Lyon Camaris strode through the city, his cloak billowing out behind him as strong gusts struck him. It was day of dark weather, with the sky covered in gray clouds and the winds howling through the city. As of yet, the clouds had withheld their rain, but there were no guarantees that they wouldn't suddenly drench everyone in a sudden downpour. For this reason, many of the capital's inhabitants were hurrying to find shelter. Lyon was in a rush too, but not for the same reasons as the others. Certainly, he didn't want to get wet, but his intentions were much more important. He had an appointment with an employer.

The envelope had been given to him one morning as he strode down from bed at the Wilwarin. The Inn had become a haunt of his, his base of operations when he was staying in Lomedor. Somehow, a man had discovered this, and had left a message in the form of a letter that was specifically addressed to the mercenary. Lyon was surprised. Normally, he was the one that had to go looking for an employer. This time, however, the employer had come looking for him.

The letter had contained a simple message, directing Lyon to be at the Drital Qu'ellar Pub at a specific time. Lyon had frowned when he saw the name. The Drital Qu'ellar was infamous for being the haunt of ruffians and vagabonds. The one time Lyon had visited the place, it had been in the middle of a huge bar fight that had almost led to his death. Needless to say, after that Lyon had had no desire to return.

Yet for some reason, there was someone that wanted to meet him there. Speculation ran wild in Lyon's paranoid mind. What could this person want?

As Lyon swung open the door to the pub, he was met with several set of glares. He walked slowly into the dank and musty room, feeling many eyes staring at him, watching him. It would be clear to all that the mercenary didn't belong here. He had the look of a successful citizen, unlike most others in the run-down pub. The mercenary, however, as he strode deeper into the pub, purposefully swept his cloak out behind him, exposing the sword on his belt. Though many eyes narrowed at this, none made a move to stop the fighter. It was clear to all from the way that he carried himself that he knew how to use a weapon.

Lyon, after quickly looking around, chose an empty table that was placed up against the wall. There, he could keep an eye on the entire room, and could watch anyone that left or entered. As he sat down, he threw his cloak off of his shoulders, and loosened his sword and dagger from their sheaths. If one tried to attack him, he would be ready.

Then he waited. He didn't know what this potential employer looked like, so he would have to trust that the employer knew what he looked like.

Shouldn't be too hard, Lyon thought, scowling. Anyone with eyes can tell I'm a mercenary.

Thunder rumbled through the clouds, sending many scurrying people ducking under overhangs and into doorways to avoid any sudden downpour. Only one who wandered the winding back streets of Lomedor made no sign that he had noticed the anger of the elements. His black cloak billowing out behind him in the powerful winds that were picking up throughout the streets, the tall man walked straight past the notorious Drital Qu'ellar Pub, turning instead down the alley next to it. In the cover created by the deep shadows of the alley, the man leapt up onto of a stack of iron boxes and through the first floor window of the pub. Never helped to go through the front door, everyone would know you were there. And in the man’s line of work, that was a very unhelpful trait.

Rolling and flipping to his feet when he hit the timber floor, the man casually walked down the stairs and tapped five knocks at different speeds on the door that led behind the counter of the tavern room. A second later a nervous looking young man stepped opened the door, slipped through and closed it behind him, looking warily up at the tall man before him

"Master Oblivion, how nice to see you again."
Alex smiled, knowing full well the barhand was lying through his teeth. "I'm sure it is." Alex said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Anything?"
The barhand, obviously understanding the abrupt question, nodded enthusiastically. "New guy I ain't never seen before. Just came in a minute ago."
"Show me."

The barhand unlocked the door to the left of the one he had come through, proving it to lead to the darkest corner of the tap room, in which only a table and two chairs stood and from where one could observe the entire room without being noticed. "Thank you, and could you grab me an ale. But please, be discreet in bringing it here." The barhand nodded and slipped behind the counter as Alex cast his eyes across the room. It took only a second to find the one the barhand had mentioned, sitting only two tables in front against the wall. It was painfully obvious that the man didn't belong in a place like this and, as it was, he kept attracting many mean stares.

Alex could tell the man was a mercenary from first glance, and he grinned. Mercenaries were good; they meant money or someone who needed to protect something worth a lot of money. Catching the barhands' eye, he indicated to bring his ale to the table behind the one in which the mercenary sat before climbing to his feet and casually throwing himself into the seat behind the mercenary where he could see and hear everything the mercenary cared to say. Alex thought it best to remain discreet, and his acting talents kicked in, the rogue suddenly becoming exactly like the other men in the room, albeit extremely drunk. Humming drunkenly to himself, Alex appeared to barely notice as the barhand laid a tankard of ale on his table. Ale in hand, Alex settled back contentedly, his cover never faltering as he waited for whoever it was the mercenary hoped to meet. Why else would the man be here?

Lyon sighed as he looked around the room, feeling extremely out of place. The place was filthy. How could these vagabonds even enter such a foul-smelling dump? The tables were deeply stained with alcohol, the floor was littered with broken bottles and the remains of food, and the inhabitants themselves only added to the display of filth. Of course, surely the people wouldn't be allowed anywhere else. This was the only place were the drunken fools to do whatever they wanted without fear of serious consequences. It was common for a murder to be committed in the Drital Qu'ellar, and it was rumored that shady characters often entered during the night to perform secret dealings.

Lyon glanced up as a large bald man approached him. "You want anything?" The man grunted out, glaring at the mercenary through narrowed eyes.

"I don't suppose water is an option?" Lyon questioned, his eyebrows raised. The man snorted, causing a large blob of snot to shoot out of his noise and splat into the floor. Lyon, shrugging, murmured, "I'll take that as a no."

With waning patience, the brown-haired fighter waited, his eyes locked onto the door. What could possibly be taking the guy so long? Lyon didn't like the idea of waiting much longer. The attention that had been granted to him upon entering was still strong, and it was disconcerting to see so many people staring at you. Lyon, who gazed at him openly, was half-tempted to wave, but refrained. He would need to keep his sarcastic actions and words to himself while in this dangerous territory. The last thing he needed was to get into another barfight.

As the door creaked open, Lyon's eyes shot to the newcomer, examining every detail. The man was dressed in a heavy black cloak, the hood cast down to hide his face. At once, Lyon knew that this was the man. He carried himself in a way different from the rest of the ruffians that filled the pub. Tucked into the man's belt was a rapier. This immediately caught Lyon's attention. That rapier was a weapon chosen for fencing. Practical fencing was the combat method preferred by nobles.

The man, upon spotting Lyon, walked over to him with a quick and purposeful stride. Sitting down quickly, he did not hesitate to begin talking. His voice was hushed, making it necessary for Lyon to lean forward to hear him.

"You are Lyon Camaris, correct?"

Lyon nodded. "Yes, that is correct."

The man appeared relieved. "Very good. I have a job for you, as I am sure you have already deduced." He raised a hand as Lyon opened his mouth to speak. "Please, save your questions until I am done. For now, listen. I am, as would be apparent to most, a member of the high class. I would prefer to finish with this as quickly as possible." Lyon nodded. It seemed reasonable.

"My sister, Klera Ruarin de' Var, has been assigned a task that is too dangerous for her to undertake alone. She must deliver an official document, the contents being of the utmost importance, to Estolad, where it will be given to another of our house. The grasslands are hounded by ruffians as of late. She needs a guard on her journey. Not only this, but we fear that there might be those who know of the importance of the letter, and try to intercept her."

"Why not just have your own guards to take her?" Lyon asked. "I'm sure you nobles have plenty of protection."

The man sighed. "Alas, if only it was that easy! Nay, we cannot ask our vassals to escort her. I fear that our house is most probably being watched by our...enemies. If any of our knights were to go missing, it would be noticed immediately, and could lead to problems. Therefore, we need you. A mercenary. I hear that you have quite a good reputation amongst folk. You have never worked for the criminal regime. You have never betrayed your employer. I believe that you are a man that can be trusted."

"Sounds like you've been doing some research on my past," Lyon said, grinning. "Alright, you've got my curiosity. I've got my briefing, so I guess now I need detailed instructions. Let's hear 'em."

The man nodded. "Very well... He leaned in closer to Lyon, eyes scanning the room suspiciously as he lowered his voice even further.

After only a minute of inconspicuously watching the mercenary from the table behind, Alex was certain the man didn't belong in the place he found himself in. Very little of his emotions showed on his face, and this told Alex her was dealing with someone highly experience, but the rogue could still tell the man was uncomfortable. It showed in his body language, straight backed, hand never far from the hilt of his weapon, eyes fixed on the door.
"He's definitely waiting for someone." Alex thought, still mumbling drunkenly to himself. "There’s no other reason someone like this man would be hanging around in a dump like this."

A fat, bald man approached the mercenary, asking for his order. Alex knew the man well; Jerard Boils was the step-in barkeeper at the moment while Solom, the owner of the bar, was recovering from the last brawl to occur in his bar. When the mercenary asked for water, Boils snorted, snot flying everywhere, and even Alex, who was used to places such as this found that a little disturbing. Boils walked away from the mercenary and Alex was quite sure he didn't plan to come back, the reasonable request for water falling upon deaf ears.

The rusty hinges on the door creaked loudly, allowing a blast of cold air to whistle through the stifling tap room until the newcomer closed the door behind him. Tall and swathed in a black cloak much heavier then Alex's, the man looked around the room from under his hood. Alex guessed this would be the man the mercenary was waiting for, for he too looked very out of place and, strangely, a rapier hung from his belt, a very rare weapon among commoners. The man spotted the mercenary and strode over importantly. This made Alex grin.
This newcomer was clearly a man unused to dealing with the lower classes, and most definitely not a professional. Most intelligent people seeking aid or a deal that may not be considered quite legal would wait in a different spot to their target for several minutes, checking that nobody suspicious was watching. Alex's smirk, hidden as a drunken grin, widened. The man was definitely noble. This was shaping up to be fun.

The man went straight into his instructions for the mercenary, who apparently went by the name Lyon, another point which marked the noble as unprofessional. Where was the fake banter? The conversation to make sure this Lyon was who he said he was? Alex knew that if he had been approached by a noble looking stranger and asked if he was someone he wasn't, Alex would have said yes without hesitation, if only to find out what the man wanted.

As the noble began his briefing to the mercenary, a conversation in which Alex's half-elven hearing came in very handy, the rogues’ interest grew to new heights. A noble woman delivering important documents to Estolad? Very interesting. Documents which were put to such lengths to protect must be worth something to someone. And Alex would make it his business to reap the rewards for the delivery.

Throughout the nobles’ instruction, Alex mind was in overdrive. It would be too risky to attempt to take the document when the woman reached Estolad, there were bound to be guards ready to rush her to safety there. In the grasslands that stretched between Lomedor and Estolad, there were too many other ruffians to contend with, and it wouldn't do to have one of them taking the document before Alex got to it. No, it would have to be before they left Lomedor. Alex knew the town like the back of his hand, and an ambush would be easy. Provided the lady left late at night or early in the morning, something which Alex imagined she would do, hoping to get these important documents out of the town before the sun was up and she could be spotted by these... enemies... The only problem was the mercenary, but Alex would cross that bridge when he got to it. It was never any fun planning out every detail of a caper, after all, things never went exactly to plan.

The noble said something about details and Lyon lent forward. Alex did the same, disguising it in a drunken slump that involved falling against the chair right behind the mercenary. Details always helped,

"Tomorrow, you are to head to the docks just as the sun rises," the nobleman began, "There, my sister will be waiting. She will not be easy to recognize, for she is skilled in dressing as a peasant. Therefore, you will wait for her to approach you. I have described your appearance to her, thus she should have no trouble on spotting you. Upon meeting her, the two of you should head back to the Wilwarin, where you can stay until nightfall, at which time you will leave the city."

"Whoa," Lyon said, holding up a hand in protest. "We're going to leave at night? You do know what the grasslands are like nowadays, do you not?"

"I am perfectly aware of the dangers," the man replied calmly. "However, it is imperative that none take note of your absence. Therefore, the cover of darkness is essential."

Lyon sighed, rolling the instructions and their possible consequences around in his head. Finally, he nodded. "Alright, sounds good. What if something goes wrong? You keep talking about these 'enemies' that might be watching, what if we are attacked?"

The man gave a small half-smile. "You're the expert, I'll trust your intuition. Feel free to improvise."

Lyon nodded. "That's what I wanted to hear. So, your sister...will she cooperate? If I tell her to do something, I need immediate obedience."

"My sister understands the importance of this mission, and of your role. If she believes in will be in the best interests of survival and success, then yes, I would think that she will not hesitate to do as you say."

Lyon sighed. The idea of having to drag around some bratty noblewoman was already starting to concern him. He was used to taking care of his own hide when in danger. Having to protect someone else would be entirely new to him.

"Okay," Lyon finally said after a few moments. "Now, we come to the most important part. My pay. How much, and how will I receive it?"

This seemed to amuse the young nobleman. Smiling, he nodded. "Ah, of course. I was certain that we would get to this. Very well. Your pay will be given to you upon successfully delivering my sister alive, and the document in her possession, to Estolad. We have men there that will make sure you are rewarded. As for the amount..." The man looked around at the many inhabitants of the pub, a few of who were still watching them. "It would be unwise to mention a high amount of gold around these folk, in the event that one of them may be listening."

Lyon grunted. "Hell, if they're listening, I think we'll have bigger things to worry about."

The noble inclined his head in agreement to this, then withdrew a piece of parchment, along with a quill, from the folds of his cloak. He bent down to write a figure on the blank sheet, then quickly passed it to Lyon. The mercenary, upon seeing the number, let out a low whistle.

"I think you've got yourself a deal, mister," Lyon said, grinning.

"I expected as much. Very well, then, if that is all, I must be off...the fewer people that see me with you, the safer we will be. Fare thy well." The man pushed his chair back from the table and stood up, swinging his cloak onto his shoulders and bringing up the hood so as to once again shroud his face in shadow. As he began to take a few steps away, he turned back to the mercenary, and uttered a single last phrase.

"Good luck," With that, he quickly strode out the door, leaving Lyon alone once again.

For several minutes, the mercenary sat there, thinking about this newest job. For once, his success would rely on more than just his own skill. He would have to carry his own weight in addition to this girl. Nobles were usually a pain in the neck. If this one was the same, there would be problems. And if they were attacked, Lyon would make no guarantees as to his ability to protect the woman. If it came down to it, he wouldn't play the hero. No, his own life was worth far more than some uppity noble.

"Better get back to the Inn, I'm gonna need my rest if I really have to get up that early." With a sigh, he stood up, and after a quick stretch, followed in the nobleman's footsteps by making his own way out of the pub.

The mercenary did not know what lay on the morrow...nor did he know that an unwanted listener had already given the mission a poor start. All he knew was that he was tired, and that he would need all the rest he could get. He was quite sure, due to his unfortunate luck in the past, that there would be conflict, and that it would most likely turn out for the worst.

((OOC: ...alright, after you post a reply to this topic, we can get started on the next. ^_^ ))

"The docks?" Alex mused, his face still masked by the drunken act. "The docks at sunrise... that's a smart arrangement... Lots of peasants around the docks and if this woman is any sort of actor, she should be able to blend in perfectly."

Alex could tell he would have to keep watch of this Lyon fellow, for he was the only link towards the reward at the end of the caper. But the grasslands... that was a problem. Alex hated wide open areas, not enough hiding places or escape routes, both which would be necessary upon retrieval of this document. These facts just confirmed to Alex that he would have to get the document before the party left the city. And the nobleman’s confidence that they could slip away in the darkness worked both ways. It was much easier to set up an ambush under the cover of darkness, and escape from a bad situation would be just as easy.

By the sound of what the nobleman was saying, the noblewoman Lyon had to guard might have a bit of a rebellious streak, a trait which Alex could use to disrupt the situation. Anything he could use against the mercenary would help, for Alex knew he couldn't match the other man in combat, making it of the utmost importance that Alex got the document and bailed as soon as possible.

The talk turned to that of gold and Alex's eyes flitted open briefly. He smirked as the nobleman expressed concerns of any eavesdroppers; the other mans ignorance the butt of pure irony. The nobleman slid a piece of paper across the table and Alex grinned widely, again disguised as a show of drunkenness. He had spotted more than two zeros on that paper, and any document that a noble was willing to spend that much to protect would be worth twice as much in the hands of the enemy.

The nobleman soon after got up and left the hostile atmosphere of the room with obvious relief, pausing only to utter several words of luck to the mercenary before turning and hurrying out the door, sending a wave of cold air through the room once more. For several minutes Lyon made no move, and Alex was fairly sure all his options were running through his mind. Was such a dangerous mission worth the reward? Would the woman co-operate? And if something went wrong, would the mercenary save the woman or himself? The same questions were running through Alex's mind, but for a different reason to that of the mercenary, and Alex could already answer most of them. Was such a dangerous mission worth the reward? Definitely, the documents were obviously important and therefore very costly. Would the woman co-operate? Hopefully not, but he would soon find out. And would Lyon save the woman or himself? That was the one Alex couldn't answer. The mercenary seemed the responsible type, but Alex knew that personally he would classify his own neck more important than that of some woman he didn't know.

Lyon suddenly got to his feet and stretched, walking, straight backed and imposing, to the door. As soon as it had closed behind him Alex got to his feet, all show of drunken exhaustion vanishing in an instant. A slow smile spread across his lips in anticipation, dispelled almost immediately as he noticed another rogue with dark hair and a patch over his left eye staring at the closed door. He had been easily in earshot of the conversation that had gone down at the table behind and Alex was sure he was considering the same ideas as Alex was. Their eyes met briefly and in that instant Alex smirked and the other rogue snarled at his opponent. Alex then turned away and pushed open the door, exiting the pub into the freezing cold night. He walked briskly towards the Wilwarin Inn, his mind racing. It looked like he may have some competition for the prize this time. He smiled again, the expression lighting up his face. And he hadn't wanted to go to the pub tonight.

((OOC: Alrighty, let me know when you have the other one up and running! :D))