The Crowfeather Bandits II - RPLOG
From Rusted Promises
Participants
Date
6/3/479
Log
The, even for a heavy clan, tall moose in his shiny armor has, by the looks of it, cleared a small area vaguely in the middle of the rather full tavern of chairs and tables and gives the crowd a surprisingly winning smile as he announces that the next round is on him and that all he want in return is a little attention to his words.
Molly scurries in from the door of the tavern, dressed in a work uniform appropriate for the setting - a chainmail shirt beneath a set of patchy rags, heavy boots thumping on the ground as she steps in. Her eyes scan the tavern, settling on the moose as he makes his announcement. With growing unease, she finds somewhere out of the way to stand and listen to him, arms folded and putting on the toughest look she can muster.
Crux follows Molly behind, but his size and the weight of the large shelled folk leaves him little opportunity for stealth. He carries a wooden buckler on his right arm, just large enough to cover the entire forearm, a poorly crafted axe in his left hand with a large bow strapped to the back attached to a harness. His armor, thin plate covering his chest, looks weak, but he stands tall, eyes narrow as he looks around. He moves away from Molly, so as not to draw attention to her, looking at the large moose cautiously.
Fenris is, remarkably, already at the pig. Not that anyone would recognize the saffron robed, giant chow dog as Fenris. The huge, fluffy canine, nods at the generous moose from his private booth and perks an ear to listen.
The towering being raises his voice loud enough to drown out any being who had not already quieted down. "I have a business proposal of sorts to offer to you, and I can guarantee to you that it will pay off well. My associate, who can not be here today, and I are looking for capable beings of various trades to assist with our work." He grins at the last words and his eyes wander across the room, sorting his thoughts for a moment.
Molly keeps her arms folded and stares dead ahead. It seems like she's more focused on trying to fit in than actually listening to the moose. She isn't very successful at either task, and glances over to Crux to give him a quick smile.
Crux slides the handle of his ax into a slot on his belt, watching the moose cautiously. Though the moose was not directly threatening at the moemnt, the ox was obviously weary of such a being, drawing closer to get a good sense of the moose's abilities and size. His jaw clenched and he looked around, eyes falling on a familiar rabbit. Tension in his muscles relax and he smirked, nodding back, then adjusting his buckler. He remained quiet, for the moment, as he looked back at the moose.
The oversized chow dog says nothing. He only sits with a contented little smile. His orange and yellow robes stand out wildly in the dingy tavern. His round, friendly face stands out even more as he sits and gives the Moose his attention.
The moose drones on: "Now we don't need anyone who is just out for a quick buck, but if you are willing to commit to our cause on the long it will pay off for you. I can guarantee you that much." He squints slightly and scans the room with his eyes as if looking for something or someone for a second, but quickly continues. "As I said, we need beings of varying trades and while we certainly need people with sharp eyes and nimble hands," he smirks, "What we need the most of are capable fighters."
Molly fidgets as Crux gets further away from her, shuffling over beside the ox quickly and lowering her hands to rest in her pockets, slouched down with her ears folded low. She taps the back of his hoof with her boot, covering her mouth as she coughs nervously.
Crux looks down and reaches out to the rabbit, rubbing at one of her ears. "It'll be okay hon, let's see what kind of a threat he is. I won't do anything foolish, promise," he quietly reassured her. He looked at her for a moment then bent down, picking the rabbit up and setting her on his shoulders, directing her hands to grab his horns. "I don't like the looks of this guy, the wanted poster looked bad, but we're outnumbered here." He clenches his jaw then bellowed, "What kind of jobs are you planning?"
The giant Chow keeps that pleasant little smile in place. "And for what cause would we fight?" he asks, his voice betraying an exotic accent that a well traveled listener would recognize from distant Caldera. "I consider my humble skills adequate for most any job," he says, standing and giving a funny little bow, with his hands extended before him, "But I would know who I would fight for and against."
The giant laughs out. "If you are here, you know what kind of jobs, my bovine friend." He grins as Fenris steps up. "Why, the one cause that matters, of course: Money. And against whom? The ones that have it!" Some excited cheers can be heard from the other patrons and half a dozen of them step up, mostly tough looking typed that brought their weapons into the tavern with them, except for one, a small clan weasel.
Molly jolts up as the other patrons stand, looking around and over them. The weasel catches her eye, and, fitting in, she throws her arms up in the air and cheers along. She catches herself on the oxes horns before she loses her balance, looking down to him and shrugging.
Crux sneers, arms crossing over his barrel chest. He tries not to shake his head too much for his passenger's sake. "Money is no cause," he mutters quietly to Molly. He looks up at the moose. "And who is to decide who is worthy of having their money taken? You? For what reason? Do we take from the corrupt, the cruel? Or is it whoever has what we want? Is that our cause?" he calls out again, clearly not swayed by the promise of money.
Fenris would love to take this guy in right now, but he restrains himself. After all, Trontus was only the brawn. It was the brain he needed to catch. "A worthy endeavor, no doubt," the Chow says aloud, "But with so many eager recruits, what sort of profit could we expect?" He turns that little smile around at the heavily armed thugs around him. "I, for example, am worth as much as any ten of these."
The towering heavy clan peers at Crux. "Me and my partner are calling the shots. If you are not okay with that sit down and enjoy your free drink." He coughs. "Yes! A worthy endeavor it is, but believe me, we could have twice as many recruits and still pay you all fairly. As for your worth, Mister, you will need to prove it like anyone else. Everyone can talk big, but I am looking form arms, not mouths."
Molly strokes Crux's head, leaning down to shh him. "They won't listen," she whispers, "maybe we should try, uh..." She pauses, looking at the apparently valuable chow. "Do you need a medic?" she asks, raising her hand to wave at the moose from atop Crux's head.
Crux sighs and nods his head, looking away from the moose. "He's only driven by his greed, it's disgusting," he quietly whispers to Molly. He looks over to the chow, cautious of the being. "I'm not sure of that one either. He's too boastful." He picks up Molly and sets her down, letting the rabbit walk where she might, but staying close. "Lead the way and I'll follow Mol. I trust you know what you're doing."
