You are summoned talk to your masters in the Horn of Abaddon (the Lower Temple) Your masters are all arrayed before you.
The scary brute that could snap your neck faster than he could when say “You are dead!”, the one always in a bad mood, the master of the fire-spitting horse.
The one clad in the black metal plate, the sinister looking armor that rumors say it’s a cursed thing that makes the master invincible, the wilder of the firesword, the charming deceiver.
The one always smiling, always… friendly, the one that most likely could kill them all while still smiling. The one responsible for the taking care of things, providing entertainment and god knowns what else…
And finally the noble one, the arrogant one, the one always impatient to return to his just and noble pursuits, the one that barely had the patience to deal with such trifling matters, but the same one that could command devils, summon creatures of the other side, and bound and bind then, the one that always had his devils hidden, watching, spying…
You stand now before your masters. Easily the most powerful people you have met, there is only one certainty. Opposing them is folly. You must obey. And through obedience no doubt they will reward you. Or at least, you hope they will. At last one of them speaks.
“We have a chance for you to prove your worth to us. Within Farholde even now a street preacher, Ezekiel Hawthorn, speaks against us and urges the people to rise and raid the Horn of Abaddon. This must not happen! He must be silenced!”
Another speaks at this point. “This Mitra loving weasel is nothing! He must be slain and made an example! When he is dead then we will be troubled by his voice no longer.”
Again another voice. “No no no. If he is merely slain he will become a martyr. That will only prove the truth of his words. Instead, he must be discredited.”
“Bah! You waste time! Who cares what those worms believe? By the time they summon any courage we will be done with the ritual!”
“Do not speak of the ritual!”
“I mean...we’ll be done with ... whatever we’re doing here. Which is nothing really.” They all pause from their debate and look suspiciously at you. There is a very long and nervous silence that goes on for entirely too long. “So,” says the voice of one your masters finally. “That then is your mission. Silence the street preacher in Farholde. Do not kill him. Instead, discredit him so that the people will not listen to him.”
“And do not leave him alive! Make an example of him! Teach the people of Farholde what it means to fear...”
“Secrecy is of course paramount.”
“Yes, of course.”
“You have your orders! We give to you now some gold for equipment, bribes and so forth. Further, to ensure success, we have assigned our servant the ogre Grumblejack to aid you. You will find him at Lord Drownington’s Manor in Farholde. Now go! And do not fail, my minions, lest we unleash upon ye the full measure of Hell’s wrath!”
You are given 150 gp for this mission and provided with directions to Lord Drownington’s Manor in the low-land portion of Farholde. The Manor is a rough bar in the bad part of town.
Thomas just stares dumbly at the Masters. He's terrified honestly and not sure what he should be doing, outside of punching someone in the face, like that a+!&+*@ Farmer MacCullen.
Bluth knew the Manor - some bad s#@% went down there a while back. But he still had a few favours owed him in that part of town, so it seemed as good a place as any to start.
He straightened his wide brimmed hat and nodded to the others. Well, lets be at it then.