of his senses. "Employment? What are you..." The tall woman takes a deep breath, as though to steady her temper, then continues, "Fine, yes, have it your way. You've got one thing right at least...we'll sort this out inside. We can't stay out here on the street."

When Janiven appeared and ushered them in she quietly called Carafir to heel and slipped in the door, seemingly ignoring the goings on between the others.

Janiven steps out of the way of Slip and Carafir, satisfied that someone at least is heeding her words and entering the tavern.

Inside, Slip sees that Vizio's has clearly seen better days. The bartop's faded surface stands badly in need of polishing, and strands of cobwebs dangle in every corner. Most of the rustic taproom's tables and chairs have been cleared aside to stand against the walls, and a thin layer of dust covers nearly every visible surface. The exception is that one table has been arranged in the middle of the room with several chairs surrounding it. Upon the clean table, a light meal of ham, cheese, grapes, and a dark loaf of bread has been arrayed, along with a flagon of some sort of beverage. In one corner, a few scattered tools and pieces of wood indicate that someone has been attempting to make repairs on a broken chair.
 

Maidhc O Casain

Na Bith Mo Riocht Tá!
Slip

The waifish young elf's eyes light immediately on the feast and she takes a hesitant step toward the table, then visibly restrains herself. "Polite company, right Carafir?" She puts a hand up on Carafir's shoulder as she speaks quietly to him - reminding him to mind his manners as well - and stands waiting for the others to come inside.
 

Shayuri

First Post
No sooner has Slip spoken her quiet admonition than she hears a quiet footstep behind her and a pair of hands grab onto her shoulders.

"Oh, I dunno about polite, efly," she says with a grin. "Being polite's about the only thing I've never been accused of."

She releases the elf's shoulders and skips lightly to a chair near the table with food on it.

"Now being hungry? There I'm guilty as charged." The gaze she turned on Slip was by equal means teasing, flirty and wary, and she didn't take a seat just yet...
 

Maidhc O Casain

Na Bith Mo Riocht Tá!
Slip

Closequartersnoroomfortheheavybladegofortheknife . . .

Black hair floats as Slip half-crouches, hand going to the kukri at her belt. Carafir whirls, baring teeth and crouching as well until Slip realizes what's happening and stands. Her disgruntled look slowly fades to a sardonic half smile. "Present company excepted, of course." And she sits. Carafir lounges at her feet.
 

CanadienneBacon

First Post
Last to enter the boarded-up tavern, Quinne makes a direct line for the buffet table and wastes no time pouring a cup from the flagon. Her armor still weighing uncomfortably after the heat of the day, Quinne shrugs her right shoulder to try to throw back to center the weight of the greatsword pressing at her spine and in so doing almost spills the flagon.

Tossing back her cup, Quinne puts the empty on the table and crosses her arms while standing, the better to have a look at the gathering inside Vizio's. Though silent, Quinne's dark eyes take in the budding friendship between the dark-haired elf and leather-clad pale-faced woman. Unaccustomed to animals inside the walls of an abode rather than outside where they belong, Quinne takes care to remove herself from the vicinity of the mutt the she-elf seems to call "Carafir." A small tug of a smile crosses Quinne's mouth. Wonder who'll make the better friend, the dog or the paleface...
 

Scott DeWar

Prof. Emeritus-Supernatural Events/Countermeasure
Marcus shrugs and enters the dusty and dark tavern wondering what he has stumbled upon...

Inside his eyes adjust to the dimly lit tavern, the light through the dirty windows being difused greatly. His stomach growles at the sight aof the food, but since he is unsure who the food is for, he restrains his first impulse to dig in.
 

SelcSilverhand

First Post
Mero makes his way in with the others and takes a look around the room. Disdain is plain upon his face as he surveys the decrepit conditions. "Well, it's not as bad as it seems. A little soap, some new paint, and a generous helping of elbow grease could turn this place right around!" he says aloud, still trying to maintain his farce. He makes his way around the table and pushes a bar stool up next to the tall woman with the greatsword. Grabbing a fistful of grapes he settles down on his seat, his feet kicking back and forth idly. He waits for their host to make the next move.
 

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