Crovax leaned back in his chair, raised his right arm, and motioned briefly to one of his guards. The soldier stepped forward and produced a fairly large leather pouch, clearly heavy with coin. The guard dropped the bag on the table with a loud thud, the unmistakable clinking of coins filling the air. Crovax slowly pushed the pouch across the table. Dryden leaned forward and casually glanced inside.
'Consider this a deposit. Much and more will be provided should you follow through with the deal,' Crovax said as he watched Dryden counting the coin in his head.
'One final question. Do you have any requirements or restrictions about how we accomplish the mission?'
His eyes narrowed slightly in confusion, but Crovax shook his head. 'None. Do what you must.'
Dryden smirked slightly. 'Very well. Then all that is left is a little bit of paperwork...' Without breaking his gaze, Dryden motioned over his shoulder. A man clad in plain gray robes stepped out of the shadows with a parchment in hand. He laid it down before Dryden and handed him a quill. Dryden quickly signed his name along the bottom of the document and then slid it over towards Crovax.
Crovax looked the document over, reading everything that had been discussed during the meeting. He looked up at the scribe still standing over Dryden's shoulder and chuckled. 'My, do you work quickly.'
The scribe smiled bashfully and nodded his thanks. Crovax then picked up the quill and scribbled his signature before sliding the document back to Dryden. Grabbing a small metal seal and a stick of blood red wax from the other side of the table, Dryden held the wax over one of the candles until it started to melt. He then quickly smeared it on the document, next to the signatures and firmly pressed the seal into the hot wax. Pulling the metal stamp away from the document, a grinning skull plastered in blood red wax finalized the document. Dryden handed the document back to the scribe who quickly slipped away.
'When shall we begin?'
[The Contract] Requests
'Please, have a seat,' he motioned to the vacant chairs across the table from him. Crovax stepped forward and took a seat, brushing his cloak over the back of the chair. Dryden made a subtle motion with his hand and a pair of guards clad entirely in black appeared as if from nowhere, flanking the Vox of the Hoard.
'Gentlemen, we would like a little bit of privacy to conduct some business. See to it, if you would.'
Nodding almost in unison, the two guards moved away from the table, quietly slipping through the crowd. As if their mere presence was message enough, the patrons of Smuggler's Haven seemed to disappear into the night. Within moments, the bar was completely empty, save for the guards, the bartender, and the party gathered around the table in the corner.
'Can I offer you or your friends a drink? Some food perhaps?'
Shifting his chair forward slightly, Crovax rested his forearms on the table. 'I require the services of your brotherhood. I have been led to believe that you can help me with a unique situation.'
'Straight to the point, I can respect that,' Dryden chuckled softly. He leaned back in his chair, a slight smirk playing across his lips. 'And what can I do for you, Crovax?'
'We have a... how shall I say? A situation that is approaching. During this engagement, we need the assistance that you and your brotherhood specialize in. We require supplies. A steady stream of them, delivered to specific locations.'
Nodding slowly, Dryden idly flipped a platinum coin over his fingers. 'Seems simple enough, which of course means there is a catch. What supplies are needed? And how much of them?'
A slightly smile crept across Crovax's elven features. 'True enough, true enough. The supplies are fairly basic. We will need provisions - both food and drink, mounts, and basic armament for roughly one thousand men.'
Dryden's eyebrow raised slightly in curiosity and amusement. 'And the delivery locations?'
'Well, that is more likely to change over time. But for now, we will need initial deliveries to be on the Westbridge side of the Tripower Blockade.'
While his eyes seemed almost to be laughing in amusement, the rest of Dryden's face was an indiscernible mask. He watched Crovax without blinking for a few moments, before slowly nodding.
'That will cost you.'
'Gentlemen, we would like a little bit of privacy to conduct some business. See to it, if you would.'
Nodding almost in unison, the two guards moved away from the table, quietly slipping through the crowd. As if their mere presence was message enough, the patrons of Smuggler's Haven seemed to disappear into the night. Within moments, the bar was completely empty, save for the guards, the bartender, and the party gathered around the table in the corner.
'Can I offer you or your friends a drink? Some food perhaps?'
Shifting his chair forward slightly, Crovax rested his forearms on the table. 'I require the services of your brotherhood. I have been led to believe that you can help me with a unique situation.'
'Straight to the point, I can respect that,' Dryden chuckled softly. He leaned back in his chair, a slight smirk playing across his lips. 'And what can I do for you, Crovax?'
'We have a... how shall I say? A situation that is approaching. During this engagement, we need the assistance that you and your brotherhood specialize in. We require supplies. A steady stream of them, delivered to specific locations.'
Nodding slowly, Dryden idly flipped a platinum coin over his fingers. 'Seems simple enough, which of course means there is a catch. What supplies are needed? And how much of them?'
A slightly smile crept across Crovax's elven features. 'True enough, true enough. The supplies are fairly basic. We will need provisions - both food and drink, mounts, and basic armament for roughly one thousand men.'
Dryden's eyebrow raised slightly in curiosity and amusement. 'And the delivery locations?'
'Well, that is more likely to change over time. But for now, we will need initial deliveries to be on the Westbridge side of the Tripower Blockade.'
While his eyes seemed almost to be laughing in amusement, the rest of Dryden's face was an indiscernible mask. He watched Crovax without blinking for a few moments, before slowly nodding.
'That will cost you.'
[The Contract] Introductions
The ageless blond elf walked confidently into Smuggler's Haven, flanked on either side by Warriors of the Radiant Heart. The shady tavern in the depths of Makou was crowded at this time of night, just about every seat taken by some random denizen of the outlaw city. Stopping just inside the door, he started to peer around, searching the faces that surrounded him.
Almost immediately, a young boy slipped through the crowd beside the elf and his entourage. Clad in rough spun, nondescript clothing, he couldn't have been more than four and ten years old. Motioning to the trio, he turned his back on them and started to slowly push through the masses, cutting a path towards the back corner of the bar. The soldiers followed behind the boy, moving smoothly between the patrons until they reached a table against the back wall.
The massive wooden table, covered in half burned candles and scattered with parchment, was occupied by just a single person. His tattooed face bathed in the light of a cluster of candles, he seemed absorbed in the document resting in front of him.
'Sire, may I present sir Crovax Brightmantle of the Order of the Radiant Heart,' the young boy said, puffing up his chest and looking straight ahead.
Looking up slowly, his cold eyes seemed to take in every detail of the people in front of him. Finally looking at the boy, he nodded slowly.
'Thank you, Morigon. You may go,' he said as he slid a coin across the table. The boy scooped up the coin, beamed brightly, and quickly disappeared back into the crowd.
'Please, have a seat.'
Almost immediately, a young boy slipped through the crowd beside the elf and his entourage. Clad in rough spun, nondescript clothing, he couldn't have been more than four and ten years old. Motioning to the trio, he turned his back on them and started to slowly push through the masses, cutting a path towards the back corner of the bar. The soldiers followed behind the boy, moving smoothly between the patrons until they reached a table against the back wall.
The massive wooden table, covered in half burned candles and scattered with parchment, was occupied by just a single person. His tattooed face bathed in the light of a cluster of candles, he seemed absorbed in the document resting in front of him.
'Sire, may I present sir Crovax Brightmantle of the Order of the Radiant Heart,' the young boy said, puffing up his chest and looking straight ahead.
Looking up slowly, his cold eyes seemed to take in every detail of the people in front of him. Finally looking at the boy, he nodded slowly.
'Thank you, Morigon. You may go,' he said as he slid a coin across the table. The boy scooped up the coin, beamed brightly, and quickly disappeared back into the crowd.
'Please, have a seat.'
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)