- Joined
- Nov 10, 2008
- Messages
- 16,468
- Reputation score
- 430
Cara Nialish: HP = 88, PP = 45, EP = 45, Status = Fine
Drugs and booze. Gambling and assistance. Dancing and company. Sweet words and music too fine for a place of such ill repute. All things one might find at Couron's Camp, a deceptively upscale looking establishment nestled on a back street in the docks district of Lockacre, where the rivers that carried goods in from every direction congregated and the ships traveling along them were unloaded. The outer portion of the bar might be fairly normal, a seedy establishment favored by men of lower class, but the inner portion reserved only for very select clientele - like her - was much cleaner despite the dim atmosphere and common risque performances put on by some of the members.
Cara had been lucky to be invited to the organization, one of many guilds located within the sprawling swamp city dedicated to acts that might be called less than acceptable in public. Sometimes clients were invited in, but more often than not the guild members managed their own business. As much as some managed local extortion and the economy of items procured through less than legal means, many others managed more active sorts of crime, those that the su-ku-ta refugee specialized in.
Many of her fellow criminals were here, some of whom she knew to varying degrees. Though the ratio of male to female might favor the former to a degree, she was hardly the only woman in the room. Though she was presently sitting alone in a corner, at a booth nearby Natalie the Blade - a local assassin of some repute - was talking quietly to Azlia - a half amazonian half high elf who had come from the North a few years ago, no doubt about a job. Azlia was as often a crew head as she was a job runner, and the brunette beauty flitted from role to role with ease. Neara, another woman from her homeland though one that had arrived some years before the alien invasion had forced her exodus, was on stage in tight silk lingerie, many of their male counterparts ogling her as she gyrated wildly and tossing portions of their hard or hardly earned coin into the tip basket. Any woman - or even any man - was allowed a turn on stage if they wanted it, and some of her female counterparts reveled in the attention and the extra coin, but it was hardly required and some of the girls on staff filled in when no one wanted to fill the role.
That left Nina, another local girl but a blonde where Natalie was dark haired, who was sitting at a table with Caius Grakkus standing near the head, speaking loud enough that she and the other two occupants could hear but not loud enough that Cara could overhear. Those two, in addition to the lithe thief, were Danny Cole, a burly man with olivine skin who was an able leg breaker, and Phelous, a fairly nondescript man of some ill repute who still managed to get in on crews from time to time, and he at least seemed capable as a spotter, infiltrator, or trigger man. Caius himself was something of a known factor, he liked to organize jobs fairly regularly, though he often made mistakes in the planning stages. Still, he always managed to talk - or bribe - his way out of trouble, and the group he was organizing at least seemed to be buying whatever he was selling this time.
Cara could try and join their table to see what was up, perhaps getting in on the job, but that wasn't her only option. She might go over and see what the surly assassin and Azlia were talking about so intensely as easily as joining the larger group. Bolo, the half orc who often organized his own crews and also headed up the extortion racket that brought in much of their money, was also always looking for people to help deal with someone who had failed to pay up in time. Of course, she could always wait, there were always options opening up in Courson's Camp, and in an hour an entirely new set of people might be around setting up their illicit work.
