Empire Of Rats [Skaramoosh]

[Zombie]

The sun had sunk beneath the horizon hours ago; the velvet-soft violet-grey of twilight giving birth to the rich, inky darkness of night. Countless stars strewn across the silken canvas glittered like a handful of counterfeit diamonds; the softly-gleaming sphere of the moon serving as the pearlescent centerpiece of the muted, celestial radience. Most people had already scurried to the safety of their beds and became snared in the tangled web known as sleep and dreams-- and yet, the gentle stillness of the night was neither truly quiet, nor hallowed. Despite the seeming serenity of such an hour, the occasional city guard milled about, or the odd drunk stumbled from one tavern to the next, looking to drink themself into the vast oceans of oblivion. Others strode with purpose, heading to join clandestine meetings or trysts under the secretive darkness of late night and hounds still occasionally bayed, their voices echoing loudly through the nearly-quiet streets.

A fluid shadow moved among the more static shadows that claimed the city; a tall, ash-colored woman whose raven-feathered cloak brushed against the street behind her as she walked, its soft rustling becoming lost amid the other nocturnal sounds. Though she was a newcomer to the city, she carried herself with poise and purpose; not deviating from her path, a carefully-wrapped parcel held tightly in her right hand, hidden from view beneath the folds of her cloak. It should be just ahead- and if I was lied to, I'll gut that "Cat" bastard before he knows what happened, she thought idly as she continued onward, only pausing every now and again to read the names of certain establishments.

Every now and again, she glanced back over her shoulder, as though daring anyone to try and follow her-- the job she had completed had not been especially simple and the task at hand was even more dangerous than that mission had been. In the aftermath of investigating and dispatching a pair of rogue sorcerers, her nameless employer had informed her of a certain establishment that she needed to visit; that supposedly she would be able to hand off the burden that she carried- and turn a decent profit for the deal that she was seeking to make in the process. The mercenary was a bit concerned by the prospect; while she was used to cloak-and-dagger nonsense and was quite versed in the importance of keeping quiet about certain prospects, she was venturing to meet a contact she'd never even heard of before- in an establishment that she'd previously been equally unaware of.

As she approached the door of the "Siren's Song," she paused momentarily; shaking her head and smirking at the thought that she could very well have been walking into an ambush, alone. Such wasn't unheard of in the cutthroat nature of the mercenary business- and if she'd ended up being sent to a rival faction's headquarters, things could have proven to be quite horrid indeed. Nevertheless, snorting at her own cautiousness, she shoved the inward-swinging door open and strode inside. The first thing that caught her attention was the simple fact that it seemed as though she'd entered a tavern- albeit one that didn't seem to have very many patrons; at least not yet. The night was still relatively young, after all- it was difficult to determine whether that was a good or bad thing at the moment.

Not for the first time, the androgynous, one-eyed woman wondered if she'd made the correct decision by listening to her employer: though her baselard and meat skewer hung at her hips, she was unarmored; though her feathered cloak's enchantment would serve her well if it became necessary to utilize it, she was wearing a violet doublet, black leggings and scuffed, battered brown boots, her ivory dreads tied back into a low tail- nothing that would have offered protection of she were to be attacked, but at the same time, nothing that would have made her stand out in a crowd.

Glancing around the speakeasy and finally shrugging, as though deciding that it at least appeared to be as safe as any other location she'd ventured into thus far,  she made her way to the bar and sat on one of the stools. The parcel she had carried was now cradled protectively in her lap, still partially obscured by her cloak; almost as though it may have been a small animal, or perhaps a very young child-  her right arm curled around it, only adding to the falsity. She didn't think signing anything would have done her any good- and there was always the possibility that an overly-complex gesture could have been mistaken for a spell being cast. Raising her right arm, she attempted to catch the bartender's attention. "When you've got a spare moment, I'd like to speak to you." The mercenary stated, her gravely voice level and calm, though she swallowed thickly after speaking, reclining backward a bit, as though she was intending to make herself to home.

[Skaramoosh]

The bar was buzzing, a veritable hive of activity. Customers arrived in ones and twos, spilling through the door and gracing the cobbles outside with a warm slash of light before it clunked shut against the darkness again. An all too brief flash of talk, laughter, the clink of glasses and thumping, scrape of chairs on the rush covered floor.

The difference might have been shocking, considering how peaceful it was in the daylight hours...but some people lived for the pressure, the noise and blur of colours, the wall of sound that battered at the ears. It was a different beast after dark, when the guardsmen started to get lax in their duties. And you know what they said about the mice playing when the cats were away...

"Anri. Anri! Tell Hazim ta move dem bois by di door outta 'ere. We dun wan' nun o' dat."
The slender woman in question nodded, tucking a dark strand behind one ear and slipping gracefully away across the bar to murmur to the pair of hostile-eyed men, backed up a heartbeat later by the solid man by the door.
Kale watched for a couple of seconds until they began to stand, sure of the problem being moved..somewhere else. Didn't make it less of a problem exactly, just..someone else's now, he supposed. This was meant to be a safe place, an island of peace where people could make their own negotiations and find themselves free of judgement. And a good place to trade information...or supplies.
They'd know where to look, at least. Sharply dressed to the local style, his royal blue attire wasn't overly fanciful, but cut well to fit his form and made of good cloth. Well, except for a bright purple stain on the collar of his shirt where his daughter had grabbed him with one sticky hand, but as long as he kept it buttoned under the chin, who was going to notice?

He returned his attention to filling the next order, eyes already elsewhere as he scooped the coins off the bar. The door swung shut and Hazim returned to his spot by the door, hard, pale eyes surveying the room with an air of indifference, toothpick working at his teeth once more. nose wrinkled, he snuffed the air, checked the bottle in his hand. Nope.
"Tha hells is dat..?"
The smell was...odd, couldn't quite pinpoint it, much less say for certain what it was in this place with it being as crowded as it was. Like catching a whiff of spoiled milk on a hot day, yet not quite so strong or revolting as that. Just a scent that was...wrong.

His gaze trailed thoughtfully across the length of the bar, fixed on the motion of the hand signalling him and like an obedient dog, found himself slinking towards that end before he caught her eye. Literally, just the one.

What a mess.

She certainly stuck out, and he wasn't sure what was more jarring, the beetle-black eye or the side that looked like she'd headbutted a belt sander. Possibly..not someone to cross, if looks were anything to go by.

"Mira, take di bar."
The short pale woman offered him a vague nod as they slid past one another, and he jerked his head at a small door set in the corner, ducking under the low lintel and waiting for the ashen woman to follow. Within was a dim hall, narrow stairs stretching up into the gloom and the faint shine of a lantern he'd left up there as a night light. A faint whiff of lavender and the pervasive smell of coffee lingered over the ever-present smell of booze, dust, sweat and old meals, and the sharper spicy scent he trailed.
The other rooms were nothing remarkable, a pokey little kitchen where the coffee scent increased tenfold as they passed, and a storeroom obviously being used as some sort of office by the table and chairs. Except that the table was currently covered in the remnants of an abandoned card game.

"Welcome, ta mi empire!"
He spread his arms wide to encompass the whole of the small room as if it were a vast kingdom, then shook his head with a rueful smile.
"Yuh found di Siren's Song, an' 'er captain. Suh stranger, wha' kyan Kale be doin' fuh yuhs? A drink, an' an introduction, at di very least, uh?"

[Zombie]

Similarly to a black market, one could oftentimes find whatever they wanted in a bar after dark, especially if the individual named "Cat" had been correct in his description of the Siren's Song. Judging by the noise and activity, the woman had not been misled: the loud laughter, the glasses clinking together, chairs scraping against the sweet rush-covered floor- like an onion, there were layers to peel back one by one.

In any other establishment, there would have been a fair number of brawls occurring at any moment; those heated conversations that erupted into a flurry of movement right before someone found their faces acquainted with a broken bottle, or another person's fist. Despite the noise, brilliant flashes of color and quick, fluid movements, there was a strangely notable lack of misplaced, drunken anger. She shook her head, tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth as an interesting pair of guards successfully extracted a pair of would-be troublemakers and ushered them to another location.

If nothing else, Perendi could say that she was quite impressed how the establishment was run; while there were certainly rats at play, their play was strangely peaceful, at least for the most part. It was a damn shame that she hadn't come on pleasure; she would have definitely been willing to frequent such a bar, just based on what she was observing- might have even became a regular. However, her ruminations were cut somewhat short when one of the guardsmen returned to his position near the door and she caught movement out of the corner of her eye; someone impressively-dressed-- the bartender, seemingly obeying her hand-signal as obediently as a well-trained hunting hound would have. At least he doesn't make anyone wait for too damn long, she noted, thrusting her chin upward briefly in acknowledgement of his approach.

That single eye met and held eyes that made her think of banked coal for a moment as she gave the bartender a scrutinizing once-over; he was definitely easy on the eyes, as her informant had said- and clearly someone who could hold his own in a fight. She remained silent when he instructed the shorter, pale lady; rising to her own feet at his gesture.

Though he was taller than she was, their height differences weren't so great that she would have been forced to crane her head uncomfortably upward- or that he would have needed to stoop to be at eye-level to her. She followed alongside her new company beneath the lintel and down the dimly-lit hall, eye darting every once in a while just to see if another staff member had been waiting to overhear anything. While the mingled smells of of the hall weren't unpleasant, nor the peculiar spicy scent that seemed to emanate from the bartender, it was one in particular that made her stomach emit a most unapologetic and decidedly unladylike gurgle: coffee.

As they passed the unremarkable rooms, that gurgle became a growl and the mercenary might as well have been salivating as they passed the kitchen; cradling the parcel carefully beneath her cloak as they made it into a room that had been re-purposed into some kind of office. Clearly, someone had been playing cards and interrupted- by her estimate, one of the gamblers had been losing quite pitifully and she couldn't help but wonder what the stakes had been. She tilted her head in curiosity as her gaze followed his gesturing around the small room.

"I suppose introductions are a good place to start," Her deep, gravely growl was a sharp contrast to his interesting and rather pleasant accent; setting the package down near her foot, she extended a calloused hand to shake. "A pleasure to meet you, Emperor Kale; call me Snake- and coffee would be damn great," It was her preferred alias; one that several people and organizations knew her by. As the warrior continued to speak, the fluid shadows beneath the surface of her skin began to swirl upward; encircling her throat as her voice became more rough, black tongue slithering forth to capture a trickle of darkened blood before it could drip from the corner of her lips- after several moments, once those shadows ceased their movements and began to almost lazily resume their perpetual writhing again, she continued:  "I was told you might be interested in conducting business."

A brief, but meaningful glance was cast toward the package at her feet. If you're not interested, I can probably find someone else interested in most of it, but I'll be damned if I know someone who might want anything to do with blight magic. When she returned her gaze upward once again, she rested a hand on her hip and waited to gauge what his reaction might have been; her expression kept carefully pleasant, albeit neutral- though she had an idea of what she wanted in exchange, negotiations hadn't even begun just yet and it would have been unwise to reveal all of her cards before even allowing him a chance to play.

[Skaramoosh]

That voice..it wasn't really what he'd expected. Not that he was sure of what he'd expected anyway, but it was as though someone had just dropped a chunk of ice down his shirt. Or perhaps, it was the subtle shifting pattern crawling up her throat. He was reminded uncomfortably of maggots for a moment, responding with a slow nod. Truthfully, it was because he'd never seen anything quite like that, and if he'd had hairs on the back of his neck they'd have undoubtedly stood on end. How did one respond with politeness? He almost just stabbed a finger in her direction and blurted it out, before he caught himself. Too much time spent with children and he was becoming one himself.

Kale smiled warmly, clasping her hand without hesitation in his own roughened grip. Strong hands...so she knew how to use those toothpicks on her hip, then, not just for show. "Ah, a viper after mi own heart." He paused, well aware how dangerous that situation seemed, then jerked his down at the package she'd brought with her; "Lemme fetch dat drink an' we can talk about yuh liddle fren. Make yuhself at home."
He flicked a hand at the chairs, casting a last curious glance at this 'Snake', and slipped away back down the hall.

Just being away as he waited for the water to boil was some sort of minor relief. There was..something, about her, that made his teeth itch. Didn't hate the on-edge feeling so much as the restlessness it bred, made him want to stalk around like a caged leopard. He drummed his fingers solidly on the tiny table crammed into the room, eyes far away.
Hollow. That was the word, her voice sounded...hollow. Kale shook his head slightly, reaching for the kettle and removing it from the tiny hearth. He was certainly nobody to judge, they were all a little strange here, self included.

When he returned, he bore a rather battered looking tin pot and two tiny cups of painted porcelain upon a carved wooden tray. Small fish hid, peeping between carved reeds around the border, but otherwise it was fairly plain. Carefully he began collecting the cards and shuffling them back into a deck, both his own shameful hand and Meridia's. Using the excuse of setting her to bed was a poor way of saying 'I'm a sore loser' but when you were being thrashed at cards by a six year old, how else were you supposed to save grace?

"Ah hope yuh like it strong. Might 'ave some goat's milk if yuh need it."

If you need to pollute it.

He didn't out and say 'most of these pigskins don't know how to drink kaf' but it was a hair from falling off his tongue all the same. Thick and dark, he poured the liquid into the tiny cup and set it before her, then one for himself before falling into a chair and lifting it to his face, inhaling the rich aroma.
"Let's ta business, den. Yuh lookin' ta move somet'ing?"

[Zombie]

She had to admit that Kale didn't seem to be anything like what she'd anticipated; which was actually a rather interesting change of pace. It was still too soon to know exactly what to expect from the bartender and she was fairly certain that, just like his speakeasy, there were probably a multitude of layers to peel back; while being rather easy to read- a contradiction that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. She arched an eyebrow and shrugged at his slow nod; if she wasn't mistaken, he was rather clearly displaying signs of both uneasiness and curiosity. What's wrong, Emperor? The mercenary's subtle shift in posture, the fleeting little smirk she flashed, would seem to inquire; perhaps almost teasingly.

His warm smile was met with a crooked one of her own; his grip was as equally firm and rough as hers; perhaps even a bit moreso, A fighter, huh? Things just keep getting more interesting. So, that pretty, curved-bladed sword behind the bar wasn't just for show; it was a relief to know that she was conducting business with someone who at least knew how to use a blade, rather than relying too much on spellcraft. "Oh, most certainly," she teased right back, "The Rat Emperor's braver than I expected." Though the situation could have become quite dangerous at the blink of an eye, it appeared that they were both aware of that fact- and yet, the mercenary was enjoying the game that they'd started playing. "That sounds excellent to me."

Once he departed down the hall, she took a moment to actually look around the small office; despite its small space and the clutter, it seemed rather lived-in; almost as though it was used as something of a break-room as well as a place to conduct business in privacy. Seeing no need at the moment to try and rifle through anything in search of reports or other documents that might have provided her with more information regarding the establishment and its proprietor, she instead picked up her parcel and claimed one of the chairs he'd gestured at; resting it on her lap while she leaned forward to look at the cards that remained on the table. Damn, someone got their ass handed to them! She thought in amusement- it didn't look like the deck had been stacked, but as though someone had quite simply been destroyed during that match.

Leaning back a bit in her chair, "Snake" had to admit that there was something quite interesting about Kale; though he seemed to be friendly enough, apparently knew how to listen to not only the spoken, but unspoken word as well and wasn't uncomfortable to be around, there was something not quite right that nagged at the back of her mind. It was rather clear that he wasn't quite human, but that wasn't what bothered her and she wasn't racist; hell, she'd worked for and with non-humans plenty of times and had even found more than a few of them to be perfectly charming. It wasn't an uneasiness or wariness- it was something far more subtle than that; a peculiarity that she couldn't quite put her finger on- and while it wasn't displeasing, it wasn't exactly something she could comprehend or give name to, either.

The intoxicating scent of well-brewed coffee preceeded his return; though the tin pot and porcelain cups weren't anything remarkable to look at, she would probably have thought he was insane if he'd broken out something like silver tankards or crystal. "Who won?" She inquired as he retrieved the cards, not bothering to keep her curiosity at bay. An appreciative smile curved her lips as he set a cup of thick, dark and rich coffee before her; "Strong and bitter's the only way; anything else is blasphemy," She stated, shaking her head at the offer of goat's milk; a few contacts she'd established before had insisted on both goat's milk and honey- it had been difficult to watch them ruin a perfectly good mug with such dilutants. As she lifted her own cup, the deep, heady aroma that greeted her nostrils elicited a low sound from the back of her throat that was as close to a pleased growl as human vocal cords could muster; her eye drifting half-closed as she took several long swallows of the exquisitely rich, bitter brew; If you didn't own this place, I'd invite you to join me- just to brew my coffee every day. "Simply delicious."

It was time to get down to business.

Untying the simple rope that kept the package in her lap securely wrapped in its stained cloth disguise, "Snake" nodded before explaining: "I am- and I was told I have something you might be interested in-- I'm looking for something, as well." As she spoke, the languid movements of the shadows beneath her skin began to move more swiftly; their writhing and contracting, the way they stretched and contorted, was almost maliciously fluid. Reaching down, she retrieved the smaller objects from the bundle in her lap and placed them on the table: a small, gossamer mesh bag of dried starcap mushrooms, a small crystal vial of iridescent orange powder and a sapphire-bladed knife no longer than an adult's pinky in length. "None of this is stolen; I had to 'deal with' a pair of rogue mages," Was the off-handed explanation.

Finally, she would lean forward once again to retrieve the "payload" from the remnants of stained cloth: a heavy, musty-smelling old tome; its soft, supple leather covers and spine a bronze-tan that she thought was a little too familiar in texture and color for her liking- unlike most magical tomes she'd ever seen before, the sigils and flowing, arcane lettering on its front cover weren't embossed or raised- it was as though they were carefully inked instead. That tome was placed on the table with a soft thud; followed by what could have been a lady's wooden jewel-box, if it weren't for the polished bones, foul-smelling pouches of dried herbs, vials of viscous red and yellow-green fluids, or the four miniscule jars that contained: a decaying finger suspended in thin, bubbling purple fluid;  an unfading plume of oily-looking black smoke- and the last, which would have seemed empty, if it weren't for the miniscule pinpoints of red light that flashed at regular intervals.

Those objects were all placed on the table as she rested her chin in one hand, "What do you think?"

[Skaramoosh]

Rat Emperor...bloody hells. It was a step up from Rat King...but he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Besides that, snakes ate rats. Kale squinted across the table at this 'Snake' as she picked up her coffee, wondering just how dangerous this was going to be when the expression melted from his face, at once surprise, then delight. Someone who liked coffee, and the real stuff, not the watered down barbarism these milk-skinned ingrates liked to treat as-

He caught himself, smiling faintly with appreciation. Blasphemy indeed.

For a second he thought of puffing out his chest and stealing the victory, then shook his head minutely.
"Mi dottr, Meridia. Ah should neva 'ave taught 'er 'ow ta play. Di Lady was nuh smilin' upon mi dis evenin'...if we 'ad played for money, she'd probably 'ave taken di whole bar, an' di shirt on mi back as well. Brutal..."
He grinned roguishly, shuffling the deck between his sanguine fingers, then settling it back on the table. "All di same, tis good ta see someone dat appreciates real coffee. Wid dis business between di church and di mages, t'ings like dese are only gon' get more expensive. Scarin' away di trade..." he grumbled softly, then leaned forward as she began dismantling the mystery bundle.

Kale canted his head slightly as she mentioned rogue mages, surveying the collection as she laid it out before them.
"Good, easier ta move it if it's nuh hot. Tho, if di owner's dead den dey ent exactly gon' come lookin' for it."
The powder intrigued him immediately, unable to smell it sealed up as it was, he didn't recognize it. The mushrooms he assumed were probably a hallucinogen, easy enough to shift. He sucked in a breath as she set the tome on the table though, a slight twist in his guts - excitement? Revulsion? - causing him to sit up a little straighter. He had the vague notion that he should touch it to check, but the hide binding it was suspiciously...

Pigskin?

The lettering looked to be more...yeah. Of course, the contents were liable to be far more valuable than the grisly exterior, providing he could get a buyer...but who wouldn't a wizard's grimoire? Even if it did look like it was made of tattoo'd human skin?
He picked up the tiny knife as she put the box on the table too, turning it in his fingers. Sharp as a needle and just as wicked, he pushed it against the back of his hand, then sucked at the pinprick wound as blood beaded on the surface. Perhaps one was supposed to open a wound and apply powder, fastest way to get it directly into the blood if you hit a vein...or perhaps it was all for show. All he could do was speculate.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, tongue lapping at the notch in his lip, squinted down at the contents.
"Smells like bad news ta mi...an' seems like yuh done a favor ta whoeva would 'ave been deir next target."
He sucked on his teeth a moment, turning the little jars over in his hands reluctantly. Dangerous stuff, risky to find a home for it, but there was always someone looking for...questionable, artifacts.
"I t'ink...dis is di most interestin' t'ing ta come tru 'ere in months...question is, whu' yuh wan' for dis? Yuh seem like a woman wid a good head on 'er shouldahs...presumably, yuh didn't come 'ere blind."

[Zombie]

There was no way to deny how unusual the circumstances were: a rat playing games with a snake was a fascinating thought to discover- and there was always the prospect that this "Snake" would flash her fangs at the "Rat Emperor" if things went awry; though she couldn't keep the pleased expression off her face if she tried- it was a rare occasion that she'd met someone who was capable of brewing an exceptional pot of coffee, didn't try to extol the virtues of that horse piss otherwise known as tea, or look at her like she'd grown an extra head if she mentioned it being far too weak. She flashed that lopsided grin and inclined her chin slightly; conceeding that Kale had indeed taken the victory- at least as far as brewing nectar of the gods was concerned.

She idly tapped her dark grey-tipped fingers on the table as he shuffled the cards, her own countenance sporting a crooked, lopsided and possibly inviting grin that seemed to state: Depending on how this business transaction fares, I wouldn't mind playing a game or two. High-stakes wagers, of course. "I'd say your daughter's damn shrewd if she stomped you that soundly! Shit, if that other hand was hers, there was no way you could have won- you might just be dealing with a natural." Amusement touched her voice at the thought of who she presumed to be a relatively young girl sitting at a casino somewhere, simply taking down seasoned gamblers one after another- even though there was always the possibility that it could have been a fluke; that Lady Luck had simply favored her for a night. That smile faded a bit as she nodded, making a low, thoughtful sound in the back of her throat. "It's just as good to meet someone who knows how to make real coffee- too many people insist on making it weak, or putting shit like honey and milk in it without asking you first."

She leaned forward as she continued, sighing in mild frustration at the honesty behind Kale's statement: "Unfortunately, you're right- if it's not the damn church and mages causing problems here and terrifying the merchants, it's the nobles in other places raising the taxes. Which means more people become bandits because of how expensive things become- and in turn, that scares away the traders as well; makes things bad for your business... and mine. I'm working on changing that, though." From her estimation, it wouldn't take much longer for her to put her plans into motion- very soon, she would finally be able to start searching for a location separate from the reaches of any kingdom or country- an island upon which to begin constructing a fortress.

"Snake" gestured at the collection of spell components and nefarious implements, snorting a harsh, rusty sound that served as laughter, "Unless there's no vacancies in hell, they shouldn't come looking. Poor bastard who hired me said they were playing with something stranger than blood magic," She shrugged in an off-handed manner, as though discussing the weather; magic wasn't something she could claim to understand or have much interest in learning about (even if she had worked for Wyrmwood Academy on occasion) and as such, didn't exactly see how one sphere of specialization could be more reviled than another.

Though the thought of human skin being used to bind a book did repulse her, she reached out and flipped open the cover; the pages were of aged vellum and though the colorful inks used for the illustrated pannels and spidery text in an arcane tongue she could never hope to read was faded, it seemed as though the previous owners had taken precautions to make sure the pages hadn't become too stained or tattered. "I can't read any of it, but I don't think I'd want to, either," She admitted, arching an eyebrow in curiosity and running an idle hand over her scarred cheek as he toyed with the knife that she'd assumed might have either been for simple ornamentation, or perhaps some means of torture. The mushrooms, she was rather certain were hallucinogens; though she'd never tried the starcap variety before, the blue-glowing ones that grew in the Niahi Woods were quite fun. She could only make wild speculations about what everything else was used for- and would probably have been completely wrong if she'd tried.

"I wouldn't doubt that you're probably right about that- and just think, they had a laboratory in the valley; used one of those old huts. No one should be able to find it now." A shudder coursed along her spine at the thought of that makeshift lab down near one of the rivers; the hut had seemed to be just another ramshackle, abandoned structure from the outside, though the stench had marked it as something else entirely. The diagrams on the walls and floor had only served to make its usage known; the presumably failed experiments she'd seen inside had been things that she'd barely been able to recognize as having once been humanoid in one way or another- burning the hut after dealing with the people responsible for those atrocities had seemed like the best possible idea.

"Is it, now? Well, in that case, it sounds like we might end up crossing paths more than once," Though it wasn't often that she came into possession of magical artifacts and peculiar spell components, perhaps Kale would have been more reliable and easier to bargain with than black market merchants and certain other smuggling rings. "No, I didn't- and my associate had nothing but praises for you, so let's see..." While gold was a given, she had no way of knowing exactly how much coin her finds were worth, monetarily speaking and it was difficult to determine just what Kale might have had in stock at the moment, but if she were to start setting her plans into motion, she was definitely in need of something much more interesting than the blades she was carrying, "I'm not certain what that'd be worth in terms of coin- but I'm also in the market for a new toy or two; something better than what I've got."

[Skaramoosh]

"She's six."
He said it with a flat, deadpan look that may or may not have held some minor terror for the future. Gods help them all when she hit her teen years. And after that? If she dealt with people as ruthlessly as she dealt her hand at cards, there might as well really be an empire. It was an odd feeling, being proud, and affectionate all at once, overlaid with a dull fear that she'd turn into some sort of terrifying mob queen.

Kale made a mental note not to let her spend too much time with the boys of an evening. At least, unless they asked to play cards. She could certainly earn herself a small fortune before they realized they shouldn't play with her anymore. Might be it'd teach her a lesson...being smart was good, but never show you're too smart. That was how you found trouble, or it found you.

A noise of disgust passed his lips at that. Milk and honey. Defilers.
"Oh aye? Seems a mighty big job for one woman ta take on alone. Best ov luck to ya tho...ov course, if dere's summat Ah kyan do about dat, mi services are at yuh disposal." He spread his hands in a deprecating gesture, flashing an easy sharp smile at the Snake. Ambitious, tasteful, and straight to the punch. He was starting to think he could get to like this girl.

A low thrum emanated from his throat as he pinched the corner of the tome between forefinger and thumb and lifted it clear from the table, watching the pages flip. He sniffed at it, snorted and shook his head as if to clear a bad stink, then began thumbing through idly. Nothing stood out as recognizable to him, but that was hardly surprising. He was no magical scholar, for all the crap that came through here. It did smell off though, like something left too long in the sun.
"A lab? Mmmrrmm...Ah'll be honest, it stinks ta mi like...necromancy, and summat else besides. Blood, or blight...Ah dunno..most of di stuff dat comes tru 'ere tends ta be elemental, if it does 'ave magic in it. Dis is...a liddle abuv an' beyond di usual."
He placed it on the table again with a look of distaste, the cloying smell of rot still heavy in his nose. Strong enough, in fact, that if she asked him to locate the owners he'd likely have no problem finding the spot she'd sent them on their merry way.

"Wid sumt'in' like dis, Ahm not sure either...'oweva...considerin' dis stuff needs a propa evaluation...I can guarantee ya a good price for it. Wouldn' be right ta send ya off widout sum kind ov down payment tho."
He tapped the table with one rusty red finger as he thought, lips pursed.
"Suh, 'ere's whu' Ah t'ink we should do. Yuh give me dese fuh a couple ov days, an' I'll find out exactly whu' we're dealin' wid. Den I'll find yuh a buyer, an' yuh collect di payment 'ere. In di meantime, yuh kyan browse whu' Ah got as either...a downpayment on dis..." he waved his hand across the collection; "Or collateral...just so's yuh know Ahm nuh gon' cut an' run on yuh. Dat would murder mi reputation."

Kale flashed his easy smile once more, bringing his tiny cup to his lips and tucking one arm behind his head in a relaxed manner.
"Or yuh kyan name a price, an' Ah'll take 'em offa yuh meathooks."

[Zombie]

"Six?" She parroted incredulously, shaking her head before snorting in a most unladylike manner; that snort quickly becoming peals of thoroughly amused, rusty laughter- Kale's deadpan expression only helped to sell how incredibly entertaining the game must have been. The mercenary was far from someone to judge anyone's parenting methods, though; plus, if Meridia was already skilled enough to thoroughly annihilate her father at cards, that made her seem to have a considerable amount of potential. "Shit, she'll be a fine lady when she grows up! Hell, if the Ladies Luck and Fortune keep smiling on her, she might be able to buy a damn kingdom!" It was strange, but quite amusing at the same time; wondering exactly what route such a young card virtuoso might want to take when she got older. Regardless of what path Meridia might have chosen to take when she got older, "Snake" was fairly certain that Kale would have quite an adventure in the years and decades to come. Especially if she was smart enough not to reveal all of her secrets at once.

She shrugged almost off-handedly, though the task that she was undertaking was far from simple. Almost certain that she'd managed to accrue most of the necessary funds to purchase a place over the past several months, the next step would be actually securing a location- and then, the best was yet to come. It would be a monumental undertaking, an up-hill battle that would, at times, end up putting her at odds with the rest of the world; but she thought her plans were worth seeing through, no matter what difficulties awaited ahead. "I won't lie, it's hard as hell- but I've been working on creating a haven; biggest and most difficult job I've ever taken. Very slow-going, too, but it's starting to come together. Thank you- and if there's anything I can think of that you might be able to do, I'll definitely let you know-- and the same offer is yours, as well. If you need help with anything, even just... "finding" an unusual specimen of some sort, let me know and I'll do what I can." Should be able to get a few of my associates to keep the guards' asses at a distance, too, if the need comes up, She grinned at Kale-- smart, apparently quite reliable, humorous and not bothering to hide behind stupid pretenses; she found that she was enjoying his company and it wasn't difficult to imagine that she could possibly end up liking him.

An eyebrow arched in curiosity as he examined the nefarious tome; though her sense of smell wasn't anything exceptional, even she could detect the stench of decay; to her, it was there and unpleasant, especially when coupled with the mold and dust that rose from those pages; a faint foulness that seemed quite similar to what clung to the contents of the box. "Your guess is as good as mine, to tell you the truth. I don't mess with magic unless I'm hired to deal with some ass of a sorcerer who decides to fuck with the wrong shit-- and if you're right, I suppose that's definitely the wrong shit." Necromancy wasn't that unusual a concept to the Snake, though the more forbidden arts, such as Blood magic or Blight were things that she'd briefly heard about, but she didn't think she'd ever run into someone practicing either.

She cleared her throat, taking another long swallow of her coffee; finishing the cup in an attempt to get the foul stench out of the back of her throat. Had she been able to detect the rot as strongly as he was, she probably would have been heaving by that point. "I've got no problem with letting you keep them for a few days; I'll be around for at least a week," That was the time-frame she'd been given by the ship's captain she'd commissioned, at least: they'd be docked for a week at the minimum-- which meant she'd found herself with a short, impromptu vacation. "I'd like to look at what you've got; depending on what's available, we'll be able to work out a deal on what your appraiser decides it's worth," It might have seemed a bit strange, but "Snake" wasn't one to try and demand an outrageous price for anything she came across during her work-- unless she happened to be dealing with the nobility, or someone she simply despised.

Kicking her booted feet onto the table, careful not to disturb the collection, their cups, or the deck of cards, she leaned back in her chair a bit; finding herself quite comfortable. "If I was to name a price, it probably wouldn't be fair in one way or another," She snorted at the thought-- either she'd come up with something so astronomically ridiculous that she might as well have asked to be crowned queen of Adela, or something so paltry that it would have ended up cutting her own throat. "I don't really know shit about magical artifacts- or magic itself." There was no harm in admitting that, she assumed; after all, she hadn't noticed any particularly nefarious-seeming sorcerers anywhere nearby- and had plenty of reason to doubt that her present company was a mage.