Favors for a Friend (closed) - Printable Version +- Hydaelyn Role-Players (https://ffxiv-roleplayers.com/mybb18) +-- Forum: Role-Play (https://ffxiv-roleplayers.com/mybb18/forumdisplay.php?fid=27) +--- Forum: Town Square (IC) (https://ffxiv-roleplayers.com/mybb18/forumdisplay.php?fid=21) +--- Thread: Favors for a Friend (closed) (/showthread.php?tid=11322)

Favors for a Friend (closed) - Sophia_Grave - 04-26-2015 (( Please bear with me and be gentle! I haven't written outside of RP in ages ;-; OOC comments and grammar/spelling goofs are more than welcome! )) “Would you like another?” Sophia gives an absentminded nod, more to get the serving girl away than anything else. She sits alone at a small table hidden away in the corner of a dingy Ul’dah tavern. It wasn’t normal for Nanora to contact her. It was even less so that she’d set up a meet, only to be late. Thoughts began to form in the back of head, worming their way to the front. Did someone get to her? Was my cover blown? Sophia’s grinds her teeth, looking about the bar. Only two exits, and plenty of lonely individuals who could be hitters. She was alone, too; it was careless not to at least mention her plans for the day to anyone else. But before Sophia could dwell any further, a tiny figure pushes open the door, letting in a flood of desert sun behind her. Nanora Nora, while most certainly a Lalafell, was quite tall for her race. Graying roots in her burgundy hair betrayed her as a woman of age, but her bearing matched that of one rife with conflict and danger. Sophia gives a wave as Nanora scans the room, and the Lalafell hurries over. “Sorry, sorry,” the Lalafell mutters. Her troubles were already apparent through her tone, though she did try to hide it. Sophia smiles, offering a dismissive wave. “It was no trouble at all. I ordered you some tea, but I’m afraid its gone cold by now. I half thought you’d beat me here.” Nanora stands in her chair, pulling the small kettle closer and pouring herself a cup. “Ah, thank you dear. I’m afraid I’m used to lukewarm tea by now. Nature of the job, I suppose.” “Oh? And what job is that,” Sophia quips with a devious smile. Nanora returns the smile, half-hidden behind her teacup. “How long have we been working together, miss Grave? A few moons? I don’t mean to gloat, but you’ve been happy with my services, no? I’m certainly quite happy with your coin in any case, and your flavor of work often doubles as a fine stress test for my network.” The serving girl returns with a glass of water, setting it down hastily as she goes to attend to another table. Sophia maintains a pleasant smile as Nanora speaks; positive reminiscence between two acquaintanced criminals? A meeting out of the blue? There were few ways it could go. “That sounds right,” Sophia answers. “Its certainly been expensive, but well worth it.” Sophia’s smile fades as her voice peters out. She merely holds her gaze in their silent moment, fiddling with the rim of her glass. The Lalafell takes a long breath, returning the look. Pleasantries were over, and Sophia was not one to be wooed by talk. “...I need a favor, Sophia,” she says finally. And there it is. Establish a rapport, confirm ability, perhaps even establish a modicum of trust. And now, the favors. Sophia nods her assent, and Nanora continues with relieved breath. “One of my people are in trouble, a Hyuran lad by the name of Rothe. He’s a caravaneer, hauling goods and weapons up and down Thanalan and Mor Dhona. His last run was hit hard and clean, Sophia; some Braves were killed, so they’re pushing for someone to blame. ” “Inside job, then? Who’re the survivors?” Nanora winces, and Sophia immediately gleans the answer. “Just him, then? Well. Let’s get this out of the way first: did he do it?” Nanora is quick to shake her head. “Goodness no, I’m sure of it. He was meant to fetch something for me at Camp Bluefog on the very same trip, but couldn’t thanks to this whole debacle. In any case, Rothe wouldn't be able to move that many weapons on his own even if he wanted to. No, he’s just trying to get by. I’m looking into it, but the caravan company doesn’t have many employees left, its not doing so great.” “Ah, wait,” Sophia interrupts. “It isn’t? Who’s the owner?” "Hm? Ah, wait..." Nanora ponders for a moment, trying to remember a name. "He's a known merchant; trades in whole businesses, rather than any good, if I recall correctly... Ah! Zazayu Tatayu is the name. I don't know much more than that, but I can count the number of clean merchants in Ul'dah on one hand." “Hm. Well, that may just be it. He hits his own Caravan, pinning it on an employee. It isn’t hard to imagine: Rothe sees that his paycheck might not be around much longer and decides to get a head start on his life of crime. Anyway, Crystal Braves can’t possibly be paying Tatayu top coin for their arms, or else they’d just purchase from the House of Splendors or Ironworks. With that in mind, those weapons would fetch Tatayu far more on the black market; no tax. If he’s smart, he would even have the caravan insured for something like this.” Nanora claps a light applause, nodding happily. “I knew coming to you was the best option! Rothe is a good man; I don’t want him burned, and I certainly don’t want them linking him to me. If you can handle this, there’s seventy thousand gil in it for you.” Sophia cants her head. “A hundred.” “Seventy, and I’ll owe you.” Sophia smiles. “Its a deal.” She drains her glass and leans forward, eye to eye with Nanora. “I’ll see this through and go wherever it takes me, Nanora, but remember, we do this my way. Now, work your contacts, and find out who did the job. Tatayu likely has a man to get his hands dirty for him, probably ex-military or some such. Let me know what you find.” With that, Sophia rises, leaving a stack of gil coins on the table before leaving. Nanora bows in her seat, then leans back with a relieved sigh. RE: Favors for a Friend (closed) - Sophia_Grave - 04-27-2015 Dear Sophia, I hope this message finds you with haste. First and foremost, I’d like to thank you again for taking the time to help me with this problem. Rest assured that a favor from me is no small matter. Now, In regards to the information you requested: Tatayu’s chief of security is a man by the name of Rayner Whitemaul. Whitemaul was a Flame for a brief two cycles before being dishonorably discharged, so I believe he may be who you’re looking for. As far as approaching him goes, Whitemaul had a bunkmate in the Flames by the name of Callum Kohl. Kohl’s long dead now, but the two ran in criminal circles after leaving the military. Dropping Kohl’s name would go a long way toward getting Whitemaul to warm to you, and I’m sure someone as effective as you can push him along the rest of the way. I only hope that some sort of record was kept that will prove Rothe’s innocence. Anyroad, keep me updated, I’m here to help. Nanora Nora *** He wasn’t a difficult man to find by any means. Whitemaul was one of those Highlanders; built like a house with an even bigger attitude. Fortunately, it meant he was an easy tail; the man practically cleaved a path from Tatayu’s estate to his favorite brothel. But then again, he could easily snap her in two, with biceps near as big as her waist and a chest carved from stone. She decided to keep her distance. For the fourth night running, Whitemaul sat at his favorite table, ordered (several of) his favorite drink, and found his favorite girl to keep him company. A loudmouth career criminal in a brothel; Whitemaul was very nearly a cliche. But that suited Sophia just fine; she’d take a habitual stereotype over a surprise any day. She gives him half a bell to get comfortable, while she herself tweaks her look to play the part. Sophia lets down her straw-blonde hair, tossing it lightly to win some volume. A prick from her dagger and a small smear of blood gives her lips some color, while a loosened waist sash might just grant him a peek beneath her tunic if he’s lucky.  The brothel’s bar is a typical affair, rife with equal parts coy giggling and hard liquor. She spots Whitemaul where he always is; still alone, fortunately. Stopping at the bar to order one of his favorites and steal a serving tray, she quickly takes note of the exits then makes her approach. “You know, I’ve seen you in here plenty of times, but I don’t think we’ve met before.” Sophia sits on his table, placing his drink next to her. “Aye; I’d’ve remembered ya. But I’m afraid I’m waiting for someone.” Sophia gives a light chuckle. “Relax; I’m only running drinks tonight,” she replies, setting her tray down behind her. “Besides, its bad form to poach clients. No, I’m only getting off my feet for a moment. You don’t mind, do you? At the very least, I’ll keep the harpies away until your date arrives.” Whitemaul seems pleasantly surprised, and shuffles closer. “Tha’s a relief. It almost hurt tae turn down a woman like yourself.” He comically feigns a pain, clutching his chest. That earns him another kittenish laugh. “Oh, you’re quick! Call me old-fashioned, but a conversation every once in a while is nice to have around here.” He returns with a smile. He’s about to say something, but his eyes drift past her; his girl was here. The woman, a highlander like Whitemaul, approaches, giving Sophia an awful look and sits on one of his stocky legs, claiming her territory. Her dirty glance is gone in an instance, replaced by a warm smile. “Who’s your friend, Ray?” He’s about to answer, until he realizes he actually didn’t know. “Ah, this is…,” He gestures to Sophia, looking for help. “Sophia. Sophia Kohl,” she answers, staring him in the eye. “Right, right, Sophia,” he replies, returning the look. He whispers something to his date, and she leaves them a rotten expression. Sophia’s devious smile turns sympathetic. “I’m afraid I wasn’t honest with you. Look,” she says, leaning closer. “Callum and I were together until he got himself killed. We’ve pulled a few jobs, and he mentioned some of yours-- very nice, by the way-- and well, Limsa is a little hot for me right now, and I’m allergic to Yellowjackets. He always spoke highly of you, so I thought I’d touch base, see if we can’t make some money together.” Whitemaul’s eyes narrow in judgement. His hands weren’t around her throat, so she assumed the best. “Lass, I think ye got me confused with someone else; I break rocks for a living. Ye want a rock I can help ye out. Otherwise...” He trails off with a laugh. Sophia quickly scans the room, then hops off the table, only to sit on his lap. “Oh? What’s a miner doing with a wolfram stiletto in a shoulder sheath?” Whitemaul scoffs, looking about the room. “...Tha’s none of your business, lass. What is your business are those two Blades over there, at the bar.” He points them out. “How’s about we go over there and discuss your work up in Limsa, eh?” The man begins to stand, only for a firm hand to push him back into his seat. Sophia maintains her jovial facade, but in a single motion, has his knife drawn across his belly with her other arm around him, and even leans her head on his shoulder to sell the bit to anyone who might be curious. “Kohl didn’t tell me how awful you were at making friends," she whispers into his ear. "Me, I like to take a chance. This is what’s going to happen. We’re going to get up and you’re going to walk me out of here, because I like Ul’dah and I’m not spending the rest of my life in stocks, or worse. So if those Brass Blades even look at me, we’ll see how many of your organs I can find with this lovely dagger before they cross the room. Like I said, I like to take chances, so I’ll put fifty-thousand on five. You want the over or the under?” Whitemaul bites his lip, but is quick to reign in his mounting tension. “...Alright," he mutters, absorbing her words. "Alright. We’ll go out the back.” “Great. Smile, put your arm around me, and act like the friend I wanted you to be, Rayner.”