You find yourself one of several dozen grouped together in a massive gilded hall, adorned with precious gemstones and metals. The room shining with a blue hue as a massive chandelier hangs above made entirely from Sapphire.
You were meticulously seated in pairings of four about the room by several servants and an odd looking man stands at a podium in the center of the room, speaking to two of the servants and looking nonplussed.
Your table might be the strangest of the lot, as it seems the servants went to great lengths to separate the oddities of the masses into their own table.
However, before any of you have the chance to introduce yourselves, the important man makes his way up the podium.
The man who takes the podium clears his throat audibly before beginning, “...You will come to know me as Recruiter Vraelick, and I am your salvation and your demise. Many of you, when this is finished would pay to see me killed...Good. It means I performed my job.”
The man takes a moment to look around the gilded hall and taking a fraction of a second to meet each person present in the eye before making a slight motion and figures standing behind him spring into action approaching each person in the room and handing them a leather pouch.
“Pay no mind to the pouches for now, I will explain shortly.”
“For now, let us focus on those of you who have gathered here today...I am paid...Handsomely...To convert this hall bursting with you would-be-hopefuls into an empty room. Given that I am still employed, you can take this to mean I am quite good at what I do.”
He continued, “Let me make myself clear. The Sapphire Syndicate does not want for anything. Those of you all hoping to join as security, make no mistake, the Syndicate employs any sellsword or Clan it desires at a moments notice to protect it. The Syndicate has no use for you.”
“Those of you who seek to invent, or create, those of you wishing to forge new alliances or open new trade...There is no object, no allegiance, no trade that the Syndicate does not already possess unless we have so deemed it to be unnecessary.”
Vraelick surveys the room again, “Why then? You may ask yourself, are you here?....Why indeed?”
“Some of you, I gather, are here because you have nowhere else to go. Whether you lacked the martial ability to join a more simpleton militaristic Clan or the discipline to be a proper forge wright or mage, you're here because you have nowhere else to go. You are here because you are desperate. Good, you may yet see this process to its conclusion.”
“Others among you, are here because you've heard of the prestige of the glorious Syndicate and wish to be a part of what we do, you all I'm afraid to say, are fools.”
The last of the pouches been handed out, the servants quickly rush away and out of sight, to which Vraelick loudly claps his hands together, “Right. To business.”
“The Syndicate has no need as I have explained for simple traders or warriors. No, we are looking for agents with the ability to expand and peddle influence, create need where no need exists, and market themselves and the Syndicate above their services. Many would claim the many trades, crafts, and services the Syndicate offers are our business, they would be wrong, the Syndicate is our business.”
Vraelick motions to the pouches. “Inside each of these pouches you will find 250 gold pieces. You are free to spend this money in any way you desire for the next 72 hours. Come the end of this time, you will report back here to me. Those of you who fail to show, or whom possess less than 250 gold when they show expecting mercy will be executed. Keep in mind we are willing to essentially piss away several tens of thousands of gold to fuel what will amount to little more than a 3 day party for some of you who realize the futility of your efforts, we will have no qualms in paying street thugs to ensure your subsequent deaths.”
Vraelick pauses before continuining, “Those of you who are beginning to have second thoughts, now is the time to take your leave, without the gold of course.”
“Whom so ever returns to us at the end of the three days, with the most capital acquired from our initial investment will proceed on to the next phase of recruitment.”
Vraelick holds his hand up as murmurs begin to outbreak among the crowd, “Yes, this is not the only challenge you will face to one day join our ranks. I remind you again, feel free to place a mark against me at a later date of your choosing.”
“Now, for those of you who lack the basic cognitive function to process what is about to begin, let me elucidate the matter for you.”
“There are very few rules in this challenge, you are free to forge alliances with each other, you are free to have one another killed...” he holds up his hand again, “Provided...That you are not the one who performs the deed. Anyone can perform a murder, but hiring someone else to do the job for you is a business transaction, that's what we're about. Call it a opportunity cost, you eliminate a rival but you spend some precious capital, maybe you talk them down to paying a pittance for the deed. Maybe you pay nothing at all? Maybe you have connections. Good, you need them to succeed.”
“You are able to start or contribute to the businesses of your choice to grow your funds or provide services as you see fit. Keep in mind that during this challenge you will be denied access outside of Cilan'Rora, and the Dusk Wolves and Obsidian Scorpions are both ready and willing to kill anyone with our mark trying to leave the city during this time.”
“You are not to perform acts of treason against the city itself, nor are you to cause major disruption among the Clans, though minor to moderate offensives will be tolerated, provided sufficient profit margins.”
“Lastly, I remind you, while I encourage you all to form a base of power here amongst your fellows, keep in mind I will take of you a handful, extravagant attempts to form a massive conglomeration of your fellows to somehow circumvent the spirit of this challenge will only result in your deaths.”
“The game begins as of now.” he states before leaving the podium and exiting the chamber.
"Well...That was...interesting..."
Looking around the table, the odd Racoon-Man gives what you assume is either a smirk or a baring of teeth, "Well now my fellow would be competitors and compatriots. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I happen to not only be a noble of House Valasko, take your time to process that information if you must. But I am also an Awakened, so you surely see the folly of trying to compete against me."
"If you swear your loyalty to me now, I may decide to have you as part of my entourage on my ascension to greatness."
The Blackscaled Wyvern tipped back in his seat. He could see it already, the cutthroat nature of this entire exercise could only bring suffering, but it was crafted with the intention of summoning every gutter-rat and scum within the area. It was a trap both mentally and physically. Those without could not resist the lure and those with simply craved more. It was the nigh-perfect combination of all encompassing wills; Greed, Obligation, Pride, Poverty, Acceptance, Generosity, Hate, Lust, Envy, Individualism. A variable Hell awaited those who participated... It only pained Tyr'El to admit, He was among those who were desperate.
Looking from a cross-armed comfort his eyes opened after contemplating the situation. As a mercenary, the threat of death was commonplace... this time it simply involved strength of mind more than strength of Arms.
" Sure thing Lord Trash-Panda, If you keep on like that we won't have any supplicants. "
" Now seriously... what do we do? Whatever it is... gonna at LEAST have this amount on the table later. I'm not dying earlier than I have to. "
"No one is impressed by your obscure house, nor is anyone moved by your vapid claims of being awakened."
"This is a game of wits you have stumbled into you foolish Half-Breed and you seem to be starting with a less than full hand."
"Hopefully, you're better with that sword than you are at speaking with any tact, or keeping your fur free of odor." responded the Ere'Lyz woman after some short delay.
"The Wyvern has the right of this. We will need to work together, if at least for a time. A Half-Breed, an impostor dragon, and an Elf will do little to garner help from anyone else here."
Jaahnby's mouth open and closes slightly several times over the next few seconds before he seems to regain his composure.
"How dare the both of you! A Half-Breed though I may be, it's rich to here a degenerate Ere'Lyz refer to herself as a proper Elf, what tripe, hah!"
"As for House Valasko, I will have you know in the northern reaches our House is " ---
"Exactly." says Quinn'Del interupting Jaahnby, "An obscure house. Cilan'Rora and the southern lands are the only places of real influence, your House means nothing here to anyone."
"And I'm far more an Elf than you are either a man or a noble." she states coldly.
The scrounging woman seemed to munch on recently procured nuts and raisins seemingly from nowhere as the entire speech passed through her mind. The Blond-haired Human's attire that of a rustic but fair-to-do vendor. Delara's tangle of knick-knacks and baubles strung along her mystical implements. Here eyes went back and forth between those who sat with her. Going through the fathoming notion of her particular involvement with those who she currently shared space with. They seemed.... Freakish to be nice. Death... Death was a wake up call though. She started to munch a bit louder, hard to control her nerves as she had nothing to contribute at the moment.
Oh wait.. She did.
" I also exist.... "
" As much of an elf as I'm a Dragon. "
Tyr'El leaned in his chair.
Jaahnby nods his head to the human woman, "That you do my dear. Why don't you run along and find some humans who will have you, hopefully your time among us won't spoil them on you too much."
"Besides, we all seem rather pre-occupied with arguing which of us is least the outcast. Hmph." he says, turning his snout up at the table.
She blinked and then came to a stop with her chewing.
"" I don't think that's how it works. We were set at a table... part of the test is probably making compromises..... Just saying. Also... I'm poor so.... "
A peanut being placed shell and all into her mouth and eaten.
You think you see Jaahnby wince at the sight of eating an entire peanut shell.
"Good lord."
" Chick's right. We only have 71~ish hours left to live. I say we are all rejects. There. Now whats next on the failure list? Name who has the biggest member to swing around or are we too old to swordfight? "
Quinn'Del crosses her arms and leans back in her chair, "Fine then. I'll begin, we need to assess whatever strengths we have if we're to turn a profit."
The woman puts an onyx hand to her chest, "Quinn. I'm a scholar of the Dara and a former clerical apprentice. Unlike the claims of our furry imbeci---friend, I truly am an awakened."
"Former clerical apprentice?"
The chair landed with a resounding thump and the full weight of the draconic man slammed to the seat. He scratched at an earhole.
" Tyr'El, Mercenary of the 45th company of Scalehearts. Recently discharged due to... circumstances. I can fight with the best of them and take lick or two. My expertise is mainly trade, warfare and involvement with the going-ons of such. Other than that.. alright listener. "
Seemingly annoyed, Quinn responded "Yes. To Master Heirophant Deldin Tuzar, servant of the Radiant Lords."
"But when I began to manifest powers that were...less than radiant. I became less than an apprentice. Simple."
" So less than is equal to ' Not an apprentice, ' Fascinating. "
She savored the food for a second before swallowing.
" Delara. I take things. I have good hands and can tell people things that aren't always true. Oh.. I cast magic. My favorite color is yellow. "
Jaahnby shrugs, "Who would have thought an Ere'Lyz would have a mean streak in them, color my fur."
"I too enjoy yellow by the way my dear, I find it brings out my stripes."
"Jaahnby of House Valasko. As you by now well know I am an awakened noble, and none too untrained with this greatsword."
"In addition, I'm full of connections...With people all several hundred miles to the north and outside the city."
"...I'm really good with this sword...."
"If nothing else and you prove useless to us, at least that fancy looking sword probably covers the cost of your assassination."
"My lady. Go to hell."
" So how are we gunna make munny? "
" To my knowledge, Hell isn't buyin' anything I don't still need. So that's right out. "
" Stealing wasn't above the rules... but I don't think that's what they want us to do. Maybe something successful? Makes them money? And by them.. I mean us. "
"By all accounts we've little in the way of trade acumen and more in line with thievery and fighting. If the resident weasel isn't full of droppings and is as he claims an awakened, that makes two of us. Surely we can find some task we can handle that others cannot, at least not for the price we would charge."
" Can't leave though and Can't harm anyone directly... so what are you thinkin'? I mean, I might be able to find a job or two but it likely isn't going to be high payin' and if it is we ain't takin' it. "
"So we create our own work. Make a problem that needs handling, but we're the problem all along, yeah?"
" Isn't that called.. a scheme? a con? Are those not punished by the law sometimes.. I mean, they said if we don't get caught its fine... but if we do and it doesn't make profit... "
"So we make sure to turn a profit then? My lovely lady unless you have a different plan or have the ability to suddenly produce sets of fine china out of your extremities, we have little else to go on."
" No not today. "
" Lay the plan on us then, Oh' wise ones. I half expected her to do it, surprise; surprise. "
Quinn'Del shrugs, "Hells if I know, I just got to this city. If we can't leave the city that means no outlying villages to prey on. We need to create a crisis for someone here in the city."
"Thievery? Steal something important, but maybe not too heavily guarded? Then we come in to be the ones to find it?"
"As much as it pains me to mention, we could also try to overthrow a small time gang as well, could we not?"
"Overt assassination maybe frowned on, but Vraelick mentioned using connections. If we became the head of a gang, and then used that gang to carry out our hits, that would still be fair game I believe?"
" Right , Right I see what you are gettin' at. The only problem is time. If we had say... a month that would a bit more feasible. With a few day though? I'm not seeing it being that worth if our asses can get to the top quickly. I mean, its a start, I'm sure there are people who wold pay to put any local scumbags down while we do this. I'm just thinking our back-up be something that also creates dosh automatically. Somehow. "
"..We can't kill our competitors..But...Vraelick said nothing about maiming or knocking them out? We could just rob them all? I don't know I'm coming up with very little. What about you, Peanuts?"
Delara looked in her own little world. The mind shifting between reality and imagination for glimpses at a time. Sure a short-term solution to the problem was needed, but it wouldn't be ideal as the situation changing could make it deadly in another round.. IF there is another round.
Her consciousness came to reality when the mention of her current snack was voiced upon the wind. She almost woke out of a Daze.
" Wait, what did you say? Peanuts where? My name is Delara.. I thought I told you that? "
Words flowed into her head as the mind filtered the conversations of previous minutes. Her realization dawned once more.
" If either of them are good with their weapons... they might kill people by accident. "
She motioned to the male compatriots.
Jaahnby claps his hands together, "Well consider this. Everyone has 250 gold pieces and has yet to spend them, murder is the most profitable right this moment."
"Suppose we break the rules and do kill our opponents, that's 250 gold per head. Surely some common thugs would be willing to take credit for the deed for a fraction of that amount. Hell, maybe we even charge Them! Aren't gangs and the like always looking to frame some upstart or troublemaker, would be a convenient way to do it."
"I'm pondering how the Syndicate expects us to turn a profit in such a short time in a legal way. Or was the goal always to get us to be criminals?" says Quinn resting her head in her hand.
"I suppose a crafter would have little trouble, but even a trader, what can you really do locked in the city?"
" But they said they aren't paying us for murder. And they have people watching us. "
Quinn'Del sighs heavily, "Let's just get outside? We aren't making any money sitting here."
Standing up from his chair Tyr huffed at the surrounding air. A sense of creeping over the situation. Well, it wouldn't get any better sitting here. Moving past the dark skinned woman, the Wyvern smirked and kicked his feet forward.
" Let's mosey along then. Stick as a group though, I have a bad feeling about this whole situation. There are likely fools just like the podium-hugger said, those dumb enough to skirt the rules anyway "
Tyr shook his head at the thought, " I don't plan to make us the prey to start it. "
The four of you make your way past several tables of your competitors, many of them still seated huddled together, much as yourselves were moments before, obviously forming their own plans in how best to proceed.
Of the few who pry themselves away from talks to take notice of your passing gives the lot of you a dubious glare.
Entering into the Syndicate's antechamber, you find Recruiter Vraelick once again in conversation with subordinate members of the Clan.
"Ah, the first to take their leave. I wonder, out of eagerness or fear?"
Vraelick shakes his head, "No matter, my business is concluded here for the night, best of luck to you all." he finishes, heading towards the exit of the Syndicate and into the city before stopping short of the door and speaks once more to his subordinates without turning to address them.
"...Brand them." he states, before exiting the Clan hall.
Tyr snickered, any sane person would be leaving for equal parts fear, eagerness and practicality. The sound of branding however, he drew some alarm to.
While it was not uncommon for Mercenary Bands or Military groups to have you sworn in with ink or sigil, no such thing was indicated in the rules provided. Tyr was especially on guard.
" I don't think so. That wasn't part of the agreement. Honor, obligation, procedure or not. "
One servant steps forwards, "First to leave, always branded, insurance; untrustworthy, either too smart or too stupid."
"Succeed, brand go away." states the man, whose eyes bely an intelligence not present in his speech.
" What does the brand do then? Anyone can just leave, why not brand everyone? "
She spoke in a half-there way.
"Dumb ones all get same idea. Rob Syndicate to join Syndicate. Brand make nonsense impossible."
Jaahnby whispers to the group, "Damn, that is a good idea too."
Tyr sighed.
" I guess we'll be needing that. Dammit, I didn't ask for any of this. Hurry up and get it over with we have money to make and lives to live. It might only be Three days at this rate. "
The scaled man stuck his hand out.
" So is it magic or ... ? "
" Oh ... That makes sense then. Though we aren't that dumb. I wanna die old and rich. Not quick. Or slow and painful. "
She seemed to have migrated to a stick-like treat made of tree-fiber and meat. Chewing incessantly.
"Magic. Yes. Only magic still do." says the man as he begins tracing symbols of energy into the air.
"Once big wizard. Best maybe. Leader of Keys one day they say. Then head smashed in by mace. Healer save me, brain good. But words not working anymore. Symbols still working though." he concludes as an inky trail writhes it's way from the symbols and into each of your hands, leaving the mark of a black hollow triangle.