The sign outside the door shows a mug and a turkey leg, and reads, "The Three Thieves Inn". It's nestled in with several other buildings in a slightly seedier part of Rephidim, though not quite in Darkside … about two blocks away, if you to guess at an exact boundary. Inside, the main room is warmly lit by a roaring fireplace, and high on the walls hang mounted heads a macabre touch that gives the place its name … and a slightly sinister ambiance. Behind a wooden counter, perpetually polishing glasses that rarely need it, is a grumpy-looking hippogryph Vartan. Near the bar can be seen stairs leading up to the rooms. It's a nicely-kept establishment not fancy, not grimy just somewhere in between respectable and not.
The renowned assassin, Quicksilver, had been given word that her services were needed by a very important customer who would not reveal his name, just the promise of gold if his work was done right. He gave word of a meeting place and a time through his messengers, and that time is now.
A Vartan bartender quietly polishes a glass. The glass doesn't seem to need polishing very much, but the barkeep seems to think so.
The Kavi assassin in question sits in a corner booth, tail twitching with impatience. The room is pretty empty, but for a few Vartans, and she pokes at a slowly congealing bowl of something that might have been the distant cousin of soup when it was warm and fresh a few weeks ago. She chitters, hoping this venture will not prove as … unprofitable as her last one.
The customer in question is late… but the promise of gold still hangs in the air. A noisy Titanian storms down the steps from the rooms above and staggers out the door. Jakka, the bartender, continues polishing the glass.
Quicksilver amuses herself with a certain favorite trophy of hers, a huge gold ring with a ruby the size of a nut in it. She has a small collection of such things, gathered over the years from her victims. A Vartan waitress squawks when she comes over to collect the bill, but Quicksilver quickly puts it away and snarls at her, dropping some shekels on the scuffed wooden table.
Quietly, a figure in a heavy robe enters the bar. It pauses at the doorway and looks around, then its eyes rest on the kavi. It walks to the back of the room, nodding at Quicksilver as it passes and then takes a seat in a shadowy booth in the back of the room.
Quicksilver takes her cape and cowl off of the back of her seat, swinging it around her shoulders and following, but keeping alert to a possible 'set up'. She's not without her enemies. She walks over and sits in the booth with the figure, sniffing intently as she places herself across from him at the table.
Jakka glances at the new arrival and frowns. She glances at something behind the bar and then looks back at the figure.
Quicksilver notes this out of the corner of her eye. Having no 'whites' around her irises, she can switch her gaze without others being aware. She glances aside at the movment, then back to the figure.
The nose of the Kavi picks up the scent of a Rath'ani… a raccoon. This is confirmed as he pulls down his cowl, revealing a grayish brown furred face with a black mask splashed across his eyes. "Are you the one I am to meet?" he asks.
Quicksilver smirks, her sharp teeth showing. "'Pends. What meeting doing are we?" Her speech, even after all these years, is quite broken, the grammar awkward. Languages have never been a Kavi's strong suit.
The Vartan bartender growls and focuses on her glass again, although her keen eyes glance back at the pain in the back. The bar is near Darkside after all… Only a fool wouldn't show caution at anything that looked suspicious. But only a fool pokes his beak where it shouldn't belong as well.
The raccoon pulls out a scroll wrapped in leather and a bag that jingles softly as he sets it down. "I need your… talents."
The Kavi's smile grows marginally, but her tailtip twitches, giving away her eagerness. The ermine face peers intently at the Rath'ani, and she nods. "Am having talents, yes," she notes with a small chitter. She reaches out for the scroll, and looks up at the 'coon. "This 'job'?"
Nodding quietly, the raccoon pulls his hood back over his eyes. "You have no doubt, heard of the assassin known as Shadowspite?" He speaks of the one who is probably the most infamous assassin in all of Sinai the assassin who is rumored to have killed the Captain Astromancer himself.
Quicksilver's tail bottlebrushes. She picks up the scroll. "Hearing that, did," she says softly, unscrolling the leather document. She squints her eyes to read it, going over it a few times, since she's only partially literate.
The leather container holds maps, a letter, and a sketch of the one who is probably going to be the intended victim. The picture appears to be that of a human boy, probably about six to ten years old.
"You will be paid very well if your work is done properly. I will give you two silvers now, and two gold if you do the job correctly," the raccoon says softly. "Your victim resides in the Temple, and is heavily guarded."
Quicksilver finishes the letter, and puts it down, examining the sketch. "Hrmmm… yes. Doing that, can be… " she says, her mind wandering. She nearly misses the amount, then gags. "THIS for??" she squeaks, pointing to the sketch. "Well, money yours, doubt not. Done, will be. But not doing right away. Needing to … find weakness in guard… "
The letter gives detailed instructions on where to enter the Temple, and a plan for sneaking in and out to escape notice. It looks as though everything's been well planned out in advance.
The raccoon nods. "My associates will provide you with a proper disguise," he taps the sketch with a blunt clawtip. "But he must die, no mistakes."
Quicksilver erfs. "But, arranged everything is," she notes, pointing to the letter. "Not very trusting is of this setup. But, deal having, yes." She smiles, looking a bit overwhelmed. "Die will, he. Nice setup, this." She knows there must be some horrible catch to this, but the gold will come in good. She doesn't mind danger… but prefers that she has arranged her own danger. Oh well. Might stake this Temple out to make sure herself, later, if she has time. "When needing done?"
The raccoon peeks around, his ears flick nervously. "You will need all the help you can get, I will not lie to you. We can provide you with a small opening to him; if you miss it you'll risk being killed on the spot. He will not be difficult to spot; humans are exceptionally rare on Sinai after all, and this one has bright red hair."
Quicksilver nods. "Doubt not easy finding would be… many kit-humans living not in Temple, eh? But, what doing have all with 'Shadowspite'?" Her tail bristles again at the name.
"Shadowspite murdered the Astromancer… Your job will be to murder the Astromancer Candidate before he rises in station," the raccoon says, brushing a hand down the front of his robe nervously. "We had hoped to hire Shadowspite himself for this, but he asked for an obscene amount of money. This is only a child, after all."
The Kavi smirks. "So, nice expendable second-best going for." She nods, knowing better than to ever ask why this person needs to die. When you ask questions like that, assassination shouldn't be your line of work. She just gestures to the bag. "Silver, then, and deal closed is."
The raccoon nods and opens up his pouch. The gleam of silver and gold inside catches the Kavi's eyes as he draws out two silver coins and places them on the table. "If you need money for materials, it will be provided as well."
Quicksilver hrfs, nodding. She says nothing now, but places the coins in her pouch. Temple-pigs, living in a trough of wealth, and throwing her a few scraps. But such has always been her life, and there is little room in it for bitterness. She gets up, bowing to the robed 'coon. "Keeping in contact, will be. Knowing you are of how to reach me."
The raccoon pockets his moneypouch and nods back. "First ones watch over you… You shall need it."
Jakka seems to relax a bit as she wipes a rag across the top of the bar. No violence from this meeting, thank Dagh.
As the Kavi leaves, the raccoon stares after her for a good long time. A smile slowly curls across his lips.