The Clockwork Mansion

Ah, Prinem-a town balanced perfectly on the edge of nowhere, with its humid air and the distinct charm of a nearly suburban community situated by something likened to a cesspool. Add a few muddy streets, the slapdash quality of the buildings that suggested they were 'good enough' with the thick gobs of tar used for patching walls and how roofing shingles were held in place with rocks...it wasn't bad for a swamp-side community.

Such a shame it had to be a haven for anyone, much less anything, that didn't want to be found. Good for business at times though.

That's what the innkeeper was thinking as his eyes roved the small crowd within his place of business, the Shalebreakers' Haven. The 'fox' squirrel-Ferge was his name-had lived there his entire life, and he'd seen enough things that little fazed him anymore. Dragons-in their being form, obviously-demons, 'cubi by the dozens...and by the Night Wind, he'd even seen an angel! Or someone pretending to be one, at least. Not to mention other creatures, many of which he didn't even know the names of.

Thankfully it didn't seem like there was much out of the ordinary today. The carefully placed electric lamps-a new addition-were situated on high shelves to give a warm glow throughout most of the common room, and none were broken. The floor was polished ironwood, which he'd found wasn't quite prone to splintering but much more likely to burst into flame, and the walls were treated cedar that reflected the light duly. The chairs were sturdy, as were the tables...and after a few past incidents, firmly bolted into the floor.

The fireplaces added further light-one on the left side of the building, another on the right...since he couldn't yet afford a heating system. What mattered was that the inn was warm and moderately comfortable-if for a price.

Well, he amended as his gaze lingered on a wolfish being seated as near to the right fireplace as possible, almost normal. The chap had been there for a few days, and when the squirrel had asked politely what his business was, the seeming lupine had, with equal politeness, informed him that he was waiting on some folk.

The stranger's clothing were simple, yet oddly concealing and made out of soft, tanned hide...almost like an old-fashioned tunic and matching leggings, to be honest...and he was always attended by his companion-a male lynx whom wore similar clothing and watched any newcomers warily, triangular blade within easy reach. While the feline would rest in their designated room on and off, the lupine merely sat where he had from the first day, accepting offered food and drink while keeping his attention on the door. If he moved, it had to be when the innkeeper slept!

No matter though, as any further thoughts on the matter were promptly squashed as he was given an order for some of the stew they had leftover from lunch. It'll be a good day when he takes the ferry back to that hell he calls home, Ferge thought as he went to fill the order....

It had taken more effort than Dhōngami would ever admit to find the tavern, let alone the town.  Father would be immensely displeased, that the money he spent on a geography tutor had been for nothing, but again Dhōngami didn't plan on sharing.  The greater difficulty was procuring food, a daily necessity if he wanted to avoid diving into his glucose rations, which would only buy him two days at most.  People were frightened by his unique appearance, and the spear he carried with him; so any that didn't refuse to sell outright charged outrageous prices for their wares.

He'd probably lost weight, having to spread his meager coinage, for Father had repeatedly told him paper money was not worth carrying, and Mother would have ripped his tail off, again,  for not doing as Father instructed.  The woman was always trying to get into Father's good graces again, efforts which Dhōngami was happy to sabotage after regrowing his tail and wing for the second time.  Still, they had a point, paper bills would have been smuged to uselessness, given the amount of water he'd been exposed to; he'd learned the hard way that most currencies were printed with ink that never fully dried.  But back to the point; his diet had been mostly produce, and at one time he'd been lucky enough to obtain soybeans for necessary protein.

By the time he'd located the town, he'd definitely lost weight, and had spent his entire coin collection, down to the last copper; which had bought him a tasty cookie from a sweet little girl.  It was getting to the point that he either started on the candy, which was moderately repugnant, or start on his seeds, which was stupid.  Of course, locating the town didn't mean he had arrived yet.  And he spent a couple of days working; with his magic, helping seedlings grow into trees ready to be harvested for lumber-a practice Dhōngami had to bite himself to keep from stopping violently; he did some minor healing under the direction of the local overworked doctors; and sold a few spare pouches of his candy.  The labor had given him enough money to afford a ferry, and maybe, just maybe, an night in an inn. 

When he'd arrived at the Shalebreaker's Haven, he was tired, hungry, and looked the part of both rather blatantly.  He was quickly coming to despise the town, not only for its lack of fruit-bearing trees he could finagle into growing a snack for himself, but also the humidity which was screwing with his shoots air-sensing ability, and the mud which had nearly stolen one of his shoes.  Before entering, he brushed some dirt off his clothes, straightened his hair, feathers, and made sure Fumetsu's sheath was secure; in general made himself presentable.

The sight of the crowd of people, mostly dreadfully dull Beings, enlightened Dhōngami to a fact he had previously, overlooked.  He had no idea whom he was supposed to meet here.  An oversight he knew was going to end up badly for him, just like that cookie, which had given him indigestion for two days.

On an otherwise uninteresting day, one could see a rather mundane looking robed figure walking down the road. A worn hooded robe with small flecks of oil and other dirt which defied cleaning, a new-ish green cape fastened by a cheap brass trinket, and one of those new pairs of shoes made of waxed paper on top of compressed. glued rubber scraps, the only thing that raised any interest were the spiked steel shoulderpads... but then, years after the war such things were still easy to encounter, if one was willing to strip them from the remains of their previous owners - there were regions where peasants made plows from broadsword blades, and chopped down trees with double-bladed waraxes.
Little could be further from truth - the figure in question was Vladim, a lynx many thought and even more wished dead...
A master knows when to fight and when not to fight...  the only thing i miss is not seeing the look on their faces... That, and about 800 minions
He came to the billboard and started looking around.
A sizable note appeared since yesterday, which, at a glance, didn't appear like someone selling cattle or looking for protection from highwaymen for his caravan. The words "exceptional reward" resonated within his head, as well as the looks of the note. He smelled it and rubbed it with his finger - the writing was done in the juice of some plant or fruit, however, the note looked like genuine worked skin of something... or maybe someone.  Even nicer a surprise, a further note revealed that creatures of all, or better, nearly all races were accepted.
"Hmm, it seems someone really needs a job done." Vladim muttered to himself with a grin.
Looking briefly at a map, he set out in the direction of what seemed to match with Prinem.
Seems to be a rather small place... i hope it isn't just a bunch of better-to-do peasants (EDIT: added an escapee word) with a thief problem accidentally hiring a demon PR expert to advertise... We'll see - at worst, i can find some minions - youths in such places tend to be tough and poor, and thinking of better life...
He set towards the town, whistling "Country Road".


Three days' walk, and through the tinned rations he took on the way, a hungry, tired Vladim arrived to the swamp-side town of Prinem, which, well, looked like the kind of place one might encounter near a swamp. With little difficulty, he found the Shalebreakers' Haven, and walked in.
Noticing the squirrel owner, and a few inhabitants, he came to the squirrel.
"Greetings! May i ask... what's cooking today? And while you are at it, pour me an ale if you can."
Life changes around... a few months earlier, my desk had a paperweight made of a lead-filled skull of an adventurer, and now i am one... So far, i think i can see which part of it drove Dad to alcoholism. He frowned at the last memory, and waited for a response from the innkeeper.

Renald had just made the finishing touches on his new cloak. It was a little funny looking, succubus wing crinkled in this peculiar way for something that felt so velvety, but overall he was having a really great day. The sun was shining, the birds were singing...
He paid the local tanner for the use of his workshop. The man hadn't been willing to touch the materials he'd brought him. Appreciative of his taking care of the succubus, but... Surprisingly squemish. The woman had been stealing souls in the area, Renald really couldn't see the cause for such reluctance.
But he didn't hold it against the man. Not everyone could be... Strong. That's why Renald had to, for the other beings who couldn't.
He never stayed in a particular town for too long. He had enemies. A clan of dragons, any remaining family of a certain demon, and he wasn't entirely sure what the insectis' stance on his activities was. So it was on his way to the province of Malse that he saw the sign on the road.
It was... Intriguing. He rather wished the client had offered more info about themselves, but then, it was understandable. Prinem was a little out of his way; he tried to avoid more modernized towns. Those were more likely to have mixed communities. If a local creature was able to... Behave themselves, then he didn't have much choice but to let them alone. Which was a little foolish, really. He was certain they'd do something EVENTUALLY. Best to preempt it.
But then, perhaps he could do some good there...

Renald strolled into the Shalebreaker's Haven like he owned the place, in a benevolent landlord-y sense. He looked over the crowd briefly with a smile, before checking his torn-off stub of the posting. No description... Hrm. Either they'd find him or he'd find them. He made his way over to the bar, considering the barstools and deciding they probably wouldn't hold up him AND his armor.
"Excuse me, barkeep?" His tone was polite and conscientious. The picture of a gentleman, waiting until the lynx had received his drink rather than swaggering up like most adventurers. "An Ac'Corris ale, please." He left the coinage on the countertop, just a LITTLE more than the drink was worth, and surveyed the room.

Oh yes, there was a good mixture of races-predominantly beings currently-within that inn! From the trio of acolytes passing through on pilgrimage, or a few that looked like quite experienced mercenaries (Or were they merely bandits? It was hard to tell in some cases!) and of course a modest portion of the townsfolk. A couple even looked like fellow adventurers, grim-faced and discussing something in low tones. If there were any creatures, they were well-disguised, possibly out of habit.

Eyes flicked in the newcomers' direction as they came inside, before returning to their own affairs. True, some kept their attention a little longer-the two that looked to be adventurers in particular keeping a wary eye on the Creature to be sure he wasn't a threat! Otherwise it was like the folk here were hardly bothered by such strange sights, much less worried about them.

Well, okay. There was one other that had an interest in them.

That very same wolf, still seated where he had been for the past few days. His companion was away at the moment, attending to their own needs-they weren't necessary anyway, not at the moment. The lupine observed them each with hardly a flicker of expression, though perhaps at least the heavily armored canine-Renald-would notice those strangely glassy eyes looking him over with intense scrutiny when he'd taken out the stub to examine.

That aside, he seemed quite content to wait and watch a moment, seeing as the warrior was currently engaged in getting something....

"Hmm?" The innkeeper asked as he was suddenly confronted with a pair of orders...as well as a request for what was on the menu. From this range, it was interesting to observe how the fellow's left eye was slightly off-center, rolling forward to focus on whomever he was talking to. "Wanting to know what's available eh?" Amber orbs focused on the lynx seriously. "Well, currently we have a bit of stew made from a bit of this and that leftover from lunch, some sweetbread that'll be done within the next five minutes, as well as some recent delicacies brought in by, ah, some of our rather good friends."

It was worth it to notice the slight grimace at the mention of 'friends', before the squirrel continued. "I'd suggest having a strong stomach if you're wanting to try the dainties...but that aside, drinks, hmm?" Here he glanced at Renald as well, hardly batting an eye at the fact that the pro-offered payment was a bit more than expected for the requested liquor. "Ale, and some of the strong stuff. Not the ordinary travelers, I take it?"

By now he'd already turned away, but was definitely listening as he reached for a bottle, a pair of mugs...and quickly stepped over to a small set of barrels with labels-some in different languages-telling what was inside to pour the ordered drink. "Name's Ferge, by the way," He said in a conversational tone as he neatly slipped the lynx his ale seconds later and poured the doberman his drink, "Feel free to ask a few questions-I'll do what I can to answer, free of charge."

Bart had been quietly sitting at the bar almost five minutes, and already he hated this nowhere town and this particular establishment. And it wasn't any fault of the residents, but just in how... lackluster the whole area was. It didn't have the fresh air and charm of a rural village or the slickness of a developed city. It all felt so halfassed, like the tired denizens just didn't care. Thankfully, this was just the meeting place. Their mysterious recruiter would probably show himself soon enough.

The demon's own outfit seemed like just as much of a compromise between old and new as the Inn itself: a thick, black flak vest with stiff metal collar and plates sewn across the front and back, worn over a black BDU shirt and dark gray slacks; flat, iron slab of a mask with straps; old army boots, shin and arm protectors made of tempered steel; a moderately-sized camping backpack; knife and pipe tomahawk affixed to his belt... his whole kit looked like some amalgamation of a police officer and an amateur mercenary. The kind of thing that screamed "city boy raiding the local army surplus."

To be fair, he'd raided the local army surplus and camping outlet before leaving for this jerkwater town.

He'd taken his mask off shortly after sitting down, figuring he may as well get some air. Not as if he'd be staying in this dump for very long. "Hey, barman, this place serve burgers? I'm jonesin' for one pretty bad."

Vladim looked at the squirrel ,introducing himself as 'Ferge' for several seconds, thinking.
I'll go with the stew, and maybe something else later - dying of hunger isn't fun and besides, it's bound to be better than those damn tins.
At least they were sterilised...
Grabbing the newly-arived ale, he spoke:
"So, Ferge, i think the stew and my insides will strike an alliance tonight. Just do make sure there's enough of it."
He paused, taking a mighty gulp of the ale. It tasted a little swampy, making him wonder.
Hmm, this brew either got baptised by the bar owner, or the folk making it haven't heard of a filter
However, it satisfied the body, and that was important.
"Now, as for the questions -  it's no use pretending i am from anywhere close around, especially with everyone and their horse staring at me and this fellow here. Soo...  what can you tell me about the town?  What do the folk do for a living around these parts? "
In the time, he turned to the massive doberman:
"Greetings, stranger." Glancing at his cape, he remarked further, with a smile: "You have a refined taste in material. There's plenty of that cattle around, but few get to tan the leathers"  (EDIT: Factual error - the cape is made from a bat-winged one as boog said me)
Hmm, what a pity - this one  would make an excellent enforcer... now he is here either because he heard of the job, or about me... and both options suck... But then, why didn't he whack me when i was too busy with the ale to notice him?
Waiting for a response from either, Vladim took down another gulp.

Dhōngami allowed himself to look like a lost puppy for a few minutes while he tried to compartmentalize this turn of events.  Going through all the effort of coming to this repugnant township, and being blindsided like this did not sit well with the part-angel.  Not having the right questions to ask to locate his potential employer, which he should have planned on the ferry, was particularly galling.  Regardless, the issue was properly isolated, letting him resume proper functions, dealing with it once it came to the forefront of his various issues again.

Right now, he needed to get some food in his stomach, before he had to turn on his candies.

Approaching the bar, let Dhōngami see the more interesting variants of the default Being; namely what appeared to be a caped priest wearing spiked shoulder pads, and a Canine swathed in a cape made from...wings?  Dhōngami brought his own wing closer to his torso, on the odd chance the canine was looking to start a feathered variant, and stood near the bar, waiting his turn for the barkeep's attention, as was polite.

"Umm...sir?"  The plant-ish Creature inquired uneasily, ears drooping; the looks he was getting were not conducive to confidence, after all.  "Do you happen to have any more of whatever it is that smells so wonderful?"  Yes, he was lying through his teeth, but embellishing the truth was a specialty of his; and he found it had a way of lowering the listed price on goods, if done well.  But he didn't have the energy right now, so blatant work would have to suffice.

Depending on the squirrel's response, the part angel would either fetch his remaining monies, and pay for the meal, or sigh, and slink off to find an unused table and start munching the semi-spherical candies he'd stockpiled. 

Ah, the swamp.

Cog slapped a mosquito and stepped gingerly across a a small scum-encrusted puddle that was threatening to turn into a stream, and began to look for the Shalebreaker's Haven - not that it was that hard, in a town like this. He looked for the building that looked like it had been abandoned in the swamp only fifty rather than a hundred years, and then approached closer.
"A windpuff-bonnet of fáwn-fróth, turns and twindles over the broth, of a pool so pitchblack, féll-frówning, it rounds and rounds Despair to drowning..."

"Swamps have their place, I suppose." he said, crossing one such black pool, and taking a look at the sign hanging from the tattered building.

Sure enough. The Shalebreaker's Haven.

The wolf adjusted his belt just slightly - and to the discerning eye, put the hilt of the sword just past his middle, so that the handle was even with his opposite hip. He lifted the larger sword off his shoulder, and held it edge-up in his left hand.
That was one of the problems with a sword like that. You had to carry the damn thing around. He gave himself a wry grin.
Somehow, things always began like this.

He opened the door and walked in. Surprisingly, the air was a bit cooler inside than outside. Electric lamps dotted the walls. He hadn't expected that kind of class this far away from everything. As he took a few steps inside, he looked around.
A strange looking man with one wing and looking like he had chlorophyll for blood. A spear-user, buying some food. The other wolf in the corner also caught his eye, but Cog knew how to play his particular role. He'd wait until contacted. Some fellow with...no face, apparently, was asking for a hamburger. Fair enough. The armor he wore bespoke adventurer as well.
The fellow with the warhammer worried him. He was fairly certain he recognized bits of creatures he was using as his armor, and the fellow looked all the world to him like a being. That meant he was either an incubus, or was this year's winner of the Captain Balls award.

He walked up next to the thin-looking Lynx, and took a seat. Just one more part to play here.
He set the larger sword down, so it was resting on the bar, but kept the tassel corded in his hand. "Whiskey." the wolf said, and gave a grin. "And whatever you got on the stove."
He put a silver coin on the table, and waited.

"Is that so?" The rodentine fellow said with a smile-oddly enough, he lacked those bucked teeth everyone was used to seeing for squirrels. Maybe he just took good care of them? Who knew, as he kept his gaze on Vladim and slipped Renald his drink with casual efficiency. "Well then, show me the color of your money-if it's money at all-and we'll see that said alliance is finished as soon as the transaction's made, won't we?" If one wondered, he was referring to the fact that one might trade a trinket or bauble instead, assuming whom he was talking to happened to be an adventurer.


****
Even as the innkeeper spoke, that strange lupine kept his eyes-for the most part-on said Doberman. The others making their way into the inn were of little interest at the moment-they didn't show a sign of having the same item as the armored canine, afterall. The strange, quite reptilian visage of Bart hadn't disturbed him at all either-in fact, before Renald had entered, the man had been more interested-if unobtrusively-in Bart's appearance. Still, work first, curiosity later. Those equally strange eyes briefly noted the half-angel once again, before lingering for a moment on the newest arrival.

Whatever he thought was strictly for himself, but seeing he was noticed the fellow seemed to smile as Cog passed-there was one that seemed to realize his purpose, or it could be just happenstance-a fellow wolf thinking he was greeting one of his own.  In either case, the recruiter would get to them soon enough-if the object of his attention didn't approach him first.

****

"And just a second on showing it to me," Ferge said mildly as he also swept up the offered coins from said uniquely armored canine and put them under the counter. He panned his head just enough to bring the scaled chap into view. "A burger? I suppose we can whip one up, but don't expect those fancy buns you see in other places." Or, he decided not to mention, some of the other things you're used to. "Just give me a moment, and I can see about getting one going for you."

Really, the squirrel seemed to have his work cut out for the next few minutes! Good thing the innkeeper was good at keeping track of details-but like the fellow Cog had noticed, work came first, idle gossip in spatters between it!

He glanced at the plantlike fellow named Dhōngami, even as the rather normal-seeming wolf sat down next to the lynx. Looks rather like a cat, he decided before speaking. "Wonderful, hmm? I suppose you can call it that." He smiled again. Possibly he'd encountered this type of act before, or was taking the false compliment at face-value. "And we'll see. How much do you have? And eh?"  An ear perked at Cog's voice.

Egh, creepy! He deliberately let his off-center eye roll back into it's more normal position so he could look at Cog. "Whiskey? Not sure I have anymore in stock, seeing as that lot-" he nodded briefly towards the oddly mercenary-like chaps, "have been swilling it down for the past three hours. As they put it, they're relaxing before heading out on some campaign or other. I'll see what I have handy, so hold onto your coin while I get someone to look." He looked over his shoulder, to where a sliding door that very nearly matched the wall could be seen. "Kaine! Check for some whiskey, and be sure that bread doesn't catch fire! You botch that up again and I'll be sure to send you right back to that shrine you hail from! That or poke your toes with a heated skewer!" Then he paused. "And be ready to fill some orders before you try and steal some of that ground beef again!"

There was a muffled acknowledgment from within as the fellow huffed. "Kitsune and their learning programs," he muttered, "And I get stuck with a whelpling kit whom almost can't tell a skillet from the spatula. Anyway," He clapped his hands together, his attention briefly on Vladim again. "What now, fellow? Questions about Prinem? Might as well call it a hideout for the more mortal hellspawn out there. We get'em all, with a few of the more longer-lived ones like Dragons and even a few other Creatures. Then of course there's our dear friends, whom I won't speak of even if you pay me." He shrugged. "As to what we do here-it varies. Some fish, some farm, some dig up peat from the fringes of the local cesspool-others cater to travelers like I do, and there's even a ferry into the swamp-though most folks would be bloody fools to go in there without permission." Ferge shook his head, before smiling a little. "Now, anything else before I see about filling these here orders?"

"Business first, i suppose" Vladim said with a smile. The barman wasn't stupid to give out anything of more worth than the ale, and as it went, non-stupid people gained a small sympathy point with Vladim.
He shuffled in his pocket and took out a silver and a hand full of coppers of various forms and shapes, pretty much from all over the land, and placed it mid-way between him and the barman.
"I assure you the color of my money is satisfactory, although the shape might vary sometimes... Now, we only have to agree on how much of them shall change an owner tonight"

As he spoke he noticed a wolf with a rather warrior-like appearance, and something vaguely catlike coming in and as if  that wasn't bad enough, the wolf decided to sit right next to him.
Hmm...  more of them...  this swamp seems suspiciously lively. I guess the old "It pays to advertise" slogan was right.   That fellow there looks like some of Sergej's lab specimens when we were working out how to enhance the minions...  But at least, with the bunch of them around, any one isn't likely to start a fight


The remark about wonderful smells nearly caused Vladim to choke on his ale.
*he-kch* *chroak*
Heh...  either whatever experiment they did on him messed up his nose, or his facial muscles - saying this with a straight face... He might as well claim he's an angel, and the shoots are just a new fashion trend
The innkeeper began to speak about the town, and somebody back there shouted for a hamburger. Vladim turned , and noticed a fellow making up in junk-crafted equipment what he lacked in facial features.
He glanced at the plantlike at the bar again, and shook his head.
"Hideout for more mortal hellspawn... seems about right "  he said to himself.
"Right, since you are as nice as to mention your friends... are any of them within the tavern perchance?"

Renald took a swig of his drink, eying the man who'd addressed him casually. Was this his contact? Didn't seem like it- the fellow was already talking to someone else. Jumpy little man. Seemed like the sort who said things like "They called me mad!" A lot. But, from what he'd had to say, they at least had a bit in common. He made a mental note of it; if he was going to be in this town long, it was good to know who was likely to be useful.
The others who'd arrived weren't anything for him to take particular note of. The lupine swordsman was probably here for the same reason as he was. The man looked capable with what he carried, and he could respect that. Too many adventurers weighed themselves down with things they didn't need or didn't know how to use. The young fellow... were those plants growing out of the poor boy? He caught himself staring and focused the brunt of his attention back on his drink. Magic or poor hygine? Regardless, the boy looked hungry. Renald didn't like creatures at the best of times. Even now, he was looking at the lads wings more than his face. But he felt bad for him, all the same.
The flat-faced fellow asking for a burger less so. Seemed like the sort to start knocking down walls when he had a few drinks in him. He knew the type.
Finally, in scanning the room, he briefly locked eyes with the other wolf, the one who'd been looking at him.
No, wait... At the tab in his hand.
Rolling it between his fingers, Renald strode over to the man's table and sat down, casually, nodding politely to the lynx as he did so. He sipped his drink again, before holding up the stub of paper and raising an eyebrow.
"I'm sorry to bother you, sir, but do you recognize this?"
He had a voice that rumbled, in a trustworthy sort of way. A voice that could say the words "Verily" without the slightest hint of awkwardness. A square-jawed, sports announcing sort of heroic.

"No Whiskey? Man could die of thirst!" Cog said, but his expression was hardly displeased. He gave the bartender a patient smile, and watched the man in the armor walk away from the bar to go sit next to the lynx and wolf in the middle of the room.

He turned his stool halfway around, and with an air of patient curiosity, waited, and listened.

Although it wasn't apparent where he'd gotten the thing, he rolled a gold coin between his fingers - on one side the sun, and the other a cloud and deep scratches of rain. It somehow sparkled in the dim light of the tavern.

The part angel turned ever so slightly to watch the new wolf enter.  Warning bells rang in his head as he saw the sword, making Dhōngami forget his hunger for a second.  When that second passed, and the wolf sat without incident.  Now to turn his attention to the barkeep; Dhōngami reached into his satchel, groping around for his money purse.  The contents were meager, mostly copper with a two silver pieces, one being obviously larger than the other.  He also had a coin of what he assumed to be electrum; Father had insisted his education of money be thorough,  but given that such coinage had fallen into disuse, he didn't trust it to pay for much.  But this was going to be tricky, Dhōngami just knew it from the barkeep's choice of words; asking how much he had, instead of listing the going rate implied the seller was going to charge a bit north of the usual.  But he'd come to expect it.  Dhōngami fetched out the larger of the two silver coins, and three copper pieces,and held them out.

Droop ears, check, shift weight, check, make small disgruntled sounds, check; make it quite clear you are uncomfortable with spending 'all your money'.  "Is...is this enough?" Dhōngami swayed a little, half to give the impression hunger was clouding his mind, and half because it really was.  The angel started to get an itch in his wing; it felt the same way when you know someone's watching you, but isolated in the feathered limb.  Stretching it out slightly seemed to quake the sensation away, for the moment.  Whether or not the barkeep took the money, Dhōngami would look start looking around for an open table. 

Creepy dog with the wingcape was leaving to talk with another dog, a wolf from the looks of things.  This let the part-angel relax a little, and then he saw it.  It, was a reptilian looking creature, with little in the way of a face, outside of eyes, and dressed in army surplus clothes, sitting at the bar.  It looked to be of the male persuasion, but given some of the women Dhōngami had seen working farmland, he did not assume anything. 

While he looked for a table, after having torn his gaze away from what Dhōngami assumed to be a variation of Mythos, the part-angel examined the prospects for his new employer.  The drinking adventurers were a likely group of suspects, but nothing could be assumed yet.  Dhōngami rapped his fingertips against Fumetsu's shaft, and, if the barkeep had accepted the money, take his food to an either unused, or sparsely populated table to eat, preferably not the one Captain Balls and the wolf were occupying.

Man, all this talk about drinks was making Bart thirsty. "You guys sell sod--" Oh, who was he kidding. What the hell kind of inn served soda? "...sell Stuport Gold? It's the beer of kings, you know." If this place didn't serve the kind of burger Bart had in mind (an all-beef patty with buns being the basic template here), he'd need something to wash the taste out with.

Around then, he noticed the strange mythos giving him a look over. Not that Bart really held it against people when they stared, but this town's atmosphere and general populace was making him crabby. "...the hell're you staring at?" He could scarcely tell just what Dhōngami even was, species or racewise.

Sheesh, and I thought I looked weird.

The fellow didn't even blink as the canine 'knight'-if one wanted to use that term-settled down and spoke to him directly. Then again, he didn't have to. When seen up close, those eyes were distinctly reptilian-each covered in a clear, polished scale and complete with the narrow slit of a pupil. True, he had eyelids, but if they served a purpose...well, one had to guess, outside of keeping that glossy surface clean.

His companion eyed Renald warily, those curiously tufted ears perking as he kept that triangular blade within easy reach. Clearly the feline was quite loyal to this strange fellow, and would leap to his defense if it seemed necessary. Either that or he was just cautious. Hmm...

"I recall it quite clearly," he said in a soft, dry voice, "Seeing as it was made with my own skin. My dearest companion here held the knife, just as I asked him to." The lynx shifted slightly, glancing at the strange lupine with surprise. One could almost swear he was wondering if his friend was trying to get him in trouble!

"Oh, and while he understands us, he won't speak in your tongue-he has quite the dislike of it, you see." A trace of a smile graced the oddly narrow muzzle-it had looked so normal from a distance!-before he continued.  "Having someone talented in healing magic like him is quite useful as well, I daresay, when lacking quality materials from other sources." Delicate fingers reached to take the parchment...even as it might dawn on the Doberman that the fellow he was talking to had just informed him that the stub had once been a part of his body!

"Now, what do you want of me?" The fellow said-possibly interrupting such thoughts, "Are you perhaps just curious, or are you seeking to perform the service we require?"

*****

The  innkeeper opened his mouth to reply to the priestly-seeming lynx...before glancing at the curiously reptilian demon. "I heard that first bit-if you're wondering, we do have soda...but I'm not sure as to the brand o'beer though-the good stuff's a bit sporadic here-and I'm sure you've seen part of the reasons." He glanced at the small barrels speculatively for a moment. "Seems I'll have to check," he said with a shake of his head before smiling at a certain werewolf's comment.

"And as to dying of thirst," the squirrel said with a wink in Cog's direction, "We'll see. Otherwise you'll have to take it up with that lot, and see if they'll spare a bottle." The rodentine fellow pointed towards the group of ruffians. The lot were talking amiably at the moment, passing a bottle and clearly recounting various ordeals they'd been through. Heh, interesting lot, to be sure.

Now, he would have turned away to head into the kitchen here...if not for Dhöngami putting on his partially feigned act.

Interesting show, but Ferge wasn't moved by it. Well, okay, maybe a little. Amber eyes flicked toward the coinage, clearly gauging the value before taking the three coppers. "We'll see what I can get you," the chap said mildly as he turned towards the kitchen.

"Oh, before I forget," the squirrel said as he paused right at the door and looked over his shoulder at Vladim, "I'd rather not say if one's here...but, if you're thinking of taking up with one, why not join that paladin-ish chap?" He gestured vaguely in Renald's direction. "I'd suggest you keep your distance though myself-they've got strange values and care little for others' opinions on'em." Not to mention they'd soon as show you their ideal of bodily harm as not, he added quietly to himself as he slipped through the door.

In seconds one could hear a distinctly vulpine yelp followed by a dull thwack that sounded suspiciously like a newspaper-yep, it could be a moment before he came back with anything...ah well, at least it shouldn't be long, if at all, before things were doled out in proper fashion....

hmm,  so at least i know who to meet with....  how the hell did the dog figure it out - the skin had nothing such written, nor did he ask the barman ... He shuffled a little Maybe it's just me being obtuse on an empty stomach and it was somehow obvious... well .. who cares now
He noticed the barman leaving to the kitchen.
"I appreciate the advice, but before i go to see them, in any case i should get to know the stew.. and perhaps one of those hamburgers as well."
The hunger was making him rather tired by now ,but he didn't mention it as a starving customer would give the barman a hint to dump all kinds of leftovers on him, knowing he won't be very picky.
He turned around to see what is happening at the table , but still keeping track of the small pile of coppers, and the silver.
So, another wolf ... and a lynx...
Hmm, better than the wolves... or maybe not - after all that bitch was a lynx too, indeed

Renald blinked twice at the man's reaction. His eyes went back to the fragment, examining it more closely. Before he believed it to be some form of vellum, or other fine paper. It didn't feel like hide at all. If anything, it was slippery and soft as something still alive. His eyes attracted more attention though. The scale-eyelid, the shape... The other fellow, with the shoulder armor, seemed like something that could be explained by magical contamination. His mother drank from some enchanted pool, or his own works with the arcane had jumped back and bit him. This fellow's alterations, in the muzzle and eyes were too... Total. The eyes, the muzzle. Even his mode of speech and mannerisms seemed... Off. Maybe more of some breed of mythos, meant to resemble a being. Wouldn't be the first time nature'd made a predator look like its prey.
Looking a man in the eye was supposed to be an act of trust, but Renald's look had shifted to something... appraising. He wasn't looking at a face. He was examining the eyes. And he didn't want to hand over the stub anymore.
But then, if I find out it if it does somethin', I know where there's more now.
Reluctantly, he passed over the scrap and gave his best friendly smile... To the lynx.
"Well, those who didn't grow up to the language can have trouble with it. I've had a fellow from Aeskin tell me it's harsh on the throat from him. Is there a language he prefers? I speak some broken Fengos... My Northern Demonic's very poor, but I can manage it. I would hate to be rude." He chuckled and went on, becoming more businesslike as his attention shifted to the 'wolf', "But, I digress. I'm... interested, in helping you, but I would need to know a bit more before I promise anything. Starting with your name."

Ah, now that was different, being examined in such a manner! There was a cold, emotionless quality to those orbs that seemed to say nothing existed there-wait, there was something! What little one could discern was something like a challenge-no, an invitation to see what they could discover...if only one would try. And yet, it seemed remarkably like he was vaguely mocking the Doberman somehow....

Or perhaps they were just imagining that....

As it was, the creature took the fragment with only the slightest of nods...and after a brief examination, did something that was no doubt quite unexpected. There was a flash of teeth that reminded one of a bone saw in design, and the scrap was gone in a heartbeat. Where it went was quite clear, as the recruiter swallowed the scrap with little care for whom was watching-or listening, for that matter. Egh.

As for his companion...the feline blinked, an ear quirking slightly at the friendly smile. Clearly he didn't know how to respond, and with a rather uncertain look at the wolfish creature-whom merely glanced back-simply shook his head and shifted nervously in his seat.

"It's not so much that he doesn't speak other languages," the fellow said after he swallowed, "But more of that he hates them, as do most of our companions. And I assure you, none of those specific ones are within his vocabulary. But like yourself, I digress." 

The creature leaned forward, oddly catlike ears perking intently. "My name, you say?" One could swear those eyes narrowed, looking Renald over with much greater seriousness-or at least that was the impression as his voice became a dusty hiss. "My full name is of no real importance to you, mammal." Then he shrugged, suddenly looking rather indifferent. "But it looks like you'll insist, and I have plans for behaving during my stay. So be it, you may call me Réanmarl." The way he said it was remarkably strange-fluid yet guttural,  with an indefinable accent. Then he nodded at the lynx sitting with him. "And he is Cori, in your tongue."

"Now that you know part our names...what is yours? " Réan head tilted slightly. "And ask away on what you wish to know-I take a great pleasure in answering questions...provided they're in my ability to answer."

****

And of course, while Renald and the creature were busy, other things were happening as well-perhaps not as important right then and there, of course....

If the innkeeper heard that last request before he got onto said vulpine...one would find out soon enough, as the rodentine chap slipped back through the door with what was already done! Of course, there was ample time for everyone to talk to each other before then, since it still took a moment or two.

A small, rimmed plate with a piece of sweetbread and a bit of the stew-whatever it was, the broth had thickened to a nice gravy and hid the nature of the ingredients quite well-set to one side was balanced on his head, while the thick curve of his tail was keeping a bowl of the same stew from spilling. In one hand, he was holding onto a small bottle of whiskey-unfortunately not what Cog was after, and clearly equal to a little over a cup or two-and a mug of beer that smelt oddly fruity.

"Burgers will be on the way shortly," he grunted as he set the bottle in front of the wolf and casually slipped the mug over to Bart, "And sorry I don't have what you're after, either of you. Whiskey's from a place to the east called Alten, while the beer's a local brew-the maker puts a few fruits in with the hops while they brew-cuts back some of the bite. Now, let's see here...a bowl of stew to start with for you." The bowl was set in front of Vladim, "And here's what a few coppers gets you fella." The plate went to the half-angel. There were no spoons, or other cutlery-probably for safety reasons, given what folk he got in here.

Then Ferge's attention flicked back to the caped lynx he'd just given some stew, "And you caught what I said about one of our...ah, friends being here, right? I'll tell you, he came in a few days ago, saying he was expecting some folk." Then he shrugged. "Maybe you're one of them, if you're asking about him. Anyway, just a moment." He readied to head back into the kitchen-though if one wanted to catch him for something else, there was a chance to do so, at least....

Looking at the three back at the table, Vladim noticed the wolf eating the piece of scroll the armored doberman handed to him before.
Hmm, that's something to do with confidential info... if the order doesn't come soon, i'm going to have a chat with them too - if i'd lose the job because of that, i might as well swap my cape for a dunce hat


After a minute or two, Vladim heard the tavern owner talking again, and when he turned he was presented with an amusing image - the squirrel used every empty part of his body to carry some order...
Finally.... i think i will down this, and while the burger's cooking i'll check out the "friends"
He turned to the bartender.
"Yes, i did catch that - in fact i'll be going there just as i deal with the stew" he paused for a moment. "You folks seem to have a real thief problem here", he grinned, and took out a folding spork from inside his robe.

If one ignored the slight (and sometimes not slight at all, depending on the piece) smell of old meat, the stew was surprisingly tasty, probably because of the plethora of spices thrown in to camouflage the age of the ingredients, Vladim's diet of various tins that weren't made with much more regard to quality, and chiefly, the fact that the last time he ate was yesterday around mid-day.
Finishing the bowl rather quickly,  and downing the rest of the ale, he licked the spork, wiped it, and his mouth with the sleeve of the robe, and used the same to clean his mouth from foam and stew remains.

"Call me when the burger's done!" he shouted towards the kitchen, stood up, and walked towards the table where the doberman, wolf and lynx were seated.
Damn, i left my cash in there.... anyways, it's just a bunch of coppers.. and if anyone tries anything, i guess it will be an opportunity to demonstrate my "job-related skills". He began to snicker a bit.

He sat down next to the doberman on the lynx's side, noticing the blade he was playing with, and began talking.
"Greetings....  " he thought for a few seconds "My name is Vladim. I think that i don't need to insult your intellects by explaining why i came over here, so, if you don't mind," he looked around the three faces "i would be... interested in the details of the .. job, so to say"

The door to The Shalebreaker's in opened once more and yet another Creature strolled in.

Not so much "Strolled" as lumbered. His fur and feathers ruffled,shoulders hunched, and a look on his face that screamed "I'm having a bad day Please Good Sir, Would you Kindly leap off a Cliff?"

His clothing was fairly upperclass, though indicated he was from, or preferred, more modern civilization. And right now he confirmed it. This damn little town desperately needed at least some form of law enforcement for the roads. Travel in these parts could get your head on a pike.

Thanfully the highwaymen where a good combination of kinda stupid and very cowardly. Kaf had only needed to dispatch too before the others ran for there lives. Off course, he had fried one with bolt of electricity, and bashed the other's skull in. His war hammer, slung over his shoulder had a splatter of very fresh, warm, red blood. Might as well ask for a towel to clean Charlene off...

Kaf slumped down on a random barstool, not really paying all that much attention to the other patrons, as he waited for turn to be served, he started mumbling something about how he'd never take directions from a Dimanika Clan ever again.

The wolf swordsman wrinkled his nose a little bit, still flipping the small coin between two fingers. He nodded absently at the bartender, and took the offered bottle without much comment. He took a sip.
The bitter taste of hops, mellowed out a bit by what tasted like apples. Or whatever passed for fruit in this swamp.

It wasn't bad.

He took another sip, and then took a deep breath, smelling the air. He eyed the wolf and lynx closely - almost like he was looking for something. He stood up after a moment, bringing his larger sword with him in his free hand, and walked across the floor to the table slowly, standing next to the canine knight.
"I too found your notice, and found it...curious." he smiled. "Not quite any trouble like the kind you find in want ads."

He turned to the more talkative of his two prospective employers. "Is there a particular language you would prefer conversing in? I speak a somewhat formal draconic, and a few other odds and ends. One hates to be rude."

The part-angel did not particularly care what the others at the bar were doing, there was something much more important on his agenda.

Food.

Dhōngami thanked the barkeeper, and took the plate, after returning his silver coin to his satchel.  As he was walking around, looking for any vacancies at the tables.  Before he left the vicinity of the bar, however, there was manners to observe.  The mutant had asked a question, and it would be rude not to answer.

"I was looking at Sir, of course."  Dhōngami nearly sang as he passed by on his quest for a table.  The new food, no matter its quantity or quality was still nourishment.  Beyond that, he could care less.

While he shopped-there were multiple factors that went into table selection, after all-the freak's mind drifted over to the quickly populating table near the fire.  He had no proof that the occupants were indeed the ones responsible for the add; nor could he last long through an interview if they were.  At a loss, Dhōngami turned to his companion, the seemingly dead spear he was toting around.

Fumetsu was actually very much alive, in part due to Dhōngami regularly feeding the weapon energy to keep it from dormancy, and due to the natural stubbornness of the tree species it was a member of.  And while Fumetsu was even younger than Dhōngami, and had few ways to perceive the world without the part-angel feeding it sensory data, Fumetsu had a knack for picking up things the biped could not.  Subtle things, which the spear was not equipped to properly explain.

Walking around, glancing at various tables throughout the tavern, Dhōngami sent a bit of his Plant magic into the spear, establishing a mental connection between the two.  It had been days since they communed, and thus Fumetsu was...sleepy would be an accurate approximation.  The part angel shared his information with his partner, particularly his unease at the presence of the wingcaped canine.

...answerjoingrove...  The spear slowly sent over the connection.  Fumetsu's frequent exposure to Dhōngami's 'higher' brain functions made it more easy for the two to communicate, the weapon even grasping certain concepts that naturally grown plants would not.

Dhōngami did not like the spear's answer.  Really.  And evidently Fumetsu picked up on his misgivings, for it sent another message over the link.

...statementgrowtesticles...  Dhōngami stared aghast at his partner, who had broken the connection on its end; Fumetsu was rarely so commanding.  So, swallowing down his unease, the part-angel changed course.

---

Dhōngami tried to look professional as he walked toward the table where everyone seemed gathered, tried being the operative word.  He still looked like starvation was setting in, and was obviously in need of sleep.  And he probably looked awkward, carrying a spear in one hand, and a plate of food in the other.

"Does this little party have room for one more?"  He'd meant to sound aloof, but his words came out as more a sigh than anything.  He'd taken up a position on the feline side of the table, glancing periodically at the two canines from the bar.  This glancing enlightened him to another patron of the tavern; a patron of the winged variety.  He did not pay attention long, however.  The newcomer seemed even more weary than Dhōngami did at the moment.  The choice of attire hinted at Angel, but the blood on the hammer made him think Incubus.  Father had limited his exposure to other Angels that he unconsciously compared them to the old manipulator; even knowing they couldn't all be like him.

Someone would have begun actively killing them off, were that the case.

As the little mythos wandered to join the others, Bart hung back. The wolf and lynx looked like the head honchos he needed to partner up with, but...

"Ferge, did you mention just what the deal with those two is?" He gestured back to the out-of-towners and their rapidly-forming group. "They, uh... don't look like they're from around these parts." Some declaration from a Creature like Bart. He took a sip from his mug, swallowing flatly. Yeah, he'd be avoiding fruit-brews in the foreseeable future.

"In fact, I'd go so far as saying they don't look right." They almost looked like skeletons wearing the wrong skins, if that made any sense.

Renald learned a lot, looking over the man across the table. The challenge told him the man was confident. The teeth confirmed his suspicions that he was a creature. His careless manner in regards to the skin-scrap told him that either he had nothing to hide or expected nobody to step forward about any oddities. The most telling, however, was the slight outburst when asked to give up his name. The way he hissed the word mammal. A slow smile spread across the canine's face, like a man finding he had some unexpected vacation time coming up. A tell like that at a recruiting meeting told him the man he was talking to was stupid, or something closely approximating it. And that made everything much easier.
The lynx... Frankly, the lynx's manner was confusing, but... Familiar. It reminded him of the mindset of some in his own town, the ones who never questioned having Red Fen around. A plan was coming together...
... Was that young man with the red eyes coming over here? Oh, oh dear.
It took Renald every scrap of self control he had not to groan when the young man had sat down and openly engaged in negotiations. He'd been in the middle of something.
"Yes, well, that's what we're trying to hash out right n-"
They were swiftly joined by the man with the two swords from earlier, as well as the mythos. He'd started a trend.
"Yes, but- Ah-" Renald's shoulders slumped. In retrospect, if he'd wanted a private negotiation, he should've gotten the both of them in PRIVATE.
Right. Well. Adopt, adapt and improve.
He nodded to the fellow adventurers sitting down around the table.
"My name is Renald Dirkassen," he began, gesturing that the winged fellow with the plants (a young man he'd already mentally nicknamed as "Squeaky"), "And lets start with the straightforward questions. I assume that whatever community you represent doesn't live in the middle of suburbia. How far from civilization are we going to be? What EXACTLY are you offering as payment? And you haven't given specifics on what KIND of personal harm we risk. Are we walking into a war zone or a ruin? You mentioned people hidden in your group..." He made a rotating motion with one hand, indicating that the man keep going with the description.

Heh, food could wait, it seemed! A newcomer, and a rather interesting question made the squirrel pause just as he was about slip back into the kitchen.

"Just a second," he said politely to the scaled demon, before glancing at the clearly tired, agitated Angel. He had no trouble telling what race the fellow was-there was just some quality about Kafzeil's race he'd learned to identify from his last encounter. "And may I help you, good sir? Food, drink, a room to put your weapon for convenience...? Even a bit of information?" Then he looked to Bart again, feeling that the newcomer would want a moment to think of what he'd like, before answering his question.

"Those two?" He echoed flatly-even as the lynx left the table. "Oh, they're from around here-in fact the wolfish chap's lot have been here longer than most civilizations, as I understand." Ferge glanced to one side, looking a bit furtive as he spoke in a low voice. "The feline's more than normal, but those like himself are a bit odd in the type of company they choose, if you catch my meaning. Now, the one they're talking to...he's different from anything I've ever met-and he's just a whelp by their reckoning." He nodded at the creature sagaciously. "Surprised they sent a kid out here, when they could have just called in someone like Myr. As I hear it that one's been around for a few millennia, and he strictly deals with us Beings. Nice chap, but cold as frostbitten blood if you tried to play him false. But if you want to know more," the squirrel said as he looked to Kaf again, "You'll have to talk to one."

******

A rather interesting trend, at that...though for a moment, the creature seemed to have lost all interest in the affair as his ears perked sharply at the sight of a pure-blooded Angel making his way inside. Those present were treated to a soft, sibilant hiss as snakelike eyes locked firmly on Kafzeil...rather likened to when a predator is surprised by the sudden presence of choice prey, come to think of it.

Of course, Réan's companion saw this as well...and his tufted ears flicked back completely; almost as if he expected trouble and was seriously debating on leaving the immediate vicinity. In fact, he did. The lynx looked at the group nervously before quietly slipping out of his chair and making for the back rooms as quickly as dignity would allow.

Now, if he'd stayed, he would have seen the creature regain his self-control...but no matter.

As if that interesting lapse had never occurred, the recruiter returned his attention back to those present...starting with Vladim. Heh, seemed he'd been able to pay attention to what was said, as those orbs glanced at the feline with vague interest. "Intellect is ephemeral in these type of instances-it matters not to me how quick of wit you are, but that you are...capable of the tasks we need assistance upon," Réan said, before looking at the others.

"And while I appreciate your interest in wanting to...how those outside of our borders say, 'break the ice', I find it easier to speak in this tongue." A slight smile, remarkably becoming of his strange features, graced his narrow muzzle. "You would be hard-pressed to find anyone that could understand our language, both verbal and non. Hnn?" His attention shifted to include Dhōngami for a long moment, an honest touch of perplexity in his expression. "A...party?" The word seemed to be alien to him, but the creature was quick to recover. "If you mean the discussion, then yes...take the seat my companion had, if you wish. Cori is so shy around strangers." Then the creature sighed softly, the tone nigh inaudible. "And I will freely admit I am more than unfamiliar with the customs of the outside world...but I blame my youth."

Réan leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he steepled his fingers together. "That aside, Renald," the fellow said mildly as he eyed the armored canine, "You ask some reasonable questions that show true interest, and the sooner I can explain, the sooner I can go back to my business in Malse." He settled back more comfortably, looking about the group-and glancing at the ferret-Angel seated at the bar with an impression of insatiable hunger-before speaking in a manner that was clearly rehearsed.

"We are no single community, but more small pockets of what could be vaguely termed life-" It was odd how he put emphasis upon that, as if he felt he weren't truly alive- "I myself am from far inside, where interaction with the outside is nonexistent. But I digress. You have seen the swamp bordering Prinem? That is your destination. As to how far..." There was the slightest of frowns, "We term distance differently than those on the outside, due to how many of us travel. But you may travel far within, or you may not."

The creature shrugged here, as if the question of injury was unimportant. "I would say the danger is considerable, and possibly varied. If you are fortunate any troubles you encounter will involve you trying to protect your flesh from physical harm. An example of what you could find is here..." He reached into his shirt and pulled out a large, long-dead mosquito. The thing's body was nearly a foot long! Réan lightly tapped its head before continuing. "I'd wear plenty of what you call 'insect repellent' if you'll take my advice. But the conditions you'll be going through depend on where you go: there are those that declare war on us, even though we have done nothing to them and theirs, and I am aware of at least one ruin within our borders-a testament to a nation's folly at thinking they could claim our land for their own...."

The creature paused, closing his eyes for a little while. "And rewards are negotiable-if we can provide what you wish, we will certainly try to give it or its equivalent to you. Money, knowledge...almost anything. Some things might require intense discussion amongst ourselves, however, so you'd best have a second option. And hnn?" His head tilted a little at that. "Yes, that...while there are some of us that would be willing to help you-provide shelter, offer support depending on what you need...there are just as many whom would be happy to add to your troubles-some of you more than others." His gaze flicked over the crowd before him, lingering on the half-angel. "Any other questions? I will answer as I am able."

Vladim looked around, noticing others followed his example and practically stormed the table where the two presumably beings were sitting...
Great... the armored dog at least looks able and hopefully, not too smart to try to get all of whatewer will be given for himself... but the "23"
(that was the sample number of the experiments that resembled him, so he used it as a natural nickname) and the faceless guy look about as useful as flamethrower on a submarine, and the more diners the less cake...

Situation became a lot bleaker when he noticed a possible competitor ... a small ferret-like angel.
Angels were more than a worthy competitor to Vlad.. despite his talent and training, Angels had natural affinity to magic, so one would be able to outdo him in that respect with just a moderate amount of study, not even mentioning that it is way easier to fit it in your schedule when your av. life expectancy is one and half millenium.
The fact that the mentioned natural affinity was to light magic, to which he was somewhat "allergic", was just a cherry core on top of the whole crap-cake.
Ah *bleep*  ... the only thing missing is that one of these turns out to be an law enforcer wanting to get a few bucks during holidays...
He let know little of his mental state by his expression, however, an alert eye could notice his ears under the cape twitching somewhat.


Finally the wolf , began to talk of at least some details of the job to be done, pulling out an unusual insect specimen in the process.
He heard the somewhat deteriorating remark towards his presumed capabilities, and his eyes fixated upon the wolf, Vladim began thinking at a feverish pace.
Reward... they look like they *might* not only pay up, but give me enough cubi and triwing DNA samples to... or indeed the knowledge how to become one outright... if only they aren't bluffing.. i find their wares, and suddenly their feet will itch in the swamp's direction.. or sacrifice us as a neat gambit after we take out the opponent's figures...

When the wolf was done talking, Vladim begun.
"That might be, however, capability to overcome obstacles is determined by more than physical might," he shifted his eyes in direction of the doberman for a split-second " indeed, an apt mind finds the door instead of breaking down the wall" - .
"However, speaking of obstacles, who or what is in our path and what are they able to do?   I find it hard to believe that someone with enough might to raze cities  would go through this trouble to get around a few animals," he pointed towards the mosquito with a claw " however large and vicious."

"I do have a question." the wolf with two swords asked, his tone somewhat flat. He looked around for an open seat - finding none - and debated briefly about sitting on the floor before turning and dragging another chair over. Not being able to see the person you were talking to made negotiations hard.
"You want us to march into a hostile environment to fight enemies we are likely ill-suited to fight, without much information as to who is friend or foe, to overthrow someone who is -ostensibly- evil, probably just doesn't like you, and is apparently too powerful for you to overthrow yourselves, without causing 'chaos', as your note says, losing our own lives, or simply getting lost in the swamp and never being seen again."

"I think we might need a bit more than a dead mosquito." Cogidubnus said, giving a wry smile. "Maps might help. A better description of what, exactly, you want us to do might help. A better idea of what our foes are capable of might help."
He leaned forward, and his smile faded just a little bit. "Being a bit more honest with us might help. You reek of illusions." he tilted his head, and sniffed for emphasis. "If we're to bleed for you, honesty is the very least we can expect."

Bartholomew gave the (apparently) canine recruiter an intense look as he listened as best he could. Gee, what was it that Uncle Artus told him about helping uncanny and dangerous-looking foreigners?

'So Uncle, say I ever get offered a job by some creep who claims it's for good--
'Don't do it.'
'But what if he's paying out bigtime?'
'They're untrustworthy individuals you've never seen or met before. Don't do it.'


That seemed like decent enough advice. After all, he had no idea just what kind of monetary reward they'd even be offering, and he'd been short-changed before on these deals.

But knowledge... hmmm.

The demon strode over, taking a seat at an adjacent table. "What kind of knowledge we talking about here, huh? Like 'turning lead into gold' knowledge, 'where all the dodo beings went' knowledge, or what?" He draped an arm over the back of his chair. "I mean, no offense, but did you just admit to living in a fuckin' swamp? What the hell kind of info could you even have that we want?"

'Your strongest drink for starters."Kaf muttered the Derge, reaching for his coin purse. "Stout preferably, but really drop a bottle of vodka in front of me and drink it straight." He raised his warhammer."And a towel to wipe Charlene. "Oh by the Gods he named his weapon! And it had a female form engraved in it(What a pervert!), the scantily clad ferret's top half was covered in blood, a single drop dripping on the table, Kaf quickly shooting "I'll wipe that down too."

His ears caught something a hiss from behind. His eyes quickly glanced back, noticing a table of odd characters. An odd looking Creature, possibly a mythos, was staring at him, Kaf guess he might have been the source of the noise. And he was looking at Kaf like he aimed to reach down his throat and rip out his still beating heart. The purebreed Angel  narrowed his eyes,  as if shooting a mutual "I don't like you either buddy." towards him.

The others had some quirks as well, a wolf Being, probably atypical Adventurer, seemed like the closet thing to normal. Everyone else was either curious looking or gave Kaf an equally bad vibe as the wolf-mythos thing. A large figure concealing his face behind a metal mask. Strange, but there was weirder, like the clergy looking fella with the ominous evil/obnoxious spiked shoulder pads. Likely another harmless crazy. A Paladin like wearing...by the Wings of Azimuth was he wearing body parts?! Oh Gods, he felt like he was going to vomit.

The weird plant-like mythos seemed to have traces of Angel in him.He wasn't sure what to make of him, really, but maybe he could at least have a friendly chat with the guy. Maybe about screwed up Angel family politics.That's be a fun evening alright, telling him your family's bloody history Kaf! Surely he'd be delighted to know how many your great grandfather backstabbed, poisoned, and had murder in their sleep!

The ferret Angel turned back to Derge. "What the Hell is going on at that table?"He asked casually. "The circus recruiting or something?"

"Yes, I do mean the discussion."

Dhōngami took the seat, putting his plate down on the table, dunking the sweetbread into the stew, hoping for it to act as a sponge, and took a bite.  He was far to hungry to analyze anything about it, other than it was edible.  The half breed listened in on the questions and answers flying about, content to eat his meal.

Curiously, he did not change his grip on Fumetsu much, just adjusted his hand placement to lower on the shaft, keeping the weapon point up, nearly perpendicular to the floor.  Soon enough, his supply of sweetbread was gone, and the small amount of stew that remained not worth the loss of dignity to obtain it.  Dhōngami sat up straighter, now that he was safe from starvation, for the moment. 

"If I remember properly," Dhōngami started, "swamps have just as much probability to house valuable natural resources, like gems or metals, but they go unharvested because the cost of doing so without overly damaging the swamp would be too great.  My questions, because my fellows here have already asked everything else necessary for the job are:  What aren't you prepared to offer as payment?  And, what guarantees do we have that you will uphold your end of the deal?"

Pale, seemingly emotionless eyes looked at each of those currently seated as they spoke-if he noticed the look that Angel gave him, the creature gave no sign whatsoever.

Then he smiled, his gaze locking on the werewolf quite firmly in that bizarrely predatory fashion of his. "This is more promising than I'd been told to expect of outsiders. You have the wherewithal to think I'm being dishonest, when I have yet to actually lie. Very, very good. It is not in my kind's nature to be direct, and while the common language is the easiest for us to speak, it lacks much of the meaning of our own tongue."

Réan leaned forward a little, locking his slim fingers together as he kept his attention mostly focused on the werewolf. "Fine, I will try my best to tell you what I do know...hnn? Another one?"

The fellow flicked his attention to the scaled newcomer. "Before I continue...yes, we live in a swamp. As to knowledge...why not pull a seat over, newcomer, and listen."

"As I was saying," Réan continued in that smooth, soft tone of his while waiting to see if Bart would get a chair or simply stand, "You all raise reasonable questions-if all those whom come to help are as desirous of accurate information, there will be little worry indeed. But to the point."

He looked between Vladim and Cog. "You both ask similar questions, so my answer will be relatively the same. But the wolf is right, to a point...save we don't need to overthrow someone-more like stamp their existence from this world for what they are doing to us." It was hard to imagine such a dry, dusty voice could hold much feeling, but the sheer hatred that bubbled forth for an instant was horrifying with how calmly he said it. "There are no maps, but we will provide guides...since it is impossible to map a land that is always changing in some way, save for it's borders."

"As to what you term obstacles...all I can attest to is their physical prowess, since my youth deprives me of names, and those under his or her influence are clouded from our awareness, their abilities hidden." He nodded at Kafzeil as the Angel made his order. "Think of what it would take, in a fair fight, to match and perhaps overwhelm that of an Angel like himself in the best of condition. The speed, the agility, and sheer strength required to rip through skin that can be hardened like stone in a few blows. That," the creature said, "Is what you can expect from more developed members of my kind, unlike myself."

Here the wolfish fellow locked his eyes on Cog again. "If you want to know about the enemy, all we know is that if they can master us, they are a threat to the world in general. And we would rather not give them an army to do it with. But now..." He eyed the ceiling for a few moments, his tone more thoughtful. "The task will sound very simple...but at the very least we need you to try and take back four treasures our leader has been given to protect and that I cannot name. Once they are taken, we can move in and crush the filth responsible-with them, they can bind our minds, warp our perceptions...and make us your enemy without choice." His head tilted to one side a little, still regarding the smooth roofing above. "If you can kill them, so much the better-it will save us the many lives that will be lost in the effort."

"But to the rewards." His head snapped back to a more normal angle here. "I will not be the one giving them to you-our leader will, if it is within his power. Gold and electrum, artifacts lost to the memory of other sentient races, knowledge of spells and forgotten things...there is much we can give, which is why I believed it simplest to tell me what you would want. As to what we can't give..." Réan smiled openly at the half-Angel. "I won't know unless I'm told what you want, and it turns out we don't have it. And to assurances on holding our end of a bargain...."

There was a curious silence here, and those flat orbs focused on Dhōngami quite intently. "Know that we always keep to a bargain, unless the ones we deal with betray us. But if you want an assurance..." The creature frowned, thinking. "It is a pity I'm needed in Malse urgently, or I would come with you as a gesture towards that...hnn...I suppose keeping any of those that guide you alive would have to suffice as an assurance. Or at least one of them, anyway."

******

The squirrel blinked as the Angel brought out his purse, before reaching under the counter to pull out a well-used rag. "You're lucky we get a lot of interesting folk here, else I wouldn't have a cloth handy for just that purpose Angel." He smiled a little as he set it before the fellow...even as the door behind him slid open and the soft padding of feet could be heard-along with the smell of cooked food.

"As to your drink...just a second." He glanced behind him, looking down beside him. "Yes, take them to the table where our friend's at, and don't you dare let them touch the floor." Ferge huffed. "And there better not be any of your fur on them this time, or I'm wrapping your fuzzy butt in a full-body hairnet. And you know I'd rather you weren't in your natural form when working! Now," he looked at Kafzeil again as the soft sound resumed, "Vodka or stout, huh? I don't usually get an order for that...but let's see. Heh, the last Angel I ever had in here wanted wine from northern Hylo. Strange stuff, sweet as honey yet stings on the way down like the kick of a bee-stung mule."

The fellow turned towards the rack behind him, looking over the different bottles. "Hmm...as to that lot there, just a group of adventurers trying to make sense of my friend there," he said lightly despite the odd emphasis he put on the word 'friend'. "If you care to try your luck talking to him, be my guest-ah, here we go, just show me the color of your money first, and wipe it off if it's as bloody as your weapon," the squirrel said firmly as he brought a small bottle of the requested vodka over.

******

As if for the sake of distraction, Vladim would soon feel the odd sensation of something nudging his right leg, followed by a soft, vulpine whine. If he happened to look down he'd see a slim, curious-looking fox that looked rather feral in appearance...save that its general coat was a stark bone-white, with light ginger along the ears and tail-tip. The animal was too well-defined to be normal as well, and the eyes much too intelligent as one could see a pair of small plates balanced perfectly on its back. Each had a rather normal-seeming hamburger-complete with a bun made of that same sweetbread the half-angel had gotten.

At least they looked normal at first glance anyway.

And hmm, and that odd animal looking up at the lynx placidly must be the kitsune Ferge had been talking about...

Renald's scowl deepened. This Réan had a knack for talking a lot without saying anything. The mention of electrum caught his attention though. If they had connections to resources that rare...
Well, he always needed materials. And this man was offering to bring him to his superiors. The doberman allowed himself a brief smile at the thought. His superiors, apart from the ones he's sitting down with presently.
"When would I be able to meet this leader of yours, then?" He asked, pleasantly. Inwardly his mind roiled. He should find out exactly what he was dealing with. Gage the strength of what he was up against, lest these creatures turn on him. How difficult would it be to get this Réan to arm wrestle him? He'd tried that once, with a demon, worked out alright... He'd lost the contest, but he knew just how hard to swing his hammer so the fellow couldn't block it afterwards.

As the angel came closer, Vladim shifted nervously in his chair.
How wonderful... Well... I'll have to be careful.. get him on my side... make him wing-slap the bucket ... or both.. perhaps the armored dog could be of use... someone with a cloak of cubi skin will probably not be all that angel-friendly either
The rest of the members reacted predictably, leaping on the bandwagon of questions ... only the wolf's talk showed some unexpected wit, evidently catching upon the hints in Vladim's speech.

Rean's response made him put on a wide grin, concealed by the cape somewhat.

What an *assuring* guarantee... We get you your gizmos and kill as many of them as possible... and, having received a boost large enough to sort out someone who can match an angel HtH you surely will be motivated  to bleed out of your pockets, not to mention share powerful knowledge... and as an assurance we get the lives of our com.. one of them... who has no idea what is he going into... while the orchestrator conveniently disappears despite this supposedly being critical to their society...
He changed thoughts for a moment
And, if by some damn way you can listen to my thoughts, since i forgot to conceal again, yeah, you win... Even i give better assurance to my henchmen, and that is something to ponder.... Do you really think all of us here are such incredible idiots to leap...

Vladim felt a nudge on his foot...
So he re... SHIT!
"Pchhh!" Vladim involuntarily hissed, almost jumping from his chair, and under his cape his fur puffed up like after a lightning strike.

When the nudging didn't cease, he looked down and noticed the small fox with hamburger-plates.
Wonderful... making an idiot out of myself again....hell.
He glanced around the room with a "So what?" look on his face,  picked up a hamburger and started eating hungrily.
Mmm.. meat enclosed in meat... that's my kind of food... well except eclairs maybe...
Taking a short break he looked onto others as if nothing had happened, and began talking:

"I have a few questions.... Firstly... you say they physically match an angel... and can use illusions, mindwarping... but what about other powers, such as offensive magic? The strongest muscles can't help you against someone who'll comfortably nail you from distance, you know? *grin* ... Now onto a more sombre matter. Money is easy to check  - basic chemistry i can do in my sleep.. but how can we be sure any knowledge, such as the thing i have an interest in, won't be a snake oil recipe? Especially after handing you out the gizmos?"

Dhōngami's reaction to the sudden hissing of his cat neighbor was to whip his hand up, the beginnings of a Magic Missile glowing in his grip.  Once he realized the feline was merely startled, he let it die off, muttering apologies.

"So, what you are saying is you don't exactly know whom it is you want us to murder, is it?"  Just great, we could be going up against a Fae for all they know.  Captain Balls had also produced a question, and so Dhōngami kept his mouth shut after speaking.  There was very little left to say.  All that remained was proving their individual worth to the endeavor. 

Dhōngami would let the others at the table, and the newcomer speak a bit longer, then "We have all asked much of you.  What questions do you have for us?"

[[OOC:  Blargh.]]

[[OOC:  Brought to you as a joint posting by Kafzeil and myself...]]


The creature glanced at the Doberman thoughtfully. "When? That depends on what happens here, doesn't it? " There was a touch of  contempt to those words, as if he felt Renald were too eager for his own good-though it quickly vanished as Vladim caught his attention with that sharp hiss of surprise. Hmm, he didn't seem amused really, instead focusing on the last set of  questions presented to him.

"Let me clarify. They," here his narrow muzzle twisted in distaste, "do not have the physical capability to match an Angel, " He nodded once, "We do.  As to what their offensive abilities....none of us whom have attempted to discover them are able to report it." And for good reason-they'd no doubt been bent to this foe's will! "If you refer to us on magical abilities-I will say my race has little use for magic itself, despite our knowledge of it. Our companions are the ones that make use of spells." His strangely dead eyes seemed to bore into Vladim's own. "For us, it is considered fortunate enough when we are imbued with a...how you say, talent."

"As to what those talents are," he continued in that strangely soft voice of his, "I am unable to name them all. But I can show you mine. The only problem is it has...specific requirements to work." The wolfish creature's eyes flicked over those with him,  then focusing on the rest of the guests-

-Before settling firmly on that ferret-angel that had glared in return at him earlier.

"Watch. This is why I in particular am not concerned about a ranged opponent." There wasn't a so much as a twitch as the creature lashed out-those closest to him could feel a curious surge-not magic, but something as unnatural as Réan himself....

*****

Kafzeil frowned at the jibe about his money being bloody, and had been about to comment on that when a sudden, searing pain made itself known in his chest. "Wha-?" he managed as the pain increased-it was like someone had burrowed their hand under his ribs and was now tightly clenching his heart in a grip of iron. There had been no warning, not the hint of a spell in the vicinity to prepare him for this!

The innkeeper prudently stepped out of reach, ears flicking back and raising a brow as the Angel coughed-a nasty, hacking sound-and clutched his chest with trembling fingers. "Mister, if you're carrying a plague, I'm right obliged to have you tossed out my door," the rodentine fellow said seriously as he kept his distance.

What in hell's name is going on here?! the ferret-Angel was thinking as he tried not to fall out of his chair, It's like someone's trying to crush my heart with their bare hands! Who's doing this? Where....

Needless to say, Kaf was starting to panic as he looked over his shoulder, trying to see if he could catch whom was responsible for his pain-even as it worsened, becoming that type of agony that would put a being on their knees and yet not quite kill them...

...And ended up locking eyes with the same fellow that had hissed at him, those flat eyes clearly enjoying his suffering as if it were some grand play solely for himself. Why you bastard....

And then suddenly the pain was gone, and he gasped as his heart stuttered, seemed to pause...before going back to a somewhat normal, if agitated, pace. You're going to pay....

*****

"My talent is limited by my imagination," the wolfish creature said calmly as he watched the Angel suffer, "I can crush every joint in one's body, one at a time, or even focus on a specific organ. The catch, you wonder?" He glanced at the feline half-angel seated at the table, "I have to be familiar with one's internal structure, as well as aware of my target within a rather general vicinity.  But I digress. You want me to ask you questions...."

His eyes closed for a moment, before he glanced at Dhōngami. "I'm curious. Are you animal, or plant?  I have yet to see anything like you before." Then his attention flicked towards the curiously scaled demon. "And you...how are you warm-blooded, and yet with the appearance of a reptile?" His head tilted ever so slightly as he waited for their answers.

"I am both and neither."  Dhōngami shrugged.  "My parents were an Angel, and a plant Mythos.  So I'm too plantlike to be classified an animal, but too much an animal to be a plant.  My parents considered me a new species of plankton.  And, as much of an excellent demonstration that was, I hope you understand it was thoroughly rude." Dhōngami then moved Fumetsu from its perpendicular position, to bring the weapon across his chest, and briefly touching the sheath over the spearhead with his free hand.  "Very, very rude."

A moment of tension would likely ensue.  Once he let the subtle threat hang in the air for a moment, Dhōngami spoke up again.  "But you are our go-between for our potential employers.  Some rudeness is not intolerable.  Next question?"

Bart gave Vladim a strange leer before noticing the small vulpine trotting by, burger balanced rather nicely upon its back. Finally, some decent grub in this nowhere town. He snapped his clawlike fingers gently as the fox came near, grabbing and setting his plate on the table behind him. He could dig in once everyone finished talking.

"Well, shit, how do zombies operate? How can a guy call lightning down by saying a few words? Why is anything like anything?" The scaled demon cracked his knuckles. "Is me not being cold-blooded just too over the edge to believe or something?" Really. For God's sake, he'd nearly gotten run over by a gryphon cart on the way here. There was magic everywhere in this bitch.

Managing another cough as he rubbed his chest, looked at the barkeep, looking angered as he opened coin purse, placing a few Gold, Silver, and Bronze Coins or various mints." I doubt you take anykind of paper money." He muttered, turning his gaze to group behind him. He stood up, muttering "I'll be back shortly just need to sort something out."

He strolled over to table, arms crossed."Hey, nice magic trick."He grinned sarcastically."Just a warning. Warm me about pulling something like on some random shmuck, okay?I am not in any sort of mood for bullshit.."

Kaf was aware as far as Creatures went...he wasn't terribly intimidating. Still, he was hoping for something, granted pissing off a Creature in a bar was considered suicidal in most places.he normally wasn't this confrontationaleither,  but dammit, the least he could ask for was some peace! Not helping was the trick Rean had pulled left Adrenaline coursing in the Angel's veins, and let's be honest, having somebody telekinetically squeeze your internal organs would make any sour.

Vladim stared right at Rean, his internal state being worth of the old joke, defining mixed feelings as your mother-in-law rushing down a cliff in your new car.
A part of his mind was rejoicing that the angel got his insides twisted for no reason except it being a neat demo, which wasn't only entertaining but also probably made his relationship to the employer a lot less cordial; a fact that could be useful later in either forging an alliance, or checking him out.
However, a more common sense endowed part warned.

Now how the hell did he do that? It isn't magic... psionics perhaps? Or some damn creature power, like natural shapeshifting.... In any case, he isn't making his argument any stronger.... not only the "guide" and hostage is just a single expendable dolt, he'll be able to kill us requiring just a moment's lack of attention to squeeze a brain or so.... seems like we're in it up to the neck and we haven't met the enemy yet... but who knows... maybe they'll be making more believable offers...

Still staring at Rean with an unflinching gaze, Vladim spoke.
"That was.... nice indeed... was it psionics? I last saw something similar ages ago, back at the course.... " The tone of his voice changed from entertained to a much more stern one.
"However ,  it raises further questions.... first would be, what makes you think we'll be able to stand against your enemies?
Nothing , of course... that's why their promises are so wide and yet so badly detailed out.. they defintely don't expect we'll ever collect...

Second, i unfortunately have to repeat... how are we able to make sure any knowledge gotten from you won't be a recipe for snake oil...  a scam, if you prefer simpler words.."
Luck has it he didn't even notice Dhuongami's magic missile attempt, or his apology... otherwise the situation probably wouldn't have ended nicely for one of them.

Apart from some minor knack for enchanting, metalworking, and a handful of other tricks he'd found beneficial to learn, Renald had all the magical affinity of a pomegranite. He could read the victim's face well enough though, and kept it in mind. He remembered the succubus he'd dealt with recently had been capable of a similar spell. He'd had to take two tries to reach her, the second time having reinforced his armor...
Renald smiled, "You mention that this ability is particular to you. Are you saying that there's a great deal of variance on your abilities?" He took a small sip of his drink, "I do believe that's the most useful bit of information he's given us today, gentlemen."
"I think I'm getting a good sense for how you think, Rean. You Are Very Mysterious. That Is What You Do, Oh Yes Indeed." He took another sip, "And you're used to that being taken as a given by those around you. But that's because of who you surround yourself with, isn't it? Your superiors don't even consider it worthwhile to tell you half of what exactly you're hiring us to do." He took a longer gulp from his mug, draining it and slamming it to the table. "So why don't we speed this up to the bit where you put us in contact with someone who has the authority to negotiate this matter, hrm?"

Réan had been about to respond to the half-angel's mild threat...but instead locked his eyes on Kafzeil again. Clearly he wasn't impressed by the warning. In fact, he seemed even more amused as he spoke.  "Is that all, prey?" He said disdainfully-rather like how some of the more arrogant creatures would speak to a being whom had challenged them. "You disappoint me, very much so. It's bad enough I have trouble speaking in a manner that others understand, but to suffer disappointment from a delicacy such as yourself..." The wolfish creature shook his head...even as what he was saying might have sunk in.

He just called an Angel a delicacy! Not to mention the ostentatious title of 'prey' at that!

But before one could probe into that, the creature tilted his head slightly. "Now. I don't see what's wrong with playing with a potential meal before killing it at a later date-you other creatures do it all the time." He shrugged. "But I have business to take care of here and elsewhere that are a bit more important than attempting to eat someone alive-or going for more entertaining options before said dining." He nodded at those seated with him. "They are a bit more important than you are...unless you were happening to be here to meet someone about work."

Then his attention flickered between Bart and Dhongami-he certainly wasn't bothered by the threatening gesture the partial Mythos was displaying. "I see," he said to the  Half-Angel, "As much as I want to probe that further, such an experience would be quite painful...and unlike someone else, I would have a bit of trouble putting you back together again, I believe. As to you," he eyed the scaled Demon with seeming interest, "Perhaps I am mistaken about you being a real reptile as I focus my senses. Indeed..."

His muzzle twisted into a grim smile abruptly. "We know how the undead work; the magic that chains their souls to their flesh and gives it a semblance of life...or how it merely uses the memories left behind in the shell to imitate a soul, should they be intact enough." Then he shrugged. "And you merely interest me-it is not often we see a sentient cold-blood like ourselves, you see. A contradiction like yourself is most...interesting. It makes us wonder if you were not cursed by one of those wretched Fae to appear so."

Wait, wait...us? Hmm...might want to probe into that.

"But I digress." Réan settled more comfortably as he looked intently at Vladim. "Clearly my manner is not helping this affair. But to answer you feline-it was what we call talent. It is similar to the mental abilities you mention...but with a distinct difference that to explain in detail would take years." There was an oddly challenging quality to his tone, as ambiguous as if one were peering through fog at some unknown figure. "Suffice it to say that when I use my ability in particular, it's like merely imposing my very essence upon your own-an expenditure of my life-force in a precise, controlled manner that doesn't even require serious concentration. Magic cannot protect against it, nor can armor...since they're not the target it works upon."

"As to why we think you and the others present are capable...you are not like us. You do not have our limitations, our weaknesses...and most of all, your minds function quite differently. You will see things that we cannot, and act in a manner that will hopefully succeed." The creature slouched back in his chair, head tilting again even as that vulpine 'waiter' made to pad away once he was certain they'd gotten their orders. "And it is merely one enemy that we are aware of. Those of my race that are under his or her control do not really count." A lighter, almost normal smile graced his muzzle here....

...Before he paused at Renald's words, his attention focusing on the dog with interest. "Yes, they are as different as the individual that they belong to...for those few of us that have them." He relaxed a little, even looking amused by the canine's assessment of him before speaking further. "How very wrong you are, Renald. While yes, our leader has not given me the most precious details-instead wanting me to give enough to interest you into finding out more and make the effort to talk with him directly-this is not how I normally do things. This language is so...how you say, inaccurate when it comes to conveying meanings. As to whom I surround myself with..."

That amusement deepened. "I'm well aware of what you're thinking-believing my companion is a servant or slave, or something close correct? Know this: I would fight to protect him as much as he would fight to protect me, which is much more than I can say of most other societies.  Our companions are of more value to us than any treasure or power, and we would do much to protect them. But enough."

The creature glanced towards where his companion had went earlier. "You would have to come with me and be truly, honestly interested in this venture. No doubt Cori has things prepared anyway...and perhaps our leader can speak to you more...to the point, as some say. Shall we? The feline will get his proof if you do, and at least for a moment or two, you will talk to someone whom can speak your language in an understandable manner."

Cogidubnus had sat silently for some time, drinking his ale and waiting as he was, for the creature sitting before them to take them seriously.
He'd heard more believeable offers from kidnappers. They'd be lucky not to walk ten feet into the swamp before their 'employers' killed them and took everything they had, and sold their organs on the open market.

And they apparently thought they could do it, too. Like Vladim, he'd heard of mind powers that sounded very similiar to what this creature professed to be capable of, but apparently this was not quite right. Not even magic or armor could defend against it. They obviously weren't so omnipotent if they needed to hire people to do things for them. Which made him think they were simply being used. As food, fodder, or victims for robbery, didn't much matter which.

The wolf wondered at the truth of their claims. Magic broke the rules all the time. It's what magic did. Such a blanket statement was, while not impossible, very unlikely, and was probably only talking about more direct applications of magic. Lots of things could pierce a forcefield. Could he crush a brain made into living stone? The wolf wondered.

The wolf paused for a moment. Life force. That sounded similar to something else...

"I know this." Cog said, "That one cannot impose yourself over reality. But it can be learned to realize there is no separation. Therefore the master acts, without doing anything."
It was the spirit of the ravening beast inside him which had at first forced him to master his own energies in this way. And it was likely that it was only because of his particular circumstances that he was capable of what he was. He was no ancient sage, although he tried to be wise. But he was always learning.

A small ripple in the air, like the breath from a sigh, passed over the table, brushing dust and crumbs from it.  A subtle carress.
Control was hard. He breathed out. The dust on the table spiraled up, and then dissipated.

"I think that I must agree with Renald." Cogidubnus said, after pausing for a moment. "And, as well, I think that perhaps we should confer amongst ourselves before agreeing to anything."

.. the angel will be a lot less of a problem if this goes on like this... well done, Rean
The lynx smiled for a moment.
Then, upon hearing what can be hardly called something else than boasting, his eyes phased out, trying to think about the words he just heard, and dislodging a loose splinter from the table with his claw, toying with it.

Imposing their essence, not stopped by armor or magic....  knowledge of anatomy...  master acts without acting....

Vladim has read about many mechanisms of magic, and this again, reminded him of something... for certain obscure magic phenomena, the act of observation was strong enough to impose the caster's will upon the observed, entity sometimes even unwittingly... this could be one of those cases.

If only i had my books around...  i think i saw this somewhere....

Dhōngami stood, realigning Fumetsu, and moved over to stand by the swordsman, going the way around the table that did not take him past the wingcapped canine.  "Well?" He spake, barely lowering his voice, "They're not very helpful, but as far as I can tell they've been straightforward with us.  They've tipped their hand, we haven't.  I advise taking advantage of that, because I am, whether or not you lot do so."

And then he went over by Rean, crossing Fumetsu over his chest yet again.  "Now, I don't know about these others, but I'm in.  Can you please point me in the direction of someone who can tell me what you want stabbed until it ceases its metabolic processes?"


[[OOC:  Dear Piflak almighty, this post is full of failure.]]

The ferret raised an eyebrow, managing a soft, humorless chuckle, grabbing a seat and sitting down.

"Normally, I'd advise against hiring adventurers or Paladins."he didn't finish his usual mantra, For the same price you can just buy a cart of kerosene, dose your home in it, and light a match. You'll get the same results. but he continued, looking over the motley crew of misfits.

You're not much better then them, Kaf.

He scowled."Now, what is it you want? Warriors to save a bunch of poor farmers from bandits? Isn't that a tad cliche?As a matter of fact, what are you?"He could almost imagine a chess board between him and his new rival.

(Surgeon general's warning: this post sucks!)