Roland cracked his neck as he looked around the bar. It was of a higher class establishment than what he was used too, or at least would normally been seen in. The building was made of aged oak, and had several pairs of real bear fur as rugs. For drinks, they served mainly wine and mead, not a cup in the house seemed to house the ale that Roland would normally prefer. He sighed as he lifted a glass of red wine to his lips, sipping lightly for a change. He had two guests he was waiting on, a Mr. Kerson a fur merchant whose noble family had monopolized the importing of exotic furs. As well as a Mr. Dover, with whom he shared this quest. He didn't know much of either man, other than Mr. Kerson had a taste for the higher life, while Mr. Dover was Roland's partner during this diplomatic endeavor. The thought of his task caused Roland to down a good portion of his glass. It didn’t remain near empty for long as one of the barley clothed waitresses hurriedly headed his way to refill his glass. Portmont was known for many things, and the heat was one of them despite the season. Due to this Roland had chosen to go without his typical leather armor for the meeting, instead opting on an opulent purple silk tunic, and matching trousers. Unlike the wine, this was something he could get use too. The silk’s caress and the freedom of movement were extraordinary, it was a shame it wouldn’t help stop a blade. While lost in thought Roland didn’t see the noble who had walked across the tavern too him. “Mister Rutledge I presume?” Roland looked up to see the voice came from a man with broad well defined shoulders, and a long black beard that trailed midway to his chest. Despite his physique, his hair was neatly trimmed, beard included, and was garbed in richer silks than Roland himself and clearly perfumed in some sort of scent that he didn’t recognize. Roland shot Kerson a quick smile as he rose to shake the man’s paw like hands, “Indeed I am, you must be Mister. Kerson. You’re earlier than I have expected, please have a seat, my compatriot will be here shortly.” The two man sat down, practically lounging in the pillows the large chairs were filled with. Roland began to sweat, he may just be out of his league. Thrown die: 39 + 10 49 / 320 @Ben Dover
Ben gave himself one last glance in the reflection of the glass, patting down any possible wrinkles in his outfit. He'd not much gold yet to spare on exquisite clothing, but some pockets here and there had given him enough wealth to splurge on finer clothes. And though he'd stuck out like a sore thumb closer to the capital, here in the temperate weather his outfit caught more appreciative looks than disdained. He offered a friendly smile to the man tending the tavern's bar, breathing in the pure luxury of the place. Silks and expensive drinks, plush seats and sweet aromas, what wasn't there to love? It took little time to spot his companion for the quest and their… obstacle. It took even less time for Ben to pursue a guileless waitress and charm her into handing over her tray of drinks. He'd even been so kind as to tip her (with the gold coins he'd swiped from her back pocket, of course)! Leaving the maiden behind, he approached the two lounging men. Hips swayed and fingers balanced the tray with a practiced expertise on one hand, the other subtly crushing a pill into one of the glasses. "A drink on the house," he said with a flourish as he came to a stop before the two gentlemen, stooping low to move the drink in front of the richly-dressed noble with a wink, "for our esteemed guest!" Each languid movement was planned to catch the man's eyes, and he delighted in the way it dropped to look at his navel, then back to his face. Carefully, and with a coy little smirk that promised… interesting adventures, Ben perched himself on the armrest. "Mister Kerson, I've heard numerous tales. That you'd bless us with your presence today is so generous of you." Never let it be said that Ben couldn't suck up with the best of them. Taking his own glass (the very-not-drugged glass, of course), he held it up. "A toast, to mutually beneficial endeavours," he said. Ben did his best to not look too interested as their target knocked back a good portion of their drink with a hearty laugh. This beast of a man would intimidate lesser men, but nobody could resist some good ol' charm. And drugs that impacted your reactions. But mostly his charm. Thrown die: 85 134 / 320 @Roland Rutledge
Roland frowned as he saw Ben approaching carrying a tray of drinks. Was his plan to pretend to be a waiter? Ben had convinced Roland to give him a drug that would make the alcohol have bit more of a punch. He figured it was his plan to drug Kerson, but he didn’t realize this would be the method. The issue with the plan was that it led to Roland being forced into the speaking role. Roland repressed a sigh as he downed yet another glass, grabbing a spare from Ben’s tray, slightly hoping he had drugged all of them. “So,” Roland said matching the man’s laugh, “How is the fur business treating you? I’ve heard your wares go for over triple the normal amount.” Kerson laughed once more as he took another swig of the drugged wine, “Hah, try ten times! There’s no finer wolf furs in the land than the kind my men bring back with them!” Roland smiled as he fingered a fur on his chair, “I must say I can’t exactly disagree. To the fur business!” Roland held his glass up to the man smiling widely. Kerson obliged the cheer by tapping his own glass to Roland’s, “To the fur trade!” Both men finished their wine in a single gulp slamming the glasses to the table with slam. Roland laughed as he waved Ben, or any waitress over, “Bring us more!” He said loudly, the alcohol making its way to his head before turning to his guest, “My treat of course” The large man laughed, “As long as your buying I will be drinking. But say where your other compatriot is?” Roland suppressed a grimace, turning it into an unsure smile, “To be quite honest the boy is new to this part of town, he probably got lost and is finding refuge in a nice lap.” Kerson laughed as he pulled another glass off a passing tray. “So, since it’s just us two, I think it’s time we got down to business.” The man stretched out, as he looked around him confused, “Hmm, sorry I got a bit dizzy there. This wine is better than I remember.” Roland smiled genuinely for the first time tonight, the drug was working. Thrown die: 58 +10 202/320
Ben had busied himself with scouting out the tavern, hoping to spot any other pockets worth looting as Roland handled the more… delicate procedures. At the shout for more, he darted back to the bar, buying two (horribly expensive) drinks. His gold! His sweet, beautiful gold! Ben would have to talk Roland into some compensation for the trouble, perhaps with extra delivery fees. He kept his souring thoughts to himself, plastering on a bright smile as he sashayed to the table again. If things went well, he would earn a lot more than the measly gold coins he had sacrificed tonight. Without even looking at him, the bear of a man had swiped a drink off his tray. Ben pouted, placing the other in front of Roland with a pointed look. "Enjoying yourselves, gentlemen?" he asked, leaning back and planting a hand on his hip. He took in the flushed ears of Kerson and the slightly glazed film over his eyes. Wow. Either this man was a lightweight or that drug was actually super effective. "Very much so, now please leav–ughhh," Whatever commands Kerson had, they were quickly cut off as the merchant's face scrunched up in confused pain. "We have… business…" The words trailed off in the kind of hesitation that came with being drunk when you'd expected tipsy. Acting quickly, Ben tugged Kerson up, supporting most of the drunk merchant's weight. "Now, now, we can't have you getting sick all over our fine establishment!" He smiled, shifting around. "Let me help you to a bathroom, and perhaps some cold water." Roland's agreements and banter were probably interesting to him, but Ben was already bored with the entire thing. He needed something more… exciting. And he at least had enough common sense to know that those things were best kept away from peeping eyes. He led Kerson out into a back alley, using the tavern's side entrance. "Vhere yous take…ing… me?" The merchant's words slurred together. There was no bathroom. No cold water. Just Kerson and Ben's growing mischievous smile in a shadowy alley. "Sir Kerson," he started dramatically, "you are a very rich man. Plenty of gold to spare. Like other rich people with too much time on their hands, you want to spend it on silly things." His hands grabbed either of Kerson's shoulders, nails digging in to the flesh there. "Like your dumb wars, picking between Falder-no and Asto-ruin." Clarity seemed to flicker into Kerson's eyes. "HELP!" Had this man not learned from his own time passing on the vibrant streets? Nobody cared for the dangers lurking in the alleys. Out of sight, out of mind, right? "HELP ME!" Nobody would come to help him. The tip of his dagger found Kerson's crotch. "It's cute how you think anybody will care. Now," he applied some pressure with his weapon, "let's talk business, Kerson, darling." His smile became a full chesire's grin. A warning. "I know where you live. I know where you sleep, the women you bed. I know the food you eat and the men you've made enemies of." Ben gestured to the dagger pressed against the man. "So you're going to give me what I want or I'm going to castrate you and break down your reputation until you're nothing but the scum under people's heels." His eyes darted to the side as he heard footsteps approaching. Was that Roland? Or somebody else? Thrown die: 12 214 / 320 @Roland Rutledge
Roland sighed as Ben took Kerson off to the bathroom, it seemed the man was playing off book again, likely bored with the delicate proceedings Roland was trying to set up. Of course, this was partly Roland's own fault for having not fully disclosed what he had known to Ben. Before even accepting this quest Roland had seen to vastly overpriced wares on the local merchant stalls and stores. It had seemed odd to him so he had one of his player friends with the hunting mastery inspect the fur. It had turned out that a lot of the 'exotic' skins were in fact fabricated by taking multiple different types of animal fur and sewing them together. His plan had simply been to black man the man into diverting some of the profits towards Astorea but it was a difficult subject to suddenly begin talking about. Roland stirred his wine with his finger as he mused about what was taking Ben so long. It was only a few moments before he began to sweat, what if he was doing something stupid? Wasting no time Roland put his glass down and moved towards the bathroom, expertly pushing the door open revealing the two in a rather compromising situation. Ben held a knife to the man's groin, as he struggled vainly to get away. Roland immediately connected the dots, it was Ben's plan to simply threaten the noble into cooperation, but judging by the Kerson's angered expression the only thing keeping him from attacking the man was the drug he had given him. Roland switched tactics swiftly, looking at Ben with an even gaze. "Unhand him!" He said with excess bravado, "That man is an ally to the king of Astorea! I will not let heathens such as you assault him!" Roland offered a wink to Ben hoping his plan was made clear if the bad guy act hadn't worked, he hoped the knight in shining armor would. To sell it even further Roland unsheathed a dagger he had hidden in his belt, it was a dull trash like item he had from long ago, he doubted it could do any real damage. Thrown die: 42 +10 266/320
He shot Roland a highly unimpressed look, keeping his threatening dagger poised over Kerson’s crotch. “You want to play the hero?” His voice was low, rumbling with the growl in his throat. “Then come and save him, if you’d like to try.” Leaning back, he pulled Kerson’s head and then slammed it into the wall, watching as the man groaned and sunk to the ground, still plenty conscious. The target would have to be awake to witness the spectacle that would follow, or they’d never have a chance of selling the fight. Kicking away, Ben fiddled with his own dagger, smiling down at the pretty little thing. It was a game, they were just playing pretend, but that stupid ‘hero’ act rubbed him the wrong way regardless. Pretending to be nice just to help your own ego, acting like you actually gave a shit about people? It disgusted him. He knew he was weaker than Roland, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. Shifting the dagger into a comfortable position, he charged forward, swiping at the man’s midsection. “People like you need to learn that nobody’s worth saving!” he scowled, reversing his grip and swiping once more. Another swipe, and then another. It was a good performance. “And no matter how rich they are,” he looked behind him and gestured to the weak Kerson, “they’re still scum.” Thrown die: 45 311 / 320 @Roland Rutledge
Kerson wasn't having any of the two's shenanigans. Slowly he absurdity of what was happening before him dawned on him as the alcohol slowly began to wear off. "Wait a minute!" he said as Roland dodged the blows, "YOU TWO SET THIS UP DIDN'T YOU!" Kerson's large face turned red, flushed with anger, the wine in his system not helping his fuming attitude. Roland grimaced while muttering, "We should have just stuck to the blackmail..." knowing the man's influence over the guards in the town, Roland knew they had no chance of a fair trial if they were to be caught. He quickly reached for Ben’s wrist, intent to pull the man behind him, “Let’s go, quickly!” Without waiting a second longer, Roland would sprint towards the door, calling his horse. He’d have to stay away from portmont for sometime, it seemed.
Dragged along behind Roland, Ben hesitated only a moment before hopping on to the back of his partner's mount. That had gone about a thousand different levels of wrong. As they left the little town behind, Ben contemplated everything that had happened. "Dude," he said in a deadpan tone, "you need to work on making your drugs stronger! That guy sobered way too quick." His accusation was light-hearted enough, but when he was dropped off at the nearest city, Ben wondered if he'd only added fuel to the fire. Oh well. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants, only realizing after Roland had long since gone why exactly they felt weird. "MY GOLD!" he cried.
