Bastions

Faye:
"Calling in favors can only get you access for a brief time. Don't want people getting help or bring killed before facing judgement. Though from what I understand a large number of prisoners still die before facing a trial." Faye answered making sure not to answer immediately. "It was a waste, because my time is all up and I was the only one talking. I suspect it has to do withme being a noble. Should probably wear something less regal if I ever need to do this type of thing again."

Faye finished, making a mental note about her idea of wearing something else. She could probably get a set of clothes from the slums just for her needs. She'd definitely have to hide the outfit though.

Cynthia:
She turned back toward the table after finishing with her weapons, "Hah, you have a point there," she chuckled a bit and then got more serious. "So your mission is basically just to see what it's like?" she asked in her welcoming tone of voice.

Ranna, as always, took her time thinking over the words for a moment after they'd been said. However this was going to go, the woman was smart enough not to tell her everything. Good for Faye, she supposed. It would have been too much to hope for to run into a stupid Noble. A lot of them were generally smart, because of their mark, but not every noble was a born magic user. It only took one in a family to bring the entire house to nobility.

"... I see," she said, again. It was pretty clear she skeptical in some manner, but she didn't appear to press anymore. "If ever you require help with anything arcane, or otherwise mystical, seek me out at my estate." Ranna had years to practice subtle luring and trickery. If her guess was correct, that subtle, and rather broad suggestion might bait out more information from the girl.

"I have a rather extensive library on such things," she concluded, turning around and begining to walk toward the exit. "... If there was nothing else..?" she paused, turning her head ever so slightly in question to Faye.

Cynthia:
"Don't I know it. The Board is just getting crazier and crazier. Pretty soon I don't even think I will be excepting their bounties anyway." She paused, "and as you may be wondering, the reason The Board usually hires me is to take out another high up that the guards can't." She leaned back a little bit in the booth and let out a somewhat nonchalant question. "So when do you think you're going to head out there?" She turned to the window because something in her peripheral moved, she turned to see what it was. Cynthia squinted to see a shadow walk by in the alleyway across the street. Only a second later she looked back at Owen, still intrigued.

Kyaer:
As he walked down the alleyway. He thought more on the guards he had just taken out. His thirst for revenge still craved more, as always. It seems to him the only satiable solution would be to take down the head of the board himself, the one who had brought him down, Thaddeus Markov. 'If that slick air-headed fool thinks he's seen the last of me. I can't wait to see him again.' He thought to himself, feeling oddly cliche.

The unusually tall robed woman nodded in acknowledgment, and continued to walk forward. "L'anov del'ah," she murmured in parting, heading forward and exiting the hall through the door leading into the Sanctum's main lobby. It was not as if she was in dire need of whatever information that woman might have, but it was only smart to pick up on any little interesting source of intelligence if possible. Whether or not she would get that from the woman, she did not know. It didn't worry her much at all, however. If nothing else stopped her, she would make her way out of the building entirely, and begin heading toward the library not too far away.

--

Within some small amount of time, Isabel had collected another order after seating a new patron, and soon returned to the kitchen to posted up the order with the rest of them. After doing so, she directed her gaze toward Owen's steadily working hands, folding her arms idly whilst she waited for him to finish up whatever it was that was done, and plate it for her.

"All's good, boss-man?" she asked in a manner neither curious nor uninterested.

Name: Unknown
Alias: Ulvjeger
Sex: Male
Age: 34
Height: 6’4”
Weight: 220LBS
Eyes: Emerald Green
Hair: Dark brown
Facial Hair: 5 o’clock shadow

Profession: Spy/Assassin
Alignment: Chaotic Good

Armament: A seemingly endless supply of knives. Ulvjeger is quite deadly with them, and no matter how off balance he seems to be, he always seems able to produce one. Confirmed locations include: one in each boot, small of back, two in plain view on belt.

Traits/ticks: When asked a yes/no question, Ulvjeger has a habit of tossing a coin to decide for him. He also often is imbibing of some sort of whiskey. Whether he is as drunk as he seems, is another thing entirely.

History: Not much is known about Ulvjeger before ten years ago. He seems to have just appeared at that time, and within a matter of months became either the most deadly or most likely to die of liver failure depending on if you know him professionally or socially. He has never let a mark live, and depending on how you look at it, is the cheapest assassin around. He does not deal in gold or gems or even anything tangible. Ulvjeger’s price is always information, and he demands payment up front. With his reputation, you are safe to pay before delivery.

In his line of work, Ulvjeger is more than proficient with most forms of weaponry, although he prefers daggers and the bow; he is also talented when it comes to blending in to his surroundings. His most used/capable disguise is that of an old crippled man who needs a staff to help him walk.

Few can say they actually know him, but Grant Lingren probably knows him better than anyone else. Grant may be the one person Ulvjeger calls “friend.” That being said, instead of patronizing the Posh Griffon, Ulvjeger usually spends his time at the Griffon’s main rival The Mongoose’s Luck

Grant:
Straightening himself, Grant turned back to the cooking food. "I do indeed have a job for you. I have caught wind of a pendant that is carried by a noble. This pendant has an aura about it that makes people a bit more susceptible to suggestions. Nothing against their deep seated beliefs, but just enough to loosen their wallets. It would be a good pendant to have during a meeting with renevators and salesmen who might try to play the crooked cross. Though it'll mainly help keeping guards away." He said carefully tending the food. He slid some flapjacks on to s plate before reaching into one of his pockets and pulling out a piece of parchment and pointing it in Ulvjeger's direction. "This has the location of where the pendant is and a sketch of what it looks like."

Isabel had already left before Ulvjeger showed up, and shortly after exiting the kitchen did she deliver Owen's order. Placing the plates down on the table, she nodded to Owen and the hunter, and went back to doing her job.

--

Apparently the morning was slow-going. It usually was, whenever sitting around like Harriet was now. The thief was usually doing something or other to make the time go by faster, but every so often, she'd get stuck with nothing to do. Knowing the concept of "nothing to do" was a stupid one, she let out a sigh and pushed herself to her feet.

Upon reentering the Griffon, she saw Isabel exit the kitchen and place some food down where Owen and that bounty hunter were sitting. Briefly wondering if Owen was paying for all of it, she ne'er stayed her stride, continuing on toward the kitchen's door. It was an funny contrast, comparing when she'd left the bar only half an hour ago to when she just now returned. Then, only the first two patrons had arrived. Now, she had to weave and angle about, trying not to bump into anyone. Being the nimble, agile woman that she was, Harriet arrived at the kitchen's door unscathed, and promptly pushed it open.

"Grant," she addressed upon entering, "will you open the stairs or am I gonna have to--" she paused, only just now looking up to see that Grant had company. After a moment of silence, she folded her arms across her chest and straightened her back. Ulvjeger. She didn't really know the guy much on a personal level. But then, she wasn't sure if anyone did. She knew he was responsible for botching a couple of her jobs. Not due to incompetence, she hated to admit it, but he was very good at what he did. Not that she liked what he did either; assassination. He'd killed the owner of some expensive item she was stealing on more than one account, enough to make her think he had some sick sort of obsession with bugging her. She was never fond of professional killers. People were too flippant about death in this city. And that man killed for a living. Imagine her fondness of him. While she preferred anonymity, he'd made a reputation for himself(to an extent, considering no one to her knowledge knew his actual name). They always were the perfect pair for a rivalry. The only thing that stopped her from smacking him over the head with her blackjack, what she told herself anyway, was that he was a friend of a friend. Because of Grant, she tolerated him.

In the long run, she never saw much of him. He did his work, she did hers, and the Bastion was a big place. She was just under the unfortunate circumstance that they shared a mutual friend, and because of that she'd seen him multiple times around the Posh Griffon. Another hoodlum to linger around the Bounty Board in Grant's basement.

"Ulvjeger," she said in her usual flat tone, as an unamused greeting.

Grant:
He held up a finger in Harriet's direction as a sign for her to wait. "I came across a letter between two nobles. Seems that one of them has been trying to find the last son of a family we both knew. I have both the nobles name and day to day schedule for the next month. I figure that would be suitable payment." Grant answered, "I also have it on good authority that in the paranoia multiple hidden passages have been installed in the house, which should offer a degree of assistance with the quest I am sending you on."

Slowly rising to his full height, Ulvjeger gave Grant an appraising look, like one gives an old friend when they suddenly realize something surprising about them.

“This appears to be an acceptable payment. I assume the item is needed for your shall we call it 'gathering of like minds' in three days?”

Grant:

With a look of surprise Grant answered, "That is indeed the plan for it. However I do wonder how you came by the knowledge of this meeting. It's not the kind of meeting thats talked about. Nor is it the kind of meeting where the host is informed."

Harriet didn't quite ct surprised at the sudden dagger being whipped in her direction, merely flinching in slight and turning to look up at where it had planted itself. Snorting with derision to Ulvjeger's stern warning, she turned her head back toward the pair who were speaking. Harriet didn't like Ulvjeger, but she was no child. She didn't press into the conversation, and waited patiently. When the two seemed to conclude their exchange, Harriet only offered the barest hint of a wave with her right hand, not bothering to untangle her arms for the action.

"Mhm," was all she responded with to Ulv's greeting. She seemed particularly perturbed. Perhaps it was the dagger, or that she had to wait to get a word in. Maybe it was just that Ulvjeger didn't bother to use her preferred name, Heather. Whatever it was, she didn't say.

"Grant, was wondering if you had a job. Figured not, so I was asking if I could get into the basement for a look-see," she murmured in a chilled tone, always with as few words as she felt necessary, now leaning her left shoulder against the door-frame.