It was a minute after the middle-aged warrior had set himself up at the end of the table nearest the wall that yet another figure entered. This one, however, was not dressed for war. This one was dressed to impress.

In strode a tall and pale fellow draped in red fineries, the arms of his shirt puffed out beneath his vest. He wore a feathered beret - one feather was pure white, and the other a rich black - and had a jeweled sword at his side. His mustache was long and waxed, his black shoes reflected light like mirrors, and his [abbr=They almost seemed red in the firelight.]brown eyes[/abbr] gleamed with cunning. He was flanked by a pair of brutish looking fellows in fancy clothes, both of them wearing falchions strapped to their hips.

As the man regarded the group, he wore a strange expression for the briefest of moments. Then he cracked open in a wide grin and waved over to the silent mercenaries.

"Thank you for meeting here tonight," the stranger began. "I am Lord Guthbert, as you may have guessed already, and I have need of brave warriors with steady hands. I need people who aren't afraid of [i]ghost stories.[/i]

"Tell me," continued Guthbert, stepping forward and setting one hand on the table, "have you heard of Blackmire Keep?" He leaned in conspiratorially, his gray eyes gleaming. "A fascinating place, that one. It so happens to be my ancestral home, and the source of a great many supposed evils that plague the southern lands. But I will cut to the chase.

"In order to maximize our gains in the war with Lithenia, we need the peasants here at home to do their share for the war effort. The fields must be reaped; timber must be fetched; stone must be quarried. So you will understand my [i]discontent[/i] when I tell you that some damned fools in the southern reaches of Beldemar have stopped work because of a few [i]disappearances.[/i]" The noble's voice had a bitter tone, like he had been chewing on a mouthful of wormwood. Guthbert's nostrils flared up in annoyance, and he began circling the table, stepping around the back of the boy - wait, girl? - and the Aldonian, but his stare was on the two older and more experienced fellows. He seemed to be speaking directly to them. "Supposedly, there are all manner of nasty, ghastly things foraying out from the keep and plucking away the peasantry for whatever purpose. I need [i]you[/i] to head on down south, find out what's [i]actually[/i] happening from the mayor of [abbr=A small, rather insignificant farming village between Benetia and Blackmire Keep. It's backwater. You probably won't find it on a map.]Halden[/abbr], then go to the Keep and clear out whatever bandits or the like have claimed it as their home."

Before anything else could be said, Guthbert reached into his vest and removed a fat purse. He opened it up, then poured some of its contents into his hand: [i]gemstones.[/i] Rubies and sapphires and emeralds tumbled into his pale hand, not to mention a few diamonds. He carefully selected a few specimens and set them down on the table for the group to inspect. "Consider those gems an incentive," he said after a pause, "a down payment for the services you will render. Put an end to whatever is troubling the king's subjects and you'll get paid ten times the worth of this purse for your efforts in silver bars and precious stones. [i]Each.[/i]"

Lord Guthbert smiled at the collected mercenaries. "Any questions?"

[hider=OOC]Your characters can be assumed to have a basic understanding of what Blackmire Keep is. The money you're being offered is quite considerable - very considerable. You could each retire with that sort of wealth.

Feel free to take a few gemstones off the table.[/hider]

[hider=Boran]There's details being left out. Boran knows deception well enough to tell that. The man must want them to just take his offer and get on with their task. A little probing may be necessary.[/hider]

[hider=Flint]Those gems are very real. Flint knows enough about gems from his father to know they're very real and very valuable. Ten times a purse of gemstones of this quality... that's a [i]lot[/i] of money. It's too good to be true, but if it [i]is[/i] true...[/hider]

[hider=Lothair]These lines are practiced. This isn't the first time Guthbert has given this speech.

It's not something most people would pick up on, but as the scion of an Aldonian estate Lothair is well-versed in diplomacy and speechcraft, not to mention keener of intellect than most. The man's diction, the way he moves, the inflection of his voice - he's either rehearsed this speech or given it more than once before. And that begs the question... [i]if[/i] Lothair and these other mercenaries aren't the first to be hired for this job, where are the others?[/hider]

[hider=Riley]In that moment when the man walked in, Riley couldn't help but notice the way he regarded the group. That expression said "You'll do."

Riley also another oddity as the man passes behind her, running his fingers along the edge of the table. He doesn't smell. Most people have a scent about then, slight as it may be, or wear a perfume or something to cover up that smell. This man simply doesn't [i]have[/i] a smell.[/hider]