Tyrion made his way to the city of Jhelom, the newly acquired Imperial city. He smiled at that little fact. He was asked to travel alone to meet someone. The letter was unsigned:
~~~~~
Tyrion,
I have an offer for you that I think might be of mutual gain to us both. Come to Jhelom, -alone-.
~ Unsigned
~~~~~
In truth the letter did grab his attention. He turned a corner and noticed a hooded individual hurriedly turn in to a side alley. The character would not have piqued his interest overly much if he had not been close to the rendezvous point or it was not the middle of the night. It was both however and Tyrion began to follow as stealthily as he could. He turned into the same alley just in time to spot the figure duck into the old Jhelom library. Tyrion continued the prowl. He entered the library to find an attendant at the desk. As he approached the attendant regarded him with a bit of suspicion and then rose to greet him. Tyrion began to speak, "I am looking fo. . . ." The attendant raised one hand to put the inquiry to rest, but then was given a hand-signal to follow, and so he did. The library attendant turned a corner, produced a key and motioned again for Tyrion to descend. Tyrion began to wonder about the intentions of this 'attendant' but he could not give up now. The library attendant gave no indication of suspicion or aggression, once more, he was now overly curious of this correspondent and impressed by the amount of organization which had been carefully orchestrated for the parley, especially on such short notice. Respect aside, Tyrion descended into the basement one cautious footstep at a time. At the bottom of the stairs, Tyrion took in the room and noted there was no exit other than the door leading up the stairs, which was at this very moment being closed. He made a movement recline the steps but realized the futility in it. The door closed, Tyrion heard the door locking mechanism being activated and realized he would not be going anywhere anytime soon. Tyrion made his way over to the meeting table, put his hand on one of the chairs, slid it back, and plopped himself onto the cushiony seat. He realized that he was ultimately at the mercy of the initiator of the meeting and that this mystery man or woman would present themselves when they were ready.
All the while, the hooded man continued to retain his guise: shifting his weight to distribute balance and accommodate the lofty position he had chosen to engage his 'guest'.
Services Rendered
Moderator: RP Moderators
Re: Services Rendered
The hooded man continued to regard Tyrion with interest. He had not moved from his seated position and hours had passed. He began to think the clergyman had entered some meditative stasis to pass the time. He gritted his teeth and decided that he had waited long enough. He stealthily moved behind Tyrion, brandished his daggers and exited the shadows, with an evil grin on his face. He was a bit confused why Tyrion had not moved at the sight of a blade thrust upon this gullet but forced the thought from his mind. Most men experienced a moment of treason, where their mind could not respond quickly enough to the situation and as a result paralysis ensued. "Greetings Lord Tyrion. I bring word from my masters that they wou. . . " The words caught in the mans throat and he grimaced in pain from the stabbing pain of the butte of a scepter crashing into his rib-cage from his flank. He quickly turned his attention to attempt to meet this new threat and found to his surprise that it was Tyrion! He had blinked away so quickly that he did not catch the movement. He continued his free-fall decent from the spot he had been standing and crashed into the stone wall near-where he was previously perched. The last images he saw as consciousness left him were that of the orange-robed man creeping towards him with the scepter draped over one-shoulder and Tyrion shaking his head, "They never learn. ." Tyrion said. Tyrion laid the scepter on the table and began the passing of an incantation as darkness washed over the man on the floor.
Re: Services Rendered
A few moments after the man slumped to the floor, Tyrion finished his chant. The body on the floor took a deep revitalizing breathe and made an attempt to quickly rise to his feet. "Glad to see you are still alive. I wasn't certain if that final blow sent you to Her warm embrace and I very much wanted to hear what you had to say." The messenger continued to rise groggily. The phrase puzzled him but he was reminded of his study of the Imperial etymology that it was common and accepted in the Imperial culture to use variations of "Esuna's embrace," or reference their goddess in any manner that was flattering or 'praising' her. "To the dungeons of wrong with your sirens' succubus courtesies!" Tyrion stopped straitening his robe and dropped his right hand on the pommel of the scepter he had laid on the table earlier. "Careful friend, my generosity has limits." The man stowed the anger and retrieved his daggers he abandoned mid-flight in a futile attempt to soften the blow of bone on stonework. "You requested my presence. I recommend you get on with it. Within an hours time, Imperial officers will be out searching for me, if I do not report in." The man eyed the priest with contempt, rubbed his temple and began. "I am but the messenger. My masters send me to broker a deal."
Tyrion was listening intently now and transfixed his eyes on the messenger. "Why should this interest the Order? You invited a delegate of Imperial here in an attempt assassinate him and now expect to be taken seriously? Is this how you negotiate, is this how you wished to start our business?" The messenger narrowed his eyes at the affront. "That exercise earlier was a botched attempt at displaying the seriousness of our cause and how varied our skill-set can be. Your life was never in any real danger, had it been, you would be face up clutching at the hole in your abdomen, desperately gasping for your last precious breathe of air as your lungs fill up with blood and pool around your body. The offer is simple: we respect your kingdom laws, keep the fighting within your lands to zero, stay clear of your people, allies and friends of Imperial and avoid being the constant dagger at your neck." He grinned at the macabre statement. "and in return? Let me think, OH YES, you expect us not to hunt you down like the dogs of Nox, aye?" Tyrion quickly countered. "On the contrary," the messenger put in, "we expect you to pay a premium fee to circumvent any potential future misunderstandings." Tyrion rubbed his chin. "You cannot sincerely expect our Order to shell out money on half-ass promises of attention. There is no benefit in it for us. One more enemy or five more enemies, it matters not to us, we will hunt all down if they pose a threat to our way of life."
The man nodded a bit and apparently had rehearsed this conversation prior because his response was quick and continued the pace of the conversation. "We are sufficiently capable of rendering other services and I am certain you will see the value of such a relationship, in time. Consider us a privately owned, anonymously funded and trained guild of entrepreneurs capable of serving mutual interests." Tyrion raised an eyebrow at this. "I will need to speak with the others." The messenger nodded. "However. . . Just to make sure that you do not leave this parley with the wrong intentions, I would be willing to reserve your services solely for Imperial. Would 200,000 sort you?" The man inclined his head, "it will keep our interest for a short while. The price is high however and this does not cover it." Tyrion gritted his teeth. "500,000 to reserve your services, keep your 'interest' and partial payment towards a final amount." The messenger reclined his head and listened closely. Tyrion lost his focus momentarily at the scene. "Boss, you got yourself a deal. Don't take forever with an answer though. No refunds," the man chuckled enviously. "Lets go boys!" Five additional cowled men retreated from the shadows and began their parade out of the meeting centre. Tyrion's eyes widened as the act unfolded. The last man up the stairs was the messenger: "We'll be in touch," he winked and disappeared into the upper level.
Tyrion was listening intently now and transfixed his eyes on the messenger. "Why should this interest the Order? You invited a delegate of Imperial here in an attempt assassinate him and now expect to be taken seriously? Is this how you negotiate, is this how you wished to start our business?" The messenger narrowed his eyes at the affront. "That exercise earlier was a botched attempt at displaying the seriousness of our cause and how varied our skill-set can be. Your life was never in any real danger, had it been, you would be face up clutching at the hole in your abdomen, desperately gasping for your last precious breathe of air as your lungs fill up with blood and pool around your body. The offer is simple: we respect your kingdom laws, keep the fighting within your lands to zero, stay clear of your people, allies and friends of Imperial and avoid being the constant dagger at your neck." He grinned at the macabre statement. "and in return? Let me think, OH YES, you expect us not to hunt you down like the dogs of Nox, aye?" Tyrion quickly countered. "On the contrary," the messenger put in, "we expect you to pay a premium fee to circumvent any potential future misunderstandings." Tyrion rubbed his chin. "You cannot sincerely expect our Order to shell out money on half-ass promises of attention. There is no benefit in it for us. One more enemy or five more enemies, it matters not to us, we will hunt all down if they pose a threat to our way of life."
The man nodded a bit and apparently had rehearsed this conversation prior because his response was quick and continued the pace of the conversation. "We are sufficiently capable of rendering other services and I am certain you will see the value of such a relationship, in time. Consider us a privately owned, anonymously funded and trained guild of entrepreneurs capable of serving mutual interests." Tyrion raised an eyebrow at this. "I will need to speak with the others." The messenger nodded. "However. . . Just to make sure that you do not leave this parley with the wrong intentions, I would be willing to reserve your services solely for Imperial. Would 200,000 sort you?" The man inclined his head, "it will keep our interest for a short while. The price is high however and this does not cover it." Tyrion gritted his teeth. "500,000 to reserve your services, keep your 'interest' and partial payment towards a final amount." The messenger reclined his head and listened closely. Tyrion lost his focus momentarily at the scene. "Boss, you got yourself a deal. Don't take forever with an answer though. No refunds," the man chuckled enviously. "Lets go boys!" Five additional cowled men retreated from the shadows and began their parade out of the meeting centre. Tyrion's eyes widened as the act unfolded. The last man up the stairs was the messenger: "We'll be in touch," he winked and disappeared into the upper level.
Re: Services Rendered
"Welcome back, I hope the accommodations are more accommodating than previous locales for our rendezvous," the messenger said, beaming with delight. "It is bought on credit, of course, we are expecting quite the hefty pay out to take care of our temporary debt issue. Please, do come in." Tyrion sheathed his scepter and walked into the recently purchased, recently renovated, recently furnished house. He noticed the decor and nodded in approval. "I hope these funds go towards improving your services than your eclectic taste in home adornment or impressing guests with mise en scène." The man chuckled at the remark. "Dear sir. . no no, Dear Patron, we simply wish to indulge our 'eclectic tastes', as you put it, and provide ourselves with a sacrosanct of sorts." Tyrion nodded and understood the mans thinking, but he would not allow himself to be drawn into their world, they had a job to do and were being paid a king's ransom to do it, he needed to be business-like. "The money is en-route. We need to discuss details." Tyrion produced a rolled parchment from the bosom of his robe and tossed it over at the man. "In that letter you will find instructions. These instructions are merely a guideline, likewise and require more gentle handling than perhaps your previous, experiences would have provided," Tyrion grinned and eyed the mans reactions. The messenger scanned the letter briefly and returned his gaze to Tyrion. "This is quite the explicit request." He ran his hand through his jet black hair and turned his attention back to Tyrion, whom he noticed was watching him intently, perhaps for a tell of some kind, he would not oblige. "Very well, we will stay in contact and keep you appraised." Nodding seriously, Tyrion turned to leave but stopped and spoke over his shoulder. "Your contract is for a year if I am to understand correctly." The messenger began to answer but realized it was a rhetorical question and silenced himself with little effort. "We expect results." The warning was as clear as a diamond and as subtle as an assassins blade. Tyrion, forced a smile onto his face, "pleasure doing business with you," he said and exited the luxurious house.
Re: Services Rendered
The large doors bellowed from the knock and an announcement of a delivery. The house guards opened the doors and allowed the delivery-men to enter. The leader, or what one would assume to be the leader entered first. He was a tree-of-a-man and stood nearly two men tall. The messenger continued to eye him from around a corner, out of eye-shot but not out of ear-shot and decided to allow the 'help' to deal with them. "We have come to deliver the payment. Whom shall receive it." One of the house servants made their way over to the spectacle and instructed them to leave the delivery in the entry hall. The tree-looking-fellow, raised an eyebrow and dropped two sacks on the floor in front of him. The loud clang that resulted from the drop echoed throughout the home. "There is two-hundred thousand gold coins in each bag. Behind me there remains three men. Do the math." The tree-looking-man about faced and stomped loudly out of the ingress, clicking and clanging as only a plate mail armored Paragon of Her, which is what the messenger concluded from his remembrance on the history of Imperialist ranks and titles could have placed the man as, could. A short procession proceeded the Paragons exit and the pile of gold quickly stacked up. The last bag dropped onto the pile spilled and the coins spewed forth onto the floor. Fortunately none of the house servants or guards made a dash for the cash. They knew better. They also knew that the newly constructed house sported quite the torture chamber in the depths of the house. They knew this because he purposefully instructed them all to partake in a non-optional tour of the grounds. He reviewed the parchment again, secure in the knowledge that the gold would not walk away; he read a snippet: . . . your men will be the tip of the spear. . . . Politics tended to bore him but the instructions were not childs play. They expect a professionalism and exactness that has never been seen before in the lands. Not even some restarted competitors had ever attained such a level of legacy in their charter. This would be tricky he concluded, but doable.
Interested Party
~~~~~
Interested Party,
It would appear that our partnership has come to an end. Although, this notice is late in coming the current reality is obvious. There are no words that need be shared which can alter this conclusion. Your affairs are your own to command, mayhaps, we cross each others path in the future and a more amiable partnership can be struck, however in the meantime steer clear of the borders of the Imperium and we may coexist in peace.
~ Tyrion
~~~~~
The addressed to line made him chuckle. No doubt a play on words and an indicator of that which would follow. The hooded man read the remainder of the letter intently. Of course it was not news at all. The letter was a formality, he concluded. Regardless of the words intended meaning, the truth was much more understood. He realized this one was no fool though. Having a contact within the Imperium would prove valuable in the future but in the meantime it was an afterthought. "Aghh, peace. . . I am familiar with this peace and honor he eludes too. Yet, peace comes at a price," the hooded man smiled macabrely, "and there are plenty of paying customers."
Interested Party,
It would appear that our partnership has come to an end. Although, this notice is late in coming the current reality is obvious. There are no words that need be shared which can alter this conclusion. Your affairs are your own to command, mayhaps, we cross each others path in the future and a more amiable partnership can be struck, however in the meantime steer clear of the borders of the Imperium and we may coexist in peace.
~ Tyrion
~~~~~
The addressed to line made him chuckle. No doubt a play on words and an indicator of that which would follow. The hooded man read the remainder of the letter intently. Of course it was not news at all. The letter was a formality, he concluded. Regardless of the words intended meaning, the truth was much more understood. He realized this one was no fool though. Having a contact within the Imperium would prove valuable in the future but in the meantime it was an afterthought. "Aghh, peace. . . I am familiar with this peace and honor he eludes too. Yet, peace comes at a price," the hooded man smiled macabrely, "and there are plenty of paying customers."