Zoreck looks at his friends and raises an eyebrow.
They say that honesty is the best policy... especially with something that can read your mind. Well, here goes!
"Thank you the audience, Mr. Sarlu. I'm gonna to lay our cards on the table. We were all kidnapped from our homeworlds and brought here against our will. We managed to fight for our freedom, but now we've got no way to return. Nobody in Zel-Argose had ever heard of any of our homeworlds, so we've been trying to settle into new lives here as best as we can. Recently, we heard some rumors that there may be some kind of library of worlds on the other side of the Red Gate. It's a longshot, but we're hoping to use that information to find our way back to our homes."
...don't mention the Jagdeline... don't mention the Jagdeline...
Drancis gives Zoreck a quick look of alarm, as the barbarian opens up honestly with their host. Still, nothing to be done now...he reflects briefly.
"Zoreck speaks truly Mr. Sarlu. We have taken to a mercenary lifestyle to cover our expenses whilst we search for a way back to our home. We are willing to bargain for the privilege to access your Gate." Drancis adds carefully.
Locke shrugs at Drancis as if in apology for Zoreck and adds his own two coins, "As for me, my interest is in finding my friends a way back home while living some adventure. It seems I myself have come to enjoy the wider universe and have little desire to stop travelling it. I would say a group like us who has no interest in taking any of the riches you may want from the other side of the Gate is the perfect group to send."
As the friends respond to the disembodied voice, they experience the strangest feeling - as if someone was in their heads, mulling over the truth of what they are saying... soon enough the intrusion ends and the silky voice purrs "I appreciate your candour and empathise with your current needs. However, before granting you access to the gate, I do require an equitable exchange of services. Two simple tasks... You may perform the first here, within this very compound. Oulek will provide the details, and, once you’ve demonstrated your capabilities in dealing with it, return here and we’ll discuss the second job"
...and with that, the voice at the friends' ear disappears - and there is a gentle rippling in the murky pool.
Rikkan wasn't sure what the ripple in the water of the pool meant, but he wasn't going to stay close enough to be on the wrong end of it. He moved away from the pool to the other side of the room. "Guys, I think that task might be coming from the pool," he whispers.
It's fairly obvious that Rikkan's observation is correct - that the voice introducing itself as Mr Sarlu did indeed originate from the pool... but it has fallen silent for now. Oulek, who had remained silent through the previous discussion, clicks at the group, "Please... if you would, follow me..."
...and so, leading the group back into the reception area and then on to another room - a crescent shaped chamber with a similarly defined pool skirting the western wall - Oulek continues, "To be as powerful as Mr Sarlu does not happen without upsetting some people... two renegade associates of the coterie left a savage beast in this pool, rendering it unusable, as a vengeful message for Mr. Sarlu. I regret to say that the beast took the first guard that it encountered... and, since then, we've had the chamber sealed off".
...and, as Oulek talks, the dorsal fin of what looks like a particularly large eel cuts along the surface of the murky pool.
Drancis raises his eyebrows at the sight of the eel, the implications clear that the eel needed to be taken care of.
Sounds like Mr. Sarlu needs to hire better guards...or this room is used to test those he wishes to employ.
"So...you want us to take care of this...eel?" Drancis looks back to their host Oulek trying -- unsuccessfully -- to read its body language.
Oulek's tentacles quiver a little, "Yes... it seems that Mr Sarlu's normal help is not up to the task... we would appreciate it if you were to deal with this issue..."
"Certainly isn't much room to move around in here. My bombs will hurt us more than the creature. Any bright ideas?"
"I can use my...talents to pull the eel out of the water. Once out of the water then it should be easy prey." Drancis adds as he stares at the surface of the water. "Of course, we need to lure it to the surface first..."
Mayenyi looks displeased by the task set, but also somewhat relieved. I thought it would be something worse. Although, this is just the first "task"...
It seems that the eel instinctively knows that there is prey near the water's edge... whilst the pool was relatively calm as Oulek - who has already retreated away from the room - brought them to their first 'task', the water now splashes and ripples with small waves as the predator repeatedly breaks the surface...
Rikkan pulls an extract, ready to use it once the enemy becomes aggressive.
Zoreck draws his pistol and cocks the hammer, pointing it at the pool as he enters the room.
"It'll be like shooting fish in a barrel... Actually, almost exactly like that... Drancis, I'll fire once you've pulled it out."
He points the pistol at the eel in the pool.
Grit: 2/2
Mythic Power: 5/5
Bullets: 18
Powder: 18
Alchemical cartridges: 10
"Sure thing Zoreck..." Drancis nods in reply as he prepares to lift the large eel out of the water...
The first time that Drancis pulls the eel to the surface, Zoreck's shot blows a grievous wound into its body. The eel crashes back into the pool and dives downwards, away from its attackers and towards safety... Oulek clicks, if the group seem to falter, to remind them of the task given... and Drancis and Zoreck repeat their deadly routine until the eel floats limp and dead within the water...
With Oulexk guiding them, the group return to Mr Sarlu's audience chambers... and the voice at the ears of the friends returns, "Well done! You’re quite resourceful. And just the kind of individuals I need for this final effort. A few days ago, some disgruntled employees of mine stole something precious to me and now they hold it for an extortionate fee. I caught two of the miscreants — you may have come across them when you first entered my home", there is a 'feeling' that sounds like chuckling before the voice continues, "And I discovered a former lieutenant named Basher and his remaining accomplices are trying to hire more muscle before coming here to return my property and collect their ruinous ransom. I’d like you to convince them to hire the lot of you, earn their trust, and then turn on them when Basher attempts the exchange. I have no intention of paying his ransom, but I want my property back—and, for his betrayal, Basher must pay with his life"
"With all due respect, that seems like a really elaborate plan. Wouldn't it be easier to find him, take your property back and conclude your business then, rather than lure him into some exchange situation..."
The voice, liquid and rippling, replies to Rikkan, "What was stolen is priceless... and fragile. I need to know that it is undamaged and I need the exchange to take place on my terms. It must happen here..."
Drancis' voice lights up in recognition, as Mr. Sarlu provides the details of the encounter with the rival gang. "Well, the fact we...dealt with those gang members already does complicate things, but still," His eyes glow fiercely, "we have talked our way through worse. And we do have a score to settle with them!"
"So... lure your enemies here with the... item you seek by pretending to let them hire us as added muscle. And then attack them. And in exchange, you'll let us use the Red Gate?" Zoreck looks at his friends and nods. He looks back at Sarlu. "Just so that we know enough not to endanger your property in the inevitable fight... what is it and what does it look like?"
Rikkan listened quietly. Clever question by Zoreck. Doubt he'll tell us much, but every little bit would help.
Giving the impression of growing a little impatient, the voice whispers "Bring me what is mine and you shall be granted access to the Red Gate... it is agreed. The item they have stolen from me, if it has been well cared for, is likely within a crate - probably quite large... it is crucial to my business that it be returned safely". It seems unlikely that Mr Sarlu is going to say anymore on this matter... "If we are agreed then Oulek will give you some more detail..."
The voice disappears as if a connection has been lost and Oulek fusses forwards, "Before they fell into the pool back there, Basher's accomplices told us much... your target is actively recruiting aid at Baeboli’s Emporium, a sordid bar in Zel-Argose near the Skytalon and the Grabel-Quoke marketplace. You will no doubt find him there... convince him to recruit you and accompany him on his return to Mr Sarlu's home".
The creature's tentacles quiver somewhat, "It is understood?"
"I suppose it is indeed. We'll be off, then, assuming you don't need anything from us," Rikkan agrees, as he turns to leave.
Drancis nods silently as he turns to follow Rikkan, his expression a little unsure. It sounds like Mr. Sarlu is not being entirely forthcoming here...we definitely need to be careful when we deal with Basher and his men. I wonder whether we can learn more from him...
Zoreck nods, realizing that he's not going to get much more out of their new employer. "Alright, then. We're in. We go to Baeboli's Emporium, and try to get ourselves hired as more of Basher's goons. We then return here with him, and the prize, and then kill him."
Oulek bubbles as it escorts the group out, "Know that Basher is easily flattered... and fascinated by magic". Oulek also gives the group a cue for when they should strike down Basher’s crew at the exchange, indicating that he’ll speak the phrase “Basher, you may have played this dangerous game well today, but sooner or later you will make an error”.
Zoreck racks his memory for the name 'Basher' but recalls nothings - he does however remember something of Baeboli; the owner of the 'Emporium' disappeared several months ago and the Lath-Tom coterie, has taken a controlling stake in the business. Heading to their destination, the group enter a particularly unsavoury part of town... and easily find the building - a large domed structure of molded gray stone with its broad, windowless, door offering just a single entry point. A number of words in a rainbow of colors and alphabets pulses like a heartbeat above the door, each one spelling out: BAEBOLI’S EMPORIUM.
The door to the building glides open easily with a pull on the metallic handle, allowing a cacophony of drumbeats and wildly meandering music to pour forth from the low-lit interior. Entering an ill-lit anteroom the group almost stumble over two drunken patrons sitting crookedly against the east wall. To the north, a broad opening leads onto the emporium’s main floor, where every manner of sentient creature indulges in vices both legal and otherwise. Standing impassively at a tall table in the centre of this opening stands a heavily muscled, simian-faced humanoid, clad in cracked leather armor, his arms crossed over his chest and wearing a look of boredom and contempt.
Once the group is outside, Mayenyi speaks up. "I hate everything about this," she mutters darkly.
"We have to get to that gate. That's the major goal. We have to do what we have to do," Rikkan explains to the chlorvian.
Once they reach the bar, Rikkan waits for one of the more diplomatic members to make the approach.
"Rikkan is right. The Gate is our ultimate goal here, and I am willing to do...anything in order to get Andretta -- and me -- home! If that means breaking a few skulls," Drancis nods fervently, "then so be it."
Zoreck chuckles as he enters the seedy establishment. "Reminds me of the Gold Goblin back in Riddleport. I used to think this was my find of place."
As the group make their way towards the bar, the large simian holds up his hand, "Weapons please... we've got a strict policy here at Baeboli's - you can leave whatever you're carrying here... but you don't go in carrying". The stern look on the creature's face makes it clear that this isn't a point of negotiation...
"No problem," Rikkan says as he hands over his dagger, and calmly moves by the simian. He doesn't volunteer any of the alchemical weapons, as he hopes the simian creature doesn't know enough to ask for hose as well. Hopefully he thinks they are potions!
Drancis nods in reply, "Of course, we don't want any trouble," as he hands over his spear, dagger, crossbow, and his beloved brace of knives.
Fortunately there is one weapon he cannot disarm from me... Drancis reflects even as he affixes in his mind where the simian stores their weapons.
Locke shrugs casually and hands over his greataxe and longbow, "Take good care of them would you? A reliable weapon is hard to come by." He worries little of confrontation with Drancis and Mayenyi at his side. His own minor skills with magic don't hurt his confidence either.
Mayenyi hands across her spear as well. She keeps hold of her shield unless they ask for it, though it's not currently on her arm.
Zoreck sighs derisively as the doorman demands he hand over his weapons. "Fine." He hands over his longsword, shortsword, daggers, hand axe, spur rifle, and finally his pistol. "I get a receipt for that, right?"
The simian grunts in a neutral appreciation as various weapons are handed over - to those who passed weapons in, he issues a chit that pulsates with the same garish colours that the whole of Baeboli's appears to be illuminated with, "In you go then... you can collect your weapons on the way out".
And so, moving into Baeboli's proper, a long sunken bar runs the length of this cavernous chamber, crowded with a diversity of strange, dodgy patrons. Diaphanous clouds of smoke rise toward the domed ceiling overhead where multicolored lights blink and pulse from hanging globes. Upholstered booths line the length of the east wall, while open tables stand to the west. The noise of jarring music and a hundred different conversations poses a challenge to communicating here.
The group, walking through the bar, attract little interest - there are many races here and the group's ethnicity alongside their ease within Zel-Argosian culture means that Zoreck and the others seem to 'fit in'. It isn't long though before Mayenyi, the only woman in the group now, is attracting a little too much interest from a pair of inebriated Auttaine, "Buy you a drink love? We can show you a good time!!! Got some good powders here!!!"
Drancis shoots the Auttaine a glare, before he glances to Mayenyi for assistance.
I will allow her to defend herself here...unless she wants a gentleman to stand up for her...
Rikkan looks around and decides to approach the bartender. "Looking for Basher. Hear he's looking for a crew, and I've got some mates that have a resume to drop off for him, so to speak.". The ratfolk takes out a god coin and slides it over the bar, as he stands on his tippy toes to see over it.
Locke takes in a deep breath, "Ah! The smell of drunkards, desperation and deplorables." He shoots the pair of Auttaine a look to imply he speaks of them specifically. Either they walk away or they start a fight. If they start a fight well... Consider it another item on our resume for Basher.
Mayenyi eyes the auttaine with a flicker of interest at first, but the mention of "powders" twists her features into a disgusted sneer. "Parasitic blighters," she mutters, turning away resolutely and focusing on the bartender, right at Rikkan's shoulder.
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Looking around for threats, Zoreck walks with a calm confidence to the bar. He orders a loacl spirit that he's tried before and become somewhat fond of. "Taarakian brandy. Neat. Make it a double." He lays five gold coins on the table and slides them toward tha bartender. "And let Basher know that there's a crew at the bar who've heard that he's looking to hire."
The barkeeper, an auttaine with a cybernetic arm clearly on display, slides Rikkan's coin deftly into his pocket, "Basher? Yeah he's here today... private room up beyond the bar". Seeing the men giving Mayenyi unwanted attention, the auttaine sneers at them, "Settle down lads... lady here don't want your company". Already serving the next customer, the auttaine points to an opened door at the far end of Baeboli's - and as Zoreck offers more money, the barkeeper shakes his head, "You can make your own introductions fellow... less I have to deal with that braggart the better for me".
Three wooden tables and a large, angular couch fill the private room that the group are directed to. Two rodent-faced figures sit at one of the tables, nibbling from a platter of cheese and yeast-filled bread while sipping on berry-scented wine from slender glasses. A shaggy-haired bahgra sits on the couch, downing the contents of a frothy mug before ravenously feasting on a platter of barely-roasted meats. He looks up momentarily and barks, “Are you the jugglers I ordered?” He holds the haunch of meat before his muzzle, hair and hands greasy as a bit of fat falls from the bone, “Well, don’t just stand there—juggle!”
"We are much better than just jugglers, best believe. If you are the one known as Basher, we've come to seek employment. We've heard all about you, and you seem to be just the boss we can to cast our lot with. Hopefully, if this works out, we can all juggle quite a lot of gold coins.". Rikkan tries to act brave through his blister, but with the group being weaponless, this could get hairy.
"My rat-friend here speaks truly," Drancis adds with as much confidence as he can muster, "We have heard you have the eyes and ears of those above and the means to gather wealth and power. While I am a passable juggler, I think we can help each other here with more than just idle entertainment."
Zoreck grins, trying to hint at a touch of madness. He deadpans, "The last thing I juggled were the heads of my enemies. It was... messy."
He pauses and adds, "We hear you are hiring."
Mayenyi's frown seems carved into the bark of her face. She says nothing for the moment, not wanting her distaste for the mission or the men before her to become too evident.
Locke feels his friends have already said enough and simply stands at Zoreck's side, attempting to look intimidating with a tilt of his head and a mad gleam in his eyes.
Basher responds to the suggestion that he is hiring with a dismissive belch, “Too late! Don’t need any more help. Already hired a couple of mercs to do the job! Now, unless one of you is actually going to juggle for me, you can all shove off!” Basher's rebuttal draws high-pitched titters from his ratfolk minions.