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Post by Deleted on Dec 6, 2012 12:07:41 GMT -5
A dark, dank inn which sits in the heart of Fleabottom. Known to be popular with sellswords, cutthroats, bandits and ne'erdowells. Unless you have good reason to be here, it's adviseable you walk on by.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 6, 2012 12:08:31 GMT -5
Cayn sits in the corner of the Goat, as was his want from time to time. Sometimes just waiting was the best way to go about getting a job.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Dec 6, 2012 14:49:27 GMT -5
A big, scarred man enters, an axe strapped across his back, dressed in heavy dark chain that clatters when he walks. He sits heavily in a sturdy chair and gets an ale. Cayn's never seen him before, to his knowledge. Even in the lair of scum which is the Goat, this man stands out.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 6, 2012 15:56:02 GMT -5
Cayn sips his ale casually and observes the man for awhile out the corner of his eye.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Dec 6, 2012 17:24:41 GMT -5
The man drains a few ales and a haunch of "beef". Cayn has always rather suspected it is in fact rat...if not people. His favorite bar wench approaches and serves him another drink. "Tough customer."
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Post by Deleted on Dec 6, 2012 17:28:11 GMT -5
Cayn raises his hand to thank her for the drink.
He juts his head over to the big man. "Him?" he asks. "Haven't seen him in here before."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Dec 6, 2012 17:34:24 GMT -5
"Not surprising. His name's Mareth. Some ganglord must have hired him to really clean the trash out. He can't be cheap." Lissa shrugs. "Best to be out of his way."
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Post by Deleted on Dec 6, 2012 17:40:01 GMT -5
"Not surprising. His name's Mareth. Some ganglord must have hired him to really clean the trash out. He can't be cheap." Lissa shrugs. "Best to be out of his way." The side of Cayn's mouth curved up a fraction. "Don't you worry on my account Lissa. If he bothers you, just let me know." "Did you happen to hear which leader had hired him?"
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Post by The Forgotten God on Dec 6, 2012 17:43:13 GMT -5
"Most people I'd try to find out." She looks to Mareth. "I think I'm fine just knowing his target ain't me, today."
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Post by Deleted on Dec 7, 2012 2:31:24 GMT -5
Cayn nodded, "aye, that's for the best."
A silver coin seemed to materialize from nowhere, and he slid it over to her for her trouble.
"Send the big man over a drink from me, if that ain't a problem."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Dec 7, 2012 12:28:47 GMT -5
She shrugs, and after a bit hands the man an ale. Mareth turns to see the buyer and nods a silent acknowledgement. A scuffle breaks out in another corner over some card cheating, but he doesn't even bother turning to look at it.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 7, 2012 13:56:38 GMT -5
Cayn is momentarily distracted by the scuffle, taking note of the two men involved, he recognised one of them as a cheat, to be sure.
After the scuffle had settled, he picked up his drink and went to Mareth's table and lazily took a seat.
"Welcome to the Rotted Goat, friend," he said, raising his cup to the man.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Dec 7, 2012 14:17:08 GMT -5
The mercenary raises the glass, very slightly. "One of the biggest dives I ever seen, fer sure."
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Post by Deleted on Dec 7, 2012 14:47:02 GMT -5
Cayn gives him a flat grin. "You might be looking for a tavern called the Fat Goat, off the Street of Steel. The wenches there are lovely and plump, and the ale doesn't taste remotely of pig piss."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Dec 7, 2012 14:48:54 GMT -5
"I know where I am," he says. He watches the door and drinks.
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