Time Stamp -=61st of Spring, 511 AV=-
Location -=Western Docks=-
Rhysol's magical embrace kept his precious citizens protected from any unfavorable
weather. This was about the only blessing Syndre thanked the God of Evil for.
Anything else involving Rhysol meant little or nothing to the brazen thief, who
would rather spit on the God's holy symbol than grace him with his prayers of
devotion. Syndre held Akajia's darkness in his heart, and the amount of faith
he bestowed upon her didn't allow room for any other deity. With the weather
being as nice as it was and with the small time dealer feeling more energetic
than usual, it felt like the right time to pick a fight. He had been meaning to
get underneath his bodyguard's skin from the first time he hired him, and this
day was as good as any to rile up the uptight mercenary.
the curvaceous winding of a small canal. Syndre was expecting a repeat customer
about this time, one that enjoyed the Sylirian herbs so much that he had
increased the amount he wanted to buy. This is exactly what the street dealer
had hoped would happen when he introduced the drug to the poor and middle class
citizens of the city. The mixture of mind altering herbs were nothing new to
Ravok, but the crowd that Syndre was selling the addictive drug to could never
afford the high prices until now. The problem with this method was the negative
attention he would surely garner from the city's other crime syndicates. When
you offered the same product to customers at a cheaper price, it would force
those who also sold the product to either lower their own prices or eliminate
the competition. This unpleasant fact was the reason he had hired Robert, though
he never shared this information with the armed henchman.
his own chest as he questioned the bodyguard, indicating that Robert was
bringing pain to his heart. Of course it was just another of Syndre's constant
jokes that he threw at the mercenary whenever they were working the streets. He
was indeed one of the most selfish human's anyone in this chaotic world could
meet, but for whatever reason the thief didn't mind sharing his personal stash
with those he kept around him. He was all about having a good time, each and
every day of his existence, and it helped when those he kept company with were
on the same level. Robert was strictly business around his employer, which was
a good quality in a bodyguard, but Syndre was the type that enjoyed breaking
people and imposing his will on them.
ground. After a quick survey of their quiet surroundings, Syndre returned his
complete attention to the dangerous man across from him. A lone eyebrow, thin
and shaded a deep black, rose in a slight arc upon his pale visage. Though his
expression was friendly enough, those cold cobalt eyes stared fiercely at the
hardened mercenary. A series of audible cracks resounded between the two men
as his leather bound knuckles were forced to pop, usually a sign that someone
was getting ready for some type of action. Being such a fickle person, it would
be difficult for Robert to determine where this was going or what his employer's
true intentions were. If he played along, he was sure to find out.
Location -=Western Docks=-
A comfortable breeze caressed the floating city as the Spring season
drew closer to its end. The conditions were always fair in the chaotic city, forRhysol's magical embrace kept his precious citizens protected from any unfavorable
weather. This was about the only blessing Syndre thanked the God of Evil for.
Anything else involving Rhysol meant little or nothing to the brazen thief, who
would rather spit on the God's holy symbol than grace him with his prayers of
devotion. Syndre held Akajia's darkness in his heart, and the amount of faith
he bestowed upon her didn't allow room for any other deity. With the weather
being as nice as it was and with the small time dealer feeling more energetic
than usual, it felt like the right time to pick a fight. He had been meaning to
get underneath his bodyguard's skin from the first time he hired him, and this
day was as good as any to rile up the uptight mercenary.
The Ravokian rogue sat across from Robert, whom he had summoned late
this peaceful morning. The two men sitting upon a crudely created table near the curvaceous winding of a small canal. Syndre was expecting a repeat customer
about this time, one that enjoyed the Sylirian herbs so much that he had
increased the amount he wanted to buy. This is exactly what the street dealer
had hoped would happen when he introduced the drug to the poor and middle class
citizens of the city. The mixture of mind altering herbs were nothing new to
Ravok, but the crowd that Syndre was selling the addictive drug to could never
afford the high prices until now. The problem with this method was the negative
attention he would surely garner from the city's other crime syndicates. When
you offered the same product to customers at a cheaper price, it would force
those who also sold the product to either lower their own prices or eliminate
the competition. This unpleasant fact was the reason he had hired Robert, though
he never shared this information with the armed henchman.
"Why haven't you smoked with me Robert?... You know it hurts me right
here every time you refuse...," the rogue's gloved fist tapped gently against his own chest as he questioned the bodyguard, indicating that Robert was
bringing pain to his heart. Of course it was just another of Syndre's constant
jokes that he threw at the mercenary whenever they were working the streets. He
was indeed one of the most selfish human's anyone in this chaotic world could
meet, but for whatever reason the thief didn't mind sharing his personal stash
with those he kept around him. He was all about having a good time, each and
every day of his existence, and it helped when those he kept company with were
on the same level. Robert was strictly business around his employer, which was
a good quality in a bodyguard, but Syndre was the type that enjoyed breaking
people and imposing his will on them.
"How about we make a little wager?...," the shady dealer asked as he
took a moment to scan the ivory buildings that jutted from the stone worked ground. After a quick survey of their quiet surroundings, Syndre returned his
complete attention to the dangerous man across from him. A lone eyebrow, thin
and shaded a deep black, rose in a slight arc upon his pale visage. Though his
expression was friendly enough, those cold cobalt eyes stared fiercely at the
hardened mercenary. A series of audible cracks resounded between the two men
as his leather bound knuckles were forced to pop, usually a sign that someone
was getting ready for some type of action. Being such a fickle person, it would
be difficult for Robert to determine where this was going or what his employer's
true intentions were. If he played along, he was sure to find out.
