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

[Maidhc O Casain]

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.

 

[Scott DeWar]

OOC: SelcSilverhand: I will play along if you give me a bluff check!

 

[SelcSilverhand]

Bluff Check:Mero's Bluff check (1d20+7=11)

 

[Malvoisin]

"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]

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]

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]

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]

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]

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]

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.