Snakes in a Pit...

[Syndre]

Time Stamp -=5th of Spring, 511 AV=-
Location -=Noble District: The Pit=-

The Noble District was a place that Syndre visited on rare occasions, for

the authorizes were more abundant in this part of Ravok. These streets and
canals belonged to the rich, mostly merchants and those that had attained some
sort of power in the corrupt city. Thieving could be plentiful here, but the
risk was great to a Novice such as himself. Syndre knew his limitations, though
there were times where he would test his boundaries to see just how good he
was. Today wasn't the right moment to be digging into merchant's bountiful
pockets, he was here on business. The rogue had formulated secretive plans that
he recently had been carefully executing.

His path this early evening had led him to the wealthy city park, which

sponsored the selling and fighting of unfortunate slaves. The few times he
came here was for this very reason. He didn't have much use for a slave, but
watching them fight, sometimes to the death, was extremely entertaining. Quiet
footfalls brought him to the immense iron cage that was used to house the
combatants, his gloved fingers slipping thru the small holes of the criss
crossing fence, getting a better view of the fight he had walked in on. Studying
the bloodied men for just a moment, his azure gaze drifted away from the
intense battle to a lone figure sitting on the wooden benches. The information
he had received from a shady contact on the location of this man had been
correct.

The rogue casually walked between the rows of rising benches until reaching

the solitary figure. The crowd that was attending the fights was getting louder
as the battle seemed to be reaching climactic proportions. Syndre turned to
face the distant cage and lightly brushed the rolled up fabric of his black
silken shirt, relieving the dark material of accumulated dust before taking a
seat next to the man. With his icy voids directed back toward the slaves, Syndre
began to spark a conversation," Enjoying the fights... Robert?..." The thief
leaning forward upon the bench, allowing his right hand to drift down to his
buckled boot where his unique dagger rested in plain view. Dexterous fingertips
twisted the dark blue triangle that served as the apex of the hilt, gently
corkscrewing the cold iron piece off the dagger, revealing a hidden compartment
within.

"You are known as Robert are you not?...," Syndre leaned back against the hard

bench as he questioned him again, tossing a thinly rolled piece of parchment
onto the mercenary's lap. The smooth paper had come from the cold-iron weapon's
concealed chamber, and upon unrolling the parchment, the man sitting next to
him could see a crude drawling of his own face and the word "Wanted" scribbled
on the top. He waited patiently for the stranger to soak in the situation,
bright blue eyes taking in the final moments of the barbaric scrap. The crowd
of well off merchants suddenly erupted in a mixture of cheers and boos as one
slave concurred the other in dramatic fashion, smashing a large stone into the
other slave's unguarded face.

[Robert Cithon]

Robert had been wondering the streets as of late. He had been getting the feeling of being watched more and more recently. It seemed every time he turned around, he just barely missed men staring at his back as if he had a target painted across his shoulder blades. I was an unnerving feeling, even to one as used to killing as himself. He had no problem dying, it was the fact he felt he wouldn’t have a chance to fight back that unnerved him so much. So he took to exploring all sorts of new places, avoiding his usual spots recently. That is what bought him to his current location. He had never before visited the Noble Distract. He was not exactly a welcomed type amongst the wealthy patrons. With is worn leather armor, and ragged looking clothing. He must have truly stuck out like a sore thumb here. But the feeling of someone creeping behind him was not present here, yet. While wondering through the streets and canals of the nobles, he came upon the area where slaves were a spectacle to be watched and cheered on. He always enjoyed a good fight, even if the men were doomed whether they won or lost. It was the look and expression that intrigued Robert. The way men would beg for mercy or die proudly, the hesitation that would lead to some slaves death instead of a victory. That was what Robert enjoyed about these events. But he had been watching the fights for hours now, never growing tired of the ever changing scenes and roars of the crowds. So when a slender man approached and made himself comfortable at Roberts bench, he was honestly surprised. His surprise only intensified when the man nonchalantly asking if he was enjoying the fights, but he had called him by name. Before Robert could overcome his surprise the man leaned down and fondled his weapon. Upon seeing this Robert instinctively raised his hand toward his sword buckled at his right shoulder. He stopped, instead reached inside his coat and fondled his own blades, having a dagger ready to defend himself if the need arises. Yes that is what they all me. But how and why do you know that?” He asked, his voice was hard and commanding. He was tired of being chased, and this only proved his superstitions. He was being hunted, for some unknown reason. The man leaned up, no weapon was in his hand so Robert produced none himself. The man tossed him a rolled up parchment, and Robert began to unroll it without asking further questions. Once unrolled Robert was gazing into his own eyes. The drawing was a well made copy of his face. A look of surprised and shock was obvious on his face. He noticed the word wanted scribbled in the top, he was right all along. He was no longer a predator, but prey. "Why?” He asked the man sitting across from him, his words nearly being drown out by the erupting crowd. It was ironic, the crowd seemed to be cheering for him finally finding out the truth. OOCBy the way, nice job bringing that wanted incident back up. I did not know where I was going with it. But if you have a plan for it, use it. I like it lol

[Syndre]

The shady rogue leaned closer to the surprised mercenary as if tell him

something that no one else should hear," Well... word on the streets is you
attacked Dorian's son... and killed two friends of the family..." Syndre's lips
pursed slightly while slowly shaking his head, causing his spiraling black
braids to drift from side to side in the air. His expression told Robert all he
needed to know, that leaving the son alive probably wasn't the best idea. You
never knew who was friends with who, or who was associated with what family here
in Ravok. If you leave a trail to be followed, then you should always keep
another pair of eyes on your backside.

The amused thief then acted as if he were drawing a sword from his waist,

sitting up off the back of the wooden bench so that he could concentrate on his
invisible weapon. He stabbed the air, then made a few dramatic slashes before
returning the arc of his silk adorned back against the hardened seat, laughing
quietly in amusement," Three able men against one... and you managed to end the
lives of two of them... most impressive Robert..." The roar of the crowd was
dying to a reverberating murmur as those in attendance began to converse,
arguing over which slaves would face each other next and how many Mizas they
were going to wager.

Crystalline pools drifted back to the man while continuing to speak," I bet

you are wondering how I fit into all of this..." A smooth hand, coated in inky
leather, lifted between their sitting forms at the end of his words. His smallest
finger quickly bent inward, pushing the fragile mechanism hidden at the base of
his right teethed gauntlet. A soft 'click' was heard before the sound of sliding
iron filled their ears, the concealed spring within the tenacious gauntlet had
been released and a flat stiletto knife slid up between two of his gloved
fingers. The small, extremely sharp weapon seemed to appear out of thin air. The
edges of the blade were very dull, which allowed its threatening length to
jump between his nimble digits without cutting into his skin. There was only one
purpose for a weapon made in this fashion, to stab, and stab repeatedly.

To most Ravokian citizens, such a swift exposure of iron was taken as an

immediate threat. Drawing a blade on another person meant you had ill intentions
and planned on using it against them, but this wasn't the case for Syndre. The
stiletto's surprisingly quick withdraw was meant to get a stir out of Robert, the
rogue wanted see how well the man's instincts reacted to such a sudden sight. For a
single man to hold his own against a multitude of attackers, the mercenary had
to of been fast and battle hardened, that is if the rumors held any truth.

[Robert Cithon]

Robert was shocked by what the man had to say. He had not attacked them three, in fact he had warned them not to make things worse then they were. All Robert was after was a bit of coin an perhaps a good scuffle. Both kept the mind at ease and thinking straight. “ I did not attack them” Robert said firmly. “I merely asked for their coins, and they chose their own fate.” He was not defending his actions. He had no need to. In his own mind what he had done was justified, and so he care none what others thought of his actions. He was his own man. The man sitting across from him had used a name, Dorian. It rang no bells to Robert but he would be sure to ask around, not to obviously and see what he could turn up on him. Robert was going to press the matter further, but before any words could form on his tongue, the man acted as if he was pulling a weapon out. Instead he only attempted to manipulate air. It seemed as if he was mocking Robert in some sort of way. Robert could not contain himself and a small audible laugh escaped his lips. He quickly coughed an tried to cover it up as best he could. This was a serious matter, not one to be laughed and poke fun at. “Able bodied is a matter of opinion my friend. One was to large for his own good, another was to certain of himself. Neither will ever see the sun rise again, and that is all I care to remember of them.” Honestly, how much could the man know? Robert had figured there were witnesses to the night in question, but had never imagined it would spread so far. Robert did not want to press the matter, he would rather not know how far and deep his story was being spread. The wrong ears hearing of such things would certainly lead to a unfavorable death. Right when Robert was ready to grab the man and pummel his head into the table demanding answers, he asked exactly what Robert was thinking. “Yes. Stranger I am very curious as to why you know so much and have went through all this trouble to locate me.” As he was speaking the words in a non to friendly tone, the man rested his hand upon the table. As Roberts words fell on seemingly death ears, a stiletto blade appeared at the end of his gloved hand. Anger flared into Robert. This man approached him while he was at peace. Showing him a poster of his targeted head. He completely ignored his questions, never giving a direct answer. And now he drew a blade on him. It was…admirable. In a ironic sort of way. “Now you listen to me.” His voice was low and deathly serious. “If you plan on killing me, well you got the drop on me.” He was staring into the mans eyes. He would not back down if that was what he truly came here for. His body was being thrown into upheaval internally, the heat flooding through his veins from being so angry, adrenaline from being the edge of a life or death situation, and an icy calm balancing him out, from years of seeing and doing unspeakable things. “But if that is indeed why you came, I will promise you this. You will not leave here in one piece. I have already unbuckle my sword and axe while you were retrieving the drawing from your weapon. But you probably expected that, so I also withdrew a number of knives from there hiding places in my coat.” He took a long and calming breath. “I may die, but I guarantee I will take you hand or arm off before it is said and done.” His voice was steady, no hint of nervousness in his throat. He was poised and waiting. He would watch for the man to eyeball high or low in anticipation of Roberts own attack. He would use that against him, and take control of his arm and hopefully brake it in the process. Then he would shove a dagger into the mans throat, stand up and take his head of with a swift swing of his battleaxe. “ It is your decision how this evening ends, friend.” He would wait for him to make a threatening move, then unleash the fury he had bottle within himself.

[Syndre]

A beaming smile spread over his lips at the mercenary's angered words

and his readiness to produce weaponry. There was a definite relief that the
rogue kept hidden upon his amused expression, a relief that Robert had not
responded by attacking him. The man's wary reaction was enough to pass Syndre's
assessment and the rogue's approval was evident on his visage. He needed to
know that this temperamental man could rise to the occasion and stare death in
the eye, without blinking. Truthfully, Syndre didn't believe the rumors flitting
through Ravok's community of vermin, which he belonged to, but after experiencing
Robert's attitude first hand, he had to consider there was some truth to the
stories.

"If I had come to collect on you Robert...," his words ended in a slight

pause as the opposite gloved hand lifted to his gauntlet. Able digits took
hold of a diminutive lever that he applied a decent amount of pressure to,
allowing him to crank the stiletto blade back into the hidden recesses where
the oiled spring contracted tightly. "...I would have introduced myself with
a knife in your backside...," a bit of a chuckle was released as he finished
the sentence. With both of his leather adorned hands now raised between them,
Syndre splayed his dark fingers wide to show the man there were no other threats
that would be produced.

Just as it would seem there was nothing there, the rogue's right hand

suddenly snapped shut into a closed first. Icy voids kept there cautious gaze
upon the dangerous man, for he knew that sudden movements could provoke the
mercenary into action. His left hand then slowly moved to the closed fist, a
single black stained finger slipping upward into the smooth confines of the
concealed palm. A lone gold rimmed Miza began to push upward between his
closed knuckles, the illumination from the burning torches offering a pleasant
gleam along the circular coin's edge.

"I'm here because I require your services...," the crowd of nobles began

to whistle and clap soon after Syndre had spoke those words as another pair of
slaves were shoved into the massive iron cage. His left hand curled upward over
the rise of his closed fist and carefully claimed the gold Miza which had been
curiously presented from nowhere. His right hand abruptly opened at the same
time the left unexpectedly closed, causing the glinting coin to disappear once
again. Leathery fingers then gently popped up, one by one, until both of his
hands presented outstretched fingers, yet the Miza that was once there no longer
was. His smile never faded, and the wicked stare he kept on Robert seemed to
never blink.

[Robert Cithon]

The mans smile came as a surprise to Robert. Here the two sat across from one another. The stranger already producing weapons, Robert poised on the edge of drawing his own and shedding blood. And then the man smiles! Robert had no idea what was going on now. He was utterly dumbfounded in this situation. But he went with it, not having any better ideas. The man spoke and Robert listened. He explained that if he were here for Roberts life, he would never see him coming. Robert watched as the man made the blade disappear into it’s hiding place, hands practiced with the effort. How easily he managed it was proof enough that he was familiar with his weapon. Robert could always admire a man who took time enough to learn and familiarize himself with his tools. Each weapon was different, breaking points, weights, scars of war, and sharpness. Every factor had to be considered when using your weapon. As the man seemed to relax, Robert also relaxed. He leaned back away from the table a bit. Partly because it was a more comfortable position, and also it gave precious seconds to react if a fight ensued. As Robert settled into his seat he glanced around the room. No one had yet to pay any mind to the two exchanging words, he was glad. Robert could afford no more rumors of him to spread around the city. “Services?” Robert asked abruptly. This was some sort of test then, this man needed to know how Robert would handle undesirable situations. Robert barely took note of the show he was being offered. The man hands produced a miza, then miraculously made it disappear also. It was a neat show of hands and tricks, but more important things were on Roberts mind now. “And what services do you require?” He asked bluntly, he was over the games. Robert wanted answers and would cause a scene getting them, if the need arose.

[Syndre]

"Well my good man... the dealings I'm involved with could possibly be

hazardous to my health...," the rogue replied as his gloved hands came together,
smooth fingertips touching one another in shape of a triangle. "I could use a
man like you to accompany me here and there... you know, for protection...," his
leather adorned hands parted as he spoke again, a lone elbow settling against the
back of the bench so that he could lean against it. His attention drifted away
from the mercenary momentarily as a dispute broke out between merchants, but it
aggressive situation ceased as soon as it had started once they gained the
attention of the city guard. There were certain times to play out a feud and
doing it in public with Ravok's authorities around wasn't a smart thing to do.

"I can offer you a cut of the earnings at the end of each season... something

reasonable for risking your life...," cobalt eyes returned to the man sitting
beside him, studying his expression for any signs of interest. A thunderous
cheer spread though the gathering of the wealthy, announcing that the two
slaves that had entered the large cage had begun to engage each other. Syndre's
held back the desire to watch the proceedings, instead keeping an attentive
gaze upon the no nonsense figure in front of him. Though this encounter had been
peaceful enough, there was no telling what type of person Robert was. This fact
required Syndre to keep a steady guard as he was sure the man was doing the
same with him.

"I was thinking twenty percent of the earnings...," surely this would sound

like a good deal to most low lives looking to make easy coin, but from the man's
hardened look he expected there would be some haggling. Syndre had worked the
streets of this chaotic city his entire life and dealing prices with people came
with the business. He was serious about acquiring this type of help, for the
people he had to work with could be fickly at times and you never really knew
what to expect. Syndre was good at escaping such encounters gone wrong, but
when it came to being pinned down and forced to defend your life you were usually
out numbered. Evening these odds offered a better chance of survival in the
underworld of Ravok.

The iron fence bowed deeply with a loud groan of metal directly in front of

them in the middle of Syndre's proposal. A smirk played upon the thief's face
as one slave had driven the other against the strong chain links. A pair of
black stained digits lifted to his smiling lips and a piercing whistle issued
forth to spur the fighters on in their blood shed. The slaves battled for their
very lives and the excitement from such an animalistic ritual shown clearly on
Syndre's countenance. If anything, the rogue knew how to enjoy himself. He was
an extremely selfish individual and he took from this world everything he
could to make his existence more pleasant. He refused to drag himself through a
long hard worked life filled with suffering, instead he lived fast and for the
moment.

[Robert Cithon]

A bodyguard? Robert had done the like before. But in his years of mercenary work he had never been a lone bodyguard. He had always been hired with a team, and usually it was for a wealthy merchant. Never in his life had he been bought as a lone bodyguard for a street rat like the man sitting next to him. It would be an interesting experience. Robert looked the man in the eyes, matching his gaze. He ignored the argument going on a few feet from them. He was no longer concerned about the fighting, or the surrounding environment. He was attentive on the conversation they were having. Robert was focused on the deal, he didn’t want to be distracted while making a deal. One he could possibly regret in the future. The way the man mentioned risking Roberts life, made Robert feel as if it would be a reoccurring event. None the less he was very interested in the job opportunity. He had not come across a decent paying gig in some time, and his funds were beginning to look as if he would wind up on the street by the end of the season. So in short terms, he was desperate for the job. Robert leaned back in his seat, it made a few groans and squeaks while he adjusted his weight. But it held true and refused to send him clattering to the floor like a fool. Robert crossed his arms and put on a relaxed poise, an attempt to set the man at ease. Bargaining was easier to do with a friend rather than a man who looked as if he wanted your blood soaking into the wood beneath his feet. Robert decided it best not to respond to any of the mans words, until he threw a number out. That was when Robert would show an interest in his proposal. But once the proposed number was mentioned Robert had to choke back a laugh, and resist the urge to stand up and walk away. But he stayed calm and fought down his emotions. He was being haggled, the man was testing the waters and was shooting low in hopes Robert would bite the bait. But Robert was an experienced mercenary, and haggling for coin came with the job. So he sat back and made it seemed as if he were pondering the number over in a serious manner. Robert sat silently for a few long moments, making the process drag on. He had a number set in his head, and would not go any lower then that. But still, he watched as the fight between slaves grew violent. He honestly got lost in time as he watched the two hopeless souls battle for life. After several more long moments he spoke, “My apologies, I seemed to have gotten sidetracked with the entertainment.” His words were barely audible with the roaring crowd. A smile crept over Roberts face, and he thought silently to himself. Time to set some tempers flaring. “I think twenty percent is a fair price.” He gave way for a dramatic pause “if I were any other scum of Ravok. But I am not a scum being scraped off the streets of Ravok. I my friend, am a proud mercenary. I am already fully supplied and equipped for battle. I have a decent set of skills that can make me a very deadly opponent to most we will encounter in your line of work. Where I fear it is usually numbers that wins rather than skill. But with me, and you of course. We shall have both, skill, and numbers.” His face was not angry at the insulting numbers, he knew the man was only prodding the waters. “That being said” He took a moment and cleared his throat. “I think a fair price would be closer to forty percent. Plus you must provide me with assistance if I fall in combat. I will not work for a man who would leave another stranded to die.” Robert knew his number was high, he would settle for less. It was merely an attempt to ruffle the mans feathers. He was remaining so calm and confident during the ordeal, as if he knew Robert would say yes in the end. Which in truth, he would.

[Syndre]

Fourty percent of his unlawful earnings seemed a little steap, that kind

of Miza would probably have been offered to an actual business partner. Syndre
only needed the mercenary to do the work that a henchman would perform, but how
does one accurately put a price on their life? If the rogue was in his position,
he would probably want to be conpensated well for such a job as well. It would
seem as though Robert was experienced at playing this little game, and knowing
this the thief could not drop the percentage too low or nothing would materialize
from this encounter. Syndre did not spend the time asking around and tracking the
traveller to this location for nothing.

"Thirty percent... and I will also throw in a small favor from me to you...,"

he countered Robert's proposal with another of his own, letting the statement of
a favor resinate in the man's thoughts. Giving the mercenary a moment to ponder
just what that favor would be, Syndre looked back to the caged arena while his
gloved hands casually moved to various pockets lining his black pants. An ivory
smoking piece had been removed, a fine grainy substance worked into its wide
chamber, and a thin candle that had almost seen its last days was presented. He
knew the man was watching his every move and Syndre paused what he was preparing
for a few seconds, offering Robert a slightly raised eyebrow.

"If I was able to spend the day scouting your movement in the city, then

you should consider that those you transgressed upon will be doing the same...
perhaps they are even watching us now?...," he continued as he sat the exquisite
pipe within his lap. A deep lean against the wooden bench allowed him access to
a nearby torch, which he used to light the deminished wick of the dying candle.
"You agree to my offer... and I will assist in the covering of your tracks... I
am willing to devise a plan that will take care of your witness and his
influental father...," ahh yes a little icing on the cake. Syndre couldn't have
a bodyguard that was attracting negative attention, that would just mean Robert's
problems would be his own later on. If they were to do business together, the
issue needed to be stamped out immediately before growing more troublesome.

Azure voids shifted about the crowd, searching for any signs that they were

indeed being watched. Finding no trace of prying eyes, the rogue brought the
expertly designed instrament to his lips and held the fading candle over the
white hued bowl. He took a brief draw from the mouthpiece and the quickly
burning herb mixture crackled softly into tiny embers. No body in the surrounding
area was paying them any attention, for the blood laden scrap firmly held the
eyes of the crowd. The brawling slaves had made their way back toward the center
of the iron wrought cage moments ago, so the merchants' gazes were no longer
focused in their direction as they had been.

Syndre allowed the thinned smoke to snake forth from his nostrils after the

strong drug had spent some time plagueing his lungs. An immediate creeping
sensation began to crawl over his skin, that familiar tingle that was most
welcoming to his senses. The thief looked down toward the decorative pipe, then
back up toward Robert as if to offer the man an opportunity to indulge in the
pleasant herbs. It didn't take much to feel the powerful effects, and there was
a small amount left unscathed by the fire within the bowl. It would be enough
to satisfy the mercenary if he chose to partake, or it would be enough to
elevate Syndre to another level of intoxication.

[Robert Cithon]

Robert’s interest grew when the man mentioned a small favor. He was curious as to what this man could offer that would spurn Robert into agreement. Robert ran hundreds of scenarios in his mind, and none came out to be reasonable for the situation. So He decided to wait it out. He sat there silently watching the man retrieve a pipe from his clothing. Robert had seen such pipes, none quite the same. And every man he had seen use one, used a different substance. Robert himself had never indulged in the affairs of any substance that put him at ease, or overly relaxed him. His proposal began, and it got Robert’s attention. He was speaking of how easy it was to track down Robert, and how easily it could have been managed by the ones who want his throat slit. This got Robert’s curiosity going, and he was leaning forward listening intently before the man finished his sentence. Robert watched as the man leaned over and lit his barely remaining candle. The man finished his proposal. And Robert resisted the urge to stand and shake his hand right then and there. He did not want to seem overly joyous about the proposed offer. Truth be told Robert was ecstatic about the offered deal. He did not mind fighting and dying, he knows that is how he will end up dead. Robert hated having to look over his shoulder for the killers lurking in the shadows. Robert let the man think he was debating the offer. Robert was sold though, he would agree. No point in making it to obvious though. Robert watched intently as the man, he still did not know his name. Lit his pipe and inhaled in the smoke. He seemed to be wary of watching eyes while smoking though. Robert concluded that it was an illegal substance, and more than likely the reasoning behind his coming here and approaching Robert. Once finished the man seemed to offer Robert an attempt to sample the drug. But with the way the man seemed to be enjoying it, Robert thought best not to indulge. Robert shook his head, denying the offer politely. “Your proposal” He paused for a moment. “Is rather tempting. Under the circumstances.” Robert scanned the surrounding room. A guard was watching their table now. They must have took note of them ignoring the entertainment and being so focused on one another. “And I would be a fool to reject your offer.” Robert stood up, giving a little nod in the direction of the now intently watchful guard. “It seems we have drawn an unwanted eye. But consider me your man.” He stuck his arm out, he would not consider it a deal unless it was shaken upon.