All That Withers [M][Zombie]

[quaggan]

  Baron Yvelines was wasting her time, it was plain and simple. Siana was half-tempted to just up and leave - but the High Priestess promised to be back soon. Asalawana was a renowned entropymancer, assigned as the Thanati's ambassador's spiritual guide. Talking to her was a pleasure, and the mage would rather suffer through Yvelines' drivel than leave and not finish their conversation. Unfortunately, the baron wanted some input and wasn't just content to drone on and be ignored. Well, Siana saw no point in making enemies, so she was willing to entertain the fool a little.

"... to be honest. Mercenaries should just do their job and leave - won't you agree, Highmaster Whitechalk?"

"Well, most mercenaries usually come back for their pay in between those two" she pointed out. He just stared at her.

"But they just stayed and... And what am I supposed to do?!"

"I recommend giving them a mission that would take them away from your lands" she spoke. Why did everyone in the world expected her to solve their problems?! Was she the only capable person in the entire country?

"But then they would come back for their pay" he pointed out. He still fixed her with an expectant stare. High Priestess Asalawana was nowhere in sight.

"Then send them on a fool's errand that would get them killed" she countered. How could a man so incapable of finding solutions to his problem ever become a baron?

"It probably won't work" he sighed. "They're very capable, what if they're survive?!"

As much as Siana wanted to limit interacting with Yvelines to the bare minimum possible, she would not violate one of her most treasured principles of making the best of every opportunity she saw. Granted, it was possible that the Baron simply lacked imagination to properly get rid of unwanted mercenaries - and compared to him, pretty much anyone could be considered very capable. But she was rather used to disappointment and people not meeting her expectations, so there was no harm in trying.

She didn't exactly have need of mercenaries. The Whitechalk family had a diverse array of vassals and servants that were more than enough to provide for her demands. But Hysminai did, and Siana made use of the dwarf's resources enough to make her feel obliged to at least make an effort to pay back. Especially since she could benefit from this as well.

"I can handle this" she offered. "I will give the  mercenaries a request that would take them off your lands."

The Baron immediately perked up. "You would do it?! I would be in your debt, Highmaster! Thank you so much! And to think people say that you Whitechalks never help anyone!"

Siana didn't feel a burning need for approval of her lessers. "So you'd exchange my actions for your words? I would expect the leader of the Yvelines family to have more business sense." The Yvelines were proud of their merchant roots, this argument should find traction with him.

His expression quickly changed. "I would never say that! Of course, I wouldn't demand that you do me a favour without any repayment... I promise I will assist you and the Whitechalk house to pay my debt..."

She nodded. "We can make a contract, then."

[Zombie]

Within the depths of the shadows, momentarily camouflaged from view,  of the mercenaries in question stood silently near the conversing nobility, shaking her head as a deep frown creased her scarred countenance, ink-black eye narrowed in distaste, posture stiff and arms folded across her chest as she listened incredulously to the Baron's plan on sending her and her men off without the pay that they'd rightfully been entitled to.

She was starting to regret the fact that she'd signaled for her pack of war-dogs to remain behind until she returned with their money. However, the Baron that had employed the shadowy woman and her most trusted fighters seemed to have entirely different ideas, as did the woman that he conversed with. You'd better be fucking happy that I didn't them leave camp, you sniveling rat bastard! I should just go back to camp, light some torches, bring the guys along and let them have a litle fun! Those enraged thoughts engulfed her mind as she shifted from foot to foot, one hand absentmindedly lifting to stroke her hammer's shaft; she'd be damned if she allowed the suggestion that her warriors be given another mission without pay; they'd done more than enough to help the damned Yveline family and had made it abundantly clear that they wouldn't do anything without compensation.

When the woman mentioned sending them on a mission that would get them killed, Perendi's face contorted into a silent snarl- and it was all she could do to keep from deactivating her cloak's enchantment, stepping forward and caving that son of a whore's face in with her hamer! Perhaps the man had assumed her to be stupid or incapable- and her entourage, he must have viewed the same way. Perendi would be damned if she was going to let the Baron simply hand her leash to the older woman- and she was already planning on telling her most trusted men to start spreading rumors about the Yvelines; work on destroying their reputation, if they did not uphold their end of the bargain that had been struck. And if he didn't adhere to his agreement, well, she and hers would remain camped on his land, no matter how long it took.


She needed their wealth; as did her loyal and incredibly skilled troops. That was the only reason Perendi had accepted the damnable nobleman's job in the first place. Hearing the woman say that she'd personally handle Perendi and her Hounds was enough for the ursine woman herself to make her presence known. Gently touching the onyx at her throat, it would seem as though she was materializing from nothing; the shadows that had held her within their embrace slithering along her face and limbs, releasing her and sliding back to the ground as the grey lady strode forward at last, civility the last thing on her mind. Facing Baron Yveline, her hands would dance in the sigils that would spell out in uncertain terms: "If you want us to leave your lands so gods-damned desperately, all you have to do is pay us. Do that and you'll never fucking see us again. Keep refusing and we're going to build our fortress on your land!" Dark glee flitted across her face as she explained her terms one more time. "Unless you'd rather let us handle this our way." An unspoken and unsigned threat hung in the air; heavy with the promise of exquisite agony.

Rounding on the older woman, the fury behind her sign language had not yet relented: "The Hounds will not be going on any fool's mission you cook up for us," There was a leader's decisiveness behind the message delivered: if the Whitechalk lady could not appeal to her, then the mercenaries would indeed remain where they were camping (though Perendi had already paid them out of her own pouches, the nobles didn't need to know about that. Her small battalion would more than likely keep up their vicious facades until Yveline coughed up the gold promised. Even if Perendi had already informed her men and women that, as of sunrise tomorrow, they could return to the families they'd not seen in months; remain with them for a week before they rendesvoused again.) "Is there anything else you might have needed?" There was an impolite brusqueness to the way that she signed that question; perhaps a touch of bitchy sarcasm held in her loose-limbed stance and the proud cant of her head.

[quaggan]

 Siana's opinion of the Baron plummeted further. If he was a fool enough to discuss the matter in the presence of the people he wanted to get rid of, he deserved the humiliation of having his idiocy thrown into his face. Pity the mercenary couldn't speak - a shouting match to draw the attention of everyone around would be even more entertaining.

The woman rounded on her next, but the chronomancer felt no fear. If the mercenary was foolish enough to attack a noble in broad daylight, she would have chosen Yvelines and did them all a favour. While she was not used to being spoken to - well, signed to - in tone, and the status difference didn't make it better; to be fair, Siana probably invited it upon herself. She was too rational to get hung up on the details and miss the point.

"Well, here's your solution. Just pay them" she deadpanned at Yvelines, allowing herself this one indulgence. Then she turned to the woman. She didn't just storm off, which meant she was still open to dialogue. And the shadow trick was interesting enough to keep her attention.

"You would be pleased to find out then that I would not be the one giving missions" she began, her voice as level and controlled as always. "I have an associate who has more experience and need for mercenaries than I." Hysminai had handled their kind before, she wouldn't make the mistakes Yvelines made. Or the ones Siana made.

[Zombie]

Perendi and her Hounds had worked for stupid people before -and though even if she were willing to talk, wouldn't have vocalized the internal affairs of having dealt with a turncoat in the Hounds' midst during a particularly deadly and delicate job- but even still, the Baron had to be one of the most idiotic and difficult to deal with. Her mouth opened and closed several times of its own accord as she fought against the desire to give in, get in the man's face and verbally berate him. There was clearly no respect offered to him by the bristling, infuriated woman. She understood that others had probably catered to his whims, might have treated Yveline with the courtesy and respect that someone of his station was entitled to, the blade-for-hire wasn't the sort to stand on formality (unless it was necessary) or give unearned respect.

A vicious little smirk curved her lips as she signed at the Baron again: "My men are already spreading word about you and your precious fucking family being untrustworthy bastards. How it was your plan to have them killed because you're a goddamned tightpurse. There won't be many people left who will work with you. You'll have a bitch of a time even finding a willing whore when they've finished." She had no way of knowing just who would believe the half-truths or not, but at least it wasn't a bluff. She doubted the Yvelines' reputations could be damaged that severely by way of a handful of mercenaries, but if luck was with them, maybe the seeds of doubt and suspicion could be at least partially sewn.

Even if the mercenary had wanted nothing more to haul off and knock Yveline around a bit, she wasn't stupid enough to throw even a punch at the asshole; if she and the Hounds decided to retaliate, it would have been well after midnight; if only so they might have been able to cover their own asses by hightailing it. Siana, though, Perendi had to offer a begrudging nod of respect to. The woman didn't back down in the face of her anger or refusal-- and had gone so far as to simply back up the demands that the mercenary had already delivered. Had the other woman not seemed so calm and rational, had she appeared to be more like Yveline, she probably would have stormed off and waited until nightfall to give the orders for the Baron's land to be razed. A pale eyebrow was arched, head cocked in curiosity, at the Whitechalk woman's admission. "As long as your associate isn't going to try anything that this son of a whore did and their terms aren't as easily broken as his," Her smirk was a bit mocking, though perhaps just a shade teasing as she continued signing: "We might be willing to sign a contract."

Most of the jobs she'd led her troops on before had simply been with a verbal agreement; only every now and again, had it been crucial to receive the terms of employment and pay in writing. Though it was always a pain in the ass (a handful of her own were completely illiterate and four or five could barely speak the common tongue) there still was the occasion that contract work was better than a non-written agreement. Plus, the lady's seemingly unflappable demeanor and seeming ability to think was enough to hold Perendi's interest, at least for the time being.

[quaggan]

 Siana couldn't deny the enjoyment she was deriving from this situation. She wouldn't get anything from Baron Yvelines - and judging by what the mercenary signed at him, it would be far wiser not to make any deals with him altogether. Perhaps this unexpected curveball was a blessing in disguise, after all. She was never the kind to lament over the wasted opportunities of the past, especially when there were opportunities of the present to seize.

She leaned back and watched the mercenary go off on the Baron. She could wait - the High Priestess hasn't come back yet, and seeing someone lambast Yvelines for his many faults. And if Asalawana showed up early, she could later send one of her staff to contact the woman. While Siana hadn't dealt with mercenaries frequently, she could appreciate this sincerity and honesty that was so rare in the world of intrigue and aristocracy. Her fellow noblemen would scheme in secret, hide their true feelings in order to best stab each other in the back. It would be extremely hypocritical of her to criticise the nature of this world when she mastered its art, played the game and enjoyed it thoroughly. But she could still acknowledge the freshness of the opposite approach and draw pleasure from seeing it in action.

The mercenary lost some steam, it seemed, or maybe just ran out of ways to express disdain for Yvelines. She turned back to Siana, who was more than content to continue bargaining. The demand not to be subjected to unethical business was rather reasonable, and something that could be met. She couldn't claim to know everything about Hysminai and her methods, but the dwarf was just as practical and sensible as Siana herself was, that's what made them such good partners. She wouldn't ruin her reputation as an employer by taking stupid risks.

"I'm probably unable to do my associate full justice" she admitted. "She would be able to discuss the deal and its fairness in a greater detail, most of which would go over my head. I think it would be the best if she made a case for herself. But I can assure you of one thing: she is not so desperate to try and cheat people she employs for the service she demanded."

She could see the High Priestess returning. It was a good time - the mercenary probably could use some time to consider the offer and think of a proper revenge to undertaken on Yvelines.

[Zombie]

There was no way that Perendi could deny how fun it had been to berate Baron Yvelines. Though it was clear that she and her followers weren't likely going to receive their monetary compensation no matter what they did, at least they could have a little fun dragging his name through the mud, tarnish his reputation. That, at least, was a rather amusing game that they could play, regardless of where they ended up next.

She was quite pleased that Siana hadn't tried to involve herself while she berated the sad little sack of horse shit. Though Perendi had dealt with nobility on more than one occasion, she would never come to understand their games of subterfuge and subtlety; courtly intrigue and backhanded compliments. Her kind made their intentions known, settled arguments with shouting matches, fist-fights and occasionally drinking oneself into a stupor before fighting again or challenging the opposition to one contest or another. If the matter still wasn't settled, well, there was nothing that another brawl didn't fix, either drunken or sober. There was rarely room to stab a cohort in the back when their blade -either proverbial or real- was being swung at your face. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the more subtle nature of the aristocracy; simply that her world was in direct opposition to theirs.

The mercenary just found it difficult to continue arguing with someone who refused to talk back; reaching into her pouch, she removed a cigar and matches, taking a long, calming drag while she nodded at Siana's admittance. Though her lips curved into a less bloodthirsty smile when the other woman explained that Hysminai wasn't one who would take stupid risks. "I'm returning to my camp. You're welcome to send word when your associate's ready to meet with us," She signed as she turned on her heel, heading back to her rather large camp again.

----

"Kept you waiting, huh?" She signed teasingly as she took a seat near the bonfire; helping herself to a bowl of elk stew and a tankard of rotgut. A pair of her human cohorts were practicing swordplay, a half-elf was playing Liars' Dice with a dwarf, an Alraune woman was dousing herself in water and spreading her leaves to absorb the sunset's last remaining light. A few others were milling about, taking care of their mounts; the last few turned their collective attention to the ashen snake they called their leader.

"You damn sure have!" A young rogue snarled accusingly; he had been becomingly increasingly irritated with the bitch. All he wanted to do was be as far away from her as possible; once they were able to leave the damn Baron's lands, he was going to leave the Hounds. There were others who stood with him as well: a blonde who wasn't much more than a child herself, a grizzled archer and a half-orc. A revolt was planned and they were going to all be acting on it soon.

"You're not going home in two days. We've got another employer now-- and they will pay us. As soon as they send word, I'm signing the contract and we're taking their job," Perendi signed to her troops decisively. All there was left to do now was tend to camp and bide their time until either Siana herself or a courier arrived.

[quaggan]

 Siana would have contacted Hysminai the moment she stepped into her carriage, but she made a mistake of leaving the conjoined quills home. She should have made a habit to take them whenever she went out - she trusted in her magical defences, and she preferred not to waste time. In the end, she spent the journey reading some of the reports she took from home. She stepped out armed with a greater knowledge, and ready to make contact.

She headed straight to her study and opened the drawer. The quill was softly vibrating, signifying that Hysminai wanted to speak to her. Siana took it, noticing that the jewel set into it has been glowing weaker. She would need to replace it soon. She set out a sheet of parchment and tapped the quill against it five times to draw attention. Since the dwarf was the one inititating the conversation, the onus was on her to begin writing.

-Greetings-, the quill wrote, seemingly by itself, as if held by an invisible hand. -I take it you enjoyed yourself this evening?-

Both of them knew that the quill could always fall into wrong hands, and prepared a code to prove their identities. Siana read the message and carefully constructed a response that adhered to the code. -That is what I wanted to discuss- she wrote.

Hysminai picked up the quill at her side shortly thereafter, continuing their conversation. -Go ahead. My problem can wait.-

So there was a problem. The chronomancer frowned, but that could wait. She took the quill and began to explain the situation. If Hysminai's spies kept her so aware of everything that she could incorporate Siana's visit into the code, she probably heard of the circumstances that led to Baron Yvelines getting a well-deserved humiliation. Neither of them liked wasting time, so the noble's next words were concise and to the point. -It's the one whom Baron Yvelines tried to cheat.-

Hysminai's response was a bit more verbose. -Oh, one of the Hounds? I heard good things about them.-

-As far as I know, the cause of discord was not paying them- Siana responded. -I think they would welcome an honest employer.-

Hysminai didn't respond for some time, so Siana began to read more of the reports. When she put the third one away, a soft clack drew her attention. The quill fell over, signifying that the dwarf was done writing and broke the enchantment. The chronomancer began to read. -I will. I need to go, so here's the outline on the trouble. Rhys' lab exploded again. Managed to save some concoctions and body parts, but most of him is catatonic. We can confer about it later.-

Well, that was indeed a problem. Looked like one of their projects didn't work out. Siana sighed and picked up another report. Even the dry figures and numbers were still more entertaining than Yvelines' babble.

***

Hysminai sent her messenger out later during the night. The man she selected was an elf with dark skin so covered in scars, it was practically indistinguishable from the leather armour he wore. He carried a pair of chained axes and a friendly offer from a better employer.

[Zombie]

What had seemed like a quiet, almost peaceful -if large- camp had merely been waiting for their leader to finish her meal before they began stirring to life; any semblance of peace and quiet slithering away once the woman finished signing to those who were currently paying attention, rose to her feet and with no preamble, unclasped her feathered cloak, letting it fall carelessly to the ground. Only for one of the youngest members of the company to quickly dart forward and retrieve it, swiftly carrying it toward Perendi's tent; ignoring the teasing laughter she received from a few of the more seasoned fighters; payng no mind to the ribbing she received about "becoming a regular lapdog." The gamblers put their dice away and everyone else milling about made a point of looking like they were busy while Perendi divested herself of her armor, only for the same young woman to retrieve it and carry it back to Perendi's tent again.

The woman herself rose at last and began moving through their camp, pausing every now and again to converse or tease with someone; an imposing-looking, heavily-scarred and tattooed, silver-eyed blonde half-elf at her side as she made her rounds, informing her of the things that had been done and said in her absence. The half-elf had been with her for a while, understood and was surprisingly immune to the more nefarious aspects of the ash snake's affliction. From what he was saying, it sounded like a handful of Perendi's subordinates were quite pissed about the news that had traveled like wildfire through the camp as soon as she'd signed that no one was going home once they packed up. "What are you going to do about them, boss?" He'd questioned her, more out of curiosity than anything else. "Bring them to me," She signed swiftly as they made their way to the center of the camp, a playful smirk alighting across her face.

In less than an hour, Perendi stood at the center of their makeshift "training arena," little more than a circle etched into the dirt by someone's blade, surrounded by cheering soldiers of fortune that were quickly placing bets on their preferred combatant. It was to be nothing more than a series of generally good-natured no-holds-barred fistfights against the more disheartened, disgusted, upset and bored fighters. An impromptu training match that would not only let them release pent-up energy without having to worry about reprimand- and collectively teach them a new technique or two in the process. Though it was definitely an unusual way to deal with issues, there simply came a time when discussion and argument would have been rendered pointless and useless. Not all of the issues were solved that early evening, but some of her fighters were left exhausted and battered, yet in higher spirits.

---

Later that night, when most of the others had settled down in their own tents for the night, Perendi herself strode forth from her tent, flanked by the half-elf and a pretty, dark-haired woman in mages' robes. Both had the sense to fall back enough to be unobtrusive when their boss moved forward to meet with the dark-skinned, heavily-scarred, leathery elf who had been sent as a messenger. She would listen closely to the message that he came to deliver, asking pertinent questions about their would-be new employer, the mage moving forward to act as a translator in case the courier didn't understand the subtleties of sign language. The shadowy warrior would have been more than willing to offer said courier a tankard or ten of their rotgut as she would finally agree to whatever terms his employer had sent him to explain.

[quaggan]

 The encampment guard measured the elf with her gaze. "You have to give up your weapons to proceed."

The messenger handed the chain ax over without a second thought, bent over to pull a knife out of his boot and then produced a suspicious-looking chain of beads. His cooperation only unnerved the guard further - it meant that he felt confident enough not to need them, should it come to a fight. It could just be arrogance, but considering his appearance, it was unlikely. Not that she'd ever voice it.

The elf was escorted to Perendi shortly thereafter. He hooked his thumbs into his belt as he began talking. "I was told I'd be expected. I represent the Serenian branch of the Haldane cartel."

"Oh yes, we worked with you back in Zantaric" the mage recognized the name.

"We've heard good things from the main branch" the elf confirmed.

"So, are we going to exchange pleasantries or are you going to tell us what's this offer?" the half-elf asked.

The mage conjured a light so that the messenger could get a better look at Perendi's hands and waited in case translation was needed. It took one poke to get the elf to look - he wasn't expecting nonverbal communication. However, either she was expressive enough or he was familiar with the signs she used, as she nodded. "A drink? Sure thing."

As the half-elf went to get booze, the man continued his sales pitch. "Our branch would like to employ you as guards, enforcers, occasional errand runners. You probably are familiar with our terms of service if you worked for the Zantaric branch, but I can reiterate, just in case you picked up some new recruits. You will be given a daily pay for every day in passive service - standing around looking menacing, this sort of things. Assignments and longer missions will be rewarded with extra money. We have our healers to handle any injuries incurred during work..." he paused as his gaze strayed to the mage. "If you have your own healer, we can recompense for the energy spent instead."

The half-elf returned with the drinks. The messenger downed his in a single gulp.

[Zombie]

As soon as the escort began, movement soon followed within the camp: archers hidden in the boughs of the trees overhead trained crossbows on the unarmed messenger, just in case he tried anything foolish as he was led forward, rogues sequestered away in the shadows with throwing knives and blowguns ready. The new recruits had already been ushered to their tents: if anything happened, the more experienced guards and agents would deal with it. The fact that their visitor had willingly given his weaponry to the woman currently guarding the camp didn't necessarily signify a willingness to stand down. Yet, the messenger would find himself unharassed.

Perendi nodded at the mage's statement; none of them could complain about their service to the Haldane Cartel- and if the company's main branch was any inidication, there would probably be no issue working for the secondary branch at all. When the half-elf returned with their drinks, she tossed hers back in a few swallows before turning her attention to the man's sales pitch again. No different than last time; even the puppies should be able to catch on quickly. Nodding again to let her "translator" and "runner" know that she intended on accepting the terms that hadn't changed since last time -regardless of how pissed-off that would make more than a few people- and turned her attention back to the Cartel's courier.

Her expression was pleased and welcoming, yet offered very little room for argument as her hands rose to dance in their silent language: "As your terms coinside with that of your Zantaric division, we accept. However, as you're not the one who sought us out last time, we have our own terms as well: we will accept the same rate of pay that the Zantaric division provided us and in turn, we will serve your branch willingly, whether in passive or active service, until our contract ends. Housing does not have to be provided for any of us, nor do we expect any luxuries. When we are not working, we will not interfere with your business in any way and we expect the same. We've one cleric and a sawbones, so we won't bother yours unless ours find themselves overwhelmed."

"Though we suffered no casualties when we served the Zantaric branch, should casualties occur, we expect the fallen's pay to be delivered to their families as soon as it is possible to do so. Other than that, we will expect our pay on time- no excuses or attempts to delay will be accepted. If we suspect something is wrong, or that a mission or assignment is a fool's quest, we will refuse that particular job- and will expect to be paid for time wasted, while addressing someone in seniority." They were the standard terms that she started with when negotiating. While some employers hadn't exactly liked the idea of accepting the last part of that silent speech, it was usually nothing more than a failsafe in case someone decided they were going to send a couple fortune-seekers to their deaths. "If you accept, when do we leave?"

They could have easily broken everything down and been mobilized within an hour, if the messenger insisted that they travel under the cover of night. While there would be protests from those who were currently sleeping, or on their way to bed, the Hounds were always ready to move at short notice. They didn't have their reputation for nothing- and as a whole, there was very little that they would turn down as far as employment went. She would rock back on her heels, lighting a cigar and giving the elf a moment to mull over the Hounds' own terms, gesturing her cohorts closer and signing to them both: "If he agrees, we accept. I think we've found a way to recover the pay we lost from that bastard Yvelines. Kallias," She addressed the half-elf for a moment, "I know you helped with the rumor-spreading, but you're still prepared to do what we spoke about earlier once we leave, correct? If not, go prepare." She would flash a small but wicked smile at Parezi -the mage- before again turning to face the cartel's messenger.

[quaggan]

 The messenger nodded at Perendi's demands. "Acceptable." Either the cartel expected such terms, or trusted the elf enough to negotiate on their behalf. "Report at your earliest convenience to the alehouse 'Crimson Plaid' in town."

"Crimson Plaid?" Parezi questioned. "Sounds more like a tailor's shop than a pub."

The elf shrugged. "It was supposed to be Crimson Plain - conjure up the image of a battlefield or something. But the guy who was supposed to paint the sign made a typo and the owner just decided to roll with it."

"What an accommodating person" Kallias commented, probably pleased to have an opportunity to use the new long word he learned.

"To get a guide to one of the cartel's bases, order Adelan cider at the bar. When the owner says they're freshly out, ask when the next shipment will arrive."

"All this cloak-and-dagger..." Kallias muttered.

The elf shrugged. "If she says her supplier will bring some tomorrow, that means everything is compromised. But you'll still get a discount on some booze."

[Zombie]

A nod and smirk was givne in response to the elf's explanation and Kallias's showing off by using the new word he'd learned- though as it hadn't been used incorrectly, she saw no need to correct him. Signing instead: "Either that, or he just didn't give a shit." From what the messenger explained, it seemed more like the pub-owner just didn't care. Her attention was brought back to the messenger again for a few moments, "Alright. It'll take us around two hours to break everything down and another to arrive. We'll move as soon as we're done here." She was "speaking" of the meeting, naturally- once everything was complete, she'd have Sligo -the troll- rouse everyone, they'd tear everything down and it would be time to head out.

"Adelan cider- got it." She signed. Though cloak-and-dagger routines didn't always set well with her, it wasn't something she was exactly unaccustomed to. She'd used aliases before -several of the Hounds had, in fact- and during a few missions, people she'd worked with had done the same; there'd also been the odd encoded message or passphrase used as well. It wasn't an exceptionally common tactic, but at least she understood the need for safety and intrigue. "If you don't like it, you can have your fun and then begin your vacation early," She signed at Kallias,  the gesticulation followed up by a shrug, indicating it was his choice- though the implication hung in the air that there would be no vacation pay.

"Are there any objections?" She was addressing both Parezi and Kallias with those quick signs; her narrowed eye and stiffened posture would indicate that it wasn't a question or invitation for discussion, but a demand. She was getting fed up with the way that some of her subordinates had been behaving as of late- and if these two chose to follow suit, she'd deal with it. As it stood, several people were already in line for pay cuts, being reduced to strictly-supervized gruntwork for a time and having their asses handed to them yet again.

"Can't go wrong with discounted booze, either way."

[quaggan]

 The mercenary group began packing up, grumbling as usual, but thankfully this time insubordination was only verbal, ending up in a few complaints. Some of the Hounds wanted to leave parting gifts for the scrooge of a Baron - setting some buildings on fire, maybe blowing something up. If he didn't want to pay for their services, he would have to pay for rebuilding!

They followed the messenger's instructions and headed straight for the pub. They managed to pass through the lands relatively unmolested - Yvelines wanted them out, after all. It began to rain, to the displeasure of everyone but Parezi. The mage put up a small barrier repelling the water, and couldn't be persuaded to share with the rest of the squad - after all, she needed to conserve most of her strength in case they were attacked.

They arrived in the town mostly wet, and eager for hearth's warmth, dry roof over their heads and some booze to warm them up. It didn't take them a long time to find Crimson Plaid - the owner decided to go with the theme and hang appropriate pennants from the walls. In this weather, however, they were just hanging limp and wet, rather than flapping charmingly on the wind. Still, it allowed the mercenaries to quickly identify their destination. As they entered, they would be welcomed by pretty much what they expected. There were a few average-looking patrons, but it looked like the rain scared most of them away back to their houses. In the corner sat the traditional dark-robed stranger in a hood obscuring their face. Parezi claimed that most of those were actually hired by the innkeepers to entertain gullible travelers and add charm to the place.

The tables were covered with eponymous crimson plaid. The owner really decided to go with the theme, it seemed. The cloth was pristinely clean, despite its purpose - it was probably either enchanted to keep any stains away (not a stretch, considering that it was a Serenian establishment) or just laundered well and frequently. Most of the patrons were sitting by their tables, too absorbed in their drinks to pay the mercenaries but a cursory glance. Parezi almost launched towards the object of her hopeful research, but Kallias grabbed her by the collar of the robe. "Work first, questions later" he reminded her.

She scowled, but relented. They approached the bar tended by a halfling woman who was probably standing on a stool. "Welcome to Crimson Plaid" she recited. "What's your poison?"

The mercenaries exchanged a few glances and Kallias stepped up. The problem with cloak and dagger pass phrases was that they had to be exact, and they couldn't afford taking a risk and bet on the halfling's capacity to understand sign language. And so it fell to Kallias to speak it, because they didn't trust Parezi to keep to the subject.

"We'd like some Adelan cider, please" he smiled.

"I'm afraid we're out" the halfling sighed, wiping the bar with a rag.

"That fast?!" he exclaimed in false surprise. "When will you receive your next shipment?"

"In a week's time" she responded. That meant the cartel's hideout wasn't compromised, but also that they wouldn't get discounted booze. "Unless there were some in Mystery Box from Tullio... I'll check. Come with me - my idiot of a husband probably put it on a high shelf. I never should have married an elf..."

[Zombie]

It hadn't been unusual to listen to the group bitch and grumble while they tore down their tents and packed up; especially considering the shit they'd put up with from the Yvelines. Those who had wanted to leave their parting gifts for the tightwad Baron wouldn't have been stopped- vengeance was taken seriously and if nothing else, it would have sent a message that no matter how professionally the Hounds conducted themselves when they were working -as evidenced by their repeat clients-, they weren't to be fucked with. The sort of treatment they'd received from the Yvelines was one of the reasons Perendi was working as dilligently and quickly as she could toward amassing the wealth and necessary clout to carry through with her personal plans: she was sick of seeing how not only the Hounds, but most swords-for-hire were treated and was working on creating a haven for them. It was quite a relief though, that the messenger's instructions had been precise and that Yvelines hadn't cocked up one scheme or another against the Hounds.

Given the rain and how long the trek from Yvelines' land had taken, it was only natural that the grumbling had intensified- no one liked being drenched unexpectedly, they were cold, hungry, a few still weren't quite awake and cheap booze would have done everyone wonders. Even the normally hot-tempered half-orc had refrained from pissing anyone else off too much, had only half-heartedly threatened one of the newer members of the squad for accidentally stomping on her foot and splashing her with mud. However, morale had seemed to improve slightly when they made it to the alehouse; the red plaid decor sufficiently charming and cheery enough to cease their bitching for the moment. The half-orc and the four newest members of the entourage had swallowed Parezi's tale willingly- and would probably suspect dark-robed, coweled strangers of being a hired ruse for some time to come.

A quick glare was thrown in Parezi's direction when the woman attempted to head toward the object of her current fascination, though Kallias was quicker to stop her than anyone else. "Work first, booze later," Perendi signed to the rest of the relatively small company while Kallias approached the bar and spoke the pass-phrase. Several groans, whines and complaints were given in response to the reminder that they weren't here for a change of scenery and some fun. Not unless the mission had been compromised in some manner. Everyone needed to keep a level head, at least for the next several hours- they knew the routine, but it didn't change their desire to relax and have a few drinks.

Perendi motioned them to follow as she moved alongside Kallias and Perezi; the rest of the entourage weren't stupid enough to blow their cover, even though the smart-ass half-orc managed to grin at the halfling bartender and address her "complaint" with: "Elves are stupid, you'd be better off with a satyr!" It was probably intended as a jest, especially considering that it had been accompanied by a conspiratorial wink that more than likely looked plain strange; along with the fact that she had no idea just what the hell a satyr was in the first place, it was just the name of a creature that she'd overheard earlier. Without missing a beat, a rogue piped up with: "Or me!" Which elicited groans and laughter from those who had been positioned closest to the speaker.

"Get your asses together, come on." Perendi signed at the would-be commedians, glowering at them as she dropped back just far enough to get behind them for a moment, kicking the rogue in the back of the calf and shoving the half-elf forward. Message delivered, she reclaimed her position once more as the group began moving again. Another moment of idiocy like that and she'd make sure that pair was assigned only the most boring, menial jobs that the cartel might have had for them.

[quaggan]

 The smartasses' comments had an effect on their guide: she paused, evidently considering their offer. Life was great for an halfling with a size kink - sometimes literally. But as they quietened, fearing their leader's wrath, she decided to table their offer for now and focus on doing her job at the moment, as did they.

She led them through the back of the pub, a quaint little kitchen with furniture clearly meant for use of larger people. Apparently her husband was the one doing the cooking here while she tended the bar. She headed down the stairs to a small cellar with shelves packed with booze. It was a testament to how she trusted in Perendi's ability to keep her men in line - or just trusted anyone going in not to make enemies stupidly - that she didn't even glance back to make sure no one was pocketing a bottle as a souvenir.

She poked a few stones in a seemingly random fashion and waited as the back wall shifted and rearranged itself to create passage. "This way" she indicated. "It's pretty straightforward, no forks or secrets that I know of. I don't think you need a guide from now on, so I'd rather go back to tending my bar." She let the last sentence trail off like a question, entirely leaving the matter up to them.

[Zombie]

The smartass duo would more than likely have been willing to follow up on the advances they'd made toward their guide, had they not been reprimanded. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how she might have looked at it) though they got along well enough for the most part, the comedic pair shared something more akin to a friendly rivalry than a true friendship. The rogue favored dimunitive women, while the half-orc seemed to have a thing for... anyone willing enough to enjoy a roll in the hay, basically. When both had their eyes set on the same woman, they would have more than willingly competed for her attention, much like two asinine little roosters vying for the same hen; only coupled with an excessive amount of shitty jokes told for her "amusement," venomous barbs and flying fists aimed at each other. They were allowed to keep their tenure with the Hounds because for some inexplicable reason, the younger men and a few of the women enjoyed their company- and when they had to be serious, all screwing around stopped at once.

"If anyone else wants to try their luck and treat the good lady like a whore, once we're done, we can all come back to her establishment while you scrub the latrines, haul water and fill any other request she might have- without pay, until she's sick of your sorry asses!" That swiftly-signed warning was mainly a precaution aimed at the newest and ballsiest recruits. Perendi's more experienced men knew what would happen if they didn't heed her warning the first time, no matter what moods they might have been in. The newer members were still trying to figure out where they belonged in the group; because of that -and reasons they didn't understand the cause of yet- they'd occasionally see just how far they could push their luck before a senior warrior, one of their leader's more trusted agents, or the woman herself laid them out.

As a whole, they behaved as well as a group of professionals should have when they were led through the kitchen, even though a few stomachs growled and fighters grumbled in mild disappointment. The sight of the cellar downstairs was more of a temptation; if the halfling had been watching, she would have noticed two or three of the Hounds clamping their hands behind their backs and looking straight ahead. It would have been exceptionally stupid to try to liberate a bottle or five "for later," or to piss her off. They hadn't been invited to sample her wares- and most of them knew better than to make one wrong move. Even though an archer had to stomp a spearman's foot and a young grappler found a knee rammed into her ass. They were just "gentle" reminders for the few that needed such treatment.

A few gasps from those who'd never seen hidden passages in action would have been heard as the halfling's poking at the stones opened the back wall. "Thank you for taking us this far; we won't keep you any longer than necessary," Perendi signed to the halfling, with one of her more educated men verbally translating those words. "Leaving us so soon?" One of the smartasses murmurred teaisngly under his breath, though he knew beter than to actually try to stop her from returning to her business.


With that, Perendi would take the point, sending Kallias and the spearman to take the rear, just to make sure no one tried anything stupid. The trek through the meandering hidden passage was, as they had been promised, rather straightforward and without any secrets -nasty or otherwise- to stumble upon. Though conversation would have been quite frequent as they made their way, it would have been muted and far more mellow than earlier. A few, finding the simple stone passage uninteresting once they realized what it was, would finally relax a little. When everyone finally emerged at the other end of the tunnel, they were the image of proud professionalism:  no one screwing around with anyone else, displaying the calculated mild disinterest that they'd learned to use to their advantage, even as whoever wanted to act as translator that time began moving forward.

[quaggan]

 Despite not having a lot of time to observe the dynamics of the group, the halfling was perceptive enough to notice who was the boss, and was looking at Perendi's hands to try and read their movements directly. Either she wasn't accustomed to sign language the mercenary was using, or the light of the torches wasn't good enough for her to recognize anything. She nodded at the translation. "I will be heading back to Crimson Plaid then. The cartel will probably send you back through a different exit, anyway."

She muttered a farewell and headed back to her pub, the rhythmic sounds of her boots slowly trailing off as she left. True to her word, the remaining path was straight and simple to follow, leading slightly upwards. Apparently the cartel base it was connected to, was located above ground.

The passage ended at a wooden, unpainted door with a simple iron handle. There was no lock, and rightfully so - anyone who would get to this point would either be expected and therefore better not stopped, or determined enough to break through any obstacle. Upon opening it, the mercenaries would find a room with wooden walls, ceiling and floor, but no windows to give them a clue about where they were. The room was lit, but there was no lamps or other visible source of it, suggesting a magical enchantment. Two fighters in gear ununiform enough to suggest that they were mercenaries as well stood in the corners. One was a massive woman with grey-green skin characteristic of those of orc blood. The other was a Kulshedra man with iridescent silver-gray scales, carrying more knives than one might think possible for a single person.

The space in the room was well made use of - walls were covered with shelves and a few chests were standing on the floor. The only other furniture a desk and a char that were clearly designed for the use of the smaller races. The dwarf seated there looked rather comfortable. Her dark skin hinted at Thanati or Yoreiqi heritage, while the high-quality armour she was wearing, combined with her posture made it clear that they were dealing with not just a pencil pusher, but a capable warrior herself.

She stood up and stepped onto the desk to get on the eye level of Perendi before offering a hand to shake. "Name's Hysminai Misselthwaite. I handle the operations here, at least until the boss gets back. I take it you're the Hounds? I've heard a lot of good things about you from the Zantaric branch."

[Zombie]

In spite of the arguments and stupid crude commentary, the little group tried to work well as a unit- and for the most part, managed to portray the professionalism that was expected of them. Even the smart-asses managed to bite their tongues when their leader "spoke up." The translator, one of the newest recruits, a short young woman with some fey blood in her ancestry and short, messy reddish hair glanced between her boss, the halfling and back again before finally speaking up: "Thank you for... escorting us this far. We'll more than likely see you again." Though she was soft-spoken, a bit uncertain and probably hadn't drawn her threshal in a fight yet, at least she didn't stammer or make a fool of herself; one observant enough would be able to see that in spite of her inexperience and uncertainty, she seemed promising- and had likely been brought along for training more than anything else.

"We'll be back before you know we was gone!" The asinine rogue called as a parting remark to the halfling; though whether it was a promise or warning-- that would be for the Crimson Plaid's proprietress to decide. Rather than voicing a remark, the green-brown half-orc simply cast a lewd wink in her direction, followed by a bark of laughter. He probably wasn't smart enough to come up with a quip on such short notice, which was best for everyone in the immediate vicinity.

A few appreciative laughs and whistles were given by the new recruits when they realized the door the group came across wasn't locked. "Are you really that fucking scared of a gods-damned door?"[/b] Perendi would sign incredulously at the group as a whole, though an almost-teasing elbow was rammed into Parezi's side; had there been any real force behind that blow, the distracted mage would have stumbled. As it was, she simply shook her head, pulling herself back to reality with a mumbled "Oh, sorry- I was thinking." That comment earned the sorceress a few snickers from those who were close enough to hear her, while Perendi moved past them and pushed the door open, shaking her head in disbelief at their collective momentary inability to think for themselves.

Their company consisted of ten experienced members and a handful of new agents; despite their numbers, the windowless, wooden room still seemed large enough. Parezi had a difficult time refraining from trying to discern what sort of magic lit the room. Had they been here for socializing instead of on a business trip, the rogue would have made his way over to the silvery Kulshedra and tried to engage him in conversation about those countless knives. As it was, most of the group fell back as they'd done multiple times in the past, giving the room a cursory once-over as Perendi moved forward toward the smaller desk, flanked by a short and delicately-built, dark blue-skinned individual who wore gossamer white robes and preferred to levitate a few inches above the ground: their healer, a being of partial sylphid descent. "A pleasure to meet you, Mistress Misselthwaite. This is our boss- your Zantaric branch probably knows her as Perendi Kestra."

Perendi inclined her chin, taking the dark-skinned dwarven warrior's proffered hand in her own heavily calloused one, shaking it as her free hand twisted and danced swiftly: "These are the Hounds and we enjoyed working with the Zantaric branch; your messenger said you had requested our assistance?"[/b] As a precaution, the healer's voice rose again to echo what had been spelled out by the almost too-swift signaling.

[quaggan]

 "Oh, no need for titles, at least on my part. This isn't a court" Hysminai responded. She sat back in her chair, motioning with her arm around the room. "Feel free to sit on the chests or the floor." Parezi immediately took advantage of her offer, plopping down atop one of the chests. The half-orc measured another with her gaze, probably wondering what would happen if her weight proved too much for it, but elected against testing her luck.

"Very well, I will be brief then. We mostly need your services as hired muscle - our latest work has left us with rather diminished numbers" She spoke without a hint of hesitation - apparently this information was nowhere near as damaging as one might think. "Apart from it, there is a few assignments you could take on for additional rewards. Quartz, if you would?"

The Kulshedra man sneaked a dagger he was playing with into one of the hidden sheaths on his armour and approached. "Well, let's see. I left my book in the quarters, but there's a few that stuck in my mind. Our establishment at Palmiro need protecting - the town militia has been hassling the owner. Then there's Lienna's expedition, she still needs a few hirelings to protect her group before she can leave. And there's a new group of smugglers in the town that is refusing to pay up or join. Clearly in the need of trashing their operation."

"Oh! Let's take the smuggler job, Boss!" the half-orc exclaimed, excited. "I need a new helmet anyway, maybe they'd have something in crates."

"Don't get so wound up" Kallias warned her. "The cartel would probably want us to return anything the smugglers had."

"I'm not unreasonable" Hysminai assured them. "I'm after asserting our authority more than whatever they brought. You will have the first pick of everything you find, and if either I or another employee wishes to contest that, they will have to pay you its value."

"What about the other jobs?" Parezi asked. "What's this expedition after?"

"Lienna researches the fae and believes she might have found a gateway into their realm. It's probably a fluke, but I'd rather not lose her if the fluke is well defended by bandits."

"I'd rather not mess with the fae" the rogue muttered. "I had a Serenian girlfriend once - her entire family was taken by the fae. They're bad news, I tell you."

"And this establishment? I feel very protective of any place that can serve good booze..."

"It's a casino" Hysminai explained. "Although we keep it well stocked for all patrons who need some liquid courage to place their bets."

[Zombie]

"My apologies then, Hysminai," The overly-formal sylphid stated with an inclined chin. Though she'd been brought on because of her talent and generally calm, pleasant demeanor, in the six months she'd worked with the Hounds, no one had managed to loosen her up. More than once, it had been speculated that a stick had been lodged so far up her ass that it was probably imposisble to yank out. She only floated a bit higher as the new recruits quickly took up Hysminai's offer, either flopping down on the floor as though they'd been here numerous times, or following Parezi's lead and unceremoniously collapsing atop a couple of the chests.

"We're in no hurry," Perendi signed reassuringly, the healer's voice parroting those gesticulations; anyone who had objections to that statement was smart enough to keep their mouths shut- for the time being, at least. Though it was true that there was no need to rush the pleasantries, there were a few that were known to be rather impatient about such things. Perendi listened intently as Hysminai briefly outlined the main mission and Quartz explained the additional operatives they would be able to take. Turning to look back at her entourage, she began deliberating over how everything was going to be taken care of.

"Alright. We're going to handle everything like we did in Zantaric, which means everyone will need your communications spell again, Parezi," She still didn't know why the mage was taking so long in just permanently enchanting the inexpensive pendants that had been bought for everyone a few months back, but she'd talk to her about that later. "We're all going in for the main job. Once we finish and report back in, we'll split up: Parezi, you'll join Lienna's expedition. Kallias, you get to guard the casino. I'll be trashing the smugglers' ring. We'll decide who we're taking with us once we get back here."

"It's been decided how everything will be handled," The healer spoke up for the benefit of Hysminai and Quartz, "Everyone's tackling the main mission as a group; once we're finished with that, Parezi will cast a spell that lets everyone communicate, because we'll be splitting up to take the side jobs. If you would be more comfortable, she can even cast the spell on both of you, so you can communicate with us if need be as well."

It made sense to most of those gathered, even if a few Hounds had already starting discussing who they did and didn't want to go with when the main assignment was complete. Their opinions would be taken into consideration once everything else was said and done, not beforehand. Turning back to face Hysminai again, Perendi would sign: "Is ther anything in particular we should know about the main reason we're here?" Though she'd made it clear that they'd be acting as extra muscle, it never hurt to know if there were any particulars about a particular assignment.