The town of Longacre sits just outside the fringes of the Whisperwood. A few lights shine in the streets and windows, and the occasional snippet of conversation or laughter issues from open doors, but here on the outskirts of town, the night is quiet and dark. Sparse clouds scud across the sky, momentarily obscuring the dim light from the moon overhead. Across a scrubby field, barely distinguishable under the starry sky, a darkened, fortlike compound hunches in the distance.
Cimri points toward the dim structure.
“That’s it--Louslik Tannery. Here’s the job: We break in, sack Ol’ Louslik’s office, take whatever’s shiny in lieu of unpaid taxes, and get out before the sheriff shows up. If we get separated, meet back at the Ash House by dawn.”
Dull moonlight glints across her dagger as she flicks it in emphasis. “If you get pinched, remember: you’re mute. Keep your mouth shut, and I’ll handle things. I got assurances that we won’t take any blame if things go south. But get chatty and I’ll let you rot.” A beat passes and her usual crooked smirk appears. “If you don’t screw things up, we’ll all be drinking on Razelago’s coin come dawn. Let’s do this.”
You gathered at the appointed time, an hour after sunset, at the Ash House. Either directly or through one of your acquaintances, you'd been contacted by Cimri and asked to meet her at the Ash House for a job.
The Ash House is an old manor just northwest of town. It's a dilapidated structure, having martially burned down nearly sixty years ago. It's sole redeeming quality is that it's outside town and beyond prying eyes.
Cimri is there waiting for you in the darkness provided by a copse of trees and bushes perhaps forty feet from the house.
After about two years under this arrangement, something happened. Usually it was Cimri getting into trouble, but one night Annari got drunk and was arrested for belligerence and public drunkenness. The next day, Annari and Jaks left town to work at a lumbercamp on the other side of the Whisperwood. Cimri was to stay with her aunt.
In the five years since, Cimri has been a troublemaker, in and out her aunt's jail. But, as much of a backwater as Longacre may be, Cimri is known for having an ear to the town's secrets. For those who take take kindly to the town's buttoned down, Iomadae-worshipping ways, she has been a good contact and entertaining companion.
After you gather, she begins to explain. "Thanks for coming. I know most of you. If I don't, you've been vouched for. Here's the deal. You know I keep my ears and eyes open for opportunities. Well, I got one. A new employer with connections to Egorian looking for strong -- and smart -- folks to help keep Longacre in the warm embrace of the Thrunes. For us, there's a nice chunk of coin to be had, and the promise of more jobs to come."
She lets that sink in for a minute, casting a glance over all of you. She's excited and has a bit of nervous energy about her. It's not hard to tell: she thinks she's finally found her way out of this rathole.
"You probably know ol' Louslik, the tanner. Well, it turns out he hasn't been paying his taxes. Apparently he thinks with this 'Glorious Reclamation' rising, Longacre is going to be throwing off its association with Cheliax, so he ain't payin'. My boss wants to send a message. Not just to him, but all of Longacre. Pay up, or else. But the good sheriff is above this, apparently, so... here we are." The angry curl to her lips when she mentions the sheriff conveys plenty about her thoughts.
"If this was a simple heist, I could do it myself." Probably true, as Cimri is known as a decent lockpicker and thief. "But my boss wants the place smashed. And if Louslik or any employees are there, I want some help. So, how about it? You in?"
Ingrid’s tail swished back and forth in anticipation, a sure tell that she had never managed to quite get rid of. The dwarf smiled, showing her teeth. They were all sharp. Sharp enough to easily rip through flesh. As sharp as her fingers, which all ended in claws.
”If this was a simple heist, then it wouldn’t serve the Glory of Asmodeus, would it?” She asked. The mark of archstar was clearly visible on her hand. She had come here on the orders of her superiors, to expand the dominion of the Prince of Hell. Something which she was glad to do, through any means necessary.
Looking away from Ingrids swishing tail which she had been wathcing in the manner of a cat with a mouse a cheerful female voice pipes in, wickedly spiked chains adorn this lean figure, and gaps in the bindings reveal deathly pale flesh etched with jagged scars. "So when you say 'the *place* smashed' does that include the fleshbag tanner? If we *can* smash him how smashed can we smash him? I'm good at keeping things alive during smashing."
In a lazy drawl with a Adoran accent a lounging figure, well dressed in Celaxian military uniform, joins the conversation "Now, now little one. We can't be too eager, we've hardly meet these nice folk." his reprimade is kind and almost loving "though I aamm running low on personal supplies." he adds before taking a long draft from a silver flask, what ever is contained within leaves a red stain on his lips which is swiftly cleaned with a tongue revealing long pointed incisors in the process. "Hail the Dark Prince by the way. Karik lazily traces a pentagram in the air with one finger.
Cimri gazes at the eidolon, not fully comprehending what it is but not entirely caring either, and answers to all of you, ”The job isn’t to kill him, it’s to send a message. That said, I wasn’t told not to kill him, either.”
A stocky middle aged Chelaxian woman with a rough array of scars and wiry short black hair gives Cimri a slow smile. She lets the nervous troublemaker speak through her mission, approaching the whole time. As Cimri wraps up, Vivia reaches over and pinches her cheek "Oh aren't you a cute little entrepreneur!~" She grins "Brogol, your friend's adorable-" and raises a hand at Cimri's almost inevitable posturing and protest "-I mean that in the best way possible dear. You've got a real sense for climbing up in the world. I knew plenty of fellas who never even grasped that there was something better than cutting purses to be had. You, you've got the hunger."
She sways back, thumbs through belt loops, and spends a moment looking at the group. She herself looks the part of mercenary. Her thick leathers are eminently practical, as is the tarnished steel scythe that is slung across her back. Despite her age, she's still built strong.
She looks back at Cimri "Vivia Nens, by the way." She casts a line out at the group "Brogol I know already, but the rest of you have names? Work-names are fine."
"Karik at your service. Some call me 'Blood-drinker' but I have often felt that somewhat, needlessly dramatic, though admittedly accurate. This little ray of sunshine is Vaelor.
I have never seen the appeal of cutting purses m'self. Seems far to much work and unreliability for far to little reward." Karik touches a forelock disinterestedly without sitting up.
"Yay! That means we can hurt him!" The feindish figure bounces over to Vivia as Karik introduces her and goes to give Vivia a warm hug spying the Scythe as she does so (Assuming this doesn't end badly).
"Oooo, thats pretty. Can I have a look?"
Without waiting for a response she quickly leans forward and licks the blade.
”Ingrid. Here to bring the blessings of the Prince.” She smiled, showing her wickedly sharp teeth again. ”Speaking of which. Viva, was it? Would you like his blessing? It will last but one minute. All you need to do is touch my hand and say that you will use it for the glory of Asmodeus. Which our job will do, so there is no lie.”
Vivia holds Vaelor at arm's length, eyeing the spiked chains covering her with skepticism. "Didn't your overly literal master teach you not to impale friends?"
She holds up a hand in refusal to Ingrid "That sounds wonderful dear, and you have quite the fervor. But I make it a rule not to accept dubious 'blessings' from strangers. Hells, I had a mate way back when that went through a whole ceremony to get some kind of powerful blessing. Turns out all he got was syphilis." She snorts.
Vaelor rises to her full (but not impressive height) "I'll have you know some friends like impaling." she says poking her tongue out at Vivia.
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A young woman of perhaps twenty years of age stifles a laugh. She has long, straight brown hair and olive skin. Despite being fit and pretty enough, something seems--off.
She carries a cranium, which is mostly devoid of skin and hair, at her belt. Her cloak is the red and black of Asmodeus, with the Archstar in the center of the back. However, a gaudy green and purple argyle shows through on the inner side of the cloak. She wears the symbol of Asmodeus at her neck. She looks like she is about to burst out laughing, but suddenly strikes a tremendously serious expression.
"Yes, all hail the Prince of Princelings! That's the one we all serve, or else! Law and order--we will bring all of this to Longacre, or my name isn't Eris Seven-veils!" She stifles a giggle.
She abruptly turns serious again. "My father is from Longacre," she says, patting the cranium at her belt. "Isn't that right, Daddy-O? I was looking for that war hero, Tealan Ruckleer, but he doesn't seem to be at home quite yet. Plus, when my dad grew up here, this tanner killed my dad's calf and made boots out of it, so I'm here to get even. Well, maybe more than even--interest has been accruing! AH HA HA HAAAA!"
Karik sees no reason to distrust Eris, well except the pealed skull
Vivia heads over to the skull-carrying girl and claps a hand on her shoulder. "Alright girl, be straight with us. You're here for the Hospice, and just got yourself a little turned around. No shame in that, we'll get you out of this dusty manor and back where you wanted to go in the first place."
She looks over at Cimri "Unless you invited her? In which case, well." She shrugs. In Cheliax's military, you didn't want to be put on the same team as the loons. Mercenary missions sometimes doubled as disposal projects that way. Of course, that was then, and this was now. Different job, different standards.
-------Two Hours Earlier--------
More jobs, Brogol thinks, pulling his cloakhood low, over his face. The driver had left his wide-brimmed hat at home - such as it was - thrown hastily into the back of Brogol's carriage, which was serving as the young man's bedroom, he having long ago moved out of his step-father's house, and his sisters needing their privacy as they'd grown into young adulthood.
More jobs is good, but this crew? Looking around, Brogol felt decidedly pedestrian. His most striking feature was perhaps his ordinariness. Shorter than most of his people, he was also broader, but Brogol was not particularly strong - instead, his wide frame was simply wide. He had a swarthiness to his features that was only noticeable in that it marked him as clearly Varisian, but he would not have stood out in say, Magnimar or Korvosa nearly as much as he did in Longacre, or Westcrown for that matter.
Still, he positively blended compared to some of his companions. The dwarf was clearly some sort of devil, as was the... devil-creature that served the military man, Karik, who looked like death walking. Devils were not uncommon in Cheliax, even if they were in Longacre, but Brogol had never been so close to one. Unconsciously, he found himself gravitating towards the human women. The girl, Eris, was pretty enough, but with a scalp dangling from her belt, obviously troubled. She'd be the one to keep an eye on, more so than even the devil-creature, who at least knew it had a master.
In the short time they'd known each other, Vivia seemed dependable and tough. Brogol was glad Cimri had agreed to have her along on this job. Cimri, Brogol's childhood friend, played the part of the gutter punk well, even if she was protected from any true consequences by her relation to the sheriff. A relation which Brogol decided to not mention at the moment. Instead, he fished for some information in a more round-about manner.
"Cimri, why's the sheriff above doing her job then? Seems to me enforcing the law is exactly what Rhona should be spending her time on, the Thrune's will and all that."
At the mention of "smashing" the tanner, Brogol frowns. "I'll step on the neck anyone needs it, but dead men don't pay taxes, and maimed men can't earn money. Cimri, your boss want the message and the coin, or just the message?"
-------Two Hours Earlier--------
Brogol's frown turns deeper. Eris was clearly not being entirely honest, and she was sane enough to hide her true intentions. Brogol wasn't sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing.
-------Now--------
"Ingrid, I'll take a blessing, as long as it isn't too painful - or permanent. Before we do so, though, perhaps we should look around?"
Slipping into the shadows, Brogol winds around the tannery, looking to get a better idea of the tannery's layout, the presence of any guards or workers, and any other information that may be relevant to their job.
"I'll step on the neck anyone needs it, but dead men don't pay taxes, and maimed men can't earn money.
Vaelor smiles in an unnerving way. "Oh don't worry. I'm very very good at keeping things just right. Not too hard, not too soft."
Karik chuckles "You need not concern yourself on that account Mr Brogol. My little one don't kill people unless I ask her too but she can ensure the message gets around."
Vaelor nods enthusiastically, making the chains jingle and visibly dig into her skin
"Thats right Mr Brogol sir. I'm always very careful. I won't let the team down!"
As soon as she had walked in, Raziya had glided over to Cimri to give the Longacre tough an almost proprietary double cheek kiss, which she knew full well Cimri barely tolerated.
Raziya wasn't dressed for violence; instead wearing a long clean dress of white linen that she thought nicely set off the umber tones of her skin and her long, dark hair. Mischief danced in her eyes as she tried to decide who paid enough attention to be surprised that she was one of Cimri's contacts.
Raziya's beaming smile hid the frustration behind her eyes. Of course it's the damned tanner. Probably assumed that since every right-thinking person with a nose avoids them that they'd get away with it. Should have realized they'd have something to hide, should have already put the legwork in. Now it'll have to be a rush job, and that can mean a lot of mess.
"I am Raziya Magaalye," she enunciated in a prim Egorian accent. "Though I'd rather avoid calling on any favors from above merely to deal with a misplaced word to the Sheriff, so please use some discretion when we're around unfriendly ears."
A look of bland curiosity crossed her face as she got a clearer look at Eris's preserved cranium, but she demurred from any overt response to her macabre accoutrement.
Karik and Vaelor received a pleased nod and a hand slowly trailed along the back of Vaelor's skull, At least one pair of professionals, good, and her fellow Urgathoan, Vivia received an expression of true warmth. "So," Raziya said, pointing an immaculately filed nail vaguely at Ingrid. "You're clearly the muscle, which would make Brogol here...let me think... the scapegoat?" She gave a smile wicked enough to be pleasantly teasing or ruthlessly mocking. "No shame in that, dear, we all have our strengths."
Vaelor almost purrs at the affection.
Between Vivia’s and Raziya’s infantilizing of her, Cimri is thankful for the shadows that conceal the angry red flush in her cheeks. She chooses to ignore it and focused on the business at hand, nodding to Brogol.
”I’m not sure why he’s not going to the sheriff but you know she’s got a soft spot for anti-Egorian sentiments. Plus, if she did do a collection, it would be quiet and on the side. We need to send a message. But you’re right, dead men don’t pay taxes.” She frowns slightly then shrugs, ”He was vague on that detail and I didn’t ask. Since he didn’t mention it, I’m sure we can do as we like. I get the sense he, uh, is very ‘by the letter’, and if the letter of his instructions didn’t touch on this...” She shrugs again. The message is pretty clear: she thinks the decision and consequences are up to the group.
"You're in this too, are you Raziya? At this rate its going to turn into a bit of fun. A regular night on the town." Vivia smirks, giving the half-elf a wink.
Getting down to business at last, Vivia asks "So this boss of yours, anyone we know? Anyone we'd want to know? And what kind of payment is trickling down the chain from them to you and from you to us?" She fixes Cimri with a stare "You can be honest, you know dear. I won't hold it against you keeping the dragons share for yourself."
"As for the tanner, Brogol's got things straight. No sense doing more than scaring the s*!% out of the man. That way we leave the door open to doing this again in a couple months."
"Unless he resists. Then," She shrugs "Things happen."
Cimri locks eyes with Vivia, returning the stare for a moment, then shrugs. "Yeah, fine. My payment is 200. A hundred for the job, another hundred for recruiting you. If the boss likes you, it's my finders fee."
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Vivia heads over to the skull-carrying girl and claps a hand on her shoulder. "Alright girl, be straight with us. You're here for the Hospice, and just got yourself a little turned around. No shame in that, we'll get you out of this dusty manor and back where you wanted to go in the first place."
Eris maintains a wide smile and winks at Vivia. "Oh, we can stop by the hospice when we're done. I'm sure I could use some time there. But let me prophecy something: eventually you're all going to need straight jackets!"
As talk turns to the mission, Eris paces back and forth theatrically. "I'm thinking we have plenty of options. One, we sit outside and meow like cats, then beat the crap out of him when he comes out. Two, we light the house on fire and watch it burn. Three, we all walk into the house and don't say anything for as long as possible, just staring at him. Or, my favorite, we go in with no plan whatsoever, and just do what feels the most fun at the time. We have lots of options."
"So," Raziya said, pointing an immaculately filed nail vaguely at Ingrid. "You're clearly the muscle, which would make Brogol here...let me think... the scapegoat?" She gave a smile wicked enough to be pleasantly teasing or ruthlessly mocking. "No shame in that, dear, we all have our strengths."
Brogol shrugged, his hand tugging unconsciously on his scarf. The woman - Raziya - was dressed for a Thrunie dinner party more than for a smash and grab, which meant she was either very powerful or very unstable or very, very stupid. Regardless, it was best to not be too insulting. "I'm just somebody's good at finding things, and an old friend of Cimri's. Nice dress."
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Brogol shrugged, his hand tugging unconsciously on his scarf. The woman - Raziya - was dressed for a Thrunie dinner party more than for a smash and grab, which meant she was either very powerful or very unstable or very, very stupid. Regardless, it was best to not be too insulting. "I'm just somebody's good at finding things, and an old friend of Cimri's. Nice dress."
Eris moves over to Brogol and grabs his arm, standing a little too close for complete strangers.
"You're good at finding things?! That's my specialty, too! I find all the fun! Let's find some together, shall we?!"
Brogol scratches at his neck, watching the girl with the skull pacing back and forth. "I like option one. A diversion could draw out what we're faced with, and give us the upper hand in an ambush. I'd like to do some recon when we get there though - find out where the tannery's entrances and exits are, if there are guards or workers there, that sort of thing, yeah?"
Taking Eris' arm, as if they are about to go on a - what did the dowager call it - a constitutional, Brogol smiles back. "Happily, miss. I aim to be helpful, and strikes me keeping you entertained is very important."
”It’s settled then. Let’s get this done. When Brogol finishes casing the place we move in. I’ll provide some blessings, to help us put the fear of the Prince into the man. As dead men can’t pay, nor can the crippled, we try to leave him emotionally scarred rather than physical. All in all, I like this.”
Vivia whistles "A hundred gold ones for each of us, and an extra hundred for you? This boss of yours has got some deep pockets, if they're willing to drop that much for a smash and grab."
"This tanner running a secret pesh lab in there or something? How much back taxes does he owe that your boss can drop that much on us..." Vivia muses to herself out loud. "Well I'm not going to ask questions with that amount, dear. Let's get our gold." She pats Cimri on the back and nods appreciatively to Brogol, as if to say 'Nice find with this one, kid!'
When Vivia pats Cimri on the back, the thief has a satisfied smile and winks at Vivia. She then nods once, then again, as if to emphasize that a decision has been made. "Good, good. As for the deep pockets, I know. And he's promising more. Gives a sense of how far back Louslik must be on his taxes for it to be worth this much." She pauses, chewing her lip slightly while she thinks, then speculates, "Huh. I wonder maybe if the boss did try to get the sheriff to do something, if the debt's run up this high." Then she shrugs it off. "No matter. If we're decided, let's be on our way."
Standing at the edge of the field with Cimri and the others, you see the tannery in the distance. "I don't know much more than you do. Nobody goes here unless they have to on account of the stink."
Vivia swings herself up into a nearby tree with a grunt and a muttered "Hells, that shouldn't be so hard."
She surveys the site from her perch.
Ingrahild merely remain silent and unmoving, keeping her ears peeled for anything that might be alarming.
"You're in this too, are you Raziya? At this rate its going to turn into a bit of fun. A regular night on the town."
Raziya gives a smile right back that's just a shade more grin than leer, "One can only hope. Though I'd imagine that our benefactor expects to break even at best. Teaching the tanner a lesson is clearly the real point."
Raziya seems to take Brogol at face-value, but her eyes linger on Eris's father for a long beat. If Cimri's gathered her too, then she must be of some use...
***
Stung by her failure to predict the necessary information for this task, Raziya spends some time before the job socializing about town, discretely sliding some questions about Louslik and his tannery, particularly his defenses into her little chats.
***
By nightfall, Raziya has a very different appearance. Rather than her simple, attractive dress, she wears a full suit of scale mail, topped by a helm with a death's head mask. A horseman's mace rests at her belt, and a buckler and crossbow are slung over her back.
”No. No arson, unless it is required.” Ingrahild said, firmly.
”Explosions require fire. Fire burns down buildings. Therefore causing explosions will burn down the building. And alert everyone to our presence, which will be bad for our health. And theirs. And our profits.” Ingrahild explained, slowly and deliberately.
Vivia chuckles at their exchange from her perch in the tree.
"You've got to finish your vegetables before you get any dessert, Miss Eris."
As we surveil the tannery Vaelor looks at Karik and speaks into his mind I really like the little one with the skull. she seems fun '
She siddles up to Eris "Don't worry about the wait. Master always makes sure there's fun in every job. but why would we do an explosion as we walk away? Then we don't get to watch the people burn... that's the tasty bit."
Vaelor looks carefully for inhabitants, hoping for more than one. I can have fun with the spares
When we regroup Karik looks Raziya up and down, taking in her change of clothes "Well how do you do Raziya. You cut a fine figure this evening." he says with a smile
Outside the tannery Karik leans on the tree beneath Vivia half heatedly keeping an eye on the tannery.
He takes a swig from his flask then grimaces and peers inside
"I'd rather not sit on our laurels aalll night. I've nothing left to wet my lips with and I'm still thirsty."
Looking to Eris "Like my darling says, don't you worry your pretty little head, there will be fun aplenty though it sounds like you need to slow yourself down and enjoy the little things. Vaelor has learnt to go from just throwing a bottle of alchemist fire at a building to slowing pouring it onto one person's flesh, drop by drop. Same resources, same fun for her. Less mess too. Its unprofessional to leave a mess. One should always clean up after ones fun, otherwise you won't be asked back."