Meet in a Tavern

Syrena too awaits some response from the Nicean sell-sword, Xenophon, to Pireus Tavis' question. She raises a single brow, as the tension weighs in the air. It seems fair to her, but she doesn't feel its her place to make such an agreement without some indication from the leader of the mercenaries that have been gathered for the venture.

Well that couldn't have gotten any easier! From what little he could pick out while eavesdropping, this... venture was just now assembling and planning to head out on some sort of distant business. It's much easier to slide into the scene when the Head Master gives you a part. Now to make sure he doesn't blow it and get caught up by Tapkin and strong-armed into a career with the Packers. I'm their fourth man he says? Clearly Xenophon is scrambling to look good in front of this templar... Gundus he said?

"The Bull, Xenophon. They call me Gennadius The Bull" The Bull? Really Azeni? The templar is going to smell the personating and see right through me. Just because templars hold bulls sacred doesn't mean this guy is going to care one wit what I call myself. They've already given you a job, just tone it down, Azeni. Gennadius internally berates himself as he confidently strides up to the group and executes one of several well practiced formal bows, pulling his slightly thread-worn yellow-citrine robe tight across his chest with his right arm, covering the red-trimmed, green tunic. Why did I just bow to this templar like he was a junior magistrate of the low house? Just fucking relax, Azeni!
"It has been the family trade for as long as I can remember." Shit, wait, was he talking about singing or whatever he is hiring Xenophon for? Crap, I probably just made myself sound like an idiot. "There is also my undefeated record in the arena here in Amanuctum as well as in Aura," he says, putting just a little emphasis on the capital city. "I've also picked up a few things from some faithful Keepers. I'm near quite as good at healing wounds as I am at inflicting them." He holds one fist up, as if brandishing a sword, and the other hand out with palm up as if it held a poultice.

"You seem like a fascinating fellow yourself, Gundus. How did you find your place with Türas?"

Xenophon accepts the offered cup of brandy and raises it to salute. "To good swords and good apples," he says. "Thank you for your hospitality." He knows and admires this man's fearsome reputation and power, rising from a place of dishonor through blood.

Xenophon listened to the Pireus. Now this man was dangerous, but he was also a schmuck. To hear him suggest Calus Eramus might go back on his word wasn't any skin off his nose, but if he showed no spine here in defending his patron's honor, that would send a bad message to Danarov. His honor, my blood. This is how it works."Pireus Tapkin, you needn't doubt Calus Eramus's integrity, nor his skill. He is as bold as he is shrewd - this is known by all. I do not hesitate to accept full responsibility of completing this deal should something happen to The Lion*. There's no safer bet in all the gaming houses of Kourithos."

"I agree to your terms, ten percent on transport and fence from the raid. The Packer's Guild is owed their due - this is known by all. But, you will cover the outstanding balance for our extended stay here at the Gullyloft. Consider it an investment in the success of our expedition, and much bigger profits later for the guild."

Xenophon knew that speaking to the Pireus this way was pushing his luck, but you don't become a man like Danarov by playing it safe.

---

* - I took liberty to assume this moniker for Eramus, which is based on the image of his letter in the first post, where it illustrates his personal seal is a lion. We can retcon if that doesn't make sense.

When Tapkin hears Xenophon's acceptance of the terms, he nods his head as if in thoughtful compliment to a well-made choice.

When the agreement is followed by a proposal of zeroing out the house bill, Tapkin's eyes widen a bit and then lock on Xenophon in anger.

"Acceptable," Danarov says. "As you say, the Lion will likely awaken and rise again, back to the hunt. Yet if he does not, life will go on. New lions will emerge from within the Pride."

Danarov makes a short entry in his ledger.

"As for the bill to the House, consider it paid. A bottle of Natasa Brandy to your table, rooms for the night, but I feel sure you can pay as you go from there."

Danarov stands and extends a hand to shake on the deal, first to Xenophon then to Syrena.

Tapkin follows suit right after, dismissing his obvious preference that Xenophon pay the full bill.

"We'll see what you're made of, Xeno!" Tapkin says loudly, pulling Xenophon's hand in hard in rough jest. "Our man Xeno, Ion! HAHAHA!" he laughs aloud and adds a strong clasp on the shoulder.

As Danarov and Syrena are talking, he pulls Xenophon closer. "You're on the boat now, mate," he says. "Where do you want to go?"

A cryptic joke - an offer, a challenge, or a threat of course, if not all at once.

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Xenophon answers, dryly, "To the helm, of course."
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And with that, the last bit of tension ends quickly. Tapkin gives one last sharp laugh, then turns to leave the room. He gives quick orders to the bartender on the way out.

In her turn, Syrena clasps the Ion's offered hand. "Lucrative venture to all!" she praises. "Gratitude for the generosity, Ion Danarovus."

"Indeed, Isa Rachess," Danarov responds kindly, taking Syrena's hand in the manner of an aristocrat. "I wish you well on the journey. I sympathize with your teammates, for the march pace that I am sure you will demand of them tomorrow." he adds with a small smile.

"And give my regards to your father. I hope that Consul Rachess might call upon the Guild if he requires assistance in any of his endeavors. We would be at his aide at a moment's notice if he ever needed our service.

Until we meet again, Nobira."

As she turns to leave, Syrena sees other men being ushered into the room to speak with The Ion.

The bartender has come around the bar and into the room. He nods his head in a minor bow and escorts her and Xenophon out, up a different set of stairs, and back to the common hall.

Xenophon takes note that the man is armed with at least a half dozen blades and a thin crossbow of high design.

"Your regards, I will deliver personally when next in the Consul's presence on high Amanuctum, Ion." Syrena promises and takes her leave. She notes the men entering on hers and Xenophon's departure, should happenstance their paths cross again.

Entering the common room where the rest of their company still lingered, she approaches the table and finds her seat amongst them once more. She is intrigued by the new additions that have collected about them and settles in to observe.

Doon Thunder, still standing nearby talking with Culchas and Gennadius, looks over at Damanandros sitting beneath the antics of the provocative soothsayer.

"Traveler, rest assured this foreign hussie knows the voice of no gods of the stars. Nor of the mountains, nor the sea, nor the wind - nor any of the gods of either of our Folk."

The gypsy turns around, her seduction disrupted.

"For her gods are Money, and Deception.

She is a flesh merchant from a desolate land - a wanderer who yearns to make the entire world a Wasteland, like her own heart.

Be careful with her. She has Spellcraft, though not like your potent Runes."

Fully scorned, the foreign woman cannot recover. She climbs off of Damanandros awkwardly and slinks away into the crowd.

The skald transitions the moment masterfully, shifting his stance and tone to address the group at and around the table (ooc: Gennadius, Culchas, Damanadros, Gundus), regaining the merriment of the tavern hall.

"My neighbors, I am glad to have met you this night! It seems clear to me that you are beginning a journey together soon. If so, I wish you well on your road. May your gods and the songs of your People be with you."

He reaches to a small belt pouch as he speaks his parting comments. "I am impressed to see a Son of Tiren who wears the standard of Türas."

He pulls for something small and addresses Gundus. "Steadfast Türas has been known to my Folk for centuries, though by a different name. Tuweigh, who in Honor kept the Word of Tradition, saving the Godshome of Aragáin from the destruction of the Fomorians."

He places a small bronze token icon on the table in front of Gundus.



"A gift from my House to yours, kyrazenus.."

With that he nods to the rest of the group. "Farewell!", he says as he steps away to join his fellow Kryseans as they depart from the hall.