The Proud Falcon is pretty unremarkable, as inns go. located in a two-story building, the second floor is dedicated to rooms for people to sleep in, or just recover from a longer journey. On the ground floor, there is a bar, the counter used to serve beer, wine and small snacks, while the dimly lit booths lining the common room are used for more serious dining, or just to satisfy people's need for privacy. A kitchen is located behind the bar, and another door opens to the back yard of the block, where the well, outhouses and stables are located.
The clientele is relatively clean -- this is not an inn for the more well-off traveler, but neither is it a place for the lower part of this Haven's population. Various species, mostly males, are gathered in small groups, some just enjoying themselves and savoring the food, which is rather good, while some of the other groups seem to be more engaged in planning something. One person breaks the pattern -- in one of the darker booths, a slim female, clad in black, face covered by black silk veils, sits still and watches. Only occasionally does she sip from the cup in front of her, lifting the veils in the shadow of her hood. The dim lighting and her dark clothes make her almost fade into the background, and it would be a safe bet that many of the inn's clients haven't even noticed her.
The race of this figure is hard to distinguish -- she's female, and slender, and moves like a dancer -- or perhaps not quite. There's something cat-like, in her, but somehow she doesn't seem to fit into any simple category. Her clothes are very simple, but of good quality, and she doesn't seem to carry much with her, except for some items on her belt, hidden by her tunic, and a wooden staff set to rest against the end of the booth behind her.
The bar has at least its usual share of patrons... the main waitress, a cute little raccoon, dodges back and forth between tables, her speed carrying her easily past most of the less sober patrons.
The doors open and a rather shifty looking squirrel morph pads in nervously and goes up to the bar and says, "I'll take a pint of your best ale barkeep."
The barkeep, an fairly large red panda, looks the squirrel over and then fills a pint from the draught, setting it down atop the counter before going off to deal with someone else.
The squirrel slaps a coin on the bar then goes into a quiet booth in a corner, not noticing the dark occupant two booths away.
The dark lady doesn't seem to pay much attention to the squirrel, turning to sip at her drink again.
The barkeep brushes the coin off the counter, not even watching as it falls directly into the open pouch on his apron.
The doors open again, and a handsome buck deer morph walks in, very over dressed for the area, though his demeanor indicates that he's used to wearing better. Ducking his antlers under the door jam, he walks towards the bartender and says, "A pint of some bitters if you would my dear barkeep."
The barkeep gives this customer even more of a once-over, tilting his head slightly in a querying move. He then shrugs, and pulls out a mug, filling it from under the counter. He sets it on the counter, then pushes it along the counter top in the direction of the previous customer.
The deer seems to get more attention from the dark female, although it is difficult to tell, from the heavy shadows.
The deer nods, trying to appear nonchalant as he heads towards the Squirrels booth.
The deer finally sees the squirrel and sits across from him in the booth and quietly squeaks, "I'm Arthur L. Dactyle the XIII, are you my...contact?"
The barkeep goes back to polishing glasses.
Without as much as the rustling of a fabric, the dark form shifts, as if she would hope to hear the discussion between the deer and the squirrel over the low ambient rumbling of the inn.
The squirrel sighs as he buries his head in his hands, "A rich fop who doesn't know enough to dress down for a private meeting in a place like this? I can't believe you. You might as well be wearing lit candles in your antlers."
Arthur hmmfs, "I wore my oldest suit, thank you very much. And before I go further, how do I know you ARE Ankhl Beiter?"
Ankhl sighs, "Do you see any other teenage squirrel thieves around? Now get your voice a few octaves and decibels lower and tell me what this meeting is about?"
Arthur whispers this time, "I need you to steal an ancient relic from the spacer days. You up to it?"
The mysterious lady seems to have forgotten her drink.
Ankhl nearly inhales his ale and finally says, "Are you nuts? Most of those things aren't worth the effort! They kill you if you try and use them, and if they don't, they're great paperweights. Like that stupid "Holy Bacon" they keep talking about once a year on Contact Day."
Arthur sighs, "Actually, that's the object I want you to steal."
The squirrel nearly cracks up, "You want me to risk my life over a well guarded but utterly worthless relic? I'm known for insane robberies, but I'm hoping to live past puberty, thank you very much."
A small but wiry skunk walks into the bar... wearing a full guard's uniform. He walks up to the counter, and orders a pint from the barkeep.
Another shift, this time taking the dark form further into the shadows while the skunk looks away.
The barkeep pulls out another mug and fills it, planting it on the counter in front of the skunk before accepting the coin.
Arthur huffs, "Listen you fool, it's worthless no longer. Our scholar mages have finally realized what that weird light show in the skies was about. After all these centuries, we may have someone to contact. And whoever contacts them first...gets all the offworld trading contracts! With spacer goods that actually WORK."
Ankhl Beiter's eyes light up after nearly a minute as his greed catches up with his mind and he finally nods, "Yes, very lucrative indeed. So lucrative, that you can afford to give me half of your profits for me risking my life."
Arthur's eyes go wide and he stammers, "I was going to offer a 1000 gold dewclaws for this job, not a percentage of the profits!"
The skunk guardsman looks aimlessly around the bar for a few seconds, then pulls out a chair and sits down in it somewhere near the middle.
The raccoon waitress grins at the guard, flaunting her tail at him as she spins around to serve someone else.
Arthur shakes his head, "I have others involved in this who get their shares also. I can offer you 2000 gold or 1% of our profits, assuming this works."
The squirrel and the deer finally agree on terms, though the squirrel notes he's going to need some help, especially with a good diversion with all that security. As one customer leaves, something that looks like a bedraggled, stretched out rat waddles in, looking desperately thin and confused.
The skunk guardsman seems to be having a good time of this, especially with the way the waitress keeps fluttering around him, serving him drinks, keeping him nicely distracted...
The shadow finishes her drink, noticing the new arrival but paying more attention on getting ready to follow one of the conspirators.
The little miserable ...rat? isn't noticed at first. He struggles to his hind legs and looks up at the bowl of snacks at the edge of the bar with a forlorn look on his face. In an odd language he chitters, **Food please. Good investment. Promise good returns.** Which, to everyone but a certain dark skinned lady, just sounds like gibberish.
The barkeep leans over the bar and glares at the new arrival.
The woman freezes, staring at the critter from her shadow.
The deer is preparing to leave as he haggles one or two last details with the squirrel.
The barkeep looks around the bar. "That animal belong to anyone?"
Stuffit sighs and chitters **Lost provider/employer/goldenfur have I. Mate/partner/accountant Quickpaws too. Food, please?**
More of the inn's warm light falls on the black figure as she emerges from her booth, and surprisingly quickly navigates to the counter. ~~Mine, Bartender. I'm afraid he escaped.~~
The barkeep nods. "Take better care of him next time."
Stuffit doesn't see Delachiel at first, and with a **poit** teleports up to the snacks while only Delachiel is paying attention to him.
Delachiel answers with a quick nod, picks up stuffit, and steps quickly into a shadowy corner again, glancing to see what has come of the guard and the two conspirators, while holding a gloved finger up to where her lips are, signaling the critter to stay put.
Stuffit chitters, **Dark one. Goldenfur's persuasive collector of accounts receivable for non payers?**
Delachiel hushes Stuffit again, and whispers, ~~Not now.~~
Arthur and Ankhl both turn to see what the chittering is about?
The barkeep watches Delachiel all the way back to her booth, visibly... then turns to his usual nonchalant bottle-cleaning.
Delachiel grinds her teeth quietly, and there is a definite hiss in her voice as she whispers to Stuffit, ~~Please be quiet. I will get you food.~~
The guard yawns, turning around as he looks around the bar again, the waitress having gone back to deal with the critter...
Stuffit nods and thinks . o O (Blessed profits! Benefactor and acquaintance/friend/heavy for goldenfur saves this quarter from red!)
Arthur looks at the veiled person and her ugly long rat and hmmfs, but Anhkl eyes her with some interest.
Delachiel scritchies Stuffit while pretending to be oblivious to what's happening around her.
The guard's mildly blurred gaze focuses on the table with the deer and the squirrel for a moment, squinting as he takes a closer look.
Ankhl hmms and leans over and passes a bowl of pretzels and a glass of water to Delachiel and purrs, "He looks like he could use a bit of food, miss...?"
Arthur looks incensed, why bother with this person and her ugly rat? As he goes to say something, Ankhl just kicks him.
The guard makes rather a racket as he stand up, knocking his chair back and almost falling over. "You!" he yells, and points at Ankhl.
~~Delachiel. Thank you, Ankhl.~~ She sets the offerings in front of stuffit, but doesn't turn her eyes away from the squirrel -- as far as anyone can tell, her face being hidden in the shadows.
Delachiel says, calmly, ~~However, I think you should go now.~~
Stuffit stuffit quickly drinks and eats, happy about the food and nervous about the shouting.
Ankhl swears and looks for a way out. The deer just freezes, almost as if staring into a bright light or something.
The guard starts working his way towards the table Ankhl is at, the number of drinks he's had obviously taking their toll. "Ankhl Beiter!"
Delachiel waits for Ankhl to dash, before picking up stuffit and a pretzel and dropping them into a pouch on her belt and pressing against the deer's side. ~~Come with me.~~ In addition to her warm body, something sharp presses against the deer.
Ankhl dashes past the guard, shoving him aside as he runs out the door.
The guard falls over, trying to trip Ankhl in his last act before passing out on the floor.
Arthur eeps and just nods to Delachiel.
Delachiel uses the commotion the drunken guard caused to slip out the back door with the baffled deer, leading him trough the back yard and stables to another yard, belonging to a nearby house. Behind a shed she finally stops and steps away from the deer, cornering him.
Stuffit makes happy munching sounds from inside Delachiel's pocket.
Arthur swallows, obviously not used to being in dangerous situations and stammers, "What do you want?"
Delachiel says, ~~I'm not sure yet. I could take your life, but then again I could also settle for a say in your operation. Or perhaps I will just turn you over to those guards... no. I don't think that's an option. But it's quite obvious that you can't be trusted to go about this on your own.~~
Arthur blinks, a total loss at what to say to the strange creature and finally blurts, "Well, I can't be found here. It would raise a lot of questions. Can't we go somewhere else?"
Delachiel says, ~~But first, we're going to have a nice talk. And don't worry, if I decided to make you go away, you won't be found here -- or anywhere.~~
Some other guards have apparently heard the shouting of the first one, as sounds of a chase ensue around the pub...
The handsome, though rather inexperienced deer just wilts. Assassins are extremely rare in Haven, but the few that do exist are truly horrible creatures and he nods, "Whatever you say, but shouldn't we go somewhere else?"
Delachiel listens to the guards, ignoring the deer, then grabs his arm. ~~Let's go.~~
Some guards chase Ankhl past the corner, and one spots Delachiel and Arthur, leading to a couple breaking off and heading their way.
Delachiel curses under her breath. ~~Quick, into the shed.~~ The Xardeth pushes the deer in, follows and closes the door behind her. Another door opens to a nearby street, and as the deer stumbles out, his capturer points northwards, ~~Up to that park.~~
Stuffit burps happily and hears Delachiel's words, and with a *poit* all three disappear just as the guards round the corner to see one of the city nobles disappear while a veiled creature holds a knife at him.