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DeServe [Semi-Closed]

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Banquo Viaquo Banquo Viaquo Find all posts by this user Grouch Posts:68 Joined:Aug 2014 Character:Banquo Linkshell:N/A Server:Balmung/Gilgamesh Reputation: 31 RE: DeServe [Semi-Closed] | #3 05-21-2015, 10:12 PM (This post was last modified: 06-09-2015, 01:07 PM by Banquo Viaquo.) "He’s been gone an awfully long time.” The well-dressed Roegadyn’s voice was calm, though the furrow of his brow indicated more frustration than his words let on. He sipped on what appeared to be a murky green potion occupying a delicate wineglass, idly staring over the vista from one of the Bismarck’s railing seats, talking into a linkpearl as his eyes scanned blankly over the bluffs. “You’ve been keeping an eye out?” “I’m tellin’ you, Mr. B--” The voice on the other side was patient, placating, but unapologetic. “The last sighting anyone’s got of him was when he stopped through the bazaar about four suns ago, buying a bottle of wine.” “Wine.” The Roegadyn raised an eyebrow. “Out of character, Fields. Our friend Mr. North doesn’t really strike me as a drinking man.” “That’s what I thought too, boss, that’s what I thought too, but Salt’s never got it wrong before.” Fields sighed, a brief moment of hissing static over the pearl’s connection. “He says it looked real expensive, too. The good stuff. One of those fancy Ishgardian ones. You suppose it’s for someone else?” “Most likely.” Lost in thought, the Roegadyn merchant dug his thumb against the rim of the glass for a moment, leaving a dark imprint on his grey skin. “Though I wouldn’t say it’s particularly like him to be going visiting any parties, either. I certainly hope he isn’t considering anything particularly drastic.” He drained the last of his potion in the brief pause, setting the little glass back down on his table. “Maybe we need to get someone trawling Thanalan. Properly, too, not just occupying one of the outposts.” “Well, Mr. B, you know I’d be delighted to go out on your little manhunt here, just delighted. But thanks to you, I got a business to run.” The Roegadyn had to roll his eyes at the Miqo’te’s exaggerated deference; Fields’ debt to him had not dulled his irreverent snark. “I’m a busy cat, Mr. B, a busy cat. Imports! Exports! Transports! Teleports! And who’s to say that Callae girl won’t be stomping back down the Steps, seizin’ me by the throat and demandin’ Mr. North’s whereabouts? That’d put me in a tight spot, Mr. B, a real tight spot.” “Speaking of which.” The Roegadyn sits up a little straighter. “Fields, Dolf, Plum, whoever’s still listening--don’t forget, it’s Brandt Wintfrydsyn when you’re dealing with her. ‘Banquo’ is the reclusive, eccentric Highlander lord. Understood?” “Yeah, we’ve been OVER it, Mr. B, we’ve been over it. Relax. I told her Banquo’s a paranoid old loon who doesn’t like anyone learnin’ too much about him.” His smirk was almost audible. “Where’s the lie in that, my friend?” There was a pause in which Fields grunted, a slight thump of wood underscoring sounds of exertion--judging by the slight hubbub in the background, he was handling his shipping at Scorpion Crossing even as they spoke. “Honestly, Mr. B, if you want my advice... what with old Taeros going quiet, I’m not too sure the whole pseudo-name stuff is a great idea anymore.” “Precautions have to be taken, Fields. There’s too much at stake for us to go into this holding our cards the wrong way around.” Banquo shook his head, uncomfortable. Almost time for another potion. “I’ve told you how important this deal is to me. I can’t afford to let anything compromise it.” “Alright, Mr. B, alright. Forget I said anything.” A clomp of wood against wood, as Fields set something heavy down. “As for old Dolfy, I don’t think you gotta worry about him saying the wrong thing, specially not to her. After that time she snuck up on him in the Bazaar, I figure she’s liable to shoot the poor fella down before he even has a chance to grump at her. He’s been stayin’ out of trouble like you wanted, and he ain’t gonna let himself get caught again.” “Lodolf?” The Roegadyn waited, voice taking on a carefully probing tone. “Are we good?” A brief silence on the line. Fields went quiet. Banquo tapped his finger on the wineglass rim once, then twice... then the Highlander’s voice rumbled from the pearl, grudging and indistinct. “We’re good, boss.” “Glad to hear it.” Lodolf clearly wasn’t happy, but that was hardly new. Banquo uncorked a new bottle, plucked from within the countless ones in his coat, and refilled his own glass. The green elixir gleamed somewhat unpleasantly in the coastal sunlight, the entire bottle only barely filling the wineglass. Somewhere in the Bismarck’s kitchens, a dishwasher winced. “It would represent a significant loss of investment for us if you were apprehended, and after that disaster in Drybone, I’d rather keep you well away from all this business with Mr. North. And the law, for that matter.” The Highlander almost cut him off, snapping. “Yeah, I get it, boss.” Lodolf’s own debt to the Roegadyn went unspoken, but hung forebodingly on the edges of both their words. “Alright then.” A longer pause, in which he drank deeply from the dense green--setting it back down with a sigh of relief only after a full five seconds of throwing the entire contents back. “Well, that’s enough about North, I think. Doubtless he’ll turn up, and if he doesn’t, we’ll see what we can do about it. Anyone found any good prospects lately?” “Ah, now there I can help you, Mr. B, there I can help you.” Fields seemed to brighten up at the idea. “Let’s see. Old Roarich’s been giving the stink-eye to a fine-looking little weaver girl. Seems she’s been turning in some commissions on the side, but she’s been dying ‘em different from how it’s usually done. Somethin’ about coloring ‘em before she even stitches it together.” “Ooh.” Banquo stroked his chin, smiling thoughtfully. “Well, ‘color’ me intrigued.” Ignoring the groan of pun-induced anguish from Fields and Lodolf’s disapproving growl, he continued. “Perhaps I’d better ensure her business is appreciated, then. It wouldn’t do to have potential like that stamped out… and I daresay I could use a new pair of gloves anyway. We’ll see if she’s worth investing in. Anything else?” “Let’s see… new fishmonger roaming Ul’dah, old Highlander fella, don’t know much about his background… elezen jeweler dismissed from Esthaime’s…” Fields hummed, audibly flipping through sheafs of notes. “And there’s always the Grindstone.” Banquo wrinkled his nose, gently swirling the wineglass. “Grindstone.” “Oh, Mr. B, you need to get out more. The Grindstone? The tournament? The unauthorized, independent-run tournament that’s been goin’ under Ul’dah’s nose?” Fields sighed in mock despair. “Stay on the ball, Mr. B, or I’ll be running this operation before you know it. Anyhow, you might check them out. I dunno if they could use the money, but you’re bound to find a couple good prospects there, eh? Folks who’d rather skip all the rules and Monetarist eyes, and just get straight to the fighting? Sure enough, Mr. B, sure enough, that kinda place is bound to have what you’re lookin’ for. Talk to old Warren Cast-Iron. He’s running the show. I’ll get you some details.” “I’ll look into it.” Banquo shook his head in quiet exasperation. Fields’ observations and connections were helpful... but simple, direct communication was not one of his strong suits. “I’LL look into it. And you’ll give me a bonus for m’trouble.” Fields’ shit-eating grin was audible. “How about you, Dolfy? Anything turn up?” There was a heavy sniff from the Highlander’s end. “Mnh. Golden Bazaar’s quiet. Not many newcomers needin’ jobs. All goin’ to that carpenter guy. One reject, though. Roe mercenary. Sounds like the Blades took ‘im in for threatenin’ an officer when they found him with sword drawn on the road. Can’t get any work, now that people know he’s been arrested before.” Banquo nodded, eyes narrowing. “The man still there?” “Yeah, boss.” He exhaled. “Keep him around if you can. I’ll see if I can find a place for him.” He rose, leaving a little heap of glinting gil on the table as the nearby waitress sagged in relief. After ordering a bottle of wine and not even taking a sip, it was the least he could do. He strode out of the Bismarck, tapping his ear with two fingers. “Stay alert, ladies and gentlemen. I’m counting on you.” “You got it, Mr. B, you got it.” “Yeah, boss.” “And if you know anyone who might be able to help track down our errant valet, I am certainly all ears.” Banquo stared ahead, eyes settling on the Drowning Wench. “From the sounds of things, we can hardly afford to sit around waiting for bad news.” “Well, Mr. B…” Fields hesitated. “I might have one idea. Don’t think you’re gonna like it, though.” [sub]Banquo Winterhaven - Banquo (Balmung) - Gideon North - Five Reflections [/sub] [sub] Skype: wordsmithrefl[/sub]

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DeServe [Semi-Closed] - by Banquo Viaquo - 01-19-2015, 10:56 PM RE: DeServe [Semi-Closed] - by Banquo Viaquo - 05-12-2015, 07:38 PM RE: DeServe [Semi-Closed] - by Banquo Viaquo - 05-21-2015, 10:12 PM RE: DeServe [Semi-Closed] - by Banquo Viaquo - 05-21-2015, 10:42 PM RE: DeServe [Semi-Closed] - by Roen - 06-04-2015, 01:32 AM RE: DeServe [Semi-Closed] - by Roen - 11-24-2015, 07:29 PM

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