The Tale of the Red Streak ((Viola's Event))

[BlessedSilence]

Viola gave leave for me to intertwine Garston into the story just a bit since this has ties in Ul'Dah.  Please note, this is her event not mine, so there is no fear of me taking over.   ;-)   But since Garston has his fingers in everything ...  This is open to EVERYONE!  If you have run across this even t in game please add your thoughts of the happenings that are going on.

 

 

Garston sat at his desk, reclining in his favorite chair, glass of wine in hand.  He had been working since the early morning hours going over his finances, and a well deserved break was at hand.  Bringing glass to mouth, he took a sip just when there was a knock at the door.

 

"Enter!"

 

The heavy door opened as a hyur and lalafell entered, the former extending his hand in greeting.

 

"Sigmund?  Well, well ... what brings you to visit me?"  Garston stood, switching the glass to his left hand, accepting the handshake.

 

"Garston, a pleasure.  Let me introduce you to Shashakan Kashan, my partner,"  Sigmund motioned to the lalafell who was eyeing Garston up and down.

 

The highlander frowned slightly, making a mental note before turning back to the hyur.  "Yes, well.  What can I do for you, Sigmund?"

 

"I am in needs of your assistance with a certain matter.  Let us say, I am caching in one of the favors you owe me."

 

Garston raised a brow.  "Oh?  Interesting."  He motioned to a well upholstered couch near his desk as he himself returned to his favorite chair.  "Sit, and tell me about it."

 

Sigmund nodded, relaxing on the couch while Shashakan ... well .. he wandered around the study, eyes taking in all the artefacts and other pieces of art Garston owned.

 

"Tell me Garston, have you heard of the 'Red Streak'?"

 

The highlander snorted, pouring a glass of wine for the hyur and handed it over.  "Who hasn't.  That miqo'te has taken her share from my coffers as well as my contacts.  Why do you ask?"

 

Sigmund sniffed at the wine, swirling it in the glass a few times before taking a sip.  "It seems my own contacts may have found her."

 

"After all these years?  I find that hard to accept.  Did she not go into hiding or something?"

 

The hyur shrugged.  "Do not know, do not care.  All I know is the descriptions of a cat that matches her has been trickling down to me for these past few moons."  Another sip of the wine.  "And I was told you have had contact with the people she runs with now."

 

Garston leaned back in his chair.  "Oh?  And who would that be?"

 

"Driftwood Coast."

 

The highlander's jaw clenched, wine shaking in the glass he held tightly in his grip before it shattered into bits of sparkling dust.  "Damn them!  Yes I know of them, and I would be more than happy to give you everything I have on them!"

 

Sigmund made no movement to Garston's reaction, continuing to sip his wine.  "Good.  A list of names and occupations would be a start, as well as who leads them.  Nothing more than that."

 

Garston spun his chair to face his desk, ignoring the pain and rivulets of blood that slipped down his hand and onto the scattered papers.  Pulling open a drawer, he took out a piece of paper and quill, and began to hastily write upon it.  When finished, he handed it to Sigmund.

 

"Here.  They follow two bastards by the name of Kayle Delwyn and Desmond Aryll.  I do not know which of those in the company would be your 'Red Streak', so I wrote every name, description, occupation ... anything I burned into my brain."

 

The hyur took the paper, looked at it, then folded it before putting it into a breast pocket.  "Very good.  And please, Garston, have your hand looked at.  I don't need you coming down with something when we have a dinner engagement in a few days."  Standing, he placed the glass on Garston's desk and moved towards the door, Shashakan in near unison.

 

"Sigmund, please, tell me what happens.  I have my own investment lost in that group."

 

"Of course, Garston.  Now, good day."

 

The large door closed behind the pair, and the highlander sighed.  Looking at the damage to his left hand he growled, standing to pull a rope to call his manservant.  He would not miss that dinner engagement for the world.